by Lou Hoffmann
Chapter Four: She Might Protect You While You Sleep
ROSISHAN GREETED Lucky at the breakfast table with a great smile on her expressive face. “Luccan! Good morning. I hope you slept well—you still look a little ragged, to be honest. But you can take it easy today. Everyone can take it easy today! I’ve declared a holiday to celebrate your return, and Han’s of course.”
Lucky returned her smile, not having the heart to tell her if he couldn’t unravel the reasons for his dark dreams, and what all he was seeing in them, he doubted he’d feel more rested no matter how many days he could take it easy. He’d always found Rose’s enthusiastic nature refreshing and contagious before, but now his smile was a little forced.
Rosishan was his aunt, the maternal half sister of Lucky’s mother Liliana, who was also known as the Lady Grace of the Sisterhold. Despite that common bloodline, though, except for the strangely twinned magic they wielded together—commonly called sister magic—it seemed on the surface they shared virtually no traits. Rosishan’s features were broad and dark; she could be impetuous, brazen, a little wild, but she was full of joy and gave freely of both love and service. Blond, refined Liliana, on the other hand, always moved deliberately, both in her daily life and as a renowned military leader, head of the elite cavalry known as Shahna’s Rangers. Usually Aunt Rose didn’t remind Lucky of his mother at all, but after two nights of bad dreams all involving his mother—though that was about all he could remember of them—just the knowledge of their relationship brought his mother’s glinting green eyes and false smile to mind.
Liliana herself wasn’t at the Sisterhold. She’d already been gone when Lucky left, and apparently hadn’t come back at all. Speculation was she was dead, but Lucky thought that unlikely. He figured if he was dreaming about her so insistently, it meant she was around. When he stopped to examine that supposition, he realized it meant he’d come to accept his dreams—or at least some of them—as something more than just his brain going through a self-cleaning process. It must have something to do with his “powers,” magic intrinsic in him by birthright as the Suth Chiell. As those powers had revealed themselves to him, he’d relied on Thurlock to help him understand them and get some modicum of control. He missed the old man more than he missed his cold, distant mother, for sure. Especially now.
He sat at the table in the place always reserved for him in the past and looked across to the chair Han usually occupied. No plate or utensils were set. “Han can’t come down?” Lucky asked Shehrice.
“No, child, he’s housed in the infirmary for now. Although who knows how long he’ll stay. The physicians and caregivers have had to fight him to stay put in the bed so he can heal. Stubborn man, that one! You can go up to see him once you’ve eaten.”
“Sure he can,” Rose said, “though we do have a bit of a schedule for you, Luccan, sorry to say.”
“I thought you said I could take it easy. What happened to the holiday?”
“Like I said, I’m sorry. You might as well get used to it, though. Holidays are easier than other days, usually, but as our Suth Chiell you’ll almost always have to do a little something. Today, you’ll need to be on the green at noon. But you’ve got a few hours between now and then and you can fill those up any way you like.”
“Okay,” Lucky said. He might have wanted to protest at least a little, but everyone was seated by then, and it was time to eat. He felt starved, even though the night before he’d consumed probably half his body weight in cold meats, cheese, fruit, and bread. This morning, pancakes were central in his attention, and Cook had set a plate of especially crispy, thick-cut bacon near his place, apparently having remembered that was how Lucky liked it. Lucky loaded his plate up with those things and fresh fruit until it overflowed, smothered his pancakes with maple syrup, and dug in.
After he’d stowed away about half of what was on his plate, he started thinking about what Rose had said. He swallowed, quaffed some tea, and wiped his face before asking, “So what am I supposed to do on the green at noon?”
“Oh, the usual stuff—it will be usual for you, anyway,” Aunt Rose answered with a smile. After a moment, she elaborated. “You’ll be expected to say a few words, just thanking folks for coming out to celebrate with you, letting them know you’re glad to be home. That sort of thing. Not really a speech. You’ll be fine just winging it. Then there’s the feast—you’ll be at the head table with Lem and I, but you have to be seen.”
“Oh,” Lucky said, his appetite shrinking. He hadn’t yet had to do any public speaking, but he guessed he wasn’t cut out for it. If he had to do it, he wished Thurlock could be with him. So far, the old man had consistently rescued him from his own goofs when it came to being in the public eye. But recently Lucky had made up his mind to try to be what he was born for—the Suth Chiell the Sunlands’ people deserved, and he supposed this was a step toward growing into that role. So, yeah. He’d do it—or at least give it his best try. “Anything else?” he asked, though he hoped very hard there wasn’t.
Rose’s mouth was full, but Lem spoke up to answer. He didn’t look like he felt quite so much like celebrating, and Lucky was reminded that Zhevi, Lem’s nephew, hadn’t yet returned from the great quest Lucky had practically forced him into.
Zhevi and L’Aria were on their way, in the care of Tiro, who was L’Aria’s father and a very powerful being—old as Ethra herself, most figured, and a shifter. His other form was identical to huge, powerful otters that had once roamed the continent of Asia in Earth. He was the only shifter native to Ethra, as far as anyone knew, and that hadn’t surprised Lucky any more than learning that shifters really existed in any world. He’d only recently found that out, when he’d heard Han tell the tale of the battle outside Isa’s tower back in Black Creek Ravine. Henry George, an ordinary-seeming man who’d been Lucky’s friend for a few years, had flown overhead during that battle in the shape of a California condor.
Tiro was bringing L’Aria and Zhevi back by a river route, and Lucky had no doubt he could assure their safety. Lucky had told Lem all of that last night, but reflecting on it, he supposed he could understand why Lem would worry anyway, right up until Zhevi returned safe and sound. Especially since, from the stray bits of news Lucky’d heard, strange and frightening things had been happening all around the Sunlands, and elsewhere in Ethra too.
Lem looked at Lucky across the stacks of food still filling the center of the table and spoke in what Lucky supposed were the same clipped and careful tones he used when commanding troops. “Four hours past midday, ye’ll begin a tour ’round the village from the Sisterhold steps. Ye’ll be available for the people to greet you, and ye should be bestowin’ blessings as needed—for the young, the old, the sick, whatever others approach ye an’ ask it. I’ll accompany ye, lad, and a few soldiers. We’ll keep it casual-like, but make sure the people give ye no real grief.”
“Um, thank you,” Lucky said, and gave Lem a nod and a half smile. He appreciated the care taken with the arrangements, but in truth “blessings” were the last thing he’d choose to do if it were up to him. His spirits having fallen a notch further, he forced himself to finish his plate of food anyway, then asked to be excused. “I need to check on K’ormahk,” he explained, “and I’m anxious to see how Han is doing.”
“Of course,” Rose said. “Go, and when you see Han tell him we all missed him here this morning, would you? And I’ll be up to see him later if he’s not too grumpy.”
LUCKY WAS in for a couple of serious shocks that morning.
First, at the stables he learned that K’ormahk had disappeared. He’d apparently enjoyed the thorough grooming he’d been given, had eaten his fill of oats and hay, and rested through the night. In the morning, the grooms had turned him out into the paddock behind the stables, but the next time they looked, he was gone—and nowhere to be found.
The groom who’d been tending to the great horse—a girl about Lucky’s age named Jihn—seemed afraid to confess she’d lost him. “I
’m sorry, sir,” she said, head bowed in either fear or shame. “I don’t know how it happened. One minute—”
Lucky held a hand up to stop her. “Please,” he said, “don’t call me sir. Not yet, at least. It’s just silly. And I don’t suppose it’s your fault about K’ormahk. I mean, how do you keep a flying horse from getting over the fence?” That wasn’t really the half of it, but a flying horse had probably been enough of a shock to the grooms of the Sisterhold’s stables. No need to tell them he was a magical beast who flew through worlds and maybe galaxies to get from one place to another in no time at all. He knew in his heart K’ormahk would be around if he needed him, so he assured Jihn he wasn’t worried and moved on, heading up to the infirmary inside the manor house to see Han.
K’ormahk’s disappearance had been a shock at first, but it didn’t compare to the scare he got when he first saw Han. The fact that the medical staff had drugged him into submission was quite evident, but even without that, Han looked… actually pale! His skin was a slightly darker shade of brown than Lucky’s to begin with, and his face, arms, and even his torso and legs to a lesser degree, were also well tanned by outdoor life. But lying there in the bed, he looked as though all the blood had fled his skin and left him sort of gray, with a greenish tinge in places. Lucky stood staring, having no idea what to say.
“Don’t panic, Lucky,” Han said without opening his eyes. “I’m not dying. They gave me some damned herb that apparently doesn’t agree with me, and I spent a solid hour heaving my guts up.”
“Oh,” Lucky breathed. “Okay. Um, sorry. I-is there anything I can do?”
Han opened his eyes and smiled, for which Lucky was exceedingly grateful. Han once again looked like Han—alive and if not exactly well, not at death’s door.
Han said, “Sneak me some of that bacon you all have been eating downstairs. My stomach’s settled nicely now, and I’m running on empty. They fed me gruel!”
Lucky smiled, and after looking around to be sure he wouldn’t be caught, produced a napkin-wrapped package of that very same delicious bacon along with two smoky sausages and a couple pancakes. “When I left the table, I went through the kitchen and hit the extras on the work table. Sorry I couldn’t figure a way to get you any syrup, Uncle Han. I hope this will do anyway.”
“Yes!” Han exclaimed and raised a triumphant fist. “I knew I could count on you.” He laid the package in one big hand and started to unwrap it with the other. “Sort of hang out over by the door, would you? Let me know if anybody’s coming.”
Lucky did, enjoying watching Han wolf down the food. It didn’t take long for it all to disappear, and once it was gone, Lucky moved back to sit on the end of Han’s bed. He felt like he needed something from Han, but he didn’t know what. But Han needed something more from him too.
“Luccan, I need you to tell Lem to gather people—he’ll know who—and bring them here to meet with me as soon as possible. I won’t be letting them give me any more potions or tonics or whatever they want to call them, at least not until it’s time to sleep. I need to have my head on straight. I’ve got to find out what’s going on with the troops, whatever other intelligence is available. With Thurlock not here, I have to try to fill in some blanks on my own.”
“You’re going to have a… meeting… a council or whatever… here?”
“Yes. What else can I do? I need to stay off this leg for a while. And… you can’t see it because of the blankets, but they’ve got it set up to drain. And they come around every couple hours to fool with it some more, either cleaning out the remaining infection or just to torture me. So, for the moment, here is where I am, but the things that need to be done won’t just go away.”
The situation seemed to distress Han, and Lucky was almost sorry he’d asked. “Okay,” he said, nodding for emphasis. “I’ll tell Lem, like you asked.” He let silence fall, wondering if he should tell Han about the dreams that had haunted his sleep.
Quietly, Han said, “Luccan. I can sense you want to say something. But you’re blocking me, so I also get that you’re not sure whether to tell me. Whatever it is, if you share, I’ll help if I can. If I can’t, I’ll at least listen, and maybe two heads will be better than one.”
Lucky smiled. “That’s what Grandpa Hank used to say.”
“Oh.” Han raised his eyebrows. “Well, I do remember Thurlock saying Hank George was a smart man, so….”
With Han’s assurance that he cared and would help, Lucky found he really did want to talk about his troubles. “It’s dreams,” he started, and he kept talking until he’d shared everything he could about them—when he’d had them, how they left him feeling, that he knew they were important but couldn’t remember any details about them. “Except one thing,” he concluded. “I remember my mother’s always there. And Han….” He paused for a moment, then finished in a near whisper. “She’s evil.”
The thought of it brought the burning pressure of tears to his eyes. He didn’t want to cry, and he held it back. Deliberately giving his emotions a mental slap.
Han reached out a comforting hand and laid it on Lucky’s shoulder, “I’m sorry, lad. That hurts. I can feel the pain in you.”
Grateful, Lucky sat quietly and gathered his scattered feelings while Han seemed deep in thought, chewing his lip as he often did.
After a moment, Lucky asked, “Your thoughts, Uncle?”
“Okay. Well, first and foremost, I truly hope Thurlock gets back from wherever the hell he is very soon. We need him. He, of course, would be the best one to help you with this. But in the meantime, I’ve got a couple pieces of advice. One, never be parted from the Key of Behliseth. Wear it to bed, in the bath, everywhere, no matter what. And then, what about the Black Blade, Luccan? Have you bound it to you—bound the magics, I mean? You know what I’m talking about? My brother, Lohen, told me about how he had to… I don’t know, swear some things, I guess. Like vows.”
“Uh, yeah, I do know. She told me—Ciarrah, that’s the Blade’s name. She worked with me on the mountain because I’m Lohen’s son—she said she could sense it in my blood—but she only did that because it was an emergency. She said we’d have to ‘complete our bond.’ You think I should try to do that now?”
“I do. That Blade, it’s the dark one, twin to the Amber that’s lost now—the one you had with you in Earth. But dark and light, a lot of people get that confused with evil and good. It’s not like that. I can’t pretend to be an expert on that Blade—I know the Amber far better, and frankly it is a less complicated talisman. But the Black Blade has a lot of power, and while it may not be exactly benign, in the right hands, it’s not evil. It seems it—or she, as you say—thinks your hands are the right ones. Not surprising, you know. The Key of Behliseth was crafted by Karrighan, the ancestor of all the Ol’Karrighs including Thurlock, your mother, and you. But the Twin Blades come down through the Drakhonic line—the family heritage you and I share. So the long and the short of it is, I think if you complete that bond, she might protect you while you sleep.”
AS SOON as Luccan left, Han called for a nurse. He was less than happy when instead of a nurse, the healer Tahlina answered. She was the Sisterhold’s chief physician. Han couldn’t have hoped for a better healer, and he was grateful her rougher than necessary treatment didn’t prevent her from doing her best to help his wound heal. But he couldn’t pretend to be happy to see her. It was no secret that she hated Han.
“What is it,” she asked coldly, “more pain?”
“No… well, yes of course I have pain, but that’s not why I called. Is—” Han stopped himself, hesitating because he knew what conclusions Tahlina would jump to. He shook his head, then went on. “Is Tennehk on duty this morning?”
Tennehk was a nurse who worked in the infirmary, but also a close, longtime friend of Han’s—the man Luccan had called Han’s “friend with benefits.” And since Han’s sexuality was exactly why Tahlina hated him, he was prepared for her vitriolic response.
“No,�
� she said, biting the word off and continuing in the same tone. “He’ll be here tonight. But let me tell you, you won’t be having that kind of visitor in my infirmary—”
Han interrupted—his ears already hurt from her bile-coated words. “Look, Tahlina. I know—everyone knows—what you think of me and why you think it. It’s true: when I do want a physical connection, I want it with a man. But of course I’m not going to have that kind of visit!” He stopped and took a deep breath, calming himself so he could continue in a more politic tone. After all, how could he expect her to be civil to him if he chewed her head off and spat it out? “I need to get a message to Tennehk because there’s something important that needs doing, I can’t do it, and he’s well suited to see to the task. Can you please get someone to ask him to come in and see me as soon as possible?”
Tahlina also breathed deep and sighed. She looked a little embarrassed, but not exactly contrite, and she didn’t apologize. She did, however, agree to do what Han asked, and before she left she checked his wound and his temperature, asked about his pain, and refilled his water glass. “I’ll have some willow-bark tea brewed for you. It should help take the edge off your pain without making you sleep. But no more than a cupful every three hours, mind!”
She left in a huffy rush, the biting tone of her last sentence hanging in the air, but Han recognized care when he saw it. She didn’t want to have to take care of him, he could tell, but she would do her best at it anyway because that’s who she was. She’d never harm him or allow harm to be done to him on her watch. That seemed a good thing, compared to the way some of the bigots he’d met over the years behaved.
It made him sad, when he thought about it, though after two-hundred years of living very much in the public eye in the Sunlands, he knew better than to focus his energies on people judging him for something so intrinsic, so much a part of him it didn’t even need thinking about unless others brought it up. He remembered a conversation he’d had with Luccan, only days after they’d found him in Valley City, months ago—before Lucky even knew they were related. They’d been on a city bus—one of the few mechanical things he’d run across in Earth that he didn’t love at all.