Part 15 (1/2)
”Drugs. Drinks. Herbs.”
”Nothing. Well . . . water. Afterward. To clear my head.”
”You take nothing to open your powers?”
”Nay.”
The Zheron made him repeat his answers twice before turning to the older man for a swift, muted conversation.
Keirith let his head droop, still reeling from what he had seen on their faces, what they had revealed through their questions. They understood his power. There had been surprise, aye, but mostly that his gift was untaught. So the Zherosi-some of them, anyway-must possess the same power. And clearly did not consider it an abomination. It sickened him to realize that only among his enemies could his power be accepted.
”Do you speak to the G.o.ds?”
”What? Nay.”
”Do your priests?”
”Aye. That is, a priest has a spirit guide. An animal. Who helps him cross between the worlds. Helps him communicate with the G.o.ds.”
”And your mother? The healer? Does she communicate with the G.o.ds?”
”Nay. But she-”
He broke off. The Zheron was watching him, his expression eager. Keirith felt a trickle of sweat ooze down his side. He had almost told them his mam had spoken with the Trickster. He must be more careful.
”She calls on the G.o.ds. To aid her healing.”
”The scribe of the Jhef d'Esqi says that you knew of the shaking of the earth before it happened. Is this true?”
He started to nod, then hesitated. ”I knew something would happen. I didn't know the earth would shake.”
This provoked a heated exchange between the Zheron, the Slave Master, and the Speaker. By the end of it, the Speaker's expression of satisfaction had dwindled to one of fearful appeas.e.m.e.nt.
”The Zheron says you will tell him what happened.”
He told them, choosing his words carefully. Unless he remained vigilant, he might reveal something that could endanger not only his life, but the lives of his fellow captives.
”Which animals spoke?”
”There were many.”
”Did their voices sound alike?”
”Nay.”
”Then you heard different animals.”
”Aye, but they were all screaming. Terrified. There were dogs. And birds-I don't know what kind. And sheep, I think. And the adders, of course.”
The older woman gasped. In the prolonged silence that followed, he realized he had made a terrible error. The faces of the Zherosi revealed shock, wonder, disbelief. Only the older man seemed unmoved, although he leaned forward on the bench.
The Zheron slowly descended the steps. ”You heard the adders speak?”
”I . . . I think so. It all happened so fast . . .”
”What did their voices sound like?”
”Like . . . like adders. Low. Hissing.”
”Many snakes hiss. You said adders.”
”My spirit guide is an adder. They sounded like him.”
”You said only priests had spirit guides.”
Another error.
The Zheron's hand darted out and Keirith shrank away, but strong fingers seized his chin and forced him to look up. ”And you claimed you were not a priest.”
”I'm not.”
”But you have a spirit guide. An adder.”
”Because I wanted to be a priest. Once. Natha-my spirit guide-came to me. But I'm not a priest. I'm not even an apprentice anymore.”
He was saying too much. They would hear the desperation in his voice, see the way he was shaking, and know he was hiding something.
The older man beckoned the Zheron, then addressed the spectators. The four men bowed and backed away. Keirith could feel the Big One's gaze, but he refused to look at him. Their footsteps receded and there was silence.
After a brief consultation with the older man, the Zheron straightened. Slowly, he descended the steps again. ”Speak to them.”
”What?”
”Speak to the adders. Now.”
”I can't.”
The Zheron circled him like a hungry wolf. A sneer twisted his lips. ”You lied.”
”Nay.”
”You cannot speak to the adders.”
”I never said I could. I heard them. Screaming.”
The Zheron bent over him and Keirith flinched. ”You miserable savage. Do you think you can deceive us?”
”I wasn't . . . what do you want?”
”I want you to speak to the adders.”