Sebastian

by Anne Bishop

  “I’ll show you the room.” The man went to the open end of the bar. “Patrick! See to the gentleman’s horse.”

  A youth, who looked enough like the barman to be family, stepped forward and shot Koltak a cold look. “I’ll see the poor creature gets a good feed and is tended properly.”

  As Koltak followed the barman up the stairs to the rooms, he heard a man in the room below say, “That one thinks well of himself, doesn’t he?”

  “That he does,” another answered. “And there’s no kindness in him. You can see it in his eyes.”

  “That you can,” the first one replied. “Has me thinking that no one would miss him if a waterhorse took him for a fast ride and a long sleep.”

  Then the barman opened a door and entered the room to light a lamp. “I’ll bring up your dinner as soon as it can be put together. Bath is down the other set of stairs, along with the indoor privies.”

  Koltak set the saddlebags down at the foot of the bed and waited for the man to leave before sinking down on the bed.

  They didn’t know about wizards. Did they know about the landscapes? If they didn’t, how did they survive?

  They had no respect, no courtesy. They treated him like some common traveler.

  He hadn’t felt this lost, this lonely, since he and Peter made the journey to Wizard City to become apprentice wizards. But he’d had his brother then, even though they hadn’t liked each other much. Now he was far from home, and the status that made even the wealthiest gentry careful to show respect meant nothing to anyone.

  And that was another stone he would hang around Sebastian’s neck when the time came.

  All the way back to the bordello, Sebastian told himself to expect any kind of reaction from Lynnea, to accept any disgust or revulsion she might feel toward him after seeing that thing. He’d prepared himself for any kind of response—except to have her throw her arms around him as soon as he walked into their room.

  “You’re all right?” she asked, squeezing him hard enough to shift his ribs. “You’re not hurt?”

  He didn’t complain about his ribs or the feeling that he couldn’t quite breathe. He just held on to the warmth of her, the love inside her—knowing he couldn’t hold on to it much longer. That was something else he’d prepared for on the walk back to the bordello.

  “I’m all right,” he said, finally shifting her back enough to give himself breathing room. “How’s Teaser?”

  Lynnea looked back at the door that led into the bathroom. “He said he wanted to be alone. Wouldn’t let me sit with him in his room, and he didn’t want to stay in here. I think he’s drinking.”

  Giving her a light kiss on the forehead, Sebastian stepped aside. “I’d be worried about him if he weren’t trying to get drunk.”

  Lynnea narrowed her eyes. “Is that your way of telling me you’re planning to get drunk too?”

  “I guess it is.” He edged toward the bathroom door. “I’d better talk to him.”

  Since it hadn’t occurred to Teaser to lock anyone out from that direction, Sebastian simply walked through the bathroom and opened the other door. He found Teaser sitting on the floor, back braced against the side of the bed, cuddling a half-full bottle of whiskey.

  Settling on the floor next to his friend, he took the whiskey bottle, helped himself to a long swallow, then handed it back.

  “That’s not me,” Teaser said. “That’s not me.”

  Feeling like he’d aged a decade in the past few hours, Sebastian rested his head against the bed. “Yes, it is.”

  Teaser looked at him with wounded eyes. “You think I’m like that? You think this is a mask I can take off? You think…” He raised one hand to his forehead, his nails digging in as if he could peel the skin off.

  Sebastian grabbed Teaser’s hand and pulled it away from his face. “It’s what we are, Teaser. That’s what’s inside us. You know it is. When our power unfurls, that’s the feel of it. Diluted, but that’s the feel of it.”

  “I know,” Teaser whispered. “I wanted…When it was on her, it made me so hungry, I wanted…And then I saw its face. My face.”

  “It wore my face for a little while, too.” And he would never forget the fear that had filled him when it had looked at Lynnea.

  They passed the whiskey bottle back and forth a couple of times.

  “Then that thing really was…”

  “An incubus.” Sebastian sighed. “A pureblood. The real thing.”

  “Then what are we?”

  “Mongrels.” Sebastian forced himself to smile. “The result of incubi and succubi mating with humans and having the seed take hold.”

  Teaser stared at the whiskey bottle. “So…I’m part human?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “Do you know why I wanted to be your friend?”

  Sebastian shrugged. “When I first came to the Den, there weren’t many incubi and succubi here, and you and I were the youngest ones. Since we liked each other and had fun trolling together, I didn’t give it any thought.”

  “I wanted to be your friend because you knew how to be human,” Teaser said softly. “We learn how to imitate humans in order to blend in enough to stay in a place for a while and hunt, but you knew. The first time we ate at Philo’s, you said ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’”

  He shifted, feeling embarrassed. “Well, my aunt is a stickler for good manners.”

  Teaser nodded. “You knew those things. You knew how to do more than hunt. You knew how to have fun living in the Den. I wanted to know those things, too. Not that I didn’t like you,” he added, letting his head roll so he could give Sebastian an earnest look, “but you were more than any incubus I’d run across. And the times when Lee came to visit, and the three of us would strut on the streets…I saw how it must be for humans, having friends, being foolish, just having fun.”

  “Were you lonely before you came to the Den?” Sebastian didn’t expect a reply. Teaser never spoke of where he grew up or what it was like or how the incubi and succubi lived, or even if there was some landscape that was “home” for them.

  “Lynnea hugged me,” Teaser said softly. “I’ve never been hugged before, just for a hug.”

  If it wasn’t for the times he’d lived with Nadia, he wouldn’t have known the warmth and comfort of a hug, either. What kind of man would he have become without Nadia and Glorianna and Lee?

  “One day soon I’m going to have to take you to my aunt’s house for a couple of hours.”

  Teaser’s eyes were filled with a blend of panic and hope. “Your aunt? But I’m…and she’s…Won’t she mind?”

  Now he could smile and mean it. “Aunt Nadia has a soft spot in her heart for bad boys. She’ll put you to work and make you feel human in no time.”

  Teaser chuckled. His eyes started to close.

  Sebastian stood up, put the whiskey bottle on the table by the bed, and hauled Teaser to a somewhat vertical position. “Go to bed and get some sleep. You won’t wake up happy if you end up sleeping on the floor.”

  Teaser swayed gently as he studied his shoes. “My feet are way down there. How’d they do that?”

  “It’s a mystery.” The barest push had Teaser flopping on the bed. Sebastian took off the shoes, rolled Teaser closer to the center of the bed, and tossed a blanket over him.

  Then he went back to his own room.

  He made excuses for not touching Lynnea. He needed a bath. He was tired. By the time she came out of the bathroom, he pretended to be asleep.

  I’m doing this for her. I know what’s inside me now. Really know. I can’t let the stain of it dim her life.

  When she cuddled up against his back, he didn’t turn to let her rest her head on his shoulder. And when her dreams invited him in, he stayed away—and had never felt so lonely.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Alight breeze softened the summer heat, and the combination of wind chimes, stirring leaves, and water trickling into the koi pond made a kind of music no human-made instrument
could match.

  Glorianna sat on the stone bench and watched the flashes of gold as the koi went about life in their own small world, fearful of nothing but the occasional heron that might decide to go fishing in the pond.

  A feeling of change brushed her skin, whispered in the air. Turning her head toward the wooden bridge that arched over a “stream” of decorative stones, she watched the man who suddenly appeared a step beyond the bridge.

  Seeing her, he smiled and raised a hand in greeting.

  Returning the smile, she shifted on the bench to make room for him. “Good morning, Honorable Yoshani.”

  “Good morning, Glorianna Dark and Wise.” He sat on the bench, put a glazed, covered jar between them, and continued to smile. “I woke this morning and had a feeling that if I came to this part of Sanctuary before the sun rose too high, I would find you here. So I heeded my feeling, and here you are.”

  “And here I am.”

  “Where is your brother?”

  “Gone to visit our mother. Or, more to the point, trying to decide how he feels about our mother’s lover moving into the family home.”

  “Ah. The lover is a fortunate man to have earned your mother’s regard.”

  “I don’t think Lee has your wisdom.”

  “He is her son. I am not. It is easier for me to have wisdom,” Yoshani said, grinning.

  Glorianna laughed. “There is truth in what you say.” She looked at the dark eyes she thought of as wells that went all the way down to the great pool of wisdom that lay at the heart of the world. “But you didn’t come to this part of Sanctuary to share that wisdom.”

  “I came to give you this.” He handed her a smooth white stone that lay warm in the palm of her hand. “And to show you this.” He picked up the jar.

  “What is it?”

  “It is a jar of sorrows,” Yoshani replied softly. “Every season, in my part of the world, those who serve the Light go out into the villages with these jars and a large bag of white stones—enough stones for every man, woman, and child. In the morning each person in the village takes a stone and carries it with them. Throughout the day each finds quiet moments to hold the stone and whisper the things that weigh on the heart. Small hurts, large regrets. The stones hear the sorrows and absorb them. Before the sun sets, everyone drops the stones into the jar, and the jar’s keeper pours clean water over the stones and closes the lid. The next morning, as the sun is rising, the villagers bring jugs and buckets of water with them and follow the keeper to the spot they have chosen as ‘sorrow’s ground.’ The keeper opens the jar and pours out the water, which has turned black. The jar is refilled with water again and again until it finally pours out clean. That’s when the people know the sorrows have been cleansed, and they return to their lives with lighter hearts.”

  “Is there something in the jar that turns the water black?” Glorianna asked, rubbing the white stone in her hand.

  “Only sorrows,” Yoshani said, smiling. “That is the magic those who serve the Light in my homeland can give to our people. The people in your part of the world have a saying: Travel lightly. It does not mean the burden a man can carry on his back, but the burdens he carries in here.” He tapped his chest. “Is that not so?”

  “That is so.”

  “Your heart does not travel lightly these days. So I offer you the magic of my people: a stone…and the jar of sorrows.”

  Glorianna looked at the white stone, warm and smooth in her hand. What would it be like to let go of the weight of memories, to still the echoes of hurt that remained inside her from the day she’d realized the Instructors and wizards had tried to wall her inside her garden? How would it feel to whisper her secret fear—that loneliness might one day darken her heart so much she could no longer touch the Light? Wouldn’t life be easier if she let stone be the vessel for those feelings, if she let those feelings be washed away?

  She closed her eyes and listened to the resonance of Light and Dark that lived inside her and made her another kind of vessel.

  With a sigh of regret, she handed the stone back to Yoshani.

  “Why will you not accept this gift, Glorianna Dark and Wise?” Yoshani asked. “Why do you hold on to your sorrows?”

  His hand was open. It would be so easy to take the stone back.

  Glorianna gently closed his fingers over the stone, hiding it from sight. “Because, Honorable Yoshani, I think I’ll need them.”

  After finishing what he considered a meager breakfast, Koltak pushed back his chair, picked up his saddlebags, and headed toward the door. The barman, the only other person in the tavern’s main room, was pretending to clean the bar with a rag instead of clearing away the dirty dishes left by the other travelers.

  Probably trying to avoid talking to me. The thought was surprisingly bitter, since, back home, he would have felt insulted if a mere innkeeper or tavern owner attempted conversation with him.

  “You’ll be going then?” the barman asked, keeping his eyes on the rag he rubbed over the bar’s wood.

  “I am,” Koltak replied coldly, reaching the door.

  “Your horse is saddled. Stable is around back.” The man hesitated. “Which way are you headed?”

  Why do you want to know? But he turned back to face the man. After all, this was a strange place, and a day’s ride had taken him a long way from home. “Back over the bridge.”

  The hand holding the rag stuttered to a halt. After a moment, the barman picked up the rhythm of his polishing. “Well now, most folks have no trouble crossing that bridge, and the road will take you all the way to Kendall, which is a fair-sized town on the coast. But there’s some wild country between here and there, and it’s said that if a man’s heart isn’t in the right place, he can cross paths with one of the waterhorses that live in that part of the land.”

  Koltak took a step toward the bar. “Waterhorses?”

  The barman nodded. “Beautiful black horses. They’ll come right up to you, as tame as some spoiled darling of a pet. But they’re demons, the waterhorses are, and if you give in to the urge to take a ride on one of them…Well, you’ll get a sweet ride, so I’ve heard. They run like the wind and move so smooth you think you’re skating over ice. But as soon as you get on one of them, it’s got you caught in its magic, and you can’t get off. So they run as they please, with you helpless to do anything but go with them. And then, when they come to one of the small lakes or ponds that are all over the land there, they’ll run straight into it, run right down to the bottom. Doesn’t bother the waterhorse any, so they stay down on the bottom while the person who was foolish enough to take a ride struggles and flails…and drowns.”

  The barman shook his head. “Some say they release the magic then and let the body float to the surface to be found by any who come looking for him. And some say the waterhorses take those drowned men back to the edge of the lake and feed on the flesh.”

  Koltak felt a surge of excitement. Waterhorses! A demon landscape. He’d seen those black horses but hadn’t recognized them as demons. That didn’t mean this particular dark landscape was connected to the Den, but Sebastian had come to Wizard City and slipped away again, so it seemed likely that any dark landscape that had a bridge connecting it to Wizard City would also have some connection to the dark landscapes that were closer to home.

  “Thank you for the information,” Koltak said, now eager to be on his way. If the Guardians and Guides were watching over his journey, he might be on his way back to Wizard City by this evening.

  As Koltak opened the door, the barman said, “Travel lightly.”

  Anger flared hot, turning excitement to ash. He turned and stared at the barman. “What did you say?” Had this all been some bold scheme to play a trick on a wizard? Had they understood what he was all along and pretended ignorance?

  Looking uncomfortable, the barman shrugged. “It’s sorry I am if it offends you, but it’s just a saying. Traveler’s Blessing, we call it. Been said around these parts for as long as anyone c
an remember, but I doubt there’s a soul living—or dead back five generations, come to that—who can tell you what it means.”

  No, they hadn’t pretended ignorance, Koltak decided as the anger trickled away. They were ignorant. Perhaps when the threat to Ephemera was ended, he would recommend to the Wizards’ Council that a more substantial bridge be made to connect this landscape with Wizard City. The people here deserved to be educated about their world—and he would be happy to oversee their education.

  He left the tavern, found his horse waiting in the stable yard behind the building, and rode away, retracing his path from the previous day.

  He saw the bridge and focused his mind on what he needed to find on the other side: taverns, gambling houses, whores of both sexes.

  Certain he would find what he sought, he banged his heels against the horse’s sides and sent the animal clattering over the bridge…and several lengths down the road before he managed to rein it in.

  There had been no road in the dark landscape he’d wandered through the day before. So this must be the road to Kendall, a town on the coast where, no doubt, he’d find the kinds of places that catered to men who spent their lives on the sea—taverns, gambling houses, and brothels.

  But he wouldn’t find the Den of Iniquity by following this road. He wouldn’t find Sebastian.

  So he turned the horse and went over the bridge and up the road a little ways toward Dunberry. Then he returned to the bridge, which was his only way to find his ungrateful whelp of a son who would finally, finally, finally do something right for his father. He crossed the bridge…and found the road to Kendall.

  And found the road on his next attempt. And the one after that.

  Travel lightly.

  Either the Guardians of the Light had abandoned him or the Dark Guides were playing with him. No matter how hard he tried to focus on the things that made up the Den, he couldn’t reach the landscape where the waterhorses dwelled. Even if the people here were ignorant of the ways of their world, Ephemera worked the same way. The land would look the same, the landmarks wouldn’t change, but there were layers of landscapes here. Perhaps there were only two accessible from this bridge, but he couldn’t get to the one he wanted. He couldn’t cross over to the dark landscape.