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08 - The Door Through Space - Marion Zimmer Bradley · Classic Science Fiction Books

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  Chapter eight. I slept little that night. There is a tale told in
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  Dlaon of the Chugri, where a challenger was left in a room alone,
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  where he was blindfolded and told to await the beginning of the torment. Somewhere
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  in those dark hours of waiting between the unknown and the unexpected, the hours
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  of telling over to himself the horrors of past chagri, the torture of anticipation
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  alone became unbearable. A little past noon, he collapsed in screams of horror
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  and died, raving, unmarred, untouched. Daybreak came slowly, and with
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  the first streamers of light came Dallisa, with the white chalk, maliciously uninvolved,
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  sniffing his way through the shabby poverty of the Great Hall. They took
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  me to a lower dungeon, where the slant of the sunlight was less visible.
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  Dalisa said, the sun has risen. I said nothing. Any word
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  may be interpreted as a confession of defeat. I resolved to give them no
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  excuse. But my skin crawled, and I had that peculiar prickling sensation where
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  the hair on my forearms was bristling, erect with tension and fear, Dalisa
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  said to the chalk, his gear was not searched. See that he has
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  swallowed no anesthetic drugs. Briefly, I gave her credit for thoroughness, even
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  while I wondered in a split second why I had not thought of this.
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  Drugs could blur consciousness at least or suspend reality. The white non human sprang
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  forward and pinioned my arms with one strong, spring steel forearm. With his
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  other hand, he forced my jaws open. I felt the furred fingers at
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  the back of my throat, gagged, struggled briefly, and doubled up in
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  uncontrollable wretching. Dalisa's poison berry eyes regarded me levily as I struggled upright,
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  fighting off the dizzy sickness of disgust. Something about her impassive face stopped me
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  cold. I had been momentarily raging with fury and humiliation. Now I realized
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  that this had been a calculated, careful gesture to make me lose my temper
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  and thus sap my resistance. If she could set me to fighting, if
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  she could make me spend my strength and rage, my own imagination would fight
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  on her side to make me lose control. Before the end. Swimming in
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  the glare of her eyes, I realized she had never thought for a moment
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  that I had taken any drug. Acting on Carrel's hint that I was a
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  Terran, she was taking advantage of the well known Terran revulsion for the non
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  human blindfold him. Dalisa commanded, then instantly countermanded that no strip him first.
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  The chalk ripped off shirt, cloak, shirt, shoes, breeches,
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  and I had my first triumph when the wheeled claw marks on my shoulders,
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  worse, if possible, than those which disfigured my face, were laid bare.
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  The chalk screwed up his muzzle in fastidious horror, and Alisa looked shaken.
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  I could almost read her thoughts, if he endured this, what hope
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  have I to make him cry mercy? Briefly I remembered the months I lay
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  feverish and half dead, waiting for the wounds Recall had inflicted to heal,
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  those months when I had believed that nothing would ever hurt me again, that
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  I had known the worst of all suffering. But I had been younger then.
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  Dalisa had picked up two small, sharp knives. She weighed them briefly,
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  gesturing to the chalk. Without resisting, I let myself be man handled
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  backward, spread eaglet against the wall. Dalisa commanded, drive the knives through
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  his palms to the wall. My hands twitched convulsively anticipating the slash of steel,
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  and my throat closed in spasmodic dread. This was breaking the compact,
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  bound as they were not to inflict physical damage. I opened my lips to
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  protest this breaking of the bond of honor and met her dark, blazing stare,
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  and suddenly the sweat broke out on my forehead. I had placed myself
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  wholly in her hands, and as Karl had said, they were in no
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  way bound by honor to respect a pledge to a terran. Then, as
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  my hands clenched into fists, I forced myself to relax. This was a
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  bluff, a mental trick to needle me into breaking the pact and pleading for
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  mercy. I set my lips, spread my palms wide against the wall,
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  and waited impassively. She said, in her lilting voice, take care not
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  to sever the tendons, or his hands would be paralyzed, and he may
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  claim we have broken our compact. The points of the steel razor sharp touched
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  my palms, and I felt blood run down my head, and before the
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  pain, with an effort that turned my face white, I did not pull
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  away from the point the knives drove deeper Dallisa's gestured to the chalk. The
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  knives dropped two pinpricks a quarter of an inch deep, stung in my palm.
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  I had outbluffed her, had I if I had expected her to betray
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  disappointment, and I had I was disappointed abruptly, as if the game had
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  wearied her already. She gestured, and I could not hold back a gasp
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  as my arms were hauled up over my head, twisted violently around one another,
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  and trussed with thin cords that bit deep into the flesh. Then the
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  rough upward pull almost jerked my shoulders from their sockets, and I heard the
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  giant chalk grunt with effort as I was hauled upward until my feet, barely
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  on tiptoe, touched the floor. Blindfold him, said Dalisa, languidly,
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  so that he cannot watch the ascent of the sun or its descent, or
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  know what is to come. A dark softness muffled my eyes. After a
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  little I heard her steps retreating. My arms, wrenched overhead and numbed with
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  the bite of the cords, were beginning to hurt badly now, But it
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  wasn't too bad. Surely she did not mean that this should be all Sternly,
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  I controlled my imagination, taking a tight rein on my thoughts. There
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  was only one way to meet this hanging blind and racked in space, my
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  toes barely scrambling at the floor, and that was to take each thing as
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  it came, and not look ahead for an instant. First of all,
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  I tried to get my feet under me, and discovered that by arching upwards
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  to my fullest height, I could bear my weight on tiptoe and ease a
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  little the dislocating ache in my armpits by slackening the overhead rope. But after
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  a little a cramping pain began to flare through the arches of my feet,
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  and it became impossible to support my weight on tiptoe. I jarred down with
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  violent strain on my wrists and wrenched shoulders again, and for a moment the
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  shooting agony was so intense that I nearly screamed. I thought I heard a
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  soft breath near me. After a little it subsided to a sharp ache,
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  then to a dull ache, and then to the violent cramping again, and
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  once more I struggled to get my toes under me. I realized that by
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  allowing my toes barely to touch the floor, they had doubled and tripled the
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  pain. By the tantalized hope of, if not momentary relief, at least
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  the alteration of one pain for another. I haven't the faintest idea even now.
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  How long I repeated that agonizing cycle, struggle for a toe hold on
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  rough stone, scraping my bare feet, raw arch upward with all my strength
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  to release for a few moments, the strain on my wrenched shoulders, the
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  momentary illusion of relief as I found my balance and the pressure lightened on my
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  wrists, Then the slow creeping first of an ache, then of a pain,
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  then of a violent agony in the arches of my feet and calves,
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  and delayed to the last endurable moment, that final terrible anguish, when the
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  drop of my full weight pulled shoulder and wrist and elbow joints with that bone
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  shattering jerk. I start at once to estimate how much time had passed,
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  how many hours had crawled by then checked myself, for that was imminent madness.
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  But once the process had begun, my brain would not abandon, and
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  I found myself with compulsive precision, counting off the seconds and the minutes in
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  each cycle. Stretch upward, release the pressure on the arms, the beginning
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  of pain in the calves and our and toes, the creeping of pain up
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  the ribs and loins and shoulders, the sudden jarring drop on the arms.
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  Again, my throat was intolerably dry. Under other circumstances, I might have
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  estimated the time by the growing hunger and thirst, but the rough treatment I
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  had received made this impossible. There were other unmentionable, humiliating pains. After
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  a time to bolster my flagging courage, I found myself thinking of all the
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  ways it might have been worse. I have heard of a chagrin exposed to
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  the bite of poisonous not fatal, but painfully poisonous insects, and to the
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  worrying of the small gnawing rodents which can be trained to bite and tear.
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  Or I might have been branded. I banished the memory with the powerful exorcism
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  the man in de Loonn whose anticipation a loan of a torture which never came,
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  had broken his mind. There was only one way to conquer this,
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  and that was to act as if the present moment was the only one,
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  and never for a moment to forget that the strongest of compacts bound them not
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  to harm me, that the end of this was fixed by sunset. Gradually,
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  however, all all such rational thoughts blurred in the semi delirium of thirst
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  and pain, narrowing to a red blaze of agony across my shoulder blades.
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  I eased up on my toes again. White hot pain blazed through my feet.
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  The rough stone on which my toes sank had been covered with metal,
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  and I smelled scorching flesh, jerking up my feet with a wordless snarl of
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  rage and fury, hanging in agony by my shoulders alone. And then I
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  lost consciousness, at least for several moments. For when I became aware again
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  through the nightmare of pain, my toes were resting lightly and securely on cold
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  stone. The smell of burned flesh remained, and the painful stinging in my
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  toes mingled with that smell was a drift of perfume close by. Dallisa murmured,
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  I do not wish to break our bargain by damaging your feet. It's
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  only a little touch of fire to keep you from too much security in resting
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  them. I felt the taste of blood mingle in my mouth with a sour
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  taste of vomit. I felt delirious, light headed, after another eternity.
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  I wondered if I had really heard De Lisa's lilting croon, or whether it
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  was a nightmare born of feverish pain. Plead with me a word, only
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  a word, and I will release you, strong man, scarred man.
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  Perhaps I shall demand only a little space in your arms. Would not such
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  doom be light upon you? Perhaps I shall set you free to seek Rakal,
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  if only to plague Carral. A word only a word from you,
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  A word only a word from you. It died into an endlessly echoing whisper.
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  Swaying blindly, I wondered why I endured. I drew a dry tongue
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  over lips, salty and bloody, and nightmarishly considered yielding, winning my way
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  somehow around Alissa, or knocking her suddenly senseless, and escaping I who need
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  not be bound by Wolf's codes. Either I fumbled with a stiff shape of
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  words, and a breath saved me, a soft, released breath of anticipation.
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  It was another trick. I swayed limp and ract I was not race
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  cargole. Now I was a dead man, hanging in chains, swinging filthy
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  vultures pecking at my dangling feet. The sounds of boots rang on the stone.
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  In Carral's voice, low and bitter, demanded, somewhere behind me,
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  what have you done with him? She did not answer, but I heard
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  her chains clash lightly, and imagined her gesture. Kiral muttered, women have
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  no genius at any torture. Except his voice faded out into great distances.
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  Their words came to me over a sort of windy ringing, like the howling
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  of lost men dying in the snowfast passes of the mountains. Speak up,
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  you fool. He can't hear you now. If you have let him faint,
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  you are clumsy. You talk of clumsiness. Dalesa's voice, even thinned
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  by the nightmare, ringing in my head held concentrated scorn. Perhaps I shall
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  release him to find recall when you failed. The Terrans have a price on
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  Recall's head too, And at least this man will not confuse himself with his
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  prey. If you think I would let you bargain with a Tarannin, Dalesa
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  cried passionately, You trade with the Terrans. How would you stop me?
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  Then? I trade with him because I must, but for a matter involving
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  the honor of the great House, the great house whose steps you would never
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  have climbed except for Recall. Dalesa sounded as if she were chewing her words
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  in little pieces and spitting them at carral Oh, you were clever to take
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  us both as your consorts. You did not know what was Recalls doing.
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  Did you hate the Terreens? Then she spat an obscenity at him. Enjoy
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  your hate, wallow in hating, and in the end all Shane thu will
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  fall prey to the toy maker, like Miellyn. If you speak that name
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  again, said Kiral very low, I will kill you like Miellyn. Miellyn
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  Miellyn, Dallisa repeated deliberately, You fool, Recall knew nothing of Miellyn.
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  He was seen with me, You fool with me. You cannot tell twin
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  from twin. Racol came to me to ask news of her. Kiral cried
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  out hoarsely, like a man in anguish. Why didn't you tell me?
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  You don't really have to ask, do you krawl? You bitch, said
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  Karral, You filthy bitch. I heard the sound of a blow. The
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  next moment, Kiral ripped the blindfold from my eyes, and I blinked in
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  the blaze of light. My arms were wholly numb, now twisted above my
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  head, but the jar of his touch sent fresh pain racing through me.
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  Carral's face swam out of the blaze of hell. If that is true,
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  then this is a damnable farce. Elysa, you have lost our chance of
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  learning what he knows of Miellyn. What he knows? De Lisa lowered her
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  hand from her face, where a bruise was already dark. Milyn has twice
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  appeared when I was with him. Loose him, De Lisa, and bargain
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  with him what we know of Recall for what he knows of Milyn. If
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  you think I would let you bargain with Tarannin, she mocked, weakling,
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  this quarrel is mine, you fool. The others in the caravan will give
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  me news if you will not. Where is Quinn? From a million miles
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  away, Carrol laughed, you've slipped the wrong hawk De Lisa. The CapMan
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  killed him, his skin flicked loose. He climbed to a perch near the
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  rope at my wrists. Bargain with me, Rascar. I coughed, unable
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  to speak, and Carroll insisted, will you bargain? End this damned woman's
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  farce, which makes a mock of Shagri. The slant of sun told me
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  there was light left. I found a shred of voice, not knowing what
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  I was going to say until I had said it irrevocably. This is between
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  Dalsa and me. Kirall glared at me in mounting rage. With four strides.
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  He was out of the room, flinging back a harsh furious I hope
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  you kill each other, and the door slammed. Dalesa's face swam red and
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  again, as before, I knew the battle which was joined between us would
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  be fought to a dreadful end. She touched my chest lightly, but the
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  touch jolted excruciating pain through my shoulders. Did you kill Quinn? I wondered
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  wearily what this presaged? Did you in a passion. She cried, Answer,
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  did you kill him? She struck me hard, and where the touch
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  had been pained, the blow was a blaze of white agony. I fainted.
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  Answer. She struck me again, and the white blaze jolted me back
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  to consciousness. Answer me, Answer, Each cry brought a blow until I
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  gasped. Finally, he signaled, set catman on us. No. She
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  stood staring at me, and her white face was a death mask in which
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  the eyes lived. She screamed wildly, and the huge chalk came running.
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  Cut him down, Cut him down, cut him down. A knife slashed
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  the rope, and I slumped, falling in a bone breaking huddle to the
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  floor. My arms were still twisted over my head. The chalk cut the
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  ropes apart, pulled my arms roughly back into place, and I gagged with
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  the pain as the blood began flowing painfully through the chafed and swollen hands.
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  And then I lost consciousness, more or less permanently this time. End of chapter eight