Shadows and Light

by Cari Z

  “I don’t think people consider things like that when they’re desperate,” Rafael said after eating a few more bites. “Impossible things seem possible, because you want them so badly. Eternal youth seems like a good idea, despite all the difficulties that come with it.”

  “Did you think it seemed like a good idea during your apprenticeship?” Nailah asked frankly.

  “I wanted whatever Xian wanted.”

  “Is that still true?”

  “Now I just want him,” Rafael confessed quietly. “I want him however I can have him.”

  “And he must want you, otherwise neither of you would be here.” She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. “Has he told you what to expect of what’s coming to him?”

  “Only that it’s going to be very hard, and he’ll need pain to get through it.”

  Nailah snorted. “Simplistic man. Pain, yes, but love as well. Understanding. A connection. You have to know what he needs and how to give it to him. My trade is tinctures and poultices, boy. Its rustic medical knowledge that will keep him breathing, but not give him what he needs.” She raised her left hand, the joints swollen with age and use. “Seven years ago I had a fit that left me weak on this side. My balance is poor and my strength is insufficient to the task of making a dent in his thick hide. That work will fall to you.”

  “I can do it.”

  “You can do some of it,” Nailah agreed. “And you’ll learn the rest of it.” She leaned forward, capturing his eyes with hers. “Make no mistake, boy. Erran’s blood is a poison that we must leach out of his body drop by drop, just fast enough that the bad is replenished with good. New blood, new bones, new organs. It is a process that takes months, sometimes years to complete, and for the worst of it he’ll be insensible. He won’t be the man you think you know.”

  “I know it will take a long time,” Rafael said. He was so weary of being questioned. “I know he’ll change. That’s the entire point, he either changes or dies, and I know which I’d rather have. You can doubt me, he can doubt me, but I don’t doubt myself. I won’t leave him and I won’t just let him die.” He set his bowl down and stood up. “Now I’m going to see him.” He turned and walked over to the room and stepped inside, then started with surprise as the lantern light kindled. Xian blew out the small flame he’d used to start it and looked up at Rafael with a smile. He seemed gaunt and exhausted, but calm.

  Rafael immediately came to his side. “I thought you were asleep.”

  “I woke up when I heard you start talking. I figured it would be better for me to let the two of you get the introductions out of the way before I entered the discussion.” He looked Rafael over, running light fingers down his arm. “No injuries that I need to know about, either from the ride or from that harridan out there?”

  “Injuries, hah!” Nailah limped into the room, a scowl firmly fixed on her weathered face. “He can at least walk, can’t he? I’d like to see you put weight on that leg of yours.”

  “I can’t,” Xian replied simply.

  “It didn’t heal well?” Rafael was on his knees a second later, pulling up Xian’s legging and exposing the bandaged wound beneath it. Even to his untrained eyes the bones clearly hadn’t set right. There was a lumpy mass on one side of Xian’s shin that felt hard beneath Rafael’s fingertips. “I did it wrong.” He looked up at Xian, stricken. “You can’t walk?”

  “You did the best you could,” Xian said softly, touching Rafael’s cheek. “And I will be able to walk, with a bit more time. Bones have always taken longer to heal than flesh, even when I was at the height of my power.”

  “Which you’re well past now,” Nailah groused, sitting down heavily on the stool. “How in heavens did you spend yourself so quickly?”

  “Getting us out of the ruins of Clare might have contributed to that, Nailah.” He looked her over, his face betraying nothing. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “To see what I’ve become?” She tilted her head, her eyes shining but her expression hard. “To see how I’ve decayed? You come at the end when you swore to me you’d be there from the beginning.”

  “Things didn’t happen like either of us had hoped then,” Xian said regretfully. “But I’m here now. And it’s clear that you and I have things to say to each other.” He turned to Rafael. “Will you give us a few minutes, pet? My sister and I need to renew our understanding.” Nailah said nothing, just averted her eyes. For a moment Rafael saw her as she must have been long ago, pale and ageless, her skin smooth but her face petulant and unhappy.

  “Of course,” Rafael murmured. Before he could get to his feet, Xian leaned over and kissed him, a brief touch of lips against lips, but it seemed to give life back to Rafael’s heart. All the emotions he hadn’t let himself feel since he first shackled Xian careened to the forefront of his mind, clawing to be free. His breath caught harshly in his throat, but before he could let it loose, Xian was kissing him again, this time longer, his lips soothing and gentle. He took the pain and drank it, drained it out of Rafael until the urgency was gone and Rafael could begin to consider moving again. When they finally separated, Rafael was calm.

  “This won’t be too long, Rafael.”

  “It might be longer than you think,” Nailah muttered darkly.

  Rafael stood up and left the room, shutting the door behind him. He figured the modicum of privacy that afforded would be appreciated. He took a moment to finally look around the room and get a feel for the place that would become their home, at least until Xian was well. And he would get well. Of course he would.

  Rafael shook his head slightly and looked around. The south-facing wall was the one with the row of windows, windows that would let sunlight in for much of the day. The front room was the largest one in the house, smaller than one of the bedrooms back in Xian’s mansion in Clare, but still substantial. It held a table with two chairs, various shelves with pots and canisters and a few books that Rafael was honestly a little surprised to see. There was a large, rough-cut cedar chest sitting to one side of the door, filled with who knew what, and a mat with boots and slippers on the other side. Rafael was surprised to see that his shoes had been moved out there, and cleaned as well. He was sure that Nailah hadn’t been the one to clean them.

  On one side of the cabin was the kitchen, little more than a recessed alcove with a cooking fire, shelves full of dishes and more storage for food. There was a door in the floor as well, probably leading down to a winter cellar that held all the vegetables and meats. Rafael had heard about such things before, but never seen them in person. It had been different in Clare. With enough money you could buy apples in midwinter in the city, with no regard for how they got there.

  There were three closed-off rooms attached to the living area, and since one of them was his room and the other one was clearly designed for Xian, the third was likely Nailah’s bedroom. Rafael was curious to look inside, but he had no idea how long the two of them would be talking together, and he didn’t feel like justifying his interest to Nailah’s cane if he was caught. He turned away from her door and looked around again. The most noticeable feature of the room was the fireplace, the immense fireplace that was loaded with wood Rafael knew Nailah hadn’t cut or hauled. There was her rocking chair, a few stools, an elaborate bronze candelabrum on the mantle that looked incredibly out of place here and a few hooks with oil lanterns dangling from them.

  Apart from the main house there was the barn outside, a latrine set a little farther back up the hill, and that seemed to be the sum total of Nailah’s domain. Remembering the barn made Rafael remember his horse, and with a sigh he grabbed his thick wool cloak and put on his boots, then headed outside.

  The air was still tonight, with snow falling, but just barely. What had already fallen wasn’t going anywhere though, and Rafael prepared to trudge through last night’s tracks before he noticed that someone already had. Several times, or several different people, and it hadn’t been Nailah. He moved silently back toward the barn, where he c
ould make out the faint light of a lantern’s flame. Someone was in there, moving bedding around with a pitchfork and speaking in soft tones to his horse.

  Rafael knew how to sneak up one someone. He got to within three feet of the young man and cleared his throat. The jump that precipitated was satisfying, he had to admit.

  “Oh!” The boy looked at him wide-eyed for a moment before getting control of himself. He was still nervous, his fingers trailing up and down the handle of the pitchfork, but he was at least able to nerve himself to speak. “I, um, for Mistress Nailah, I come sometimes and…and help? To pay for her services? Would you let her know that I came tonight, and that the new tonic is working well for Gran?”

  Interesting how some people could make anything into a question. “I’ll do that.”

  “And, ah… Will the horse be here long? I just want to know so that I can plan my work a little better, and…what’s his name?”

  His name? “Sled,” Rafael decided abruptly. “And he’ll be here indefinitely.”

  “Sled?” The boy’s brow wrinkled slightly. “Why would you name a horse Sled?”

  “Because he carries things through the snow. I’ll tell Nailah you were here.” Rafael turned and left before the boy could engage him in any more question-and-response.

  Nailah was back in the main room now, rolling a new cheroot. The air was pungent with spices and herbs. She glared at Rafael as he entered, then abruptly motioned him over. “Perigord, growing on a square stalk in marshy areas. It relieves eye strain.” She stabbed a finger at one of the bundles of dried leaves, then moved on. “Lorisme, a vine, for controlling pain in bones and joints. You’ll be collecting a lot of that for that man in there, so look well.” She pointed toward a final broad leaf. “And tobacco, because at my age I’m entitled to whatever vices I can still endure.” She rolled it all together briskly, sealed it somehow and set fire to it. “Sit.”

  Rafael sat. “A boy in the stable said to tell you the tonic you made was working.”

  “Thin boy, squashed mushroom of a nose?” Rafael nodded. “Malcolm. His grandmother is an old friend. He does some chores around here, as do many of the people I treat. You’ll need to learn each family’s situation so that you know what to ask for from them, and what they can afford.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Nailah laughed harshly. “You think we’ve need of an assassin in these mountains? Rampant idiocy breeds itself out after a time, and there’s nothing of material good worth paying someone like you to kill over. My trade is as a healer, and you’ll earn your keep learning that.”

  “I have to be here for Xian,” Rafael protested. “Not out traipsing around the woods looking for roots and leaves.”

  “There will be times when he won’t need you,” Nailah said bluntly. “Times when all he’ll need is sleep, and he’ll sleep for days on end, working that poison out of his system. And there will be times when you’ll need distance from him as well, even if you don’t think so yet. This trade will give you something to occupy yourself with, and you’ll be glad of it.” She took a long pull on the cigar then closed her eyes. “That man wants you.”

  Rafael was up and into his lover’s room in moments. Xian was sitting on the bench, fingering the slender restraints Rafael had taken off him the night before. “Have you received your edict, then?” Xian asked, and his tone was amused.

  Rafael shut the door before sitting next to him. “How am I supposed to go from being an assassin to a healer?”

  “There are a surprising number of similarities between the two, pet. I don’t think it will be very difficult for you to transfer your considerable abilities.”

  “Do I have to?” The plaintive question was out of his mouth before he could stifle it, but it was worth a little embarrassment to hear the laughter pour out of Xian a moment later.

  “It’s as though a five-year-old version of you suddenly appeared in your place,” he chuckled. “And no, you don’t have to do it, Rafael. You’re grown, you don’t belong to either of us, and no one can force you to do anything you don’t wish to. I think you might enjoy learning it, though.”

  “Then I will.” Rafael reached out and entwined his fingers with Xian’s, feeling the tiny tremors that were wracking the other man’s body. “And I do belong to you.” Like you belong to me.

  Xian drew Rafael into his arms. “Nailah has a long list of tasks for you to do and things for you to learn beginning tomorrow, pet. You should get some rest while you can.”

  “I’ve done nothing but sleep all day,” Rafael said, but it was a token protest. He was still exhausted, and clearly it showed. “I want to stay with you tonight.”

  “Then you will,” Xian said softly. “But put these back on me first.” He held up the silver manacles by the chain that connected them.

  “Your wrists still haven’t healed,” Rafael objected.

  “They don’t need to be completely healed, pet, but I need the restraints.” His voice was completely matter-of-fact. Rafael took them from him and, never looking away from Xian’s eyes, closed the cuffs around his lover’s wrists. Xian shuddered heavily for a moment, his hands shaking so badly they almost leaped out of Rafael’s grasp, but Rafael held on tight. After a moment they lay down together, the padded bench-turned-cot just wide enough for the two of them. Xian looped his bound arms around Rafael’s shoulders and Rafael melted into the embrace, only pausing to turn his head and blow out the lantern. The darkness soothed, like the feel of Xian did, like his scent and the softness of his hair. It was almost like being on the road again, just them in their shelter, before the tremors began and the snow fell and everything became so much more complicated. Tomorrow Rafael would learn how to take care of the man who meant everything to him, but tonight he just wanted to be in his arms and pretend that everything was fine and they were safe. Safe from the world, and from each other.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  “I know, Rafael,” Xian said.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Pain became Rafael’s life. Learning about pain, causing pain, taking pain away. To dwell on every moment of his new apprenticeship would have been impossible, there was too much to remember and too much to do and not enough time to understand, but he had to keep trying. He had to learn for Xian’s sake, and there was so much to know…

  Rafael’s work for Nailah wasn’t a formal apprenticeship, but it was every bit as grueling as one. Since it was winter and collecting herbs was out of the realm of possibility, she contented herself with teaching him using the stores she had. Rafael memorized, pulverized, powdered and mixed, learned how to identify and treat a dozen different maladies a day and was tested on them every morning. Nailah wasn’t shy with her cane and hit him soundly across the legs whenever he made a mistake. She might have had the voice of a youthful seductress, but Nailah in her current incarnation was immune to charm, threat or empathy. She made it clear that outside of the dark room in the center of the house she was the mistress, and even in Xian’s presence she expected to be obeyed more often than not.

  Her methods were surprisingly like Xian’s, and it was comforting in a way to know what he was in for, but there were also times that Rafael hated Nailah’s condescension, her arrogance and her assumption of knowledge that Rafael simply didn’t have, especially about Xian.

  “If it’s so damn important, why don’t you just tell me?” he demanded finally after they had been there for close to a month. Xian’s downward slide had stabilized, Rafael was feeling rather optimistic about it and he didn’t appreciate the derision in Nailah’s voice and expression every time he mentioned the withdrawal.

  “It’s for him to tell you,” she replied with mock-primness. “As he so clearly dictated to me the night after you arrived.” That conversation between the siblings, however it had gone, was another thing that Rafael was dying to have explained to him, but neither of the two had been forthcoming about what had passed between them.

  The flashes of desperate withdrawal cam
e faster and longer, and after a while it wasn’t enough to hold Xian through them, not even when Rafael held him so hard that his lover bruised. Xian needed a sharper pain, a more potent distraction. They hadn’t brought any of Xian’s supplies out of the round room, and so it had fallen to Rafael to make replacements.

  Making the flogger had been easy. He’d learned to work with leather and rope in his first apprenticeship, and the hide that Nailah supplied was soft and velvety. It would sting more than anything, not truly damage, and the thought of working it against his lover’s back was more exciting than anything else. The bullwhip was harder to make and would be harder to wield in the small, dark room, but it let Rafael put off making the things he didn’t want to think about, the things that would draw blood at the first touch, made from metal, and bone and glass.

  Nailah uncharacteristically had pity on him and made the first of the harsher implements herself. It was formed from dozens of slender metal wires that projected out of a central handle, sparsely, like a brush in the process of losing its bristles. They were sharp at the end though, wickedly sharp, and made different wounds depending on how hard she pressed, or whether she drew them together first, or whether she just brushed them across the pale expanse of her brother’s back or chest. Everything from faint red scratches to skin that looked like it had been flayed came from using that tool. Nailah grinned and called it a tickler. Rafael had grimaced and Xian hadn’t said anything at all, just closed his eyes and hung there from the shackles in the wall as the wounds slowly, slowly healed.

  It happened so much slower now, the healing. Rafael thought that should be a good sign, and in general it probably was, but it meant that when the shakes came they were harder than ever, and lasted for longer. After a few weeks the flogger wasn’t enough to distract Xian from the gnawing hunger inside him, the need that was written so clearly on his face and in his body. Switching to the whip helped, but the first time Rafael scored a line across his lover’s back deep enough to draw more than a scratch’s worth of blood, he had a minor breakdown when he saw the result.