Loved Him to Death: Haru of Sachoné House

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Loved Him to Death: Haru of Sachoné House Page 7

by K. M. Frontain


  “But Little Brother was very happy again,” Intana mentioned.

  I glowered indirectly at him, then looked to Kima for more information. “Have any other attacks happened since?”

  “No.”

  “I should like to assess the damage to the ship myself.”

  “Tomorrow,” Intana said. “You will rest longer. Your breathing only went back to rights earlier this morning.”

  I almost looked full at him, but went still with my gaze riveted to an elbow. Lovely, the lay of silver scales there.

  “Don’t argue with me about this. It is my duty to see to your welfare, and you can’t stop me from doing so,” Intana added. No doubt he knew I disliked the idea of remaining trapped in my cabin with him in attendance.

  “He’s right. You must rest longer,” Kima said. He heaved to his feet.

  I almost begged him to stay, but sensed he was ill at ease here, with the creature indirectly responsible for the death of his nephew. “Tomorrow, then,” I said.

  “Tomorrow,” Kima agreed and climbed back into the sunlight.

  Intana followed him just to the entrance. He thumped the inner door shut and faced me with a determined air. “Did you let him touch you? Did he help you sit up in bed? Is he your lover?”

  “Where is my tea?” I asked.

  Intana froze a step away from the door. “On the bed. On the floor. You broke the teapot.”

  “Your chest broke the teapot. Fetch me a new teapot, something attractive but practical.”

  “Will you break the new one against me?”

  “I might. But I think I’ll drink my tea first. Off with you!”

  “Very well. We’ll have our discussion when I return, but you had best not let anyone touch you while I’m gone.”

  “Don’t pretend you’re in charge.”

  “Just look at me!” he howled.

  “My new teapot! Now!”

  He slammed the cabin door open and thumped up the steps. “You will look at me!” he shouted down the hatch.

  “I’ll kiss Vaal first,” I hollered back.

  “Aiieeee!” he shrieked, and I heard wood splintering.

  “Desist damaging my ship!” I roared and wheezed spit onto my silk cover.

  “He left before he heard you, Lord,” Gari said from the doorway. “He can fly, you know. He flew when he brought you back to us.”

  “Can he?” I said between choking coughs. Odd. I’d never heard of him flying for any Oradhé before me. But then, my associates here in Verdant had tended to be closed-mouthed about the divine slave. Until the investiture, I hadn’t once seen Intana, even from a distance. It seemed to me his last Oradhé must have been a recluse.

  That or the Ardu priests had kept Intana and the earlier Oradhé locked away somewhere, creating paint, day in, day out.

  Now that I thought on it, this seemed the most likely circumstance. I pitied Intana then. He’d angered me, threatened my crew, hurt some, but yes, I understood his desperation.

  “I’ll clean up the mess, shall I?” Gari said. He pulled a rag from the back pocket of his trousers and approached the spill on the floor.

  “Yes. Then you can help me spread more of this lotion on my skin.”

  Gari stumbled and froze. I stared at him, at his huge eyes and terrified countenance, and realized the danger I placed him in. I smiled an apology.

  “Just clean the mess. That will do.”

  “Thank you, Lord,” he whispered and knelt to wipe up the spill, his skinny body shaking. Poor child. Not yet thirteen and already suffering a trial as frightening as Blood Bay.

  Damn that Intana. Damn him, damn him. I had no choice but to accept his touch, or endure this horrific itching longer. No doubt I’d have to endure a discussion with him as well.

  I wouldn’t make it easy for him. I began compiling a list of tasks to give him. Every time he opened his mouth and said the wrong thing, I’d give him one, until he learned to coerce me no longer.

  ***

  “Do you like it?”

  “Yes, it’s very beautiful, exactly what I would have chosen.”

  I wondered if he’d stolen it.

  “Of course I stole it! Since when did I ever have money?” Scowling, he poured tea from the new pot, into a cup from the new tea set that went with it.

  I yanked my gaze from his face. Gorgeous pottery. Not thin porcelain, but a sturdy ceramic painted a general deep blue, horizontal green streaks throughout. “Did the previous owner see you take it?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he replied. “They said nothing. They never do.”

  “So you’ve taken things before, at the behest of your Oradhé?”

  “Yes. You may ask for any item and be given it.”

  “So, technically, by your customs, you didn’t steal.”

  “They aren’t my customs,” he said and handed me a cup. “You will drink your pain medicine as well. And I’ll rub lotion over your legs while you finish your tea. I’ll change your sheets after.”

  “To that new set you arrived with?”

  “Yes.”

  “It was kind of you to think of procuring more.” And crafty of him not to pester me with demands to look at him, or press me to discuss the relationships I had with the men of my crew. I suspected he was well aware of my mental list of tasks and hesitated to be a nuisance because of it.

  “It is my duty to see after your comfort. I’ve decided not to pester you for anything until you feel better.”

  Convenient.

  “Don’t be cynical. I truly do wish you to feel better.” He fetched up a medicine bottle on the tea tray, poured a spoonful, held the dose to my mouth. I hesitated.

  Bitter. Always bitter. Tomi did not believe in adding a sweetener to his concoctions.

  “I added honey to it.”

  “Oh.” I opened my mouth, received the dose, swallowed. Still bitter, but not enough to pucker my face or make me gag.

  “Did the sheets come from the same house as the teapot?” I said after.

  The spoon clattered back onto the tray. “No. The sheets are the finest silk. I took them from the emperor.”

  I laughed. He laughed. I choked up the second he folded my cover down.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”

  “It’s not that! I look like hell!”

  “You’ll get better.”

  I hadn’t seen anything below my waist yet. My genitals were the only part of me not fiery red, and yet they itched intolerably. My legs still had blisters and my feet were swollen.

  I had been resisting the urge to scratch and wriggle, concentrating on anything, just anything else, particularly ways to keep Intana occupied. But now I squirmed with distress and almost spilled the tea over my abdomen. Intana removed the cup from my hand.

  “I’ll serve you a fresh cup after. You’re overdue for the lotion. I don’t know how you tolerated the discomfort for so long.”

  “I had suitable distractions up until this point,” I said. “I really did almost die, didn’t I?”

  “Yes.” He poured lotion onto a pale palm and set his hand on my genitalia. If he’d hoped to surprise me, the manoeuvre failed. I spread my legs to let him work the lotion around my scrotum more easily.

  He made an impatient huffing noise. “Don’t be so cynical, I said. You itch there the worst. Of course, I had to apply the lotion to your crotch first.”

  “It’s very impolite, the way you dig into a person’s head. You’ll suffer cynical until you desist.”

  “I can’t very well get out of your head since you are the keeper of my seal.”

  Really. Did that mean I could get into his?

  “Very few humans achieve the skill.”

  Well, I would.

  He laughed, poured more lotion, slathered it over my thighs. Herbal medicines scented the air. Some sort of flower predominated.

  “Your confidence is most refreshing,” Intana said.

  “You mean my over-confidence is most amusing.”

>   “Well done. You’ve succeeded already.”

  “Don’t be cynical.” Ah, my scrotum felt so much better, but my foreskin…

  Intana tilted the lotion bottle over my penis and poured directly onto the head. Lavender. That smelled of lavender.

  “Sorry. I should have paid more attention to that part.” He gently twisted the loose skin between thumb and forefinger, worked lotion over the prepuce and within, and damn it, I grew an erection despite the state of my body.

  “That’s enough,” I said.

  He released the foreskin, traced oily fingers back to my thigh. My shaft flopped toward my left hip, jerked back up and settled again, left a trail of hot lotion on my flank. Damn. Damn. Damn.

  “I’ll come back to that,” he said, “when I’ve finished relieving your discomfort elsewhere.”

  Speaking of which… “You will pay no attention to an accidental excitement. Now hand me a chamber pot, or I shall dump the teapot and pee in it.”

  He laughed. “An accidental excitement? You really are amusing.”

  He removed the tea tray from the bedside and withdrew the chamber pot from the drawer beneath the bed. When he attempted to position my parts for proper function, I knocked his hands aside.

  “Enough of that! I’m not that debilitated!”

  “You are. You just don’t want to admit it. Look at you. You’ve only one working arm with which to aim, and it’s the wrong one, and you can barely sit up to get your shaft over the rim of the pot.”

  “Turn around.”

  “Oh, don’t be so timid.”

  “What? Do you like watching men pee?”

  “No!”

  “Then turn around!”

  Issuing a muffled expletive, he wheeled to face my desk. I levered up with much effort and forced my penis to cooperate. And that hurt, too.

  “Just admit it! You need help!” he said.

  “You like watching men pee.”

  “I do not! Am I looking? Am I?”

  “I ordered you not to.”

  “Oh, hurry up and finish!”

  Grinning, I peed, and managed to get it all in the pot despite his disbelief in the aiming skill of my left hand. I was exhausted after.

  “All done,” I said, collapsing back onto my collection of pillows.

  Intana removed the pot from between my legs, set it by the door, and returned to complete the application of the lotion. While he comforted my swollen feet, I could keep my eyes open no longer. I tumbled back into oblivion.

  I reawakened later with the irritation of my skin ameliorated, the cabin tidy, the sheets changed, a new cover over me, and Intana resting on the bed at my side. He watched me with a rapt, almost predatory expression.

  Transfixed. Silver pupils widening into a haze of electrum motes. The motes coalescing into a single monstrous eye. A lining of blue scale forming the rim. The rim paling into silver again. Spreading, spreading into something larger.

  Haru…

  A shock of cold seized my heart beneath Little Brother’s mark. It shot up my spine, arched my back, ripped the veil of otherness from the air. “Aaah!”

  Intana lurched up onto one arm and leant over me. I put my left palm over my eyes.

  “What is it? Why are you in pain?”

  “There’s a shark tooth lodged in my cranium,” I said. “Ah, my head!”

  “Something happened. What just happened?”

  “Medicine! Have pity!”

  A too harsh grip settled on my wrist and yanked my arm down. “You almost saw me! And something happened! What was it?”

  “Will you give me the pain medicine, or must I call for my surgeon?”

  “Look at me!”

  Damn him! He cared not a bit that I suffered. He only bided his time, pretended patience and offered service, but solely to lure my eyes to his body.

  So be it. His body would quit my presence for a time.

  “Recover the mainmast of this ship from the bottom of the bay.”

  “What…?”

  “If the mast is in sections, do not break it further. If it is whole, see that it remains so. You are to remove the yards for salvage before bringing the mast on board ship, and you will salvage the sails as well.”

  “But—”

  “Go now!”

  He gasped, created a small earthquake lurching from the bed, and slammed out of the cabin. I opened my eyes, felt the shark tooth become a soft jelly that oozed from my perception, and let one moan of anguish escape my throat.

  “Vaal,” I whispered. “Was it you?”

  Why had Vaal intervened?

  Why was I glad He’d done so?

  I lay motionless in the bed and waited. Some time later, I listened to First Mate shout orders to clear a space on deck, and felt the ship cant as the weight of the mast settled there. Intana arrived in the cabin later, after he’d returned with the yards and sails. I kept my gaze pinned to the ceiling when he entered.

  “Have you ever repaired a ship, Intana?” I said before he spoke.

  “No.”

  “Well, you’re about to start.”

  “Please. Don’t send me away again. I’ll behave.”

  “I’m hungry and thirsty. Twice now, I’ve asked you for tea and not been permitted to drink it.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll make more. I’ll bring food.” He began to retreat. I called him back.

  “Intana!”

  “Yes?” He moved closer to the bed. I tilted my head away, enough that he remained a vague figure at the boundary of my vision.

  “Intana, must the Oradhé truly be able to love you without reservation to see you as you truly are?”

  “Yes,” he answered.

  “I don’t love you.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “It’s not possible. I find you contemptible.”

  A hand lifted as if to make protest, lowered after a second. “It doesn’t matter. You still love me, or you would not have begun to see me.”

  “I don’t love you. We’ve only just met. Go away.”

  He stepped back a pace. “I’ll bring tea…and food.”

  He departed. I swiped a trail of moisture from my cheek. Damn it. I wept.

  “I don’t love him!”

  If he left me, I’d want to die. And I knew he intended to leave me the moment I set him free.

  Losing my sight would have been easier than enduring my heart torn asunder again. I contemplated ripping my eyes out.

  No. He’d only despise me after, as he’d despised every Oradhé before me.

  As he already did despise me. He’d given ample hints what he thought of me, threatening my crew, strangling my cabin boy, naming me a piddling mortal, mocking my weakness when he touched me earlier. He thought he’d won already. I was his, a sighted Oradhé, and destined to love him without reservation.

  Think again, Intana.

  I have said I am a selfish man, and it is true. I would not let anyone crush my heart a second time. I’d find a way to crush Intana’s need for freedom first.

  Chapter Seven

  Intana returned to me and carried out his functions in a quiet and expeditious fashion, but did not forget gentleness when my body required handling. He propped me up in the bed, set the tray over my lap, served tea, placed a meal in front of me, cut my food, but let me put each morsel into my mouth myself. His arrogance of before seemed to have collapsed.

  I knew better than to think he actually cared. He’d been forced to curb his impatience, bottle his air of entitlement. If he understood the reason for my reluctance to free him from servitude, he did not say. Believing that he might be aware of my doomed love for Jumi, and that he found me pitiful, I became quieter as the day drew on, until I felt as if I had solidified into a lump of rejection.

  He made no effort to draw me out, became quieter himself. By early evening, an anxious frown visited his face and would not leave. He fed me an evening meal, removed the leftovers, left the cabin, and returned with the surgeon.

>   Tomi stopped in the entrance. Intana prodded him closer. Tomi halted at the foot of the bed, regarded me a moment, and asked, “Are you in pain? Does your arm hurt more than before?”

  “No.”

  “Are you uncomfortable? Do you require another application of lotion?”

  “I just had one before supper.”

  “Is there anything you want?”

  “No.”

  The surgeon pondered me for a time. Then, shifting on his feet as if he were uncomfortable, he said, “I’ve been told you need merely look directly at this god to remove him from your life. Perhaps it would be best.”

  “For him, yes, perhaps it would be.”

  Again the surgeon contemplated me for a time. Eventually, he said, “Haru of Sachoné House, I beg Vaal to ease your pain, for I have not the skill.” Tomi lowered his head in farewell and turned away. Intana seized him by a shoulder.

  “Wait! You’ve done nothing to make him better!”

  “There is nothing I can do.”

  “But what is wrong with him?”

  “He suffers black moods on occasion.” Tomi shoved Intana’s arm away. “See to his needs as before. He will recover when he recovers.” Tomi made for the hatch again. Intana blocked his path.

  “But what causes these moods?”

  “I will not give his secrets to you. Ask him yourself. Now step aside, Verdant god.”

  Glowering, Intana gave Tomi room to escape. Intana faced me after the surgeon had departed. “Black moods,” he said.

  “I’m feeling better. Truly. Stop worrying.” I swung my gaze past him, caught the glower becoming an angry tightening of his lips, focused on the doorframe next to his head. “You can’t know everything I think,” I said. “I can refuse your presence in my head.”

  “And that makes you feel better?”

  “Very much.”

  And the war between my fear of abandonment and his need for freedom engaged again.

  He didn’t attack straight off. He waited until night had fallen, after I’d swallowed more pain medicine, relieved my bladder, settled back onto the pillows to let him smooth lotion over my body once more. He wanted to begin with my back this time.

 

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