Free Beyond the Wall of Time by Russell Kirkpatrick

fisherman’s peace of mind.
    What peace of mind? He had a daughter who had begun acting as though touched by madness, and she would not speak to him about
     it. His son, as usual, blamed him for all their problems. And there was the matter of their capture and imminent interrogation—though,
     given the calibre of the magicians in their party, he rated this one of his lesser worries. Of more concern was a dead emperor
     wandering around somewhere. It would doubtless be a very long time before Noetos again experienced any peace of mind. He would
     not waste time worrying about creaking and dilapidated walkways a few hundred feet above the ground.
    Within minutes he was lost. Were they to escape their captors, he doubted he could find the ladder. Unless they were lucky
     and found it by chance, or there was more than one ladder, the guards assigned them were superfluous.
At least for me: how I miss my sword! Perhaps one or two of my magic-kissed fellows could do something.
He wondered what Heredrew might be planning; the tall Falthan magician was surely not a man to be held against his will.
     He would be going along with this for his own purposes.
    The hut they were taken to was possibly in the poorest condition of all the buildings Noetos had seen. Strangely, it was by
     no means the largest: the fisherman had expected a gathering like this to be held in some temple or civic building. If they
     had such things. Patina Padouk was the northern neighbour of Old Roudhos, but very little was known about its inhabitants.
     Did they worship gods apart from Keppia? How was their society organised? He tried to remember if any of his tutors had spoken
     of the forest lands as part of his education. Surely this small hovel could not be a temple or gathering place.
    Across the open end of the hut had been placed a rough crisscross grid of sticks, with a door-sized opening allowing entrance.
     Noetos had wondered how inhabitants prevented themselves falling from the huts during a high wind, and the sticks offered
     an explanation. Inside, all was smoke, gloom and sweat. Every available space had been taken by a near-naked body. Dozens
     of eyes peered at him as he walked across the rough timber floor and found a place to stand against the wall to the left,
     close to a recessed place in the floor filled with dirt, on which was set a small fire.
In this heat? What for?
The bitter smoke curled lazily in the close air; more than one of the captives succumbed to coughing fits.
    The muttering petered out into silence. Now the sounds included the crackle of the fire, a steady, rhythmical creaking as
     the hut moved back and forth, much coughing and snuffling, and repeated sniffling coming from a gap-toothed old woman with
     a vacant look in her eyes.
    Noetos looked about him, but could not tell which of these people would turn out to be their inquisitors. Noone wore clothes
     distinguishing them from the rest, and there was no one group of faces more keenly focused on them than any other. The warrior
     captain stood nearest the door, but even watching his eyes gave no indication of what was to happen or who was in charge.
    It soon became clear the silence was a test—perhaps the heart of the interrogation. As a technique it had served his father
     well, often drawing the guilty to speak more openly than they might while defending themselves against specific questions.
     Few of the others would know what was happening here. Noetos wished he could alert them somehow, but he was certain it would
     count against him.
Please be patient
, he thought, wishing he could communicate with his eyes.
    Inevitably it was Conal the Falthan priest who broke the silence.
    “What’s going on here? Why have you captured us? What right do you have to hold me? I am a priest of the Koinobia, a representative
     of the Most High. You ought not hinder His plans. I’ve already seen Him strike a man dead.”
    There’s a guilty man
, Noetos judged, even as the priest