Ontogeny

Chapter 18a

The King had never actually been down into the dungeons before.

Now that he thought about it, there were probably many parts of the palace he'd never been in. The servants quarters for instance, and the laundry room, so it probably wasn't all that strange, but he still stared around in wonder as he descended the damp, stone stairs accompanied by a pair of guards, his private secretary and a pair of runners. Was it supposed to be this damp and clammy? he wondered. Was it designed to be that way in order to demoralize the prisoners and make them confess, or was it just an unavoidable result of being below ground level? They were only a hundred yards or so away from the river. They were probably well below the water table here. Maybe the wonder was that the dungeons weren't completely flooded.

Lon-Fidell's words came back to him, and he entertained a dark fantasy of having lost the war and being confined in one of the cells down here, still in his fine royal clothes which had become stained with mould and damp. He imagined himself sitting on the hard, freezing stone floor, shivering in misery, listening to the celebrations of victorious Carrow troops upstairs. Maybe Lon-Fidell would come down to gloat at him, remind him of the conversation they'd had just a few minutes ago in real life. Maybe he would have a pair of Carrow guards hold him while he punched him in the face, paying him back for the blow the King had dealt him. Maybe he should get a team of workmen to build a secret escape tunnel out of the cell while he was still in charge here, so he could escape and rally his loyal troops for an uprising...

Where were his wife and children in this dark fantasy? He shut the thought out of his head before it could fully form itself and returned his mind to the matter at hand. If Darniss really had been the traitor, what had she known? What vital information could she have passed on? She hadn't known about the attack on the Carrow garrison cities, that was a blessing, but she knew plenty about the personal lives and habits of his ministers and generals. Information that could be valuable to kidnappers and assassins. He would have to warn them, get them to take precautions. She knew about palace routine and security precautions. Could there be Carrow assassins walking the corridors of the palace even now? Balhern would be seeing to that, he reassured himself. The man knows his job, so trust him to do it.

Matron Darniss rose to her feet with infinite dignity as she saw the King approaching through the black iron bars. She was still wearing her opera clothes, he saw. A billowing dress with a top that hugged her narrow chest and left her arms bare. She was still good looking despite her age, he realised. It was something that had never occurred to him in all the times he'd seen her in her palace uniform. There were smudges of slime on her pale skin where she'd brushed against the stone walls, he saw. She wore them like campaign medals, showing them off as testament to the undeserved treatment she'd suffered at the hands of the guards. The effect would have been better if she'd had a bruise or two, but the guards had been treating her gently, it seemed. Physically, at least.

"Does she know about her boyfriend being a wizard?" Leothan whispered to the nearest guard while they were still too far away for her to overhear.

"We haven't told her," he replied. "We also haven't told her what happened to the man following him. We're waiting for the Questioners to arrive. They'll want to observe her reaction when they tell her."

The King nodded, then continued towards the cell.

"Your Majesty," said Darniss, bowing respectfully. "This is a surprise, and an honour. Please forgive my present appearance..."

"Don't," said Leothan. "Just don't.

"Majesty, I..."

The King held up a hand to silence her. "I came here so that I could ask you one question. Was it you who put the blessing on my daughter?"