Stasheff, Christopher Rogue Wizard 02 A Wizard in Bedlam

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seemed to click behind Gar's eyes; they seemed to focus suddenly. He turned,
frowning, to stare at the bowl of food, Then he shuddered and began to eat.
The warder nodded approvingly, climbing to his feet. "You're a proper man,
though a daft one," he said to Dirk. "Care for your brother, then. You seem to
have wits enough for that, at least."
At the far end of the chamber, a man screamed, rearing up to claw at the air,
straining against the chain harnessing his shoulders. The warder looked up in
alarm and leaped over to him. Another attendant slammed into the man from the
other side. They grabbed the ancient's arms, wrestled them down around behind
him. "Come then, old Jean, come," the warder growled in a tone that was meant
to soothe. "It'll pass, Jean; it always has. They'll go away . . ."
Dirk turned away, stomach rebelling, as the old man collapsed, sobbing, sliding
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back down the wall, drooling and trembling. Dirk looked up at Gar, and felt alarm
grab him. The big man had frozen again, into stone, eyes squeezed shut, lips
parted, breath hissing in and out. Sweat dripped from his temples.
Dirk scowled. "Hey, then! What's the matter with you?"
"I can't . . ." Gar swallowed thickly. His eyes opened; he gave his head a quick
shake. "I can't ... not much longer . .."
With a heave, he rolled forward to his knees, rolled back to sit on his heels with
only the soles of his feet in contact with the floor. "The stones, dammit! I can't
take them! The clamor in here is bad enough, but the stones! Ten times worse-it's
too much! They ... the emotions ... screaming ... rage, despair, the . . ." He
swallowed, and was stone again, his mouth moving as though trying to force
sound out.
Dirk felt a thrill of panic, and under it, the dread certainty that, if Gar hadn't been
crazy when he came in here, he would be when he went out. This was just the
place for it.
He tried to calm himself-maybe it was all an act. Too good an act, something
inside him prodded. He'd heard of such cases-actors who really began to believe
they were the characters. And if the character was insane ...
The gloom in, the chamber deepened into night.
A single lamp burned at the far end of the hall, where two warders sat playing
cards. The inmates lapsed into slumber-most of them, at least. A few began to
moan, rocking themselves from side to side. Several lay huddled against the wall,
sobbing with the tearing agony of total despair. Now and again one sprang to his
feet with a scream, arms windmilling as he fought invisible demons. The two
warders were at his side almost before the first long scream was ended, hedging
him in and keeping pace with him as he turned, so he couldn't harm his
neighbors, until the spasm passed and the patient sank into a sobbing puddle.
It was a night of nightmare, lit only by the flickering rays of one feeble lamp, filled
with wails and the howling of demons-and Gar reached over to slap Dirk on the
arm. "Talk-anything! Give me bits, anything to chew on."
Dirk stared.
Then he shook himself; he could remember when he'd needed distraction. "Okay.
Obviously there's no psychology here, not even an attempt to understand any of
what's in their minds; the authorities stick on the label `mad,' and don't question
any further. After all, everyone knows there's absolutely no understanding of a
madman's mind, right?"
Gar nodded. "Right. But-common sense, at least? Her!"
He jabbed a finger out into the gloom; Dirk looked across the way, and saw a girl,
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maybe twenty, who would have been beautiful anywhere else-hair golden under
the crust of filth, heart shaped face, high, full breasts and a tapering waist, which
were easy to see, because her gray tunic was ripped in a dozen places, shredded.
Her eyes were glazed, vacant; and Dirk might have been wrong, but he thought
Gar winced as he looked at her. "Don't they wonder why a beautiful girl would
despair?" Gar grated. "Can't they see why-"
The girl erupted in a sudden, soundless fury, her face contorted in a silent
scream, ripping and tearing at her clothes .as though they were on fire.
Gar snapped his head down, huge fingers digging into his scalp, eyes squeezed
shut, body rolled into a tight ball balanced on the balls of his feet, until the girl
had relaxed into silent, shuddering sobs. Then, slowly, he looked up, breathing
hoarsely.
"What's the matter?" Dirk said gently. "Couldn't you even stand the sight of her?"
Gar shook his head, looking up wide-eyed, gasping. "No. It was ... what was going
on in her mind."
Dirk frowned. What kind of figure of speech was that?
"It gets worse." Gar waved vaguely toward the right, past Dirk, not looking.
"There's a man down that way who's watching her like a gorgon, and his tongue is
thick in his dripping mouth."
Dirk turned and looked, frowning. He could just barely make out the humped
body of a Merchant who sat tailor fashion, leaning elbows on knees, staring at the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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