Part 11 (1/2)
”But you used my blood for a spell, Ilban. I saw you.”
”Blood can be a powerful element, Alec, no different than salt or sulfur or iron. The necromancers also make use of it, of course, but not at all in the manner of alchemists.”
The food went heavy in Alec's belly. ”You're going to kill me, and take my blood?”
”Kill you? What a shameful waste that would be! Whatever made you think of that?” He paused, then shook his head. ”No, Alec, I would never kill you. I intend for you to live a long and comfortable life here with me. If you behave and do as I ask, that life can be very pleasant indeed.”
Alec suddenly sensed an opportunity. Seregil had often praised his ability to look young and innocent. He played to that strength now as he widened his eyes and asked, ”Then you really aren't going to kill me, Ilban? Or use me in your bed?”
”You have my word. Those are the furthest things from my mind. You know, not all Plenimarans are like those you've met on the battlefield. Our warriors are very fierce, but they are chosen for that, and trained to it. I've traveled a bit in your land and we ordinary folk are not so different from yours. You'll come to appreciate that in time. Get some rest, and after you've had another meal tomorrow, if if you behave, I'll take you out of here and begin to familiarize you with your new home.” you behave, I'll take you out of here and begin to familiarize you with your new home.”
”What will my duties be?” he asked, then quickly added, ”Ilban.” This was getting very tiresome.
”You strike me as an intelligent young man. Perhaps you can a.s.sist me in my work.”
”In alchemy?”
”Yes. I believe you'll be a very great help in time.”
Alec picked up his bowl and knelt to place it at Yhakobin's feet. ”Thank you for the food, Ilban, and your kind words. I'm less fearful now, for hearing them.”
Yhakobin cupped Alec's chin and raised his face to look him in the eye. ”That's very nicely said, Alec. Of course, I don't believe a word of it, and that's your second mistake.” He hooked a finger in the smooth metal collar and gave it a playful tug. ”You will not get far with this around your neck, my coy little nightrunner. Even if you slice the brands from your skin-and you wouldn't be the first to do so.” Giving him a final firm pat on the cheek, Yhakobin rose and went out. The guards collected the chair and lantern and locked Alec in again.
He groped his way back to his pallet and lay down, heart thudding dully in his chest.
Nightrunner. Where in Bilairy's name was the man getting his information? Where in Bilairy's name was the man getting his information?
CHAPTER 14 14.
The Power of Memory
HABA.
Still lost in darkness, Seregil dreamed of gentle hands easing his pain, soothing his skin.
Haba...
Cool fingers traced the planes of his face. Warm lips covered his. In vain he fought to open his eyes. A dream...only a dream.
He thought he was in his bed at Wheel Street. He turned his cheek to that touch...
Alec. Tali...
Fingers brushed his lips.
No, Haba.
No, of course not. Alec had never called him that...
Darkness claimed him, pulling him deeper.
Haba!
”You're still abed?” Mydri called through the tent flap. ”Get up, Haba, you lazy thing. Father's waiting for you at the a.s.sembly.”
Seregil curled deeper in his blankets, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to pretend he hadn't heard.
”Suit yourself, brat,” his sister muttered, and strode off.
The air was already warm and filled with the drowsy buzz of cicadas. He could tell by the slant of tree shadows across the painted canvas that it was well past dawn. He threw back the blankets and sat up, knowing better than to keep his second sister waiting too long. Adzriel or Illina might shout for him, or come in and tickle him awake. Mydri was more likely to fetch him a nasty slap.
No breakfast again, he thought glumly, unless he could charm one of his aunts or cousins into giving him something behind his father's back. Or he could steal something from one of the other camps; that was a favorite game lately, among his friends. he thought glumly, unless he could charm one of his aunts or cousins into giving him something behind his father's back. Or he could steal something from one of the other camps; that was a favorite game lately, among his friends.
He pulled on his long white tunic and tried to brush out the wrinkles. One more thing for Mydri to scold him for. He stuck his tongue out at the thought and laced on his sandals, then made a hasty job of combing his long brown hair with his fingers. He took more care with the dark green sen'gai. When it was wrapped and twisted into a proper shape around his head, he paused a moment, then let the long ends fall over his left shoulder.
He pressed his fingers to his lips, cheeks going warm with the memory of last night's stolen kiss in the shadow of the forest. I have a lover. I have a lover.
Grinning, he lifted the ends of the sen'gai and let them fall down his back. They weren't really really lovers yet. And even if they were, Seregil certainly wouldn't give that fact away to his father by wearing his sen'gai tails over his shoulder like that. lovers yet. And even if they were, Seregil certainly wouldn't give that fact away to his father by wearing his sen'gai tails over his shoulder like that.
Ducking out through the low doorway, he buckled on his knife belt, cinching it tight around his slender waist. You've no more hips than a snake does You've no more hips than a snake does Auntie Alira was fond of pointing out. Auntie Alira was fond of pointing out.
She was the most likely prospect for breakfast. He was wondering if he had time to get to her tent before Mydri came looking for him again when Kheeta came barreling out from between the tents, the tails of his green sen'gai flying behind him.
”So there you are!” He came to a breathless halt and punched Seregil on the shoulder, then hooked an arm around his best friend's neck. ”Your father's had us looking everywhere for you! He's already poured the morning blessing. He wasn't happy when you didn't show up.”
Seregil shrugged as he wrapped an arm around his cousin's waist and set off for the council site. ”He's always angry with me. At least now he has a good reason. I'll be your brother today. Will Mother feed me?”
”Not likely. And it's a good thing you're not my real brother. Father would take the switch to you!”
Seregil hugged Kheeta, glad of a moment's peace before having to face his father's unspoken disapproval. Again. As Korit i Meringil's only son, he was expected to make at least a token appearance at his father's side, though it was Adzriel, as the eldest, who served as her father's aide.
He sighed. ”I wish we were really brothers.”
People from outside their clan often mistook the two boys for twins. They were the same age, with the same lanky build-all arms and legs and restless energy-and with the same glints of copper in their dark hair. Kheeta and his family lived in the rambling clan house, too; he and Seregil had been cradle mates, and best friends since they could crawl to find each other.
Some of their other friends-clan mates and boys and girls they'd made friends with here at the summer a.s.sembly-joined them as they hurried to the open pavilion where the khirnari and elders were already gathered.
They sat on carpets and cus.h.i.+ons spread on the gra.s.s, sipping tea as the endless arguments began for another day. Seregil wondered why so many of the other khirnari were against his father's plan, but beyond that, he didn't much care.
His father glanced up at him over the heads of the crowd, frowned, then ignored him.