Part 11 (2/2)
”That's twice I've been told that in one evening,” Derek complained. He chewed on his lip, looking at Deacon.
”What?” Deacon looked up impatiently. He could feel Derek watching him.
”What are you trying to do here?” asked Derek, peering over.
Deacon sighed audibly, irritated by all the noise and movement. ”I'm trying to familiarize myself more thoroughly with these words.”
”Words?”
”Words of a particular form,” said Deacon. ”Different syllables and sentence structures put your mind into different states, as do hand gestures and verbalizing. These here are the most effective in bringing the consciousness to the desired state.”
”What?”
”The phrases focus the mind more efficiently toward the desired objective, so there is less demand physically.” Derek sat uninformed, chewing his cheek. ”It's about focusing the mind to an extreme point so that you can communicate your will. The more I learn how to do this, the less taxing it is on my body.”
Derek nodded sagely. ”In other words, it's as if trying to give directions to someone who doesn't know your language. You'll eventually get them to understand, but it would take less effort if you could speak their language.”
”Something of that nature,” Deacon agreed. ”Mages of exceptional skill need neither to verbalize nor use hand gestures to achieve their objective.”
”I thought all this came naturally to you?”
”Anyone with the right application of his mind can control energies.”
”Will you teach me something?”
”No.”
”Why not?”
”I don't want to be the one responsible for unleas.h.i.+ng you into the world,” said Deacon in a tone of banter, contrary to the seriousness of his mood.
A young woman with warm chestnut hair and warm brown eyes had observed Deacon. Throughout the evening as she went about serving tables, she stole coy glances in his direction in hopes of attracting his attention. He appeared not to notice, but he knew. She watched as he sat there, intent, his eyes concentrated on the page, his mouth pressed shut as if he were angered. Finally she caught his attention. He glanced straight at her. She felt herself flush under that gaze, brief as it was. She was both fascinated by and afraid of his otherness-that underlying strangeness that set him apart from his companions.
When she finished serving another round to the members of his party, she ventured over to address him personally. ”Here,” she said, handing him a drink. ”This will help loosen your tongue.” For a brief moment the hands of both remained on the tankard, but she hadn't the courage to touch his hand. His intense eyes looked up from dark brows. ”You haven't spoken all evening,” she said, timidly.
”I have done,” he replied.
”Not to me,” she said with a shyness she thought became her. As she smiled down on him, Deacon noticed for the first time how attractive her flushed features were. He smiled, then looked down again. His heart was too sore and his mind too heavy to enter into any discourse with her.
Hugging an empty platter to her breast, she did not detain his eyes a moment from the book. Her attention was fixed upon the nape of his neck, where the dark hair ended and the tanned flesh ran smooth. She was keenly interested in him. His manner was quiet and guarded, but it did not require keen eyes to detect the hidden inferno. Standing there above him, she felt awkward. He was not having her. She s.h.i.+fted her weight several times, not knowing what to say. His intense reservedness was like to his pus.h.i.+ng her back with a hand.
Lounging in his chair, Derek watched as Deacon actively ignored the beautiful woman. He thought it was strange; more than strange, it was inhuman. ”Don't worry about him,” Derek said, getting her attention. ”He doesn't talk to anyone, not even his own cousin.” He slouched down and pushed Deacon's boot playfully with his own.
”You're cousins?” she asked, surprised.
”I could tell you a few stories about this one,” Derek said, glancing at Deacon, who gave no response more than a slight crease in the dark brow. Happy to be close to Deacon without the strain of speaking to him, the woman continued the pleasant exchange with the more approachable one. Not once did Deacon return the glances she was constantly directing towards him as she spoke. The drink had loosened Derek's tongue and got him to spilling stories.
”Don't make her suffer through any of your distorted tales,” Deacon said.
”I like them,” she said.
”Perhaps then you should sit. He'll go on and on, now that you've permitted it.”
The young woman almost beamed, happy to have won a word from him. ”What is it that you're reading?” she asked, reaching her hand forward.
”I wouldn't touch that!” said Derek, as if fearful of what might happen. She held back her hand, rather startled, looking at Derek with frightened eyes, waiting for him to explain.
Deacon looked up. ”She can do as she pleases,” he said, the mildness in his voice akin to politeness.
”What will happen if I touch it?” she asked.
”Place your hand there and I'll show you,” said Deacon, almost affectionately.
She liked his voice, which was deep and handsome, and she liked his heavy-lidded eyes, which were blue and dark, and which looked at her with a strange intensity. She crouched down at his side. She could not resist touching the book and his hand that held it firmly. She felt a low current run from the book through to her, a strange heat striking through her flesh, so that her very blood seemed to run warmer. Almost it was dreadful. Dimly she knew it, even as it sent little thrills of delight through her.
”Isn't it a strange warmth?” she murmured, s.h.i.+fting to get nearer to him.
”Energy radiance,” he answered.
A warm and secure glow from the fire gently enveloped them like the comfort of a blanket. For a time the noise and irritation was pushed aside, and only the gentle crackling seemed heard. Deacon brushed his thumb lightly against her hand covering his, as though languor bound them and softened them to one another. Talking quietly, she remained at his side. She was kneeling, bending forward to be near him, but he remained pa.s.sive, giving her the minimum of his attention. Derek had sometime before returned to the table, giving Deacon time alone with the unfortunate young woman. After a time she stopped speaking, finding he did not answer. It seemed he had forgotten her, his eyes fixed downwards, reading.
She contented herself to watch him in silence, with waning interest. In a moment she placed her hand on his thigh, but it won from him not a spark of interest. She removed her hand and sat back, her eyelids sinking a little with annoyance. Deacon could sense her boredom and irritation, yet continued on as if entirely absorbed. In times past he would have had his fair share of interest and perhaps gone away with her for the night, but a change had pa.s.sed over him. Desire was dead inside him. She was scornful of him and his removed nature and left without a parting word, evidently upset. His gaze lifted and followed her, but he didn't care that she had left him.
Hara.s.sed by the noise, Deacon found it difficult to maintain concentration. Finally he closed the book and set it aside, resting forward with his arms leaning across his knees. He watched the young men at the table trying to impress their jeering friends. Derek was the centre of attention. They had entered into a game with him, their objective to make him drunk. They wagered on who could drink the most without becoming overcome; in this way they succeeded in getting him to drink to excess. Just short of eighteen, he was at the foolish age where incitement was easily achieved.
Although he took pains to appear blind to it all, Deacon sat solemn with a clenched jaw, keeping himself in check. Inside he was burning. The room had grown intolerable.
Derek was handed a small drink that he had never before tasted, a vile drink that made his mouth and stomach feel on fire. He held it hesitantly to his lips. He could almost feel it burning before it even touched them.
”Get it down you quick,” said Cade, slapping him on the back. ”Don't let it touch your tongue,” came the belayed warning as Derek knocked it back. There was a brief moment when his face drained and he looked as if he might be sick, but he came around. He scrunched his face. The drink stung the tongue and warmed the throat, so that he could scarcely breathe for a time. He gagged and spluttered as the hot liquid rampaged down to his stomach that filled with a resonating warmth, which, once settled, was not entirely unpleasant.
”What is that?” asked Derek, impressed, his eyes watering. The stimulating effects had him wanting more. He had another, and another, till the sensations were suddenly no longer agreeable, and he lay back in his chair with a groan. By the end of it he was such a sorry-looking wretch that Cade and the others left him alone, laughing aloud in their rowdy fas.h.i.+ons.
Cedrik frowned at his brother's lack of self-control. The sorry youth clutched his head in both his hands and complained of the pain. Cedrik had no sympathy or patience for him. ”You've made quite a fool of yourself,” Cedrik said. ”I think now we should go.”
He was answered by a pitiful groan.
The women who had been watching Derek fawned over him. His hair was ruffled from their persistent, indulgent attentions. One offered to retrieve for him something to eat, another clutched his head against her, his face and nose crushed up against her breast. She released him abruptly when he announced he was going to be sick.
”Come on. Get up,” said Cedrik, trying to get sense out of his insensible brother. Derek lay half-sprawled over the table, plastered to immobility.
Tormented almost beyond endurance, Deacon became feverishly annoyed. His forbearance reaching its limits. The laughter and chatter at last became so obtrusive he rose in agitation. ”Get up, you drunken fool,” he said to Derek, a.s.sisting him to his feet roughly by the back of his collar. Derek was about to protest to his rough handler but saw that his blood was up and he was in no mood to be played with. He knew that Deacon would physically drag him out if need be. Several women in their party complained and tried to persuade Deacon to let him stay longer.
”Help us to convince him,” they pleaded with Cedrik, who looked helplessly from one woman to the other.
Deacon turned and left Cedrik to their persuasions. Stepping out into the street he came suddenly upon two girls, who clinging to one another, weak with laughter, stopped as though they had encountered a dark impervious wall. The smiles fell from their lips and quickly they made a wide berth round him. The girls, on their way into the tavern, squeezed pa.s.sed Cade and the brothers on their way out, Cedrik supporting Derek's bent-over form.
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