Free Ellen Under The Stairs by John Stockmyer Page A

be wearing the Gem.
    The conversation at a lull, slaveys
hurried in, pots of food in their hands, the women of the castle
not wanting to offend by interrupting important
"doings."
    The food brought to the table, dished
out on wood trenchers, Platinia and Ellen began to eat.
    Good.
    "I want to see these Malachite
soldiers," John said, needing to be sure they couldn't get loose.
He'd done some time in one of this world's dungeons, "strong man"
John finding a way to escape.
    The women taken care of for the
moment, it was down and down again, round and round through the
amazing twists of Hero Castle, John allowing himself to be led, at
the same time on guard against a possible trap. He had no weapons.
Didn't know how to ask for them. Wouldn't know how to use sword and
shield if he did. His only protection was his surprising strength
-- surprising to the natives -- a strength advantage he could use
for fight or flight.
    Down.
    Down and around, until well below
ground, the soldiers halted at a heavy, iron braced door, a guard
there at a small, torch-lit table.
    Rising, bowing at the introduction of
the Mage, the sentry produced a massive key with which he unlocked
the door.
    Sliding back a metal bar, the man
groaned in the door.
    Dungeon, all right. The door said as
much. The smell said more.
    Torch thrust forward, the door guard
entered, the Head Second and his men following, John coming in
last.
    Chained to the dank walls were
Malachite soldiers -- light green uniforms with green striping --
fastened hand and foot, Malachites so much stronger than the men of
Stil-de-grain, coming as they did from a "heaver pulling"
Band.
    Torch held high, John "reviewed" the
prisoners, the captives standing at the approach of the announced
Mage.
    Yes! John knew three of them. Iscu.
Sassu. Renn -- grossly deformed. Formally bandits of the Realgar
Marsh. Enemies, first of Golden, then of John -- Pfnaravin making
them officers in the Malachite army. John hadn't liked his stay in
one of these medieval dungeons. Felt sorry that even the worse of
men must be penned up under such foul conditions.
    In addition to Pfnaravin's newly
captured guard, the dungeon held what looked like ordinary felons.
And ....
    Leet!
    "That man is to be released at once!"
John ordered, pointing at Leet, the door guard jumping to
obey.
    "Thank you, sir," Leet said, now
unchained, bowing, his paralyzed arm flopping forward.
    "Though a Malachite," John announced
to the others, "this is Leet. Loyal to Stil-de-grain and my
personal friend and guard.
    "Sir," the old soldier said, bowing
his most formal bow, "I am delighted to see that you are well. But
am embarrassed to be in your presence in this ...
condition."
    John turned to the nearest soldier.
"Accompany this man, giving him every honor," the young soldier
looking startled that a Mage had spoken to him. "See that he is
taken somewhere where he can clean himself. See that he is fed. And
has a clean uniform to wear. A Stil-de-grain uniform befitting his
rank as Head First in the Mage's personal guard," John's "personal
guard," as yet, nonexistent.
    "At once, sir," the soldier stammered,
looking at his officer to make certain he should follow the Mage's
command, the officer nodding quickly.
    Pivoting smartly, the soldier led Leet
from the dungeon, John feeling better to find at least one,
reliable friend in this foreign land.
    "What time of the day is it?" John had
just remembered something more dangerous to him than the men
chained to the wall!
    The army Second looked puzzled at that
question.
    "Near down-light, sir."
    down-light -- dusk -- followed by
night when, without light, John couldn't communicate with the
natives of Bandworld. He had to get to a room, and fast, before
"his" subjects found he didn't speak Stil-de-grain.
    "Quickly, we must get back. One of my
party is ...." What did you say when no one here had any experience
with physical illness? "... is tired. So tired she must have
immediate rest. Take me back."
    "At