A heartbeat later, realization struck him like a blow to the gut. One hand pressed against his chest where his heart banged furiously enough to make him queasy and breathless. Bairith had requested his cooperation and capitulation, and he had complied without a single breath of protest. The man had murdered his brothers, and all Sherakai did was smile and nod and scurry to do what he was told.
“Gods.” And then, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Such language would disappoint Captain Nayuri, just as dead as his brothers, slaughtered along with other good, loyal men. His people. His friends.
The jansu had used magic, of course. A persuasion that had been undeniably lovely and felt as natural as breathing. And what could Sherakai have done against that?
Two steps ahead, Fesh turned to watch with a worried expression.
“I can’t let him win, Fesh. I can’t.” He pressed his fist tight against his mouth, horrified. Terrified. What could he possibly do?
The creature patted Sherakai’s shoulder gently, awkwardly, then plucked at the sleeve of his tunic. Behind him, Teth made a huffing noise in his throat.
“I have magic, too. Papa said I have natural ability. Talent. He said I have something rare,” he whispered. His father had also said it must be guided and properly shaped, else he faced becoming a danger to himself and everyone else. “I could be a danger to him.” Bairith’s image stood clear and perfect in his mind’s eye.
The jansu had taught him how to build wards, and how to fuel them. Could they guard against something as invasive as a link? He had to try. His focus turned outward as he gathered threads of aro. Did they seem brighter and more substantial than before? Was that because it was night and dark, or because of his connection to Bairith?
Doesn’t matter. Draw the energy close. Build a wall as thick and ugly as Nemura-o pero Sinohe.
He succeeded. He knew he did. The barrier was no fortress, but it created a bulwark around him. Within it, all was quiet and still, except for one thing.
The familiar, shadowy presence of Bairith Mindar remained. The mage was aware. Unshakable. Maddeningly supportive.
Fesh pulled on Sherakai again, and the fragile threads of aro scattered. He stared after them, caught by the certainty that the energy was—could be—stronger than it looked.
“What do you know about magic?” he asked the creature.
Fesh cocked his head and hooted, the sound muted and intimate.
Fesh and Teth belonged to Bairith; confiding in them wouldn’t do him much good. The mage had made it quite clear that his puny efforts to influence the magic between them and himself would fail.
“I wish you would help me,” he said anyway.
Fesh took his hand and petted it. Sherakai gave him a wan smile, rubbed his head, and continued down the path. The beasts fell in behind him, alternately looking at their surroundings or sniffing the air. Sometimes both at once. Sherakai found himself doing the same thing. The scent of hay and manure came to him, sweet as spring and sunshine. His feet turned to follow the smell, bringing him to a wide double door. Windows to the left showed only a soft light, though a pair of torches to either side of the door revealed a patch of ground packed down by the passage of many hooves.
“Horses,” he said, delight rising. The door opened easily when he tugged on it, and the rich, wonderful scent of the stable washed over him.
Teth darted forward to block his way.
“No,” Sherakai said, pointing at the creature as if the gesture might inflict damage or even persuasion. “I’m going in. You two stay here. I’ll be fine. It’s horses.”
Teth growled.
Sherakai growled back and was surprised when the beast moved aside. Uneasiness marked its stance and the space around it. Fesh whined, walking back and forth a few paces. He chittered softly at his companion, then sat. After a moment Teth sauntered over to join him, his back to Sherakai.
He smiled at the way the creature made it look as if it had been his own idea. “Thank you.” Spinning on his heel, he hurried into the cavernous building, and oh, stars, it was nearly like coming home. Horses peered over stall doors to look him over or to offer friendly greetings. Grinning like a fool, he went from door to door, talking quietly, rubbing noses, sharing with them the way he’d always done with the Children of the Wind.
“Can I help you?” a voice interrupted.
Chapter 68
He turned to find one of the grooms behind him with a partially shuttered lantern. When the man recognized him, he backed up a step, fear seeping into his expression.
“Thank you, no. I’m fine. I just want to visit for a while—” He stopped himself just before he asked for permission. The last thing he wanted was to be kicked out before he’d hardly arrived. The only things that kept him from going anywhere he pleased were locks and his disfigured guards. The stable had no lock and the beasts waited for him outside. Reluctantly, to be sure, but here he was. He adopted an air of confidence. “This is a very fine stable. Not all of them are so clean and neat.”
The compliment had the desired affect of easing the man’s guard. “Aye, well, his lordship likes everything scrubbed.”
“The horses, too?”
“Them, especially.”
“You have some very fine animals here.” He scratched the cheek of a tall sooty chestnut.
“Aye. He likes that, he does. The horse.”
He could hardly tell the man that the horse had asked to be scratched just there. Most folks didn’t believe him, some folks thought he was crazy, and others simply feared mages. Best not to stir up more trouble. “He sure seems to,” he agreed, giving the man a reassuring smile, then nodding to the animal the next stall over. “That one likes her ears scratched.”
He laughed a little. “Yes, she does. And her chin.”
Sherakai’s smile widened. “My father has horses. I rode every day, and I miss that.”
The groom gave a nod. “You sure have a way with these.”
“They’re easier to get along with than people. Simpler needs, simpler pleasures. Tell me about this one?” he asked, giving the chestnut a pat and moving on to a rangy bay in the next stall. The mare pawed the ground again and again, shifting restlessly in the small confines.
The man followed along, easily drawn into conversation about animals he clearly loved. Sherakai’s knowledge and sympathy helped him relax, and soon the pair were swapping tales like old friends. The groom told about some of their quirks, showed the youth around the entire stable, pointed out the ‘visitors’ with their good points and bad—and soon enough he was telling about the owners as well, and the pair of them shared a laugh over some of the humorous stories. Sherakai marked down details he might find useful, animals that drew him, where the tack was stored, the distance between each of the two massive sets of doors opening into the courtyard. He also took heed of the stairs leading up to the loft, those leading down to living quarters for the grooms and horse boys, and two doors set into the back wall.
Holding a curry brush, he stared at them curiously. He dared not use magic to pry for fear of alerting Bairith to the plot slowly forming in his head.
“Those are siege doors,” the groom volunteered.
“Aren’t siege doors heavily reinforced… gates? Made so those doing the sieging can’t break them down?”
The man shrugged. “These are so we can get out. But they’re too narrow to get the horses through easy, especially if they’re frighted, y’know? But the jansu has his own way of thinking. ‘In case the stables catch fire,’ he says, or ‘If the keep falls under attack.’”
“Really?”
“You know the nobles,” the groom said, then ducked his head. “Beggin’ your pardon, sir.”
“I do,” he smiled. “I try to avoid them, but being the youngest of a brood doesn’t always mean I get to escape.” He wanted to look more closely. Instead, he turned back to the horse they’d just been discussing. She stretched her nose toward his hand, then pulled away again, pawing the straw
at her feet. “May I go inside?” Sherakai asked the groom. At the man’s nod, he slipped through the door, hand out, crooning comfortable nonsense words.
When the mare let him approach, he put one hand on the bridge of her nose and examined her throat, neck, and shoulders with the other. Her skin twitched and she stomped once in warning. Sherakai stood at her head, her face in both hands as he looked into her eyes, always murmuring, always calming. “She’s agitated, and her skin is sensitive. Have you tried verbena? A good handful mixed well into her feed ought to help. Or you might split the handful with chamomile. She’s not pregnant, is she?”
“No. Verbena? Like the tea the women make?”
Sherakai nodded. “The same. Only once a day, no more, and don’t give her a bigger dose than the handful.”
The mare pressed her face against Sherakai’s chest. He held her, gently rubbing the base of her ears and drawing her ears outward. She heaved a sigh and the pawing hoof rested.
“Well, I’ll be blessed. That’s fine, that’s real fine. You really do know them, don’t you?” the groom nodded, pleased as could be, and Sherakai knew he’d won a friend.
One of the big doors swung open, and the pair of them turned to see who’d arrived at this hour of the night. Iniki stood there, lantern in hand and the beasts hanging back just behind him.
“Boy,” he said, and somehow his voice traveled all the way to where the pair stood, though it wasn’t very loud at all. “Come along. Morning will be here before you know it.”
“Yes, sir.” Sherakai turned to the groom and laid a light hand on his shoulder. “Thank you for letting me help you with the horses. Feels like home.”
“Sir.” The fellow ducked and touched his fist to his forehead respectfully.
Making his way out, Sherakai touched the noses of the horses watching the goings on. He didn’t linger, precisely, but he didn’t hurry either. Outside, the cold seemed less bitter than before, but he tugged the cloak close anyway, hunching his shoulders against an icy wind.
“Enjoy yourself?” Iniki asked.
“Yes, actually, I did.”
The mage grunted.
“The groom’s not going to get in trouble on my account, is he?” His breath made a plume and he walked backwards for a moment to watch the next few.
“I couldn’t say.”
Their footsteps crunched against the frosty ground. “I didn’t use any magic, how did you know where to find me?”
“I didn’t, the jansu did.”
Through the link, he surmised, and thought about that as they walked. He’d stayed at the stable for quite a while, so it must have taken time for Bairith to work out where he’d gone. Or perhaps he’d used some sort of location spell. Just because he’d never heard of one didn’t mean they didn’t exist. There was a lot he didn’t know; a lot he needed to know to assure the success of their escape. He’d found the horses, and with them an escape route. He had an idea how to take care of Fesh and Teth, but he’d need time to work out the details. Now he just had to make sure Mimeru would be alive and fit for travel when it came time to leave.
Iniki led the the way to a side door and pulled it open. “Get to your room and straight to sleep. No elixir tonight.” He glowered at the youth. “I need you sharp. And early.”
Sherakai resisted an insane urge to grin. No elixir! No foggy thinking or bitter reminder of his helplessness. And all he’d had to do to earn the reprieve was to cooperate a little. The elixir wasn’t the only prize. He would treasure his visit with the horses for a long time. How much of himself would he need to surrender to keep that privilege?
“Early.” He blew out a breath and nodded. “Don’t you like to sleep?”
“Yes, and you’ve kept me from my bed. I’ll take the price out of you in the morning.”
He had no doubt it would hurt. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
Iniki gave an up nod to send him on his way, and Sherakai felt his considering gaze on his back like a cat’s claws all the way down the hall.
Chapter 69
Iniki’s sleep must have been dear indeed. He drove Sherakai hard through forms, then practice routines for barehanded fighting, staffs, and swords. There were no breaks to rest his quivering muscles. If his will could have made it happen, Sherakai would have dissolved right into the sand. It was all he could do to remain upright as he gave the proper closing bow to Mage Iniki when the lesson ended. His muscles jumped and jittered from exertion.
Iniki returned the bow, then closed the distance between them to clap Sherakai’s shoulder. “We’ll do the same again tomorrow. There are a few points of your sword work that need smoothing.”
“Yes, sir,” he whispered. He’d barely made it through today’s practice and tomorrow would only be harder. What if he just collapsed here and now? No, that would only see him delivered to Tylond. He preferred Iniki’s method of torture.
“You lasted longer than I thought you would. Nicely done.” Without another word, the mage walked away, calling out to the men across the arena.
Sherakai stared after him, dumbfounded. A trickle of sweat made him blink and wipe his face with a shaking hand. Then Fesh and Teth arrived to shepherd him toward the benches.
The nameless woman with the golden-brown hair waited for him, a cup of water in her hand. She held it out wordlessly.
“Thank you.” He sat on the nearest seat and gulped the water down. It might have come from a barrel visited by every man in the castle, but it tasted as sweet as water from the Starglass. When he finished, the woman took the cup and went to fill it again. Fesh wiped his sweaty face with a cloth. It no longer struck him as strange that the beast often thought like a man. Teth, with his usual aloofness, sat a little distance away, lips pulled back in a look threatening enough to make seasoned warriors keep their distance.
“Thank you,” Sherakai said again when the woman returned, and took a deep draught. “Will you tell me your name?”
“I am still considering.”
“Your name?” His brows knit.
“You have put me in a difficult situation.” Plucking the cup from his fingers, she set it down beside him, then took his chin to tip his head this way and that.
Too exhausted to let her make him uncomfortable, he took the opportunity to study her in return. “You have made your answer clear enough. I understand. You owe Bairith your loyalty. I appreciate that you did not make things more difficult.”
Her lips pursed, and he got the distinct impression her examination went much deeper than his physical features.
“You’re elvish, aren’t you?” he asked.
Laying her hand on his face, her eyes closed and her head tipped. The noise of men fighting on the sands behind her did not seem to distract her concentration. Beside him, Fesh appeared with tunic and boots in hand. Ignoring the woman, the creature held them out and chittered the way he usually did. Here are your things. Do you want to put them on or shall I do it for you? Or so Sherakai imagined him saying. He never understood the gibberish. His Gift should allow him to sense the emotions of his guardians, but he rarely did. He needed to try harder.
Impatient with that and with the woman’s behavior, he took the shirt and yanked it on over his head.
The woman stepped back, hands folded at her waist. “I need to understand more before I can make a decision.”
Popping his head out the neck, he ran one hand through his damp hair, then jammed his arms into the sleeves. Fesh moved behind him to do more hair tidying. “What’s to understand? Your master is torturing my sister to death, he’s already killed my brothers, and I’m fairly certain his plans for me aren’t high-minded.”
“You are an uthava.”
“Yes, well, that clears up everything.” Perhaps she was trying to drive him mad. She never answered his questions. It was as if she carried on an entirely different conversation from the one he heard. Fesh handed over his boots one at a time. Sherakai pulled them on, picked up the cup to drain its contents, then got to his
feet. The brief rest had helped, but his muscles still quavered. He didn’t look forward to climbing all the stairs to his rooms.
“Be careful,” the woman whispered. Fear emanated from her, thick and sudden. “You must be careful.”
Alarm prompted Sherakai to back away. Teth materialized between them. The creature didn’t growl, but his stiff stance promised violence. “Be careful of what?”
“Your path is a dangerous one.” She glanced over her shoulder, then back, hands tightening. “Whichever way you go there is danger, Sherakai. Immense power haunts you. You will either claim it or it will claim you. It frightens me. I don’t know which way is right.”
Her terror unnerved him. He backed up another step. Was she demented, or did she know something more, something given to her by the magic? “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about. What do you mean?”
“Of course. I’m sorry.” She turned around completely, then sat down on the bench he’d vacated. “I need to watch for a little while longer. Can you wait? Please?”
“Here?”
“No. Wait before you”—she gave another surreptitious glance around—“before you do anything rash.”
He rubbed his face, covering his mouth as he did. Hiding his words from the men and women across the arena. “Before we leave? How long?”
“I am not sure. I have no way of telling.”
It would take him a little while to work out more details, but he couldn’t afford to share that with her, or with anyone. “You’re not suppose to be talking to me, are you?”
She shook her head. “But I must see you. For him.”
Moving away, he sat again, keeping a cautious distance. “Can you help Mimeru?” He asked because he could not afford to turn down help, no matter how strange the source.
The woman sat very straight. He recognized her breathing for an attempt to regain slipped control. “Yes,” she said at last. “I think so. I will try.”
Blood and Shadow (The Mage's Gift Book 1) Page 39