A Man Rides Through by Stephen Donaldson Read Free Book Online Page B

the Imager himself, representing clearly his sense of his own superiority. But the door itself wasn't important; it changed nothing. No, what mattered—Castellan Lebbick clung to what mattered with both fists—was that the door was properly closed, and that two reliable guards were on duty in the hall, controlling access to Master Eremis' chambers.
     
    The guards saluted, and Lebbick demanded a report.
     
    "Underwell and two of our men have been in there all night, Castellan," the senior guard said. "Nyle must still be alive, or Underwell would have come out. But we haven't heard anything."
     
    Master Eremis said, "Good," but the Castellan ignored him. Brushing past the guards, Lebbick jerked the door open.
     
    Then for a long moment he just stood there and stared dumbly into the room, trying as if all his common sense and reason had evaporated to figure out why the guards hadn't heard anything. That much carnage should have made some noise.
     
    Behind him, his men stifled curses. Master Eremis murmured, "Excrement of a pig!" and began whistling thinly between his teeth.
     
    There were three men in Eremis' sitting room, the two guards and Nyle. All three of them had been slaughtered.
     
    Well, not slaughtered, exactly. Lebbick's brain struggled to function. The dead men hadn't actually been cut to pieces. The damage didn't look like it had been done with any kind of blade. No, instead of being victims of slaughter, human butchery, the men resembled carcases on which predators had gorged. Huge predators, with jaws that took hunks the size of helmets out of the chest and guts and limbs of his guards, his guards. The bodies lay in a slop of blood and entrails and splintered bones.
     
    As for Nyle—
     
    In some ways, he was in better condition; in some ways, worse. He hadn't been as thoroughly chewed on as the guards. But both his arms were gone, one at the elbow, the other at the shoulder. And his head had been bitten open to the brain: his whole face was gone. He was recognizable only by his general size and shape, and by his position on Eremis' sumptuous divan.
     
    The Castellan started grinning. He wanted to laugh. He couldn't help himself: despair was the only joke he understood. Almost cheerfully, he said, "You aren't going to be seducing any women here for a while, Imager. You won't be able to get all this blood out. You'll have to replace everything."
     
    Eremis didn't seem to hear. He was asking softly, "Underwell? Underwell?"
     
    Of course, there should have been four men here: Lebbick knew that. His two guards. Nyle. And Underwell. With a feral smile, he sent a guard to search the other rooms. He still had that much self-possession. But he was sure the physician was gone. Why would Underwell want to stay and get caught after committing treachery like this?
     
    For some reason, the fact that what had happened should have been impossible didn't bother Lebbick.
     
    "Castellan," the senior guard said in a constricted voice, as if the air were being squeezed from his chest, "nobody went in or out. I swear it."
     
    "Imagery." Castellan Lebbick relished the word: it hurt so much that he seemed to enjoy it. "They must have been hit too hard, too fast. Maybe it was that firecat. Or those round things with teeth the Perdon talked about." The desire to at least chuckle was almost un-supportable. "They didn't even have a chance to shout. Imagery."
     
    "I fear so." Master Eremis' manner was unusually subdued, but his eyes shone like bits of glass. "Our enemies have been able to do such things ever since the lady Terisa of Morgan was brought here."
     
    "And in your quarters, Imager." Lebbick kept on grinning. "In your care. Protected by arrangements you made."
     
    At that, Eremis' eyes widened; he blinked at the Castellan. "Are you serious? Do you blame me for this?"
     
    "It was done by Imagery. You're an Imager. They're your rooms."
     
    "He was alive when I left him," Master Eremis protested. "Ask your