Queen’S Man: Enter the Caana

By AnnaMarieAlt

Queen Rejeena of the island of Kriiscon and her queens man Aarvan live in chaos. Forces oppose the couple from within and without. Continuous assassination hazard stalks the queen while a hefty price rides upon his head. Vengeance and treachery crouch in the shadows, waiting to strike them both.

Rejeena and Aarvans tumultuous love / contentious affinity continues, sparked by their opposing views of Kriisconian mores, particularly male slavery. And now the queen carries daughters of his seed in her womb that is vital to hera new tender attachment for him.

Entering Caana, they meet a violent group of dissenting men and women who avow to end male slavery on the island at any cost. They, especially, consider the queens man a detested traitor to the brotherhood of men. Their sight was on Aarvan, who showed that his widespread, combative reputation was a persuasive magnet. Their goal is to convert him or kill him as an example to all. Can Aarvan convince their leader Jannsen that he will make a better ally than enemy?

A conspiracy emerges involving the great queen and her powerful, deceitful collaborator Queen Tabarana forcing Aarvan to directly defy Kriisconian law. Queen Rejeena faces her most testing battle yet to protect and save her queens man.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 5, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543413038

AnnaMarieAlt

AnnaMarieAlt enjoys a passion for writing romantic fantasy fiction, building otherworldly realms. Her two careers, the military followed by civil service, exposed her to varied cultures, races, religions, and beliefs stateside and abroad—England, Continental Europe, the Far East, the South, North, Southeast, Hawaii and Kentucky, where she now resides. This exposure granted her a rounded view of the world and a host of invaluable knowledge that she now brings to her fantasy creations. These experiences, earning a college degree, while surviving and supporting the Women’s Liberation Movement launched her understanding of herself as a woman and a writer. She writes to convey her myriad experiences, because she cannot not write—to share the legacy of a lifetime and accept that we are all human. AnnaMarie has written the Queen’s Man series, an adventurous, romantic fantasy, about the island of Kriiscon, where women rule and men are slaves. The series encompasses the struggle between a domineering but curse-haunted queen and a mysterious, audacious Mainland man, the twisted struggle between women and men for supremacy, culminating in the battle of star-crossed empires. Her words expose the ugly underbelly of the human race and illumine the power of virtue, while following the grinding agony of a culture in the throes of change. Life’s ambition: Fully grown, AnnaMarie wants to be just like Granny Clampett.

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Copyright © 2017 by AnnaMarieAlt.

ISBN:             Softcover                   978-1-5434-1304-5

                    eBook                         978-1-5434-1303-8

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 03/31/2017

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Queen’s Man, you need not visit that place. It is dark and dismal, a site of mean repute. Captain Locin frowned across the table at Balstra’s small coffee shop on Mainway in Rejeena’s Towne. The afternoon sun smiled upon the island of Kriiscon from the deep blue sky through thin streaks of white, a few storm clouds scudding near the horizon.

Aarvan, the queen’s man and object of her frown, flashed his impudent grin. Afraid the plug-uglies will get you?

Plug-uglies?

Ghosts, goblins, things that go bump in the night.

I know naught of these plug-uglies, but Calaa-Dak is an evil place. Sensible women avoid its odious confines.

But, as you women have consistently assured me, men have no good sense. It sounds fascinating.

Locin glowered at the woman seated beside the queen’s man. You just had to speak of that place, Desaan? Balstra and I have not formerly mentioned it, because of its malevolent reputation.

Desaan, a thin woman, pulled her lips into the effigy of a smile, revealing missing teeth and reddish gums. I mentioned it, Captain, only because from the conversation, the queen’s man seems to hold curiosity for such places.

That is the difficulty, Locin said. He holds too much curiosity. Now he will demand to visit it.

Being but a helper in the queen’s kitchen, Captain, I stood unaware of the depth of his interest, Desaan quibbled. I regret any turmoil I may have caused.

Balstra, the owner of the shop, and Alaestrea, an elderly jewelry vendor from next door—both staunch friends of the queen’s man—shared the table with them. Until the arrival of Desaan, the conversation had consisted of light banter.

They all sheltered from the mid afternoon sun beneath a large deerskin awning, stretching from the rustic wooden front of the shop to tall iron spikes driven between rocks into the hard earth. The canopy shaded the tiny wooden tables and chairs, which tipped and tilted on the cobblestones of the way, but still invited passers-by to stop and indulge in coffee or wine with small cakes and pastries. An odor of wood smoke and melted metal hung in the air from Alaestrea’s earlier efforts with her jewelry making. No breeze stirred the air to carry away the scent.

Desaan had arrived and, in a bold move not common to her social stratum, asked to join them. She quickly led the conversation to ghosts, ghouls and the supernatural. With the curious Aarvan interested and asking questions about the women’s beliefs and fears of the dark side, she mentioned the place called Calaa-Dak.

Balstra said, It is an evil place, a moldering old ruin. It is believed a spaata of conversae used to—

Aarvan held up an arresting hand. Whoa. A what?

Locin leaned close and leered. That which gives an overly curious queen’s man dreadful nightmares.

Then it must be tantamount to an overly intrusive guard captain. He returned her leer.

Aarvan, a spaata is a grouping of conjurahs, Balstra said. A conjurah who uses her powers for evil is called a converse conjurah. One is a converse, a group conversae. Calaa-Dak is believed to have once been the grouping spot for a spaata of conversae. Much Goosran-inspired wickedness was perpetrated there. It has been shunned by good women for many long seasons, but even now strong evil emanations emit from the place, a hovering cloud of despair and misery.

Sounds like my type of place. He grinned. I’ve never felt evil emanations. When can we go?

Queen’s Man, as you are well aware, we depart with the queen tomorrow to formerly Barsa’s Towne. There is not time to visit Calaa-Dak, Locin said. Have you not experienced sufficient adventure for a while? We have barely recovered—you in particular—from your appearing on the island of Kriiscon without memory, annoying all women as queens’ men should not do, forcing the queen to punish you in locchot—

Hold up there, Locin. I didn’t force the queen to do that.

She leaned upon her elbows across the table. Your mouth did so, Arrogant Pup. You refused to clamp jaw.

He mimicked her pose. If you accursed women didn’t hold yourselves to be superior to all men, that wouldn’t have been a problem. Men should—

Save your arguing for the queen. She glared. I am trying to pound through you thick-as-a-tree-trunk hard head that you need create no more escapades.

What escapades?

All those, which have occurred since your arrival.

I created them?

Well, not exactly. However, you were involved. She sat back and pointed a finger at him. But you should feel the need to rest up after all such. The captain’s voice changed and softened. You did, in spite of all opposition—and all women so acknowledge—save the queen’s life twice during travel to Rhotha’s Towne.

With a bit of assistance from you, Shiira Guardscaptain.

She snorted. I had not choice. You flayed me with your whiptongue until I agreed to disobey my captain and circumvent my queen. She slapped a hand unto the table. That is not the point. You met sword and very nearly departed to dance upon the four winds. Then that insidious backway group attempted to snatch you for Ishtabarra—that contentious piece of mertan’s rot holding herself to be the true queen. She would have likely beat you mercilessly then slain you. Not satisfied with all that, you influenced Queen Tabarana—with your intrusive mouth—into an attempt to discipline you.

Influenced her? I didn’t say a thing to that garfaalit woman that she didn’t have coming.

She is long-staff queen. She cannot deserve such impropriety, such improper speech as you used against her. Her actions, inspired by you, caused our queen to challenge her to Conflict of Queens, needful to avenge the grave insult thus visited upon her—the long-staff’s unconscionable touching of another’s queen’s man. Though my queen waxed victorious, she suffered much pain and angst in the effort.

The captain shook a finger under his nose. Additionally, many pointers show you have influenced my queen … She paused and grimaced, as though not sure of the path before her.

Aarvan arched a brow. Yes?

She is a different queen, she finished lamely. All the result of your unbridled tongue and conniving actions.

Captain, Balstra ventured, perhaps you should not so fiercely vilify Aarvan. He did indeed save our queen and has completed her.

The huge captain sighed. That he has, and LaHeeka has assured my queen the curse upon her lineage cannot touch the daughters of his seed. Quarter Seven will yet know Queen’s Line. Locin rubbed her chin. And he did insist upon a search being conducted into the water under that cave complex. A great disaster and injustice was averted, the lives of seven excellent guards saved, an escape route for the outlaws from the cave cells discovered.

Aarvan flashed a smug smile. Yes, and think how embarrassed and wretched our queen would have been had she hanged the guards, believing they enabled the outlaws’ escape.

Locin’s voice softened still further. It was not my intent to vilify. I strive to point out that you have done and suffered much during your short sojourn as queen’s man. You have but recently recovered and need not be seeking further difficulty and hazard.

He rolled his arms over, palms turned to the sky. What hazard? I just want to go see an old, interesting landmark of the towne?

Locin returned to him a match of his smug smile. There is not time. At Queen Rejeena’s behest, we travel upon the morrow.

Why not now? Desaan asked.

Yes, why not this afternoon? Aarvan said.

Desaan, you do not help, Locin growled. She turned to Aarvan. I do not care to go at all. It is but broken down ruin. There are tales of women who have ventured to its sinister confines and not returned. She bristled at his questioning grin. They are true, not all old tales. Last year three soldiers went to check reported suspicious activity at night. They did not return. When a larger force was dispatched to find them, they found nothing. It seemed as though the ground swallowed them. Even to this day, they all three remain missing. Her voice rose. It is unwise to disturb the spirits of the long dead, especially conversae.

He leaned forward again. Now I do want to go, if only to see what scares a glaalet-size guard captain.

It is not fear, Queen’s Man. It is wisdom.

You’re scared, Locin.

If so, it is because I have sense enough to be, she grumbled. If you had such, you would be, too.

If you’re scared, you can stay.

I should, Locin grated. I ought to let the conversae abduct your scrawny, arrogant self.

Desaan spoke, eyes flitting about. Captain, that is not a—

Locin’s gray eyes flicked a withering glare at Desaan, but she spoke to Aarvan. However, I am required to follow wherever you go, even to a place utterly daft.

Aarvan chuckled. It must be difficult being a Shiira Guardscaptain.

Desaan said, Queen’s Man, I will show you Calaa-Dak.

He tilted his head. You’re not afraid?

She shrugged. When I was young, friends and I used to visit and chase about for fun and intrigue. I know it well.

The plug-uglies didn’t spirit you away?

No, Queen’s Man. Desaan snickered. Never lost a single woman.

I think visiting Calaa-Dak would make for an interesting afternoon, Aarvan said. I accept your offer, Desaan. He flowed to his feet with the grace of a forest stag.

Locin rose, scowling. Queen’s Man, you never listen to anyone about anything.

Not quite true. I’m listening to Desaan.

To the wrong women and only because they say that which you wish to hear.

Desaan leaped to her feet and gestured him forward.

Aarvan, Balstra said, listen to your guard and reconsider. If you wish to explore old ruins, I know of better ones.

Are they infested with plug-uglies and evil emanations?

No, of course not.

Then I want to go to Calaa-Dak. I’ve never met a Kriisconian plug-ugly.

If you meet one, you may greatly rue it.

Aarvan caressed the small wooden figure hanging around his neck. I wear the talisman of LaHeeka. Isn’t she the mortal tongue of your touted goddess LaSheena, performing her handiwork here on the lowly earth? Surely that’s more than a match for any plug-ugly emanating evil.

You are entirely too flippant, Balstra scolded. Neither the talisman of LaHeeka and her connections with LaSheena nor the evil which permeates Calaa-Dak are matters for jest.

Alaestrea spoke, beaming at Aarvan. Oh desist, women. He is young and adventurous. Let him enjoy. There is entirely too much fear of the unseen and unheard among us.

Locin said, Very well, Queen’s Man. If you insist, then let us go. We can accomplish this imprudent visit and return before darkness settles.

Following Desaan, Aarvan asked, Do plug-uglies multiply after dark, Locin?

Should we meet any plug-uglies, you arrogant pup, they are welcome to you.

Don’t worry, Shiira Shaking Guardscaptain; I’ll protect you.

Desaan turned to the queen’s man. I must make a stop by the queen’s kitchen, then we may go.

He smiled. You’re the leader, Shiira.

*     *     *

Aarvan and his guards waited on Mainway while Desaan made her stop at the queen’s house, then they all trekked by foot the long distance to the old ruin. Leaving Mainway, they crossed and journeyed down so many sideways and smallways, Aarvan lost count. Everyone but him seemed to know the correct turns and passages.

Are we getting any closer? he asked. The sun was dropping lower, and he really wanted to see this infamous old place.

It lies just past this corner. Desaan gestured toward a long stone building dominating one side of the tiny way upon which they trod.

At sight of Calaa-Dak, Aarvan stopped and stared. Even in the still clear sunlight of late afternoon, the place brooded. An overhang of mountain cast it in perpetual shadow, its walls in the gloom blending with the side of Tiismara Mountain’s rocky face. Its evil reputation oozed as an eerie aura from beneath the outcropping. A deep weed-infested lot separated it from the other towne buildings, as though even those inanimate objects preferred remoteness. It stood, alone and aloof, a decrepit monument to days long and—if the women’s tales were true—well past.

A round turret rose over the surrounding rock walls, built off-center, deforming the entire structure. Calaa-Dak stood two stories high, built of huge stones and hardened clay, the turret rising at least a cetan over the roof like a glowering and watchful sentinel. Open squares and oblongs punctuated the rocks on the second story, and arrow slits ringed the lower. Rocks tilted at peculiar angles, set askew by missing large chips of clay, granting the edifice a fragility, as though a strong wind might send it crashing down.

Aarvan smiled with delight—exactly the sort of place he loved to explore—and followed Desaan over the rough path, shoving aside bushes and wading through weeds, to the entrance.

A creaking wooden bridge, with whole pieces missing, spanned a deep, wide ditch. The ditch, dry and overgrown with vegetation, appeared to have once been a moat.

Look at that, Locin, Aarvan said. I bet the conversae filled that moat with water plug-uglies. After dark they rise and look for tender meat. Think they’d like the taste of black leather?

Locin tugged testily at her uniform tunic, then cuffed his shoulder and sent him staggering.

You don’t like water plug-uglies?

Quit with the plug-uglies, Queen’s Man.

He raised both hands, palms out, in a giving gesture.

She snorted.

Approaching the front of the decrepit aged structure, Aarvan stopped, gazing at the entrance door, which hung canted on one giant hinge. He inspected the huge, once solid upright planks, riddled by insect attack and ravaged by countless years of whipping winds from devastating storms. The boards clung together with the force of huge rusting bolts driven through the sides and some tenacious glue. Fingers caressing the remaining rusted hinge, he carefully observed it. Wordlessly he moved on to the mossy stonewalls, touching, feeling the texture of flat, dogged vegetation embracing the rough, ungiving stone. He studied the arrow slits as though he could glean information.

Locin turned to Desaan. He will touch and stare while we stand clothed in boredom. He is like this with all old places. They fascinate him.

Desaan shrugged. Let him look. The trip is for his benefit.

Aarvan rejoined them, wearing a satisfied smile, eyes bright with enjoyment. Don’t you just love these places? You can connect with the history, the lives lived, love and passion and hatred, then all losing importance, lost into the passage of time and the inevitability of death.

Careful, Queen’s Man, Locin said. You wax poetic.

These places make me feel poetic. Can we go inside?

Surely, Queen’s Man. Desaan led the way.

They pushed the thick-plank door fully open and entered. The wide floorboards creaked, protesting the invasion. The rock walls, in the murky interior, seemed to frown at the invaders. The light from the window slits couldn’t dispel the dark pall that seemed to hang in the very atmosphere.

Captain, I do not like this place. Duulcit, the line leader, glanced about and hugged herself, shoulders heaving in an involuntary shiver inside her black leather.

Tell him! Locin gestured at Aarvan, who stood hands on hips, gazing around with a slight smile stretching his mouth.

His blue eyes flicked between the two women. I haven’t felt a single evil emanation. He singled out Duulcit. You feeling any?

While Duulcit glared, Locin said, Get on with your foolishness, Queen’s Man, so we may depart.

They wandered through the old ruin, Aarvan fascinated by everything. He climbed old stairways, both wooden and stone, leaping to safety, laughing, when one crumbled beneath his feet. Inspecting the windows from the second story viewpoint, he hung out each in turn. Conjecture about the restrictive field of vision of the archers from their arrow slits intrigued him. He insisted upon climbing the turret to see the view.

His patient guards followed, straggling, close enough for defense should the need arise. Locin alone stayed right with him.

As he descended from the turret, Desaan said, Queen’s Man, do not tire yourself up here. You have not seen the below area.

He turned with glowing eyes. Below area?

Yes, passages lie below, cut from the earth, tunnels and caves. The best part of the tour.

Why didn’t you say so? Lead on.

Locin emitted a loud groan.

Come on, Shiira Guardscaptain, that’s where the plug-uglies will skulk, hoping for a chance to chomp some black leather.

No more plug-uglies!

I couldn’t resist.

The smell of moldering, damp earth wafted from the hole to the underground area, which required stooping and squeezing to enter.

Duulcit complained, Captain, is this needful? Creeping about in small, tight places terrifies me.

Captain, Desaan said, ten guards could be a crowd. Some spaces are small and confining.

Do other entrances exist? the captain asked.

Not to my knowledge, and I know the place well.

You may remain here, Duulcit, Locin said, with four others. Five guards are not such a crowd. She whirled on Aarvan. Is this entirely necessary?

Yes, it is. You can stay up here.

Oh no, Desaan said quickly, that is not a good idea. You must have guards, Queen’s Man. The captain—

I know my duty, Desaan, Locin growled, without your help. If you enter this fetid place, Queen’s Man, five of us must accompany you.

Then come on, and stop bellyaching.

Desaan took torches from a pile by the door and lit them with a Mainland match she pulled from her pocket. She smiled, handing one to each of the group who would continue. Always kept a few torches for our group. These are old but they will work.

Locin, Aarvan and four guards followed Desaan into the dark hole.

The passage dropped at a swift angle then leveled, narrow and shallow. In places they had to bend or turn sideways to squeeze through between the rock walls. They arrived at a large, oblong room, supported by great thick wooden timbers. The ceiling vaulted high above their heads, the walls packed earth and solid rock. The room smelled moldy, offensive to the nostrils and unpleasantly tingling upon the skin. Trickles of water crept down the walls. A single finger of sunlight pricked through a hole in the ceiling and struck within a circle of rocks on the floor.

Aarvan pointed at the wooden beams. How did they manage to get those timbers down here? He turned and glanced back the way they had entered. Not through there, that’s for sure.

Desaan gave him a disgusted look, the kind reserved for someone deliberately acting obtuse. Queen’s Man, we speak of conjurahs. Likely they levered them by enmystra.

Enmystra? he scoffed. Just floated those huge beams in through solid rock walls by the strength of their minds? Ludicrous. More likely there’s another entrance. Where is it?

There is none, Desaan stated with exaggerated patience. There existed here an entire troupe of conversae. It is likely they could do anything they desired. Calaa-Dak is ancient; perhaps in old times there existed other entrances. She gestured toward the circle of rocks. They held their groupings here, offering live sacrifices to the evil god, Goosran.

How about that. Aarvan, arms akimbo, turned to Locin. I might have known your evil deity would be a god—male, of course.

It is most fitting. Locin leered. Goosran lived in the old times, a gifted but evil conjuran. He strove to remove LaSheena from power. There occurred a great battle for supremacy. Being female, she won, of course. But she could not totally destroy him. She banished him to Nether, from where he still strives to influence occurrences on the island through persons inclined to disruptive and malevolent practices.

I thought it illegal for a man to conjure, be a conjuran, Aarvan said.

It is illegal, and largely due to Goosran.

Another one of your strange beliefs? he asked. He jumped into the circle of rocks so that the light shone full on him. If I sing chants and say magic words, will it summon plug-uglies?

Locin grabbed and roughly jerked him from the circle. That will be all, you ass! You ridicule our beliefs.

Aarvan realized he had gone too far, made Locin truly angry. Peace, Locin, peace. He held up both hands. I was rude. I apologize.

Yes, you were. One more stunt like that and we leave, Queen’s Man.

Behave yourself, Queen’s Man, Desaan said. There is one more place you must see.

Lead on.

Desaan led the way down a small side passage, the stone floor slippery from the water seeping along it.

Aarvan followed eagerly, Locin reluctant but determined.

They faced a blank stonewall.

Aarvan said, This is a nice wall, Desaan, but hardly the best stop of the tour.

It is not as it appears, Queen’s Man. The ancient ones built hidey-holes throughout. One lurks behind this wall. There is a pressure point. When you press, it causes this rock slab to swing. She demonstrated, pressing a small rocky projection. A section of wall swung open then, as they watched, clicked shut again. They glimpsed a dark hole; the musty stench wafting from it made the air in the passage smell sweet in comparison.

We will not go in there, Queen’s Man, Locin said. It is a stinking old hole. You have seen quite enough.

But Captain, Desaan objected, this is the best part. Inside on the wall are painted images, records of the sacrifices the conversae made to Goosran.

This I have to see, Aarvan said. Locin, I’m going in. You can come or stay.

Queen’s Man, we have been more than patient with you. This place reeks with evil, feels nefarious, might be dangerous. These old passages could collapse. I am responsible to my queen for your safety.

Captain, please, this is— Desaan began.

Clamp jaw! Locin snapped. You have prodded him from the start. I grow weary of your mouth.

Locin, Aarvan said, I’m going in. I want to see those images. If you’re scared, wait out here.

Blast you, Locin growled. You well know I cannot. You must always have your nose in everything.

Yes, and my nose is going through that door.

Let us go then, you arrogant ass. When we return, I may just kill you.

Captain, I fear there is not space for all in the room behind this door, Desaan said. Only for two or three.

See, Locin, you don’t have to go, Aarvan said.

If you go, I must.

Desaan smiled. Well then, Captain, I will lead. The queen’s man can follow and you follow him. The other guards can wait. If they wish to see the images, they may do so when we three return. We must enter one at a time. The door opens and closes quickly. We never discovered how it functions, and we know of no way to regulate it.

And after you get in, you can get back out? Locin asked.

Yes, there is a projection on the other side, also.

Very well. I will follow you. The queen’s man will come last.

Fine. Ready? At their nods, Desaan hit the rocky projection. The door opened; she slid quickly through.

Locin, giving Aarvan another glare, followed. Aarvan followed her. The room inside was small but not as small as Desaan indicated.

Aarvan raised his torch high and stepped to the wall where Desaan pointed. Painted images covered the wall—ugly, mutilated stick figures of people, animals, birds, headless, wingless, legless, every one missing some vital part. Though painted black, the stick figures, where limbs were missing, oozed bright red in gory detail and prodigious amounts, scattered about as though the creatures had writhed in agony until death mercifully claimed them. An accurate depiction of the circle of rocks with the shaft of light had been drawn in the center of the maimed figures.

Aarvan studied the images, his finger tracing over the pictures, a slight frown drawing his brows down, marring his handsome features.

Locin remained near the door.

Captain, step forward and look, Desaan invited.

I do not hold interest.

It is doubtful you will ever enter here again, Captain. Since you have, you might as well view the images.

Locin grunted, but stepped forward beside Aarvan and peered at the paintings.

Desaan smiled and smacked another rocky projection on the wall.

The floor beneath Locin and Aarvan dropped away, plunging Locin down into darkness. Aarvan felt the floor give and launched himself at the side. He caught the edge, scrabbling for a hold on the smooth rock.

Desaan kicked him on the jaw. The force snapped his head back, knocked loose his precarious hold and slid him off the side.

He plunged after Locin. The floor swung back into place. Slightly dazed, Aarvan hit cold water. He submerged then bobbed to the surface, sputtering.

*     *     *

I hope that splash was you, Queen’s Man, not one of your plug-uglies. Locin’s voice wafted from the darkness.

It was.

What in blazes happened?

I don’t know, but I think we’re in trouble.

What do you mean?

I grabbed the side. Desaan kicked me in the face.

Could it have been an accident?

No. It was deliberate.

That does not sound good. This water is freezing, Queen’s Man. I cannot touch bottom. We have to get out of here.

Do tell. We won’t last long in this cold. He concentrated for a moment on the feel of the water. It’s not moving, so there’s no danger of being swept away.

Instead we merely freeze.

He reached toward her voice and caught her arm. Better dump that sword and kruet bag. They’ll weigh you down. Probably won’t work on water plug-uglies anyway. He slipped off his wet vest and kruet bag and let them go.

With great reluctance, for it was as much a part of her as her character, Locin unstrapped the sword and let it slide into the depths. The kruet bag followed. There was not much in it anyway.

I hope you are satisfied, she grumbled. I feel naked without weapons. I lost shield and helmet when I fell.

Better naked than drowned, Aarvan said. You swim that way. See what you find. I’ll go this way.

Which way is that way?

Away from the sound of my voice, you big lummox.

That should not be difficult. It is where I wished to be all afternoon.

Just swim.

I am swimming.

Aarvan didn’t swim long before he bumped into a rock wall. He kicked along it, feeling for any opening or change. It appeared solid. He reached a corner and started down the next wall. He bumped into Locin, as she moved along the wall, also. By silent agreement, they broke apart and returned the way they had come until they met again.

It would appear we’re in a cold, wet box, Aarvan said.

What now?

Now you’re going to hoist me up on your shoulders and see if I can find a top.

Why must I hoist you?

Because you’re glaalet size and, as you keep reminding me, I’m just a pup.

How will I hold you up? I cannot grip these sides and I cannot feel bottom.

Maybe if I push you down far enough, you’ll find bottom.

Oh, clamp jaw and climb. I am cold.

They tried several times, the attempts futile. With nothing to cling to, she submerged from the push of his weight.

He felt nothing but solid rock. Splashing back into the water for the third time, he said, I just had an idea.

What? Even your hare-brained schemes may sound good.

Let’s yell. Maybe the other guards will hear and find us.

You took this long to think of it, Arrogant Pup?

Hey, I’m just a man. Remember? You’re the smart woman.

Just yell!

They both did, as loud as they could, turning to shout in all directions, over and over again, waiting breathlessly for an answer that didn’t come.

I guess they can’t hear us, Aarvan said. Looks like it’s up to us to get out of here.

I hope you know how.

You go that way again. I’ll go this. Feel around the wall. See if there’s a crevice for a finger or toehold. I still think we need to climb up.

If you get up there somewhere, how will you get me up?

One problem at a time.

They parted and explored the walls.

Aarvan covered much of his side and began to feel discouraged. He found no hint of a crevice or fissure.

Locin’s exuberant voice sounded. Here it is, Queen’s Man. I have found a place. I can get a good grip here.

He joined her.

Hurry, I am freezing, she said.

Teeth chattering, Aarvan could feel numbness beginning to creep through him.

He climbed quickly onto Locin’s shoulders, feeling as high as he could reach. His fingers found the top, rock wall meeting rock ceiling. He dropped back into the water. We’re in a rock box. There’s no way out up there, at least as far as I can reach. There’s no other place to get a handhold on the wall. We’ll have to think of something else.

What else have we? Locin asked. We shall go numb from cold and drown here.

Not as long as I can draw a breath. I want a piece of Desaan. That woman has some explaining to do. He thought quickly. Use these hand holds and get as far out of the water as you can. You’ve been in longer than me.

A matter of seconds.

Seconds may start to count. Get up there and yell.

We already did that. She climbed while arguing.

Well, do it again, he said. They have to be looking for us. Maybe they’ll come into earshot and hear.

What will you do?

I’m going to the bottom, see what’s down there. Without further sound he was gone.

Locin yelled for help. It seemed a long time; she no longer shivered but felt extremely sluggish. About to panic over Aarvan, she heard a soft splash then gasping for air.

Queen’s Man?

Yes. Got half checked. I’ve got to go down again. His voice sounded as sluggish as she felt.

"Queen’s