“And then what ’appened?” said one of the guards, who had a wizened old face like a shrunken apple. “Mayhem, I figger?”
“The lords exploded into debate,” said X. “The noise was terrible. The lords circled me, outraged by my insolence. They threatened me with medieval punishments. Dervish stuck his nose within inches of my face, and asked if I was aware of how many different ways there were to skin a human body. But I was so inflamed with righteousness that he did not scare me, and I let him know it by replying, calmly as I could, ‘Seven?’”
This brought a round of laughter.
“Despite the lords’ fury,” X continued, “no one suggested that they did have the authority to judge me. I grew bolder and bolder, and began exclaiming, ‘Ask Him to judge me! Only He can judge me!’ Once, I believe I even shouted, ‘Can He hear us now? Is He listening?! Tell Him that He must answer!’ I was demented. Then, suddenly, amid the chaos, something so peculiar happened that I do not know how to credit it.”
X was silent for so long his audience squealed in frustration.
“The chamber itself seem to awaken in some way,” he said at last. “The river that rushed over our heads darkened. The walls became slick with moisture, as if they were made of skin. Then they took to vibrating. It was a mere tremor at first. But it grew steadily, and was soon accompanied by … Again, I hardly know how to describe it. It was accompanied by a hum. It began as a sort of growl, like something issuing from the belly of a beast. But the hum grew higher and higher, and soon it was transformed into a piercing sort of whistle. I cannot begin to relate how unkind a noise it was. It was like a spike driven into our ears.”
“I ’ave ’eard that very sound!” said the shriveled apple.
“Oh, you never did!” said the stout chief.
“I saw fear transform the lords’ faces—even Regent’s,” said X. “He ordered the sentinels to remove me from the chamber. I resisted, for the lords had not yet informed me of my fate. But the place was in such a tumult that I could do nothing to further my cause. As I was hurried away, I turned back toward the lords for a moment. I do not suppose you will believe this, but I saw that the gold bands the lords wear about their necks had commenced to glow. All at once the lords dropped their hands from their ears and clutched at the collars as if they were being choked. The sentinels and I had to push past one of the lords to exit the chamber, and the last thing I saw was a curtain of blood sliding down his neck.”
X’s last words landed in silence. Then, yet again, the shriveled apple felt compelled to speak.
“I seen that meself!” he said. “I seen that very fing!”
The stout guard turned.
“Liar,” he said wearily.
“All right, fair enough,” said the apple. “Howevva, I ’ave many a time seen their lordships strain and tug at them gol’ bands, as if they was a nuisance.”
In the cell next door, Ripper stopped carrying on and surprised the party by interjecting.
“Mr. Ugly has struck upon a truth,” she said. “Those gold bands are not signs of power—or, rather, not just signs of power. They are chains.”
“Well stated,” said the apple. “Bein’ called Mr. Ugly hurts a person’s feelin’s, but I will let it pass, as you are a well-known loony.”
Before Ripper could respond, Banger warned them of movement on the plain below. Regent was pacing on the rocky ledge. X could not make out his features, but his agitation was clear.
“Right,” said the chief of the guards. “We betta be off, then. Come along, Mr. Ugly.”
X stared down at the plain as the squad lumbered off. Regent was brooding and pacing in such a tight loop that it looked as if he might wear a groove into the rock. X knew he would come to him—and soon. Yet he could not imagine what news he would bring.
The dark feeling in his heart told him it would not be good.
At last, Regent stopped pacing. He turned to the vast black rock of cells and leaped toward X, landing in front of his cell with a tremendous thump and a blast of air. He motioned X toward the bars.
“I have been commissioned to tell you that you must bring the Lowlands one more soul,” he said. “If you fail to locate this final bounty, if you grow sentimental and release him, as you released Stan—or if you waste a single instant chasing your newfound love—you will never leave the Lowlands again. You will never even leave this cell.”
“And if I do precisely as I am instructed?” said X. “If I bring the soul back on his knees? Then I can remain a bounty hunter?”
“No,” said Regent. He took a pause that seemed endless, before continuing. “Then you can be free.”
It took X a long moment to find his voice.
“Free?” said X. “Forever? I have never heard of such a thing.”
“Nor have I,” said Regent. “But you are innocent, and the son of a lord. You were never meant for a cage. Perhaps this is the Lowlands’ attempt at justice.”