Part 53 (2/2)

The Supplicant winked. After a moment of stunned surprise, Hakkon nodded again.

”And when your turn comes to take that flight, you, too, will receive a hero's welcome. And there will be large-breasted beauties should you desire them. But your mother will be the first to welcome you. And when her hand clasps yours to lead you into the sunlight, you will finally be able to speak aloud the words of love you have carried in your heart these many years.”

The tears filling Hakkon's eyes spilled over, carving pale tracks in his dirty cheeks. The Supplicant pulled his head down to her shoulder and held him while he wept. When he finally raised his head, she gave him a lingering smile and slowly walked away.

Olinio wiped his forehead, leaving grimy streaks on the sleeve of his tunic. ”She must have taken a fancy to you when she saw you in Oexiak. If only I'd known. I could have arranged a special performance for her. Oh, well. Take Reinek to the temple. Be polite. Do whatever she asks. And smile, Hakkon, smile! You must learn to take advantage of unexpected opportunities when they-Here. You. Girl! What are you doing?”

Without interrupting her rummaging, Hircha said, ”I'm looking for Reinek's pack.” She dug a battered hide bag out of the pile of discarded supplies and held it up. ”Is this it?”

”Yes. I think so. Urkiat's is there, too. Somewhere. Yes, that's it. I don't suppose you could take the rest of the things . . . ? Oh, never mind. I'll manage.” His eyes gleamed. ”The G.o.d with Two Faces is smiling on me again. Just as Mother predicted. And I didn't even have to spend money for an offering.”

Chapter 43.

HE FLOATED IN A SEA of honeysuckle. Dimly, he sensed another presence, but it was too far away to trouble him. The summons disturbed his peace and he retreated deeper into the restful sea. When the summons came again, he bent his will on resisting it. A faint throb of resentment emanated from the other; it, too, preferred the peace and comfort of the honeysuckle sea. The third summons pulled him upward, overriding his desire to drift, overriding even the nameless terror he sensed lurking at the surface.

The sea disgorged him. His chest heaved with the effort of breathing. His muscles ached. And that was wrong. Frantically, he sought the sanctuary of the sea, but the voice commanded him to open his eyes.

The face of the Supplicant filled his vision. ”Welcome back, Keirith.”

A wave of nausea heaved him up. Cool hands grasped his arms, steadying him. As the nausea faded, memory returned. The piercing joy from his father's spirit when he first touched it, followed by the violent shock that threatened to shatter them both. The helpless terror of dissolution and the ferocious wrench as he was pulled back from the brink. And then plummeting into an abyss, as dark and bottomless as the Supplicant's eyes.

He tried to shake his head, but the effort was beyond him. The Supplicant eased him back on the fleece and took his hand. As she raised it, he squeezed his eyes shut.

”You must look.”

Against his will, his eyes opened and he saw what he had feared. The antler tattoo, branching across the thick wrist. The scar, puckering the dust-grimed skin of the palm. The swollen stumps of the forefinger and middle finger that Morgath had sawed off in Chaos.

He had tried to comfort his father. Instead, he had killed him.

Grief roared through him and then an echoing surge of terror. He had only a moment to realize the terror was not his, another to recognize the other presence. Then his new body was torn from his control.

His father's spirit fought with mindless desperation, insensible of everything except his horrified belief that Morgath had taken possession of his body as well as his spirit. Keirith knew he should calm him, but the instinct for survival overwhelmed reason. Even the Supplicant's command failed to restrain him. His body convulsed as they battled. Desperate, he summoned his power.

”No! You will cast him out!”

Keirith's heart slammed against his ribs. The power continued to swell, as wildly uncontrolled as his thras.h.i.+ng body. Too late, he tried to call it back. A bolt of pure agony pierced him and he screamed, then screamed again as he felt the aftershock rip through his father's spirit. He was still screaming when his father vanished.

<be still.=””> The Supplicant's voice spoke inside him. His body went limp. His scream faded. A shrill voice shouted something, but it came from outside his spirit and he could identify neither the speaker nor the words. He groped for his father and met an impenetrable wall. He battered against it, a b.u.t.terfly a.s.saulting stone.

<stop that.=”” he=”” is=”” safe.=”” i'm=”” s.h.i.+elding=”” him=”” from=”” you.=””> His whimper of relief sounded loud in his ears.

<you must=”” relinquish=”” control=”” of=”” his=”” body.=””> The whimper crescendoed to an animal cry of fear.

Guilt filled him, overwhelming the fear.

<you can=”” apologize=”” later.=”” now=”” pay=”” attention.=”” opening=”” his=”” spirit=”” to=”” receive=”” yours=”” was=”” the=”” hardest=”” thing=”” darak=”” has=”” ever=”” done.=”” to=”” lose=”” control=”” of=”” his=”” body=”” will=”” push=”” him=”” to=”” the=”” brink=”” of=”” madness.=”” i=”” can=”” wrest=”” control=”” from=”” you,=”” but=”” i=”” prefer=”” not=”” to=”” cause=”” you=”” additional=”” pain.=”” all=”” you=”” need=”” do=”” is=”” let=”” go.=”” i'll=”” keep=”” you=”” safe.=”” just=”” as=”” i'm=”” keeping=”” your=”” father=”” safe.=””> Why are you helping us? You're a Zherosi priestess.

Who are you?

<your father=”” calls=”” me=”” fellgair.=””> His spirit shuddered and shrank away.

<you may=”” call=”” me=”” lord=”” trickster.=”” come,=”” keirith.=”” every=”” moment=”” you=”” delay=”” only=”” increases=”” your=”” father's=”” terror.=”” i=”” don't=”” have=”” time=”” to=”” reason=”” with=”” you=”” and=”” calm=”” him.=”” if=”” i=”” must=”” take=”” control,=”” i=”” will.=””> Why should I believe you?

He felt something that might have been exasperation.

<very astute.=””> There was a pause and then he felt the voice again, still soft, but far more gentle and unquestionably masculine.

<hush. hush=”” and=”” listen.=”” darak!=”” listen=”” to=”” me.=”” you=”” are=”” safe.=”” i'm=”” holding=”” you.=”” you=”” know=”” me.=”” say=”” my=”” name.=”” yes,=”” that's=”” right.=”” again.=”” good.=””> The wall prevented him from sensing his father's responses. Unless it was a trick.

<be quiet,=”” keirith.=””> It was as if the Trickster kept them isolated in separate rooms, able to hear and speak to both of them, while they could only communicate with him.

<yes, keirith=”” is=”” here.=”” no.=”” darak!=”” listen=”” to=”” my=”” voice.=”” you=”” must=”” be=”” calm=”” and=”” you=”” must=”” listen.=”” keirith=”” is=”” safe.=””> There was a brief pause.

<because i'm=”” s.h.i.+elding=”” you=”” from=”” each=”” other.=””> Another pause, longer than the first.

<you're not=”” strong=”” enough-=””> Another flash of exasperation, this time directed at his father.

<because the=”” trickster=”” used=”” his=”” wondrous=”” powers=”” to=”” keep=”” him=”” from=”” sensing=”” what=”” i=”” just=”” said=”” to=”” you.=”” credit=”” me=”” with=”” some=”” sensitivity.=”” and=”” stem=”” your=”” turbulent=”” emotions.=”” i'm=”” going=”” to=”” open=”” the=”” gateway.=””> The tiniest c.h.i.n.k cracked open in the wall. For a panicked moment, he felt nothing and wondered if his father refused to touch him. Obeying the Trickster's instructions, he quelled his anxiety, remembering how it had been when he and Malaq shared a connection. But instead of Malaq's gentle probing, a wild torrent of emotions and thoughts poured through the gateway. He touched uncertainty and fear and a tremulous determination, but stronger than any of these was the sense of delirious relief.

I'm here, Fa. I'm all right. I didn't mean to hurt you.

That was all he managed before his father disappeared. Although he knew Fellgair had simply closed the gateway, his panic resurfaced. Again, he mastered it, but the effort left him exhausted. With his remaining strength, he willed himself to surrender his father's body.

He drew his breath in. His father let it out. Keirith could feel the heaving chest and the beating heart, but the sensations came from a great distance. It was stranger still to hear his father's voice murmuring his name, feel his father's fingers clenching and unclenching in the fleece, and be helpless to make the sound or the movements.

<you've done=”” it=”” all=”” your=”” life.=”” malaq=”” merely=”” deepened=”” your=”” understanding=”” of=”” the=”” process.=”” you=”” will=”” not=”” be=”” strong=”” enough=”” to=”” keep=”” him=”” out=”” altogether.=”” when=”” the=”” strain=”” gets=”” too=”” great-for=”” either=”” of=”” you-you=”” must=”” retreat=”” deeper=”” into=”” yourself.=””> And will my father . . . will he know what I'm feeling?

<yes.> Before he could prevent it, the emotions flooded him: the helpless terror of the rape, the sickening joy of the castration, the guilt of Urkiat's death, and the growing horror of the half-life that stretched ahead of him. Only now did he begin to grasp the implications of his rescue. The endless vigilance required lest their most private thoughts and emotions be laid bare to each other. The impotence of being locked in a body he could never possess-feet moving without his volition, mouth opening to receive food he couldn't taste. Every private act of his father's exposed-when he p.i.s.sed, when he moved his bowels, when he . . . dear G.o.ds, what about his mam? His father's lips kissing her, his father's hands touching her, his father's . . .

<stop.> The Trickster's presence filled him, bathing him with the calm and peace of the honeysuckle sea. But instead of retreating into that restfulness, Keirith fought.

Let me go.

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