“I meant to ease your suffering.”
Sherakai tried to pull away, but the mage held him firmly. Jade green light, so faint it was barely visible, wrapped around his arm. “Don’t,” he growled.
“Be still.” Bairith’s Voice held him captive. He worked silently, and soon the pain eased. The mage did not relinquish his hold, but stroked Sherakai’s hand, gentle and soothing.
He shuddered in spite of the calming touch. “I don’t want your help. I don’t want your anything.” He could not make himself pull away. He hated the weakness that followed the jansu’s tricks, hated Bairith for the casual way he took what he pleased and hurt whoever he wanted.
“Your repetition is tiresome. You will learn how much I care. Feel it. Reach for it. Know it.”
“Do you?” Sherakai bent a burning glare on the man. He owned that much of his own free will. “I’m sure my brothers appreciated your tenderness when you tore them to pieces.”
“We've discussed this. I will send Tylond to check on you. It is important for you to regain your health.” Getting to his feet, he straightened the covers and fluffed the pillows as tenderly as any nursemaid.
Sherakai struck at him, but ill treatment had robbed him of strength. The effort wrung a sob from him. “They are important to me, gods curse you! Don’t you dare talk about them as if they are no more than rubbish!”
“Were, my dear boy. They no longer exist and this is the last time we will speak of them. You must turn your energies to the future. Our future.”
“I will kill you.”
It was a wonder Bairith didn’t burst out laughing. Instead, he linked his fingers together at his waist and rocked himself back and forth ever-so-slightly. His marvelous features showed neither amusement nor anger. He emanated calm. “You are such a treasure,” he murmured after a long silence. “So much like me when I was your age.”
“I am not your treasure,” Sherakai bit out, trying to hold onto a rage that faded with every breath. It was difficult to keep alive in the light of Bairith’s yearning adoration.
The jansu crooked a brow. “But you are, thank the gods, or the fates, or both. Sleep now. We’ll begin your lessons tomorrow, I think.”
The beasts came to their feet as he approached the door.
“Wait. Will you let Mimeru out now that we're bonded?”
The mage paused. “Put sincere effort into your lessons, Sherakai, excel at your lessons, and I may leave her alone.”
“I want to see her.”
“Impress me. Obey me. Stop making every discussion a battleground and we will see.” The latch snicked and the door closed.
Chapter 64
The bond produced sleepless nights that fueled Sherakai's rage but left him no outlet for it or for his despair over his sister’s safety. No matter how hard Iniki pushed him in the practice arena, images and emotions not his own blended with what he felt and saw. There was no relief.
Bairith himself came to lead him from his rooms the first day he was back on his feet. The jansu’s eyes betrayed the vaguest signs of weariness in faint dark circles beneath the startling blue, though it entered neither bearing nor voice. As they walked the halls, the jansu quizzed his pupil further on history and politics, mathematics and magic. That night Tylond brought a sleeping draught that tasted as foul as everything the shader gave him and did nothing to relieve the nightmares.
After Iniki ground him into the sands and complimented him on his progress, for which Sherakai thanked him politely, Bairith came for him again. Sherakai followed him through the halls as before. The man’s soothing Voice, the cursed bond he’d made, and an exasperating ability to whet Sherakai’s curiosity—stirred by all that plagued his sleep—dragged him on as surely as if he’d been bound with a leash.
“Why are we discussing the lands across the sea?” he asked one morning. Bairith had ceased to talk about Alshan or the surrounding countries.
“Because our destiny lies east.”
Sherakai found he had to fight his curiosity of what that destiny entailed. While he cared nothing for it, ached for home and desired his and Mimeru's freedom with his whole heart, the jansu’s zeal plucked his long held eagerness for exploration and adventure like the sweet strings of a harp. To fight against himself as much as the jansu, he nurtured the the firm resolve to thwart Bairith’s future with his every breath. For that, he needed control over his Gift. “When will you teach me more about the aro?”
“Are you feeling up to some exercises today?”
“Yes.” Recovered or not, he wanted to learn. Needed to learn.
“Excellent. Where would you like to start?”
The question itself was a test, and Sherakai knew it. “Where my teacher believes I am most lacking.”
Bairith chuckled. “Clever. Let us begin with warding. As with weaponry, it is best to be able to defend yourself before you launch an attack of your own. Spirit magic is wonderfully suitable for subtle assaults: reading and influencing emotions, manipulating perception, walking in dreams, and so on.”
Perfect for spies, assassins, cheats, and thieves, he thought. And politicians. His opinion of a war master as a superior warrior took a dark turn. What might one do with the gift of deception? Win a lot of battles…
The mage led him to a bench beneath a window and sat. Sherakai paused for a moment, thunderstruck to see snow falling outside. Had he lost weeks of his life to imprisonment, torture, and magic?
“One must begin at one's center. Close your eyes. Breathe deep and slow.” Bairith’s Voice lilted and urged Sherakai's eyes shut. It soothed so that his chest rose in deep inhalation and fell in long exhalation, over and over...
Resentment surged in the pupil and the master whispered, “You must relax.”
“It is difficult when you push so, lord.” The sensation eased and Sherakai ducked his head in the semblance of gratitude. “Thank you.”
For a moment or two heavy silence surrounded them. Fabric rustled as the mage shifted, turning himself more toward his pupil. “Breathe deep and slow,” he repeated in a murmur. The air around him smelled of flowers, sharp and vitalizing. “Everything in this world is made up of energy. You are energy. The bench upon which you sit is energy. With each breath you take, imagine gathering all the little threads you’ve trailed behind you as you moved through the day. Gather all that you’ve expended thinking of others, of plans, of things.”
He fumbled in his attempts, but the jansu was patient as the sea. An impression came to him and he followed, imagining that he collected all the threads in his hands. Dozens fell away.
“Easy,” Bairith whispered. “That is enough to start. Return them to your center.”
He let the energy spread throughout his body. If it was inside, though, it could not protect him. He reasoned that he must let the energy flow outward to enclose him completely.
~Very good.~
The voice in his head startled him, fizzling his concentration. The aro started to drift away. He drew it in again, focusing on the center of it, of himself. Breathing, breathing…
~Very good,~ came again. ~Bring the aro in a little closer; about halfway. Yes. Now harden the outside edges of that energy. Make it a barrier. Nothing gets in, nothing gets out.~
Harden? he wondered, puzzling how he might do that. If he imagined its shape, could he make it real? Little by little, he built a shell. The effort made him tremble, but he refused to give up until it surrounded him completely.
“Impressive.”
Sherakai opened his eyes slowly, not daring to release his hold on the magic. Bairith regarded him with a strange, acquisitive expression.
“How long have you been doing this?” the jansu asked.
“Warding?” When Bairith inclined his head, Sherakai shrugged, abruptly defensive. “Papa talked about it, but he told me a different way than you did.”
“What way is that?”
“It doesn’t matter, does it? I used what he taught me to do what you asked.”
“How thick should it be?”
“That depends on its strength. It is a wall. If you build it of sticks, it will break. If you build it with stone or with metal, it will withstand almost any force.” Pressure against the imperfect wall made it shatter. “Again.”
Sherakai repeated the process. Bairith easily broke through, then ordered him to begin anew. After an hour or so, when his head throbbed and his breath rasped, the mage called an end to the practice.
“I want you to work on this every day,” he instructed. “It is critical.”
“Yes, sir. Can I see my sister now?”
“Not yet.” He got to his feet, straightening his long tunic as he walked away.
Sherakai jumped up, shaking his head to clear a lingering dizziness. “You said I must impress you if I wanted to see her.”
“You will have to work harder than that.”
“You said what I did was impressive.” A familiar knot formed in his chest. He should have known better than to expect the jansu to keep his word.
But Bairith turned around, head tipped thoughtfully. “So I did. You may join us tonight at dinner.”
The knot disappeared and a telltale smile formed on his mouth. “Thank you.”
Bairith nodded, then resumed his journey.
“Sir? Is she no longer in the dungeon?”
“Not to worry, I’ll have her brought upstairs before we dine.”
The smile disappeared. Like a lead weight, dismay plummeted into his belly.
Chapter 65
In his rooms, Sherakai pulled the beautiful wooden chair over to the bank of windows and sat facing them. Fesh brought a blanket and draped it over his legs, but it did little to warm him. With one forefinger he drew patterns on the wood, over and over. Beyond the window, the snow fell in big, lazy flakes. Some landed on the sill, and he thought of the way they’d settle into the folds of the land he and Mimeru needed to cross. His mind veered away from the image of his sister trapped in her cold, damp cell for weeks. It had been weeks, hadn’t it? He had no way of knowing unless he asked the jansu.
He needed horses, but how could he get them? The fact that he’d been kept away from them during his entire stay made him itch. He scratched his arm and chest viciously, but it didn’t help.
“Fesh?”
The gray-eyed creature came to stand beside him. Sherakai studied it for a moment, then shifted his hand to rub the thing’s ugly head.
“Why are you always so nice to me?” he asked. He worked from head to ears to throat. When he reached the thing’s chest it leaned into him and groaned with pleasure. “You like that?” he asked.
Teth came to sniff at his companion, but when Sherakai reached out to scratch him, too, the beast moved away. Claws clicked across the floor as it made its way to the door. A grunt and a huff accompanied a drop to the floor.
“You need not sit over there where it’s cold, you know.”
Teth ignored him. Fesh pulled his lips back from his fangs in a hideous smile.
“If you’re going to be unsocial, Teth, would you please fetch me some tea? The kind without any of Tylond’s concoctions added to it.”
He didn’t look, but behind him the door opened, then clicked shut again as Teth left. Sherakai caught Fesh’s head in both hands. With his thumbs, he rubbed the cheekbones just the way the creature liked. Fesh practically melted. Inhaling and exhaling slow and deep, Sherakai drew aro around himself. He gathered more than he’d done with Bairith watching him, and then he extended it ever-so-gently over Fesh, using his hands to guide it.
“You’re a good boy, you know?” he murmured, letting magic trickle into the words. “Very strong. And brave. Smart, too. I look in your eyes and I see the way you think. You are no dumb animal. No one should treat you like one. It makes me angry when they do. You shouldn’t be chained. Not to this castle. Not to me. You should run free. Chase. Hunt.”
Fesh whimpered and wriggled closer.
“You’d like that. You don’t get to run much any more, do you? Running around the practice arena doesn’t really count, especially when you have to stay behind me. I’m slow. So slow.” He sighed. Aro flowed with every stroke, and as it did, his confidence grew. He continued in a low, comfortable murmur, much like he’d done with the animals back home, soothing them and coaxing them along to what he needed them to do—and he needed to be free. Unable to break the link between the creatures and Bairith, he would have to bring the creatures along.
“Do you know how to pick locks?” he wheedled.
Fesh made a little chirping noise Sherakai thought meant yes.
“Really? See, I knew you were smart. Will you teach me? I bet you’d be very good at it with your long fingers.”
Fesh whined and twisted, coming halfway up onto Sherakai’s lap even as the door opened again.
“There are interesting doors on the low levels. Maybe we could sneak into one and see what’s there.”
Fesh sprang away, hackles raised, and Sherakai came up out of the chair to face the door, hands up, wary.
The woman who had tended his hands stood there, delicate brows knit in consternation. “What are you doing?” she asked. Her hair flowed over her shoulders and the deep blue of her gown provided a stark contrast to her pale skin.
“Waiting for my tea.”
She held her hand out toward Fesh but made no move to approach. “With magic?”
His heart jumped. She was a mage, too? How much had she seen or heard? “The jansu instructed me to practice.” The realization shook him. He found the chair before he fainted or something equally unhelpful. Breathe, breathe! Why had he not considered that? Because he was a stupid boy. Gods above.
“Sherakai, you cannot steal Fesh and Teth. Have you any idea how dangerous it is to even try? How dangerous they are?”
“I have some idea, yes.” He shifted his shoulder, remembering what they’d done to him when he’d first arrived. How they’d been bound to him by blood and magic. He resisted the urge to rub his palms. “Do you have any idea what your master is doing to me? And you bow your head and let him!”
“And you think these two can help you?”
“Yes. No one else will.”
Her hand came up to her chest as she took a single step back. She looked so lovely and so sad. “Y-you don’t know that.”
He realized she’d covered her hair with a kerchief before. Why was it missing now? “Are you offering?”
The air in the room sizzled with sudden tension. She turned her face away, eyes wide, afraid. “The magic that binds you to him makes things impossibly complicated.”
Cautious, Sherakai turned the chair around and sat down. Fesh moved to stand between him and the woman, calmer now, but still on his guard. He wished he felt calm. Instead, a sense of panic gripped his heart and grew, threatening to overwhelm him. “Fesh and Teth have to help me. They can stop him, or at least slow him down.”
“You’d risk their lives for your own ends?”
“No, that’s not what I mean!” He leaned forward, rubbing his forehead, trying to think. “My sister will die if I don’t get her away from here. I probably will, too, or he’ll turn me into something like them, but he wants worse from me, I think. Far worse. He doesn’t mind killing to get what he wants, and a lot of people will die unless you help me stop him.”
She stared at him, surprised and horrified. Whether her dismay came from the realization that Bairith would turn him into a monster or from him asking for help he didn’t know.
“No,” he growled. “You’re going to tell him what I’m doing, aren’t you?” It wasn’t really a question. Whatever she was to Bairith, she had her own loyalties.
“No,” she whispered.
He wanted desperately to believe her. “Then you’ll help us?”
“I can’t. I want to, Sherakai, but I can’t.”
“Then you might as well pitch in at his side and help him with his insane restoration p
lan. But I won’t help him. I won’t!” he shouted, coming up out of the chair so fast he knocked it over backward. Fear and rage beat at him and he couldn’t keep his emotions locked inside. The flimsy wards he’d erected disintegrated. “I can’t just sit still for this!”
The door flew open and Teth rushed in. The woman flinched badly, but to her credit she remained where she was. Teth circled around her, sniffing suspiciously. More upsetting was the figure of Bairith just inside the doorway, a thundercloud of anger hovering on his brow.
“What are you doing here?” he asked the woman in a voice like ice.
Fesh backed up until Sherakai’s legs stopped him.
He held his breath, waiting for her to tell Bairith what they’d been talking about. With heroic effort she straightened, hands clasped at her waist.
“After his illness I wanted to check on him. I hoped for a… change.”
The air between the two of them prickled. Bairith waited for something, and eventually the woman gave a minute shake of her head. His mouth tightened. “As you can see, he’s fine. If I need your talents to deal with him, I will send for you. Leave us.”
“Yes, my lord.” She gave him a graceful bow. Without so much as a glance toward Sherakai she gathered her skirts and left.
Bairith looked the youth up and down, nostrils flaring slightly. “What have you done?”
He felt belligerence try to claim his jaw and forced himself to relax. “I rested for a little while, then I practiced the magic.”
“Mm.”
Fesh didn’t budge as the mage approached, except to look from side to side. Bairith tucked up his tunic and crouched, taking the beast’s jaw in one hand. The ruff on the creature’s back lifted slightly, a dark line up his spine.
“You were practicing your wards on my pet?”
He had used the same technique for gathering his energy. “Yes.”
“Protecting him, were you?”
“Experimenting.” That, too, was true.
The mage’s grip tightened, dragging a whine of protest from the beast. It cringed a little lower to the floor. Its mate prowled back and forth, head low, snarling low. Why did they let him hurt them like this?
Blood and Shadow (The Mage's Gift Book 1) Page 37