by Cari Z
“He doesn’t look so very impressive as you report,” the newcomer announced. Her voice was low for a woman’s, and rich in timbre and tone. “I thought deception was my trade, beloved.”
“More your way of life,” Xian replied mildly. “And he’s much more dangerous than he looks.”
The High One smiled enigmatically. “He would have to be.” She stepped closer, the pointed heels of her shoes echoing resoundingly off the polished marble. She was tall for a woman, her head shaved bare and left uncovered by velvet or silk. Her robes were loose on her frame, and surprisingly plain. Her only decorations were two heavy ruby teardrops clinging to her ears and a third set in a brooch that decorated a dark velvet choker around her neck. Her heavy-lidded eyes were utterly expressionless as she looked at him, but there was something about her gaze that made Rafael shudder.
“He is a perceptive creature, isn’t he?” She reached out and trailed cold, dry fingertips across his cheek and down his neck. “He must be a delightful puzzle.”
“Myrtea,” Xian said warningly as he stepped up beside her. “He’s not yours to punish.”
“Punish no, but educate…” She lowered her hand and shrugged. “You and I are teachers, beloved, and it behooves us to constantly improve our craft. I could teach your wayward apprentice a great deal in the three days left to him.”
“A pleasure you’ll be forced to forego, and I was given to understand that I would have him for a week.”
“The council is confident in your ability to break him down faster,” she replied, unperturbed. “The creature is completely at your mercy, after all. Surely you, the master of all assassins, can torture any important information out of him in three days and nights.”
“As a general rule, assassins don’t torture their marks,” Xian said evenly. “We leave that sort of thing to the spies.”
“If you feel insecure in your skills, then by all means feel free to relinquish your burden to me,” Myrtea suggested with a genuine smile. “I would be more than happy to offer my services in extracting the truth from him.”
“Your methods produce notoriously unreliable results.”
“On the contrary, I find excruciating pain to be remarkably effective in sorting through the lies.” She gestured toward Rafael. “And clearly you do as well, or you wouldn’t have put him in that position. You like to pretend that we are different, Xian, but you’re deluding yourself. You and I enjoy the same things in life, and in death.” She shivered slightly, still smiling. “To take a life, or better yet, watch someone else take a life at your word, on your orders… It is the ultimate experience, isn’t it? A perfect expression of our power over mortality.”
“Our waning power.”
“Stop!” The venom in her voice seared through even Rafael’s pained distraction, although he kept himself from showing his sudden interest. “Do not speak of it. Do not even think of it! Our wizards will find a way to secure our future, but you won’t have one if you continue to speak so blasphemously!” Myrtea’s sudden, vicious fury evaporated as quickly as it had built up, and she relaxed into cool indifference once again. “A few centuries left to your own devices and you’ve become quite irreverent, beloved. I wonder that the council has let you go on like this for so long.”
“Perhaps it’s because I’m exceptionally good at my profession. After all, if they stepped in every time an apprentice failed to ascend, you would be as vulnerable to chastisement as I,” Xian replied. “How is Daeva, by the way?”
“Thriving in the rank pestilence of the Lower City, as I knew he would,” she answered airily. “He serves his purpose, even if he doesn’t know it. We all serve our purposes. Three days, beloved,” she said, abruptly changing the topic. “Then your creature pays for his insults to the Upper Half. Make sure he’s still whole enough to feel it.” She turned and swept out of the great room, the black and red of her robes swimming dizzyingly across the marble floor behind her. The door boomed shut and Xian turned back to Rafael with a cryptic smile on his face.
“This new injunction will make my work much more challenging,” he commented.
“What do you think I can tell you?” Rafael asked, his voice thready with exhaustion now. Gray spots marred his vision, and he knew he would be unconscious soon. He was looking forward to it.
“It isn’t about what you can tell me, pet,” Xian said quietly. “It’s about how far I can take you.”
Rafael wanted to ask how far was far enough, but the spots were growing, and he felt himself falling rapidly into the darkness. His breath wheezed in his straining chest and his hearing became muffled. Just as he blacked, out he heard the rapid release of a chain, but he was happily oblivious to his body falling to the floor.
Chapter Six
He wasn’t asleep nearly long enough to become rested. Rafael woke up to the feeling of ropes being wrapped around his body. They bound him tightly, biting into his flesh but not cutting it, not quite. His arms were crossed over his chest, hands on top of his shoulders in a position of self-protection, an irony that didn’t escape him. At least his shoulders were recovering, although the muscles still felt cold and heavy like wet clay. The ropes crossed over his shoulders and upper back, looped down between his legs in an intimately uncomfortable series of knots and returned to his back, completing the harness. He could be controlled with a single flick of his master’s wrist now, thanks to the leverage of the rough rope over his genitals. At least Xian had left him his pants. It was a strange courtesy, and one Rafael didn’t trust in the least.
Xian hauled him to his feet by the back of the harness, eliciting a pained hiss from Rafael. “Would you like me to hobble you as well?” Xian asked conversationally. “Will my restraints make it easier for you to check yourself?”
“I need no favors from you,” Rafael snarled.
“So you think. We’ll see. I’ll leave your legs free for the time being, but one attempted kick and your groin will take weeks to recover.”
“Not a span of time I need concern myself with.”
“True,” Xian said after a half beat, a pause so brief Rafael thought he might have imagined it. “Your concerns are much more immediate. Walk.” He pushed on the knotted mass of ropes in the center of Rafael’s back.
Rafael walked slowly, carefully, his legs splayed to keep from pinching himself. He kept his eyes down, not wanting to look around and get a sense of familiarity from his old home, but despite that he knew where their steps were leading. They stopped a minute later outside his old room. Generations of Xian’s apprentices had used this room during their training, and for a brief second Rafael panicked at the thought that he was about to become an object lesson for his successor. Xian opened the door soundlessly and propelled Rafael into the room. “What do you see here?”
Rafael kept his eyes down and his mouth sealed. A sudden strike with the stiff leather quirt across his upper back made him arch with pain, but he remained silent. A second blow fell, then a third. Then…nothing. No sound, no movement, no continuation. Just Xian standing behind him, looking at him and seeing… What did he see, Rafael wondered? After a few more minutes of silence he spoke. “A room.”
“Whose room?”
“Your apprentice’s room.”
“Which apprentice?”
“How should I know?” Rafael snapped.
“Is your memory so poor?” his master asked wryly. “Use your eyes properly or be denied the use of them.”
Rafael raised his gaze sullenly. “I neither know nor care who you’ve taken on as your new apprentice.”
He could feel Xian’s frown. “You’re being singularly thick, pet, and that manner of defiance doesn’t suit you. Do better.”
Gods help him, he did want to do better. Rafael’s bruised ego railed at the sudden capitulation of his spirit, but it was too late. He looked around the room. There was the bed, tucked tight against one wall. A dusty blue blanket covered it. There was a small chest at its foot, padlocked shut, and a three-legged
stool stood in the corner. Books covered every flat surface but the bed, their covers thick with cobwebs. It felt like being in a tomb. “This is…” Rafael looked around again, feeling strangely transported. “My room.”
“Untouched since your fall,” Xian said. “Why do you think that is?”
“Perhaps you could not be bothered with it,” Rafael replied acidly.
“Thick again. Disobedient pets deserve to be punished.” Suddenly a hood covered Rafael’s head, the weave thin enough to breathe through without difficulty but permitting no light to penetrate. Xian turned him around and pushed him out of his old room, then down the hallway again.
It was much harder to walk this time around, unseeing, still forced into carefulness due to his bonds but worse, forced to rely on Xian to guide him. The High One could easily kill him now, damage him, leave him to wander in a place he wouldn’t be able to escape from. In all honesty, it was what Rafael expected. Therefore he was surprised when he suddenly realized they had reentered the tall, circular chamber they had started from. Their footfalls resonated familiarly, and despite himself he relaxed a bit.
Xian nudged his feet apart, then clasped each ankle in a cuff. Rafael had barely an inch of movement in any direction. He felt the quirt’s metal handle, no longer cool but warmed from his master’s touch, slide down the back of each thigh. “Are you thinking now, pet? Leaving witlessness behind? You only attempted adorable stupidity as an excuse with me twice as a child, and I don’t expect to receive it more than twice now. Your next deliberate foray into inanity will be treated like the offense it is.” Fingertips brushed the ragged ends of his hair and Rafael jerked forward, away from the touch. “Do you understand?”
“Why do you bother with this?” Rafael demanded. “Why not simply beat whatever you want from me?”
“The beatings are for later,” Xian said easily. “And they’ll serve you far more than they will me, pet. I’ve no desire to take instruction from either you or Myrtea. We’re establishing now that your continued existence, however brief it may be, isn’t going to be directed by anyone but me. If I want to dress you in tulle and parade you around the Hall of Ascendance for the next three days, I shall. If I want to hang you by your knees from the ceiling until the joints begin to swell and tear, I shall. If I want to make you stand here in silence for hours on end, I shall.” He tapped one of the cuffs. “If you fall, you’ll wrench your ankles so badly you won’t be able to stand. If you can’t stand I’ll be very unhappy. Keep that in mind, Rafael.”
Xian moved to Rafael’s front, and he could almost feel the heat of his master’s breath on his face. “Let me give you this much. No matter where I leave you or how you feel about it, I’m watching you. Emptiness is an illusion, solitude a fantasy. No matter what you hear or what you don’t hear, I will shadow you as long as you’re with me.”
“You’ll spend three dull days then,” Rafael whispered hoarsely.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” There was a brief murmur of movement, then the quiet click of the door, then…nothing. No sound. No boots tapping across the marble floor, no quiet whishing of moving cloth or the softer sounds of breathing. Just nothingness. Was it an illusion? Rafael strained his senses, trying to hear something other than himself, but there was nothing. Keeping his eyes shut of his own volition was one thing, but being hooded like a prickly, lamed falcon and left to perform feats of obedience for an audience of, perhaps, none… Damn it, where was the fucking torture? Could they get on with the pain yet? No more mind games, no more questions that cut deeper than knives, no more hooded darkness that smelled of stale tears.
That was what made this familiar. It was an old memory, practically his oldest. Five years old, dressed in a filthy smock like the rest of the orphans, he had been paraded out in front of the visiting High One, next to last in a long line of whimpering, sniveling children. Others had averted their eyes, cringed away and cried like their hearts were breaking, and perhaps they had been. It had been completely different for Rafael.
It had been as though when Rafael set his eyes on the High One, he had discovered his heart for the first time. What had come before was nothing. The past had melted away, mother and father subsumed by his sudden, certain desire. He would be chosen. There had been no other option. He’d known it from the start, and had waited patiently for the man to reach him. He’d stared at him worshipfully, eyes unwavering as the man approached. The High One had crouched before him and inspected him. The paleness of his eyes had disconcerted Rafael for a moment, but he hadn’t draw back.
“Would you leave this place to learn from me?” the man had asked after a long moment.
Rafael had nodded.
“Nodding is an inadequate reply. Speak aloud.”
“Yes.” His voice had been soft but firm.
“Can you be strong?”
“Yes.”
“Clever?”
“Yes.”
“Obedient and loyal?”
“For you,” Rafael had said earnestly. The man had tilted his head appraisingly.
“For me?” He’d chuckled and looked over at the orphanage’s manager. “Did you teach him to say this?”
“No, my lord,” the man had protested. “Not a word of it.”
“Hm. Then I suppose he really is for me.” Reaching down to his belt, the High One had pulled out a long-handled black dagger. He’d taken Rafael’s right hand in his and cut across his thumb with it, a sharp, shallow slice. The touch of the blade had burned his skin, beyond what he expected from a simple cut. Rafael had winced but hadn’t cringed away, instead staring in amazement as the High One had licked the welling blood from the cut. “Now I know your taste, pet.” He’d cut his own hand then, and held it out. “Drink.” Rafael had complied unquestioningly. It had been strange and salty and warm, and he’d licked it twice to be certain he’d gotten every drop. The High One had put their injured hands side by side. “Watch.” Rafael had done so, his eyes widening in shock.
The cut on the High One’s hand had been almost completely healed in moments, the gash becoming a slender bright thread that soon dwindled into nothing. The cut on Rafael’s own hand, astonishingly enough, had also been disappearing. It had happened much more slowly but the bleeding had already stopped, and after another minute the cut had been completely scabbed over without any pressure or bandaging. “And now you know my taste as well,” the High One had said with satisfaction. “What’s your name, pet?”
“Rafael, sir.”
“My name is Xian, Rafael, but for our purposes you will call me master. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Good.” He’d stood and gestured to the manager. “Loose him.” The man had hurried over and cut the cord binding his left foot to the children on either side of him. “The standard fee.” He’d handed over a purse of coins. “In his case, a great bargain for me.” Then the High One had turned back to Rafael. “We’re going to my home. Pay attention to the route. Questions are acceptable if there’s something you really don’t understand. Obey me and I’ll take care of you, pet.”
“Yes, Master.”
It had been a long walk to the Upper City, and Rafael had been stumbling with fatigue by the time they’d arrived at Xian’s shadowed, windowless house. No sooner had they reached the round chamber than Xian had turned to him and said, “Your training begins now. You say you will be obedient?”
Rafael had licked his dry lips and nodded. “Yes, Master.”
“Good.” His new owner had pulled a hood from beneath his cloak and suddenly dropped it over his head. Rafael had been plunged into darkness, and he’d cried out and reached up to remove it.
“No.” Xian’s hands had found his shoulders, holding him firm, keeping his own hands away. “A High One lives in the darkness, pet, and you’ll have to learn to as well if you want to become one of us. Now I want you to stand here for me and not move, not fidget, not touch the hood. You understand? Stand here quietly until I come back and
remove it. Show me your obedience.”
“Will you stay?” Rafael had demanded anxiously.
“You have to trust me now, Rafael. You understand that word? No matter what happens or where you are, trust me to look after you.” Xian had squeezed his shoulders reassuringly. “It will be all right.” Then he’d withdrawn his hands, then his presence, and Rafael had been left alone.
He’d cried, to his shame. Quietly, as quietly as he could, but he’d been unable to stop the tears. He hadn’t moved though. Hadn’t ran or yelled, hadn’t whimpered, hadn’t lifted one tired foot from where his master had placed him. He’d been sticky with sweat, and thirsty, hungry, worried…but not frightened. He could trust his master. He just hadn’t wanted to disappoint him. He’d stood there until he swayed, faint with fatigue and thirst, and finally Xian had come back to lift the darkness. With his first fresh, blinking view of his master’s face, Rafael had fallen in love.
The memory hurt. It hurt in a deep, personal way that Rafael despised, and he dug his fingernails sharply into the skin of his shoulders, trying hard to distract himself. He was tempted to fall and damage his ankles to help him drown out the remembrance, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t the prospect of pain, it was the prospect of compounding his already extreme failures to Xian. He shouldn’t care, he didn’t want to care, he hated himself for caring, but he did.
Rafael didn’t fall but he did crouch down, using his weight to force the edge of the cuff into his Achilles tendon. Pain radiated up his calves, stealing all his focus, and Rafael sighed with relief, then concentrated on his breathing and the shooting, squeezing pain.
It was minutes or maybe hours later when Xian spoke again. “My Rafael. You always manage to obey the letter of the law, if not the spirit.”
“Always is always.” His tone was bitter. “I spent the last five years trying to purge myself of your influence, and it was all for nothing.”
