Noelle lunged to her feet and strode over.
She couldn’t afford to miss again, and she certainly didn’t trust her marksmanship. But how-
She saw an opening and thrust the pistol under the torturer’s right arm. Under, and up against his chin, below the jaw. As soon as she felt the heavy flesh yielding beneath the barrel, she fired.
The torturer flung his arms aside, and stumbled back from Eddie. Blood was gushing everywhere. He smashed against a wall and collapsed to the floor, his back propped against the stonework and his head hanging loosely.
Noelle thought he was already dead. He certainly looked like it. But as big and strong as he was, she didn’t dare take a chance. She stepped forward and shoved the barrel against the top of his head. Pulled the trigger.
Click.
Nothing. The gun had misfired.
It wasn’t supposed to do that!
As much angry as confused, she stared down at the weapon in her hand. Then, hearing a grunt, turned her head.
Eddie had straightened up from the chair and was rubbing his throat with his hands. There were already bruises forming there. His eyes were wide open. He tried to speak, but couldn’t. Just swallowed, before removing one hand and pointing to something on the floor.
Noelle looked down and saw the magazine of a pistol lying on the floor; one cartridge was sticking straight up from the lips. Startled, she looked down at the gun in her hand. Sure enough, the magazine was missing.
What-
Belatedly, she remembered. Dan Frost had warned her once against firing the gun pressed directly against a body. That might produce too much pressure in the chamber, he’d said. The bullet would fire, but it might damage the gun.
Apparently, it had blown out the whole magazine.
She stooped, picked it up, and looked at it. It seemed undamaged, at least; she thumbed the top cartridge back in place.
But would the gun still work?
There was only one way to find out. Which she needed to, since she might very well need to use the gun again. She shoved the magazine back into the pistol and cocked the slide. Then, looked around for a suitable target.
There wasn’t any, that didn’t risk another ricochet. Except…
The body of the torturer slid from wall. The sound drew her eyes. She saw that from a half-sitting position, it had gone to being sprawled across the floor. The man’s eyes were half-open, staring emptily. There was still blood spilling out from the gaping wound, but it was no longer spurting. The man’s heart had stopped.
Not surprisingly, she realized. Even with a .32 caliber, that shot must have scrambled half his brains.
She looked over at Eddie. He shrugged.
Noelle turned, raised the gun, aimed it carefully with both hands at the center mass of the torturer’s body. The target wasn’t more than six or seven feet away. She pulled the trigger.
The gun worked, sure enough. But she missed again. Another ricochet zinging all over the stonewalled chamber had her and Eddie down on the floor.
When she looked up, Eddie even managed a laugh.
“Okay, fine,” she snarled. “So I’m not Annie Oakley.”
Eddie had read a lot of up-time books, in the three years since the Ring of Fire. “Sure aren’t,” he croaked. “But you do a pretty good imitation of Calamity Jane.”
* * *
Anita asked herself whether Lenz was actually insane? Or his master was insane? There was no way that Gustavus Adolphus would ever place Freiherr von Bimbach in charge of Franconia!
* * *
No sooner had Noelle and Eddie gotten to their feet than a small group of men came into the chamber from the main entrance she’d used to enter. She was relieved to see that it was the blacksmith and three of his journeymen.
“You are not hurt?” he asked. She shook her head.
He looked over at the body of the torturer’s assistant. “Saved us some work, I see. Very good. Where is the swine himself? And the prisoners?”
She shook her head again. “I don’t know where the prisoners are.” She pointed at the still-open door through which the torturer had fled. “He ran through there.”
The blacksmith headed for the door.
“Be careful,” Noelle cautioned. “I missed, when I shot at him.”
The blacksmith’s answering grunt made it crystal clear that he was not especially worried. Given his own size, and that of the three journeymen following him, that wasn’t perhaps surprising. Especially since all four of them were carrying heavy hammers.
A few seconds later, she heard him call out. “In here, Fraulein Murphy!”
When she passed through the door, with Eddie on her heels, she found herself in a corridor. Several heavy doors lined it on the left. Finally, something that looked like it was supposed to! Those were cell doors, she was quite sure. Leaving aside their heavy look, the hinges faced into the corridor.
But she didn’t give them more than a glance. Her eyes were drawn to the figure sitting against the far wall, over whom the blacksmith and his journeymen were hovering.
It was the torturer. He was moaning, and had his hands clasped over the ribs on his right side.
“Apparently you did not miss with one of the bullets, Fraulein,” the blacksmith said cheerfully.
He reached down, seized the torturer by the scruff of his coat, and jerked him roughly to his feet.
“Up, swine. I have business with you.”
The torturer shrieked. The blacksmith ignored him, turning instead to one of his journeymen. “Start prying the hinges off the doors, Hans. Easier than trying to break the locks.”
The younger blacksmith nodded.
“You have a chisel with you? If not, you can use mine. When I’m done with it.”
The journeyman reached into the big pouch on his work belt and drew forth a heavy chisel.
“Good,” the blacksmith said. “Mine might be a bit slippery.”
He moved toward Noelle, hauling the torturer with him. “Come with me, Dieter and Axel. You can help Hans in a moment. Please be so good as to stand aside, Fraulein.”