Conjuring the Flesh

by Brandon Fox

  “What about Sorel? I think Thane hurt him.”

  Nicolai snorted. “Sorel’s got a temper, but he loves Thane as much as the rest of us. And he knows the argument’s true cause. He’ll cool quickly.” A smile tugged at his lips. “He’s probably already looking forward to making up with Thane. Those two glow like the sun when they put their minds to pleasuring each other.”

  They arrived at the wrecked greenhouse. Slush and mud covered the ground. Most of the building’s framework had already been rebuilt with massive timbers, though the beams lacked the smooth finish and graceful carvings the surviving part of the structure displayed. Half a dozen initiates were at work on the framing. Worst of all were the empty beds where only a few days ago lush gardens had bloomed.

  Nicolai pointed to a corner of the structure. “See those bamboo poles at each corner? They’re hollowed out. Katy has them connected to a hot spring in the basement. We’ll be able to run warm water over the roof to keep the snow off, until it’s safe to use weather spells again.”

  There was regret in Nicolai’s voice. It was clear he didn’t expect the threat from the zamindar’s sorcerers to be eliminated anytime soon.

  “Can I help?” Ander asked. “I’m pretty good with hammer and saw.”

  “That’s nearly done. The big job now is finding enough dry wood to keep the glass furnace hot.” He pointed to a trail on the clearing’s far side. “Check out that way, toward the ravine. Look for fallen trees and mark where they are. We’ll send out teams with horses later in the day to bring in the logs.”

  “Shouldn’t I stay closer? What if Thane needs me?”

  Nicolai slapped him on the back. “You’re already helping him by letting him work this out by himself. You’re barely past nineteen yourself. You know what it’s like, when you can’t help feeling bad and everybody tells you to stop it.”

  Ander nodded, rueful. “All right, I’m convinced. I’ll come back around noon.” He hiked across the clearing while Nicolai went to work with the carpenters.

  The forest along the trail had already been thoroughly scoured for firewood. He decided to leave the trail and hike west, using the sun to reckon direction. In only a quarter of an hour, he found the first fallen tree. He marked the location and continued westward.

  In the next two hours, he found two dozen more fallen trees. But the shady forest was cold and depressing. A clearing beckoned to his right, bright sun reflecting off rocks and snowdrifts. A few minutes won’t do any harm. Just until I warm up. He turned toward the light.

  A dazzling vista emerged as he left the forest. A ravine fell away to the left, billowing with mist rising from frothy cataracts. Snowbanks filled the clearing except where boulders made islands in the sea of whiteness. Sun and wind had created rippled patterns in the snow, like breakers rolling onto an ocean shore.

  Ander entered the clearing and climbed onto a sun-warmed rock. He squinted at the brilliant points of light reflecting off rippling drifts, marveling at the scene’s pristine beauty, then surveyed the edge of the clearing. Two fallen trees were visible within a hundred feet of where he sat. He shielded his eyes, trying to block the glare, and peered deeper into the surrounding trees. His stomach began to flutter. Disorientation, similar to dreamsmoke but less severe, made him close his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he saw something that he hadn’t noticed before.

  It moved.

  For a heartbeat he sat motionless. Then instinct took over. He rolled off the rock without getting to his feet, landing on all fours in two feet of snow. A quick scramble and he was behind the boulder. His heart hammered in his ears, every nerve straining. He silently cursed himself for venturing into the forest without a weapon.

  A minute passed without a sound other than wind whispering through pine boughs. Goose bumps rose on his neck as he tensed for an attack. But instead of an arrow or a lunging wolf, he staggered under another wave of disorientation. Moving as if under compulsion, every muscle tight, he cautiously peered around the boulder. At first he couldn’t see into the forest’s shadows. Then a flicker of motion caught his eye.

  Rippling light, reflected from the textured snow, shimmered and coalesced into the figure of a naked youth: lithe but strong, tawny-skinned, with thick black hair flowing down his back. The figure turned and looked toward Ander, the shape of his eyes lending an eastern cast to princely features.

  Lucian! He had seen the ethereal remnants of Thane’s first love only once before, in a shrine high in the hills above the lyceum. Composed of echoes and fragments of anima left in the kei when Lucian and Thane had explored the magical realm, the ghost could barely manifest itself in the physical world. Only Thane’s love and the longing that still tore at him ten years after the death of Lucian’s body prevented the ghost from dissipating into the kei.

  Ander stumbled to his feet and faced the ghost. Even as a shade, Lucian’s beauty was remarkable. Thane claimed that Ander resembled him, but he found it hard to believe.

  The ghost raised an arm in greeting. Ander plowed forward through deep snow, trying to shake the dreamlike feeling of the strange encounter. As he reached the edge of the clearing, a sense of rapport began to develop. Before long he felt the gentle touch of Lucian’s mind. But this time the mental contact tingled with urgency.

  “What? Did you—” Ander stopped and blinked, trying to make sense of the sudden whispering inside his head. Desperation, that much was clear. But the words were indistinct. A hundred questions flooded his mind.

  He opened his mouth to speak. Lucian held up a hand and shook his head vigorously. He steepled his fingers, his thumbs linked, centering his hands over his heart. Ander recognized the gesture; the space between Lucian’s hands was shaped like a candle’s flame. Then he remembered. Leif had once explained the eastern paths to enlightenment his grandmother had practiced. Calm air lets the candle burn, allows the light to shine. Clear the mind and illumination will blossom. Though he was filled with questions, he forced himself to remain still.

  Lucian gazed at him somberly. As Ander’s breathing slowed, the ghost’s form solidified. He could have been flesh and blood but for the faint golden aura surrounding his lean body. The tide of questions dropped and left a calm openness. Lucian nodded approvingly, and Ander again felt the feathery touch of the spirit’s mind.

  “We must be quick. There is danger, and I am weakened.”

  “I know! Something soon in Fochelis, we saw—”

  Lucian’s eyes narrowed to slits, his expression pained. He held up a hand to stop Ander’s outburst. “I was dreaming, but Thane’s pain wakened me. I saw what was in his mind. He’s wrong! Be still and listen.”

  Renewed questions clamored, and Lucian’s form began to waver. Ander reached forward desperately, his hand passing through the ghost’s side. A ripple of strangeness passed over his skin, and Lucian vanished in a blink. Aghast, Ander stumbled backward and fell in the snow. He burned with disappointment.

  As he got to his feet, the air around him shimmered like a golden curtain rippling in a gentle breeze. Lucian reappeared, less solid than before. Ander could see the faint outline of trees and branches through the ghost’s torso. His hands were pressed to his head, and his eyes were closed.

  “Deception, Ander. Treachery. Pella, not Fochelis! Danger in the kei. You must tell Thane.”

  Ander hesitated, fearful that anything he did would make Lucian vanish again, perhaps permanently.

  The shade opened his eyes and gave Ander an entreating gaze. “I’m just a shadow, but I still love him. Yet he mustn’t know I exist. He carries too much grief already. Love him for me, Ander. Give him peace. Only then can I rest.” Lucian’s yearning could be felt more clearly than his words could be heard. Tears glistened on the ghost’s cheeks.

  Ander was dumbfounded. He had never imagined that ghosts could cry. “I do love him,” he whispered.

  Lucian reached out, his beauty and sadness making Ander ache. Then, with no warning, the world was bathed in red. Luc
ian’s expression turned to agony, torment that Ander felt as intensely as a white-hot brand. The ghost vanished, and the pain cut off as if severed by a knife. The red haze disappeared at the same instant.

  Ander’s feet felt like they were frozen to the ground, and he began to shiver, whether from cold or in reaction to Lucian’s agonizing disappearance he couldn’t tell. He could sense the shade wouldn’t be coming back. The clearing felt cold and empty. He turned and headed in the direction of the lyceum.

  Lucian’s guidance posed more problems than it solved. He clearly shared Sorel’s doubts about the role Fochelis played in the zamindar’s plans. But Ander didn’t see how the information could be used. Thane wasn’t likely to abandon his plans based on a mere suggestion. Things seemed to be falling apart, and he couldn’t see a way to stop it. Then a new thought made him stop in his tracks. Should I tell Thane about Lucian’s shade? But what if the knowledge renews his grief, as Lucian fears? It would be a desperate gamble, but nevertheless a chance. He resumed walking, wondering if it was a gamble he dared take.

  Should I ask Nicolai and Sorel what they think? They’d keep the secret if asked. It was tempting, but he remembered Lady Tayanita’s cynical advice about secrets: it’s possible for as many as three people to keep a secret, provided that two of them are dead.

  Distracted by the dilemma, Ander found himself back at the lyceum no closer to a solution than when he had left the clearing. Still uncertain what to do, he went looking for Thane. A few inquiries led him to the workroom at the top of the castle’s tower. He found the mage leaning on a trestle table with his head bowed, poking morosely through a pile of crystals.

  Thane looked up and blushed as Ander crossed the chamber. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m a fool. There’s no excuse for hurting my friends. It shames me.”

  Ander put an arm around his waist. “I think they understand. Have you spoken with Sorel since breakfast?”

  Thane returned his squeeze, pulling him tight. “An hour ago.”

  “Is he all right now?”

  “We shared a mug of mulled cider and talked. Then Nicolai came in, all cold from working on the greenhouse, and coaxed us into a tumble. We just finished a few minutes ago. Nothing brings out the comradeship in Sorel faster than passion.”

  Ander glanced at the crystals Thane had been examining. They were the same stones he had been experimenting with as a remedy for his impairment. He must still be blind to magical bonds. He tightened his hug. Thane took a deep breath and leaned close.

  How do I persuade him not to go to Fochelis? He stood still for several seconds, reluctant to reopen the subject that had sparked Thane’s argument with Sorel. But there was no avoiding the problem, and delay would only make it harder.

  “Thane, when you spoke with Sorel, did—”

  The workroom’s door flew open, swinging through its arc to crash against the chamber’s stone wall. Ander and Thane sprang apart and spun to face the door. But the frenzied figure in the doorway was only Katy, her unruly hair more wild than usual.

  “You’ve got to come down to the library. A boy just arrived from Pella, says he needs to see both of you. Now!”

  “Did he give his name?” Ander asked, his heart pounding.

  Katy wrinkled her nose while she searched her memory, reminding Ander of an otter. In two seconds she nodded decisively. “Leif.”

  Thane was already out the door. Ander followed, filled with dread.

  Chapter 13

  THEY found Leif in the library, slumped on a sofa facing the fire. Sorel knelt at his side and held a cup to his lips, but Leif’s head lolled forward as if he was drunk. His skin, usually honey brown, was pale and tinged blue. Ander slid onto the sofa next to him. Leif blinked and reached out with a clumsy hand. “I came as fast as I could. Rode all night….” Ander grasped the wavering hand. It was ice cold. Leif’s clothes were wet and stiff.

  “He practically fell off his horse,” Katy said. “And then he couldn’t stand by himself. Sorel had to carry him in.”

  “You’re right to warm him,” Ander said. “He’s numb from cold. But a fire isn’t the best way. One of the companions at Lady Tayanita’s house knew healing. He says a warm bath works best.” He glanced at Thane, who was trying to warm Leif’s other hand between his own. “The baths beneath the tower would work. Do you know if anybody is using them?”

  Thane released Leif’s hand and sprang to his feet. “I’ll look. If anybody’s there, I’ll clear them out.” He turned and loped out of the room.

  “Help me lift him,” Ander asked Sorel. They put their hands beneath Leif’s arms and carefully lifted him. Between the two of them, he seemed to weigh almost nothing. They draped his arms over their shoulders, then carried him out of the library and down the circular staircase. Katy followed until they reached the arched threshold to the men’s chambers beneath the tower. Not even Katy would violate the injunction against entering an area reserved for the other gender’s magical practices.

  Ander supported Leif while Sorel swung the thick door shut. They crossed an antechamber, then entered the vaulted room containing the men’s baths. Thane was closing a valve that allowed water from a hot spring to flow into the uppermost of the three terraced pools. As the flow was cut off, the waterfalls between the pools slowed to a trickle. Leif looked around in a daze. The marble-lined chamber was lit only by an oil lamp in a corner, and it felt like a humid summer night. They eased him onto a bench. Sorel knelt and began removing Leif’s boots while Ander peeled off his shirt. The leather, thick and lined with fleece, was soaked inside and out. He dropped the garment and put his hands on Leif’s shoulders. The youth’s eyes were nearly closed, his breathing raspy.

  “Listen, Leif. Remember what Alred said when he told us about snow chill? It might hurt when feeling starts to come back.” He shook his friend gently, trying to focus his attention. “Do you understand? Are you ready?”

  Leif shook his head. “Need to talk. Important.”

  “We’ll talk soon. First we have to get the chill out of your bones.” He wrapped his arms around Leif’s chest and lifted him. Sorel unfastened Leif’s belt, and the leather trousers slid off. Ander carried him across the chamber and up the short flight of stairs to the middle pool where Thane waited.

  “I’ll hold him while you get your clothes off,” Thane said. He was already nude. He lifted Leif out of Ander’s arms.

  Ander surrendered his burden, then quickly stripped and turned to help. Stepping carefully, they carried Leif into the pool. The water was only ankle deep at the end where water fell from above in a broad sheet when the inlet valve was open. Steps beneath the water led to greater depths. Ander sat where water rose to the middle of his chest, and then Thane eased Leif down to recline against him. He cradled his friend, the long braid of his ponytail floating like a golden serpent. Thane settled next to him, and Sorel sat against the pool’s opposite side.

  “We should get him clean,” Thane said. He and Sorel scooped soft soap from a niche, and Ander supported Leif’s body so it floated just beneath the water’s surface. They bathed him gently, eucalyptus fragrance filling the air.

  The warm water and the caress of slippery hands roused Leif from his stupor. His eyes opened, registering surprise as he became aware of the surroundings.

  “Just relax,” Ander said. “You’re going to be all right. Now, tell us why you came.”

  Leif nodded, though his eyes were still sleepy. “Remember Pavol? The guard I’ve been seeing the past few months? The boy with muscles like a plow horse and the eagerness of a puppy.”

  “I remember. Your only customer who’s in the guard. I’ve never seen a boy so enamored of a companion.”

  “It wasn’t hard to impress him. His kin are strict followers of Yataghan. Sex for pleasure was a revelation. And besides, he’s truly kind. It’s not his fault his father indentured him to a crony in the military.”

  “You learned something from him?”

  Leif nodded. “We spen
d a lot of time talking before sex. He likes to cuddle.”

  Ander gave Leif a squeeze. “I know better. You like to cuddle, so your partners pant with lust before you even touch their cocks.”

  Leif’s dark eyes opened wider and sparkled, animation starting to return. “Well, it works, doesn’t it? Pavol gets slick just from kissing. Makes him more tasty.”

  Sorel chuckled softly. “I’m starting to believe the stories Ander tells about you. What did this Pavol have to say?”

  “I’m sorry, my mind is wandering. First, just before I heard Pavol’s gossip, some new sorcerers appeared. They’ve been standing in the bazaar, holding silver orbs. The townspeople are terrified, think they’re picking victims for new tortures. But I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?” Sorel asked. He began unbraiding Leif’s ponytail in preparation for washing the hair.

  “They don’t really seem interested in the townspeople. Their eyes never leave the orbs.” Consternation pulled his eyebrows downward. “It’s like they’re searching for something and expect to see it in the orb. Some people think they’re trying to find travelers carrying gold. But I don’t know why the zamindar would do that. He can always raise taxes if he wants more gold.”

  “You’re right,” Thane said, frowning. “I’d guess they’re searching for the crystals Nicolai and I took.”

  Sorel finished unbraiding Leif’s hair and started working soap through the golden strands. “Let’s hear what else he knows. Maybe there’s a pattern that will help us understand.”

  Leif yawned. Warm water and exhaustion from his ride were taking their toll.

  “Can you tell us more?” Ander asked. “Or do you need to rest?”

  Another yawn, bigger than the last. Then Leif shook his head. “There’s more. Pavol said discipline is very strict now. He could barely get a single night off duty. All leaves are canceled beginning next month. They’ve been told there will be patrols all day and night. Guards on the guards. Whippings for the slightest infraction.”