"Exactly. But let's get out of here first. Push thebracecloser to me."
"What ifIpushittoo far?"
"You won't, Dante. You are a hero. Heroes don'tmakemistakes."
Dante pushes feebly at the brace with his leperstump. "Is that all right, my lady?"
"Harder."
"I am trying, my lady." He strikes the brace with his stump and the wooden leg bumps up against my calf. "You have it?"
"I have it," I quickly reassure him. "You relax and catch your breath. You don't even have to speak to me. I will concentrate on getting us out of here."
He groans. "Hurry, my lady. I am in some pain."
"I know, my friend."
Even for a vampire, what I plan to do next is not easy. First I have to let the top of the brace slide down to where I can reach it with my toes. This I do without much effort, but Dante's cross is not stored at the top of the brace. It is fastened somewhat deeper inside the wooden stump. After fishing for it with my toes for ten minutes, I am no closer to reaching it, and even more weary, if that is possible.
Then it occurs to me that I must invert the brace. This is tricky, because if the copper cross slips past my toes, it will land on the floor and be out of reach. What I do to add a safety margin to my plan is to raise the brace up with just one foot, catching it between my big toe and the toe next to it. Then I plug the end of the brace with the bottom of my other foot.Shaking the brace upside down in the air, at a ninety-degree angle to my calf, I feel the cross touch the sole of my free foot. In a moment my toes have a grip on the crucifix and I let go of the brace.
"My lady?" Dante cries.
"Everything is all right."
"My brace is not broken?"
"It is fine. Be silent and conserve your strength. We will soon be free."
"Yes, my lady."
Both my feet grip the copper cross. I will keep plenty of toes wrapped around it at all times, I tell myself. There is no way it is going to spring beyond my reach. As I work to mold the copper, I prayL andulf s soon did not mean in the next few minutes. I have prayed many times since entering the castle.
The crucifix is relatively thin, little more than a stamped plate, and this is fortunate. It does not take me long to squeeze the lower portion of the cross into a stiffwire. True, it is a rather plump wire but the key holes in the locks that bind me are far from tiny. Clasping the wire in my right foot, and holding still the key hole with my left foot, I slowly glide the cooper toward the inner mechanism.
"My lady?"
"Shh, Dante. Patience."
"My hand pains me."
"We will make it better soon. Please do not speak for the next few minutes."
The wire enters the lock and I feel around to get as ense of its design. My mind is very alert now. The traumas I have sufferedIput them all behind so I can focus on the inside of the lock. It does not take long before I have a complete mental picture of how it was built, and when I do, I know precisely how to move my wire.
There is a click and the lock springs open.
I kick off the chains. My feet are free.
"My lady!" Dante cheers.
"Quiet. Let me finish."
He gasps. "Oh, yes, hurry. I cannot breathe like this."
Now comes the hardest part. I cannot pull either hand chain down close enough to my face so that I might work the locks with the wire between my teeth, assuming I could get the copper in my mouth. No, I have tore ach up with my right foot, stretching my leg to a next-to-impossible length, and attack the left lock that way. My muscles are stiff so the task is doubly hard. Yet I can taste freedom now, and it gives me fresh strength.
Clenching the wire in my toes, I kick up.
My hamstring muscles scream.
I fail to reach the lock. I have to kick up a dozen times before I even approach it. But steadily my joints limber, and finally I am steering the wire into the lock that grips my left wrist. Since I already know the internal design of the mechanism, I take only a second to trip it. My left hand is now free, and I immediately transfer the wire from my toes into my fingers. Two seconds after that, I have sprung the right lock and am able to stand and stretch. But Dante has gone downhill. He doesnt even realize that I am free. I step to his side and caress the top of his head. He looks up without seeing me in the pitch black and smiles.
"Are we safe?" he asks softly.
"Almost," I say, and I use the wire to open his locks. But his arms don't come down when they are free, his limbs are so damaged. I have to draw them down, and this makes him cry out. He buries his face in my chest and I comfort him. "Dante," I say. "This dungeon will not hold us."