“It seems we have an audience now,” he mid. “I’m afraid we mustn’t disappoint them.”
She screamed and threw her sabre at him, then, when he flinched away from it, she leaped forward and kicked him in the chest, sending him tumbling down the stairs. She turned and flew up the stairs, taking them three at a time in a mad dash for the turret. She burst in and confronted Forrester, who was sitting on the cot with his head held in his hands.
“Moses!”
He looked up at her.
“Moses, help me! Hentzau, don’t let him kill me!” He stood up and came towards her.
“Please, Moses, I beg of you, don’t let Hentzau get me!”
“All right,” he said. “I won’t.”
He hit her with a bridgehead strike to the throat, collapsing her trachea.
Rats! The rats were everywhere! Drakov kicked out in total darkness, his boots connecting with small furry bodies that snarled and squealed and bit. Where was the plate? He had to get out! There were hundreds of them, their chittering deafening, they swarmed all over him. It had to be somewhere dose by, it had to be! Filled with mindless fear, he dropped down to all fours, groping madly, tearing the rats off him, making small whimpering noises, trying to keep from screaming.
He found it! He didn’t even bother to check the programmed setting. Nothing mattered more than escaping those loathesome creatures before they devoured him alive. The glow of the border circuits lit up the cell, revealing all the slithering tails, all the feral eyes and snarling mouths. He leaped into the circle screaming, beating at the beasts in an effort to dislodge them.
The click flared. Drakov and the chronaplate clocked out to an unknown tine and place. Transition was complete.
Hentzau came into the turret, sabre held ready, Falcon, the woman he had known as Countess Sophia, lay dead on the floor. He frowned and prodded her with the toe of his boot, then turned her over. He grimaced with distaste. He look
ed around him. The turret was empty, save for a couple of cots and several blankets and a few other odds and ends that suggested that someone had lived here for a time. Forrester had taken advantage of the chronoplate’s being already set for Pendleton Base to hurriedly dock out all the weapons and equipment, leaving only seconds to spare to reset the plate for coordinates outside the castle. He had heard Hentzau’s boots upon the stairs and had clocked out an instant before he came into the turret. Hentzau had been in no great hurry. He had known that there was no place she could run.
How had she died? He wondered, looking down at her, what had happened. Perhaps she had fallen on the stairs and struck her throat upon the edge of one of the steps, then managed to crawl this far… He heard the sound of several pairs of footsteps coming up after him. He had helped to save the king, after all, but he wasn’t certain that he could count on royal charity. The stairs led up for a short distance to the tower’s summit and it was the only way left for him to go. He ran to the top of the tower and came out high atop the battlement, into the early morning sunshine. Dawn was breaking. There was nowhere to go.
“Hentzau,” said a voice behind him. He turned to see Colonel Sept standing with several of the king’s men. “You’re under arrest.”
“What? After I saved your king?”
“If His Majesty chooses to have mercy on you, you will have to take that up with him,” said Sapt. “Now come with us.”
“I think not,” said Hentzau. He threw his sabre at them and leaped off the tower in a graceful swan dive. Sept and the soldiers ran to the edge and looked over in lime to see him hit the moat.
“The fool,” on of the soldier said. “He’s killed himself.”
A moment later, they saw Hentzau surface. From far below, he looked up at them and gave them a cheery wave, then struck out for the bank. One of the soldiers aimed his rifle.
“No,” said Colonel Sapt. “Let him go. It’s finished now. Let the devil take his due.”
EPILOGUE
It took an hour of searching, but Forrester finally found Lucas. He had collapsed some thirty feet short of the chateau at the base of a large Oak. For a moment, he thought that Priest was dead, and it was with enormous relief that he saw that he was breathing. The sight of him made Forrester shut his eyes, but he knew that the injuries, the visible ones, at least, were not serious enough to be permanent. If he lived long enough to receive medical attention in Plus Time, he would be as good as before. As Forester bent over him, Lucas opened his one eye.
“ ‘Lo, Moses. You’re okay?”
“Yeah. I’m okay.”
“Finn? Andre?”
“They took Finn back to the palace. He had a scarf tied around his face, but that may have been only to prevent the soldiers from seeing what he looked like. He seemed hurt, but he looked all right. I think he’ll make it. Andres back in Plus Time. I’ll check up on Finn later. Right now, we’ve got to take care of you.”
“The king’s alive, then?”
“Yes,” said Forester. “The king’s alive and well.”
“The Timekeepers?”