Serpent's Teeth

By George Morrison

What better setting is there for a tale of revenge than the Spanish Inquisition?

Set in the seventeenth century, Serpent's Teeth tells the story of a young woman pursued by the Inquisition. With her family murdered, her mind broken by torture and grief, she must run for her life - until running is no longer an option.

Atlantis is real—or rather, it was real before it sank into the ocean. Centuries ago, the survivors of Atlantis were scattered throughout the Mediterranean, but they are still secretly ruled by the Atlantean royal family. Tanis, the eighteen-year-old heiress to the throne, is poised to take over as queen—but not anytime soon, she hopes.

But Europe is an extraordinarily dangerous place during the Spanish Inquisition—even for the wealthy heiress of a lost kingdom.

Queen Isabel of Spain and Bishop Torquemada conspire to steal the royal family’s wealth under the auspices of the Spanish Inquisition. Both Tanis and her mother are imprisoned and tortured in an attempt to get them to divulge the location of their legendary treasure. When tragedy strikes, Tanis resolves to exact vengeance on Torquemada and Isabel, but she must also remember her obligation to the lost children of Atlantis.

Filled with heartbreak and conflict, Serpent’s Teeth is a thrilling adventure set in a very different Spain from the one described in history books. Seething from the injustice inflicted on her family, Tanis must keep herself from becoming the danger she seeks to escape. Can she put aside her drive for vengeance long enough to lead her people to safety, or is the legacy of Atlantis truly doomed?

• Language: English
• Publisher: George Morrison
• Release date: Nov 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463425619

George Morrison

George Winborn Morrison, one of three current authors named George Morrison, was the one born in Savannah, Georgia, and he presently lives in Spokane, Washington. George's professional career includes working as an industrial and organizational psychology consultant, teacher of psychology and management, and psychotherapist. George retired twice, yet he continues serving a limited consulting and psychotherapy practice. He began writing novels in his mid-thirties. His latest work, Crimson Liberty, relies on knowledge and experience George acquired by performing in or working on more than 100 theatrical productions.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Spanish Inquisition wasted much time testing people's souls; time that would have been better spent looking into people's hearts. For the heart knows the dark in all of its forms. It beats in time to nighted rhythms, sometimes soft and peaceful as a pacific sunset; other times, frantic with terror it leaps and pounds as if to escape the breast - even as, on this night, the owner of one such heart beat and tore against the stone walls of her cell.

Face pressed against the damp grit of the wall, Tanis fought and cried until she could no longer lift her arms. Then she slumped to the floor, pulled up her knees, and put her head in her hands.

She could still feel the congealed residue of blood on her palms as she pressed them to her face. There was no consolation there. The hot joy she'd felt when she stabbed the black-robed priest in the throat had given way to a hollow wonder that she'd taken a life. And it had made no difference, for here she was. Wherever here might be. She had no idea.

The Spanish soldiers had taken her from her home in silence. The only sounds had been cries and musket shots from the other end of the building where her parents slept, the heavy tread of armed men on wooden floors, and then one last shriek cut off in the middle. Then silence. She'd been put into some kind of wagon and taken a distance away, but how far and where she couldn't hazard a guess. She was kept bound and wrapped in a thick blanket, dulling her senses and preventing any hint of where she might be headed. The only time that the soldiers removed the blanket was when they gave her a few swallows of water and a mouthful of stale bread, and that was only done at night when she couldn't tell where she was. Her best guess was that about a week had passed, but she couldn't be sure.

Her stomach grumbled with hunger, reminding her that she'd shamed herself repeatedly in the wagon. Her captors had not removed the blanket for more than a few minutes at night, not even to let her go to the bathroom, so that when she could hold herself no longer she'd soaked everything around her. This was the only time the silence was broken, as she heard coarse laughter and crude jests about what she'd done.

Taking a deep breath, she mentally reviewed what she did know. This was no simple kidnapping; her family was wealthy, and like so many old, wealthy families in Europe, they had old, powerful enemies; the kind that might have something more dire than ransom in mind. The fact that she was still alive and hadn't been killed outright was promising. If her parents were alive they might negotiate her release; but the other sounds she'd heard during the raid on her family's home implied that they might not have escaped themselves. If that were the case, then why was she still alive? What did these people want, and who were they?

Tanis leaned her head back against the wall and stared out into the darkness while the vein in her neck pulsed in time with her fear.

It had been only a week before …

when Torquemada, Grand Inquisitor of the Spanish Inquisition had entered the small sanctum of the Iglesia de Santiago church in Malaga, Spain.

The soft May night found the room filled with over a dozen priests. Not the ordinary village priests that one might expect in such a place; no, these were officers of the Holy Office of the Inquisition and they wore steel breastplates under their black sacramental robes. Their eager eyes glittered with anticipation in the candlelight; the forty days of grace had just expired in Malaga and it was time to start rounding up heretics. All fell to their knees then prostrated themselves as the Grand Inquisitor himself entered the room.

Dressed in red robes and a gold-trimmed bishop's miter, he glided to the front of the room looking neither to right nor to left. It was important, he thought to himself, to maintain the correct relationship with these men, that being one where his own superiority was openly acknowledged and they crawled like beetles on the ground. Though he did not go out of his way to step on the hands of the priests as he made his way to the front of the room, he also did nothing to avoid them either. One does not notice an insect when it is trod into the earth.

When he reached the front of the room he turned and raised his arms to give benediction to the men, chanting Glory to God and to all of his works! as he made the sign of the cross over them. The words slipped from his mouth in a soft, musical cadence that gave power to the ritual, but as he spoke he could barely hide his contempt. All he had to do was rattle off a few words, make the sign of the cross a few times, and the fools would do anything that he asked.

And to his Son from Whom All Righteousness Follows! The priests responded with vigor.

They are so stupid they don't even know they are being used, he mused as one of the men crawled forward on his knees to hold up a copy of the book of scripture for him to read. Just plug them into the ritual and they play out their parts like puppets on strings. And I am the master puppeteer.

Dropping his arms, he folded his hands and bowed his head as if in prayer. A trained orator, he knew how powerful such a dramatic pause was in rhetoric. He could feel the tension in the room build and waited until it was almost unbearable for the priests, then he spoke:

My brothers, it is with a despondent heart that I speak to you tonight. Raising his head he gave a soulful look up to the heavens as if seeking heavenly support for his suffering.

As all know, the Edict of Grace was announced six weeks ago Sunday in this very church. It is hard to believe that in the year of our Lord 1636 that anybody would fail to rally to God's grace, but sadly, only the pious brethren who have sheltered us here and you yourselves attended to the reading of the edict. None of the sinners whose souls we have sought with such great effort to save have responded. Indeed, I am told by Her Majesty Isabel herself that the Conversos and Moriscos have recanted their solemn vows and returned to their heathen ways, led by the devil spawn from Atlantis, idolaters so vile that her Highness was prevented by her own modesty and Christian grace from speaking of the details of their abominations.

Torquemada paused again for effect while the priests cried Christ save us! Then he continued, The chief of these idolaters seek to evade Christ's justice and have set themselves up in a fine mansion high on the hillside overlooking Malaga. For centuries, they have held sway and worked their evil in cities throughout Europe. Now they are here. Night after night I am told that their high priestess Serena holds orgies, black masses, and all forms of depraved rituals, forcing innocents and the unwary into acts of the utmost degradation and damnation.

No! Heretics! the men cried out, some pounding on the floor as if to beat the very thought of Serena's evil from their minds.

Torquemada couldn't hide the faint trace of a smile as he spread his arms wide, opening, then closing his hands like a miser running his fingers through a chest of gold coins. He'd thought it would take longer to rouse the priests to action but they were willing tools to his hands. Best move this along while they're still hot for the game he decided.

My brothers, if it were not for the courage of Queen Isabel herself these Satanists would go unpunished for none dare speak against them in public. But tonight that ends!

Yes! End the Evil! Strike down Satan's bitch!

My brothers, Torquemada continued quietly, only those strong in faith and firm in their resolve can stand against such evil. Are you sure that you are ready to undertake this noble cause?

Yes! Lead us! We are ready!

Then rise up my brothers and in the name Christ let us go forth to strike down the heretics!

As the priests marched out the door Torquemada's thoughts turned back to his own ambitions. This will make up for my setback in Milan, he thought, killing two birds with one stone. Well, hopefully not killing them until after I play with them a bit. I wonder if they are worth it; it's so hard to find a challenge these days; people just let you down, like that pathetic 'scientist' who only lasted two days in my dungeons. I didn't even get to stage an auto-da-fé with him; sad.

Once the group was outside, Torquemada held up his hands to give them pause and said, "When we reach the heretic's home you will find a company of Her Majesty's soldiers waiting to aid us. Do you each take five with you; the rest will follow me. As we proceed to the heretic's home make sure that you do so quietly; there is to be no talking or singing and make sure that your weapons remain muffled. We must be careful not to alert the house guards. Now bow your heads to receive God's blessing and forgiveness for all acts undertaken as part of this great work.

The priests smiled grimly, familiar with the instructions and well pleased that they would be exonerated from any 'accidents' that might happen upon the arrest of the heretics.

With a final grand gesture, Torquemada raised his arms and cried Go with God! Echoing his cry, the men hustled off into the night.

While Torquemada's men prepared for their assault, their unwary victims lay sleeping in a large mansion located close beneath the massive walls of the citadel of Gibralfaro.

Tanis had spent the day following her usual routine for a Tuesday. She was up early for a quick breakfast, followed by a couple of hours visiting shut-ins and the elderly of her people with her mother Serena. By mid-morning she was deep into her studies, slogging through Latin (which she hated) and Greek (which she loved). The story of Odysseus was a favorite both because of his fantastic adventures and because it reminded her of the many travels and migrations of her own people after they had left Atlantis. Lessons in other languages ended at lunchtime when she joined the daughters of the other wealthy residents of Malaga for the noonday meal. She found such lunches tedious but Serena insisted on them, rightly pointing out that she needed to develop contacts in society and to practice her courtly skills for the time when she must stand on her own as the head of their people.

The lunch gathering ended with dancing lessons and an hour of sewing before Tanis finally reached the point of the day that she always looked forward to; the hours that she spent with her mother. Some days, they would go over the books of accounts for Serena's vast trade empire, discussing which goods had the greatest value in the markets of the world, the relative merits of the ships used to transport them, and who the principal traders were amongst their own people. But other days took a different turn, as did this one.

Serena began, as usual, with a lesson in the language of lost Atlantis and the songs of their people that had come down to them from antiquity. This led naturally to a discussion of the history of their people as it was recorded in a diary that had been handed down from mother to daughter since the time of the fall.

I still don't understand the curse of Delphi. Tanis said, returning to a subject that they had discussed several weeks beforehand. "'Child of Atlantis, never will your daughters know a son nor shall your people know peace' she said, paraphrasing the ancient text. Our priest, Father Santos says that such things are mere superstitions and not to be believed."

Serena smiled as she sat back in her chair, gazing out the front window of their study to enjoy the view of Malaga's harbor. He is a good man, and his heart is in the right place. But he knows only what he has read in the bible. You have read the accounts in Plato's works, as well as others. Indeed, here we sit – living proof that Atlantis once graced the sea, though most discount that now. For my own part, I can say with certainty that neither your grandmother nor any of your ancestresses in known history have ever given birth to a son. Not that we haven't tried, she said with a sigh, but always it is the same.

But Mother, we do know peace! Here in Malaga we are safe, accepted, and have thrived. And what is there to prevent me from having a son? Is that not a matter of God's will, and not some myth from of old?

Serena's eyes grew sad as she leaned forward to gently stroke her daughter's raven curls. I wish it were so. She leaned back again, running her fingers along an ancient necklace that she always wore. An onyx pendant blazoned with a gold trident hung from the jewel-encrusted chain. But you have read the diary yourself, including my own entries. You know that it is true.

But it is so grim! And what Cassandra said – what she did – it seems so hard to believe.

Is it hard to believe this? Serena said, holding up the necklace. Handed down from mother to daughter from the time of Ariana herself. What did Cassandra say about this?

Tanis reached out to touch the necklace before answering; "I wear Ariana's necklace with pride. Better than any crown, it is a symbol of who we once were and a promise that lost Atlantis will never be forgotten."

For several moments the two women looked deep into each other's eyes, the sad wisdom in Serena's jade orbs a poignant counterpoint to the youthful optimism in Tanis's emerald gems. Then Serena said Enough of our history for one day. It's been a week since we practiced with blades; fetch the practice knives, there is an underhand strike that I want to show you today and you still need to work on your balance.

As Tanis stood she asked, Is this really needed? I know that the Spanish court can be dangerous, but we have stout men to guard us. Do I really need to know how to spit a pig with a dagger?

Serena snapped to her feet and loomed over her daughter, suddenly dangerous in her anger. Both were above average height for a woman, but Tanis was slender, almost sinuous of build whereas her mother was a full-bodied woman of middle age. When angry, as she was now, Serena seemed to grow to twice her size and had been known to cow battle-hardened soldiers.

What fool's talk is this? Where ever did you get such thoughts?!

Tanis swallowed hard but stood her ground. The good Father has told me that it is wrong to kill, or even to practice it. And the other girls do not know of such things. When I mentioned it once they thought it queer and shunned me for several days.

Serena closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath to calm herself. As she did, Tanis could see the hot flush of anger disappear from the woman's heart-shaped face. Suddenly Serena opened her eyes and pinned Tanis to the spot. Are you sure it wasn't because of the pranks you pulled on them? she asked, with a knowing twinkle in her eyes. Dimples appeared with a quick smile as she continued, Did you really sew the Gambino child's skirt to her chair so that she was unrobed when she stood up?

Mother, that was ages ago! And I've behaved since then.

Meaning you haven't been caught yet. Serena said, briefly closing her eyes again while she contemplated the various depredations of Tanis's that had been reported to her. That angelic face of yours doesn't fool me in the slightest, you know. But all joking aside, the other girls are fools, living in a fool's dream; something that you cannot afford. We have enemies, Tanis, ancient, powerful, and ruthless - as you should know from your studies. Nor can you count on our guards. Cassandra was surrounded by three-score armed men yet Minoan assassins brought death to her very bed chamber, killing her husband and very nearly killing her daughter Penelope. I sleep with a pistol by my bed, as should you.

Recognizing that she had lost the argument, Tanis fetched the practice knives without further comment and the women spent the rest of the time until the dinner hour with their practice. Serena gave extra attention to explaining to Tanis how to hide a dagger up a sleeve or beneath the folds of her dress. Not just so that you can do this yourself, but also so that you know where another person might have hidden a stiletto.

Supper was a small affair with just Serena, her husband Donato and Tanis at the table. It was made late by the absence of one of the kitchen maids who had taken to her room complaining of illness after a long day in the city. Afterwards, Serena had Tanis read from a copy of Johnson's manuscript for The Sad Shepherd that had come into Serena's hands recently. She delighted in having her daughter read the pastoral play aloud to her, though Tanis would rather have read something more exciting. She'd heard about the English playwright Shakespeare from one of the girls in her lunch circle and hoped someday to see one of his plays for herself.

When the time for bed arrived Tanis set the manuscript aside and snuffed out the Catalan lamp that she had been using. On a sudden impulse she turned to Serena and said Mother, I will be of age soon. Does that mean that I will have to marry and move away from you?

Serena laughed, stroking her daughter's fine black hair with affection. What a question! Whatever put this in your mind?

Some of the other girls are already engaged and all say that they expect to marry by their eighteenth birthday. Isadora says that a girl must have a great dowry or she will end an old spinster.

This is the only dowry that you need, Serena said, touching the gems that encircled her neck, this necklace and the diary of our ancestresses are your heritage.

And the ships! Serena's husband Donato exclaimed as he joined them, his stocky frame shaking a bit as he chuckled at his own joke. Don't forget about your fleet and the villas in Madrid and Milan. Tanis, your mother is no pauper and you are fortunate indeed to have such a parent. Your dowry will be the envy of princesses across Europe!

Serena laughed as she took her husband's hand, These things are less important than our people.

As I well know! Tanis, your mother is loved and respected by all of our clan. Never have we known such a time of peace and prosperity and it is all due to her great fleet and her reputation in the courts at Milan and Madrid. All love her for her gentle ways and generosity.

Stop! Serena said with a laugh. You'll have me believing this myself soon! Now then, Tanis, it is time for you to be off to bed. Don't forget to say your prayers, and when you do remember to pray for those less fortunate than us.

I will! Good night Mother. Leaving her parents with fierce hugs and kisses, Tanis skipped out of the mansion's library and scampered up a fine oak staircase. Turning right she went down the hall to her bedroom. All of the bedchambers were on the second floor of the mansion; hers was at the opposite end of the house from her parents.

After Tanis left the library, Donato sat down and took his wife into his arms. She's a fine child, he said with pride, "so much like her mother!'

Shush! Serena said with a blush. Where do you think such flattery will get you? I'll have you know I'm a happily married woman!

As your husband, I find that reassuring! Donato joked back. Let us be serious for a minute though dear. There is something we do need to discuss.

Yes, I know what you are referring to. I have also heard the rumors; Torquemada is believed to have left Madrid and headed for Valencia where he will denounce all of our Atlantean people as heretics. I sent Bernardo there with some men to investigate this but they have found nothing.

Well that's just about as bad; he has to be somewhere, but where?

Only God knows.

More like Satan! The man's a devil!

Shh! If anyone heard you say that we'd be reported and then there'd be real trouble! For now, we are safe as long as we keep to ourselves and avoid Valencia and Madrid. It is for this reason that I brought us to Malaga; it is small enough to be overlooked but large enough to serve as a port for our cargo ships.

And speaking of ships, we have two due to leave port with the morning tide. I have letters to give to the ship's masters so we'll need to rise early.

Then let us retire now, else we'll get no sleep at all.

With that, the couple took the stairs up to their bedroom and were soon abed and asleep.

It was an hour past midnight when the priests and soldiers of the Inquisition gathered in front of Tanis's home. Following whispered instructions, they silently filled the alleys, streets, and courtyards upon which the mansion fronted.

Finding a way into the mansion had not been easy; its thick oak doors were all heavily reinforced with iron and all of the windows were shielded with black iron grates. It would take much time to force entry - the house guards would be difficult to overcome once alerted and truthfully, none of the priests wanted to be the first to die for God that night. But there were other methods of entry more to their liking. Attempts to suborn or bribe the household servants had been unsuccessful. Serena's people were stubbornly loyal and annoyingly honest. Early that morning though one of the scullery maids had been pulled off the street and taken to the secret chambers beneath the Santiago church. There she was whipped and debauched by the priests but even though she cried in pain and humiliation, she refused their demands. Then they had shown her the Spanish Donkey and even as her eyes widened in horror they had pressed a hot coal to her back. Shrieking in pain and fear, she had broken and agreed to let them in that night.

And so it was that a terrified woman lifted the bar to the kitchen door with trembling hands and opened it to the men who waited outside. Experienced soldiers went first with rags tied around their feet so that they could move through the mansion without making a sound. Their eyes had been covered with scarves for an hour before entering so that they could see clearly when they entered the dimly lit rooms. Carrying silken cords in their hands they stole up behind the two guards at the front entrance and strangled the men before an alarm could be given. After that, they led the rush up the mansion's stairway to the sleeping chambers above. Here the company split into prearranged groups. Waiting until all were in position outside the bedroom doors, Torquemada raised and lowered his arm to signal the assault. With a roar the soldiers threw open the doors and, led bravely from behind by the priests, fell upon the unwary people within.

The men who burst into Tanis's room made the mistake of underestimating their victim. They had been told that she was just a skinny girl not yet eighteen years of age and they expected no resistance. So it was that the priest leading that group screwed up his courage and tried to subdue her himself. Grasping her by the hair he pulled her from the bed crying Wake up! Wake up you little devil! You have an appointment with God tonight! But Tanis was not to be taken lightly. Though she was blurry from sleep, she instinctively knew that she was in a fight for her life. Grasping the man's robe with her left hand she kicked wildly with her right foot. Her second kick caught the priest square on the shin and he yelped with pain. Still holding her hair, he tried to slap her with his right hand. It was an awkward move and all he accomplished was to bend Tanis over where she could see the dagger in his belt. Without hesitation, she grabbed the knife in her right hand and drove it into the man's thigh. Now he howled in real pain and released his hold on her hair. As he bent over to grab his injured leg, Tanis drove the dagger into his throat killing him instantly.

The soldiers watching the episode from the doorway laughed at the girl's struggles right up to the moment the priest fell dead. Suddenly serious, the men formed a loose circle around the girl as she crouched with the dagger in her hand. Moving quickly one of the men pulled the blankets off her bed and tossed them over her head and shoulders, smothering her as he threw her to the ground. Moments later, she had been disarmed and lay gagged, bound, and helpless on the floor.

The men who entered Serena's chamber fared no better. Not only was it her habit to lock her chamber door at night but she and her husband also slept with pistols and daggers next to their bed. Long generations of conflict and assassinations had taught her clan the importance of being prepared even when they thought themselves safe.

The first soldiers through the door met a fusillade of fire as Serena and Donato snatched up pistols, firing with a gun in each hand. Only one of their shots hit home though and the remaining soldiers, handpicked men who had seen battle often, rushed in.

Flee! cried Donato. Throwing down his spent pistols, he snatched up one end of their mattress and pitched it into the attacking men. Dagger in hand he stepped behind Serena as she slipped through an opening in the drapes behind their bed. Before Torquemada could stop them several of his men fired their pistols, cutting Donato down.

Don't shoot! Torquemada commanded, I want the woman alive!

The soldiers ripped aside the drapes revealing a door to a hidden passage. It took less than a minute for them to batter the door down. Entering the narrow passage carefully they made their way slowly along and then down the corridor until it opened through another hidden doorway into a neighbor's courtyard.

Unfortunately for Serena, Torquemada had stationed men in all of the surrounding alleys and streets so that she was now trapped in the open. Holding a dagger before her, she prepared to sell her life dearly. Forming a circle around her the soldiers slowly closed in then suddenly threw nets over her, bearing her to the ground where she could be subdued. A blow to the temple from a truncheon ended her struggles.

Meanwhile, back in her bedchamber Torquemada stood looking down at Donato's body. You're the lucky one, he murmured as his men brought in the maidservant who had opened the door for them. As she was brought in, it occurred to him that it might prove awkward explaining the innocent girl's treatment earlier in the day. He could buy her silence, but such arrangements had a way of coming undone.

Turning to the woman Torquemada asked, Are you the child who gave entry to my men?

Shaking in fear the woman could barely nod her head yes.

Thanks to you, my dear, a vile sinner has been arrested. How shall I reward you for this?

The woman could only shake her head from side to side, mute. Torquemada looked over at one of the priests who had brought the woman in. Was she cooperative or did she need persuading to aid the cause of righteousness?

Holy Father, she did need some persuading.

Torquemada turned back to the woman. Did these men touch you? She nodded yes, looking into the man's eyes like a frightened bird. Did they abuse your virginity? She nodded again, clutching her robes up to her breast as she began to cry. How many? The woman made no response so the priest next to her held up four fingers. Four men! Torquemada exclaimed. You have had carnal knowledge of four different men! Child, don't you know that makes you a whore in the eyes of all good men? What shall I do with you, a heretic and a whore?

Please, forgive me! I am innocent! Please!!

Forgive you? Oh my child I so want to do so, but there is the problem of heresy!

No Father, no! I am no heretic!

But you were a servant in a household of heretics. Are you not one of them, or do you reject heresy?

I reject it, I reject it! Oh please!

Ah! So the others are heretics but you are not?

Yes! I am not, Father! I am not!

Thank you child, for your courage in this matter. Turning to a scribe who had stood behind him, quietly recording the conversation Torquemada asked, Do you have her statement in full?

Yes, Holy Father.

Child, Torquemada said turning back to the woman, place your mark upon this statement if you want absolution for your sins.

Wide-eyed the woman touched her trembling thumb to the scribe's inkpad and then pressed it to the bottom of the parchment that he held. At a nod from Torquemada, the scribe took the paper and left.

Stepping close to the woman Torquemada said On your knees child if you would receive forgiveness for your sins. As she knelt, he made the sign of the cross on her forehead and said, You are absolved of all sins and may go to God with a clean soul. Then he pulled out a dagger and slit her throat. As her body fell jerking and spurting blood to the floor, the priests in the room cried out Glory to God and His Works! Torquemada stared silently at the body for a minute, his face unreadable, then turned and left without a word.

Chapter 2

After her initial shock and panicked attempt to escape, Tanis spent an unknown period of time lost in her fear. With a determined effort she finally regained control of herself and stood up to explore her cell.

Putting her hands out to find her way, she crept forward in the dark, moving slowly until her fingers touched the filthy stone again. Running her right hand along the wall she carefully made a circuit of the room where she was imprisoned. As nearly as she could tell, it was roughly square in shape and only two strides across. There was what felt like a wooden door on one side and an evil-smelling hole in a far corner that her bare foot had involuntarily explored. Reaching up she found the ceiling only inches from the top of her head.

Screwing up her courage she went to the door and softly called Hello? Is anybody there? There was no reply so after a moment she tried calling out again in a louder voice. Still no answer. Carefully putting her back to one of the walls she slid back down to the floor. She could feel the chilly stone right through the soiled material of the nightgown that she'd been wearing when she'd been taken. Pulling her knees up to her chest she rested her forehead on her arms.

For the thousandth time she asked herself what had happened? It came to her that her first thought, that she'd been kidnapped, was wrong. People like that didn't use prison cells. So where was she, and what had happened? She didn't know and there was nobody to tell her. All she could do was huddle in the dark and hope that her parents were still alive and that they would find her soon.

Eventually fatigue overcame her fear and discomfort and she slipped off to sleep. She woke to the rattle of a dish sliding through a slot under the door into her cell. She didn't know what the noise was at first but exploring with her fingers she soon discovered a wooden bowl filled with vile-smelling slop. Turning away she lay down on her side. After a time the slot at the bottom of the door opened for a moment, letting in the faintest of light as the bowl was pulled from the cell.

Tanis waited in the dark but nothing else came and she grew unsure how long she had actually been there. So she started counting to herself; when she reached sixty she figured that a minute had passed and she started over again. Keeping track of the minutes eventually led to an hour; and the hours continued until she finally fell asleep again. At least, she thought she had slept. In such complete darkness and the absence of sound it was hard to tell if she'd slept. Her belly rumbled and had begun to ache from hunger.

When she had counted sixteen hours the slot in the door opened and food appeared again. This time Tanis took the bowl and, holding her nose to block the stench, forced the meager meal down her throat. Retching in disgust she put the bowl back to its place by the door.

This must be the second day that I am here, she thought, so she started her count over again and fixed the number of days in her mind. Each time that she was fed she counted it as a day though sometimes the hours that she counted did not match what she expected. Even so, it was the best that she could do and she kept at it. If nothing else, it kept her mind alert and gave her something to think about besides worrying about her parents.

By the end of two weeks Tanis was sure that something bad must have happened to her family; otherwise they would have paid off her ransom or launched a raid to free her from this place. She wondered if perhaps they were prisoners too. Instead of sinking into depression at that thought she decided that she'd have to find a way to free herself, then find her parents. So she traced the outline of her cell and the door with her long, delicate fingers, memorizing every aspect of it. And she began to pace. Two steps, turn left; two more, turn left again, then again and again, and again. Each day she circled the cell until her feet were sore and legs tired. As days turned into weeks and weeks into months she kept to her routine with a determination that would eventually serve her well. To keep her mind alert she quietly recited what she could recall from her mother's book, the diary of the Atlantean matriarchs. The stories of her ancestresses' struggles and triumphs gave her hope and determination to survive.

Chapter 3

Serena was housed in a cell much like her daughter's.

After her capture she had been taken from Malaga to Torquemada's seat of power in the magnificent cathedral of Valencia. There she had been escorted down into the vast complex of dungeons hidden under the church's foundation. Left over from the time when the building was a Visigoth shrine, the underground chambers had originally been used by Christian hermits and monks for meditation and had gone unused for centuries until the Inquisition found a new purpose for them, transforming the holy site into a place of horror.

There was no light in Serena's dungeon cell, not even from the chinks in the door, and she never knew if it was day or night. All she could do was count her sleeps and hope that there was some correspondence to the passing days. This was her fifty-second sleep, so she guessed that nearly two months had passed since her home had been raided by the officers of the Inquisition. In all of that time she was completely alone. Nobody spoke to her and she had no idea what she was charged with, though she could well guess; there was only ever one charge by the Inquisition and that was heresy.

She was fed once a day through a small slot in the bottom of the door. A bowl containing scraps and crumbs was slid through the slot. This was not consistent; sometimes she would be fed twice between sleeps and sometimes she would sleep two or even three times before the food appeared, so that sometimes she felt as if she would die of starvation. All of this, she knew, was part of the standard technique used by the Inquisition to break a prisoner. Eventually they'd get around to some perfunctory questioning followed by gruesome torture. Thinking about that, Serena hoped that Tanis had