by Katy Winter
"I haven't been hurt by you. I don't understand how I've hurt you. Instead I've given you the gift of my child."
"You do not understand emotion, because you have none."
"That's so."
"Gods," whispered Soji. "What has he done to you?"
When Soji put her hands on his, he pulled back, then stayed still as she ran her hands through his mane of hair and down his face to his lips, her finger tracing the curl of his mouth. A gentle hand touched his cheek in a caress that brought an odd look to the dark eyes, but only for an instant. Then Luton flung her backwards on the cushions and got abruptly to his feet.
He crossed the room, came back with her clothes that he pointed at and nodded, before he strode over to a chair and threw himself into it, refusing to look at her. Slowly, Soji dressed and then sank onto the bed, her eyes fixed to the face of the youth who'd fathered her child.
When Kher entered, Luton lounged in a chair with his cloak draped over one arm. Soji stood motionless by the window. Kher placed the tray he carried on the table and waited until Luton rose and crossed to him, his hands to the haskar's head.
"There'll be a daughter. She can go back to her father, though she's been told, in two cycles from now, the child will be brought to the Keep to my master. My master expects my return. I've obeyed him. If I delay without good cause he'll hurt me very badly, Kher." Luton turned away and flung himself back in the chair.
Kher crossed to Soji and gently turned her to face him. His hand stroked her cheek in a gesture of comfort, but she just stared up at the haskar when he took her hand and led her quietly from the room.
~~~
When Kher returned later, his face was remarkably grim. He didn't bother to tell Luton how unspeakably maddened Alleghy was when Soji was brought to him. The haskar's ferocity was barely quelled when Kher left them together, Alleghy with a rigid form held against him that couldn't cry and wouldn't respond to her father. Kher mounted the stairs to Luton's room and entered without ceremony. He spoke quietly, but firmly.
"We must leave, now, Luton. I may be lucky to get you out alive, boy."
Luton was at the window. He turned on the haskar's entrance, his eyes empty and almost insensible, and his face white and etched with weariness. He walked across to Kher to put his hands to the haskar's head.
"I've obeyed my master's commands," came into Kher's mind. "I can't do other than what he orders. He expects me back. If I delay, he'll punish me." Luton stepped back and waited.
Kher suddenly felt overwhelming pity for Luton. Again he saw him as a boy so badly hurt by his captors and then as Blach had made him. His compassion went very deep. He realised, as most others did not, that the Churchik had created the youth who stood here and that any blame for what Luton might do was theirs alone.
"Come then, boy," he said, very gently. "We must get you away."
The haskar noticed that when Luton was touched he didn't flinch away, but stood passively like the young slave boy of so long ago. That brought a sad smile to Kher's eyes. He led Luton unresisting and submissive from the inn.
~~~
The crowds posed a real problem for Kher in getting Luton from Chika. The slave caravan Mensak mentioned had indeed brought people from miles around, the boy market they passed thronging with sight-seers and would-be purchasers. Kher looked sideways at Luton when they rode slowly past, but he saw no interest in the dark eyes, just acceptance. When Luton saw Kher glance at him, he pointed to the boy slaves and then to himself with another of his shrugs.
The main slave market was a hive of activity and incredible noise. They were delayed there by a series of chained slaves being chivvied with canes and whips from a narrow street to the main selling block. The travellers had to immediately dismount and lead their horses, Kher tense and sharply ordering his men to flank Luton, the warrior nervous because a threat could come from anywhere in such a crowded place.
They were, however, able to remount just beyond the arch that led to the main market and Kher could spur his horse to quicken the pace. They reached the eastern gate easily enough, Kher deliberately choosing that one because he suspected Alleghy's men would wait at the northern gate. They passed through without comment, though Luton got one or two looks as he passed. Kher gave the order to veer northwest and then to gallop.
Kher kept the pace on, every so often looking over his shoulder because he expected pursuit. About five miles beyond the city and headed due north, Han glanced back and discerned a faint dust cloud.
"My lord," he called to Kher. "We have pursuers."
Kher drew up his horse sharply and turned to a halt. He stared into the distance, then looked at his men and then Luton.
"Follow!" he commanded, spurring his horse back the way they'd come. Luton did exactly what the others did, eventually all stopping half a mile closer to the city where they drew up waiting, Kher's eyes like flint. He was mounted in front of Luton and the warriors clustered closely and protectively around the young man.
The pursuing riders drew up beyond them, then turned in a cloud of dust and stamping hooves, their horses whinnying. Kher rode forward, his face a mask of cold anger.
"Who dares follow me?" he demanded, in a voice of menace.
One rider spurred his horse forward and Kher realised it was Sven, Alleghy's elder son. Sven threw up a hand.
"I do not seek to insult you, my lord." Kher wrenched his horse back on its haunches, his visage grimmer than ever.
"No?" he asked bitingly. Sven looked beyond him to Luton and his teeth ground audibly.
"No, my lord. I wish to deal with that fiend you have with you." Kher's smile belied the ice in his eyes.
"That boy is under my protection. You must answer to me!"
Sven was a junior warrior, so the implied threat from Kher made him sweat. His father's orders, however, were explicit.
"My lord," he said with difficulty. "I, too, have my orders."
At this point Kher turned aghast, because Luton drew up next to him and nodded across at Sven. Kher watched the youth ride forward to the enraged Churchik as Sven turned his horse sideways, his blue eyes blazing with disgust and rage.
"You cannot speak, can you, you bastard?" Luton shook his head, his cold eyes never wavering from Sven's face.
"Luton," called Kher. "Luton, let me speak for you."
Luton ignored him and remained unmoving, even when Sven spat at him. The young warrior almost stuttered with anger.
"You took my sister and broke her. And she says she will have your child. Do you deny that?" Again Luton shook his head. Sven, looking deeply into the dark eyes for any sign of emotion, found none. "Curse you!" he snarled. "Do you not have any conscience, you miserable slave of an inferior race?" As he spoke, Sven quite deliberately turned his horse and flicked his whip with intent.
Without obvious movement from Luton, Sven's arm stayed poised in mid-air, he couldn't move and he flinched at the frigid and incredulous voice that entered his mind. Kher realised, at that exact moment, that, somehow, Luton was being permitted to respond differently. He, too, heard the voice in his mind. His horse took a step back under pressure from the haskar's knees.
"You think to whip me?" came the incredulous voice in Sven's mind. "I've done what my master ordered – I'm a slave as you well know. You're an enslaver, so you know, too, that I must obey. I don't know what a conscience is, nor do I think I'm a bastard. And yes, your sister carries my child. Think on what you and your people do to others. Don't presume to judge me. I don't judge any of you."
The last words were accompanied by a surge of power that made Sven open his mouth and howl. All those present, other than Luton, winced when they saw Sven throw back his head, the sound from him enough to cause shivers, and the unease increased when the young warrior's whip hand fell. Luton turned his horse so he faced Sven. Kher remained where he was and watched Sven.
Sven spat on the ground again, the look on his face one of bitter hatred. He spoke very distinctly.
"One day you will
answer to me for what you have done, mute."
Luton stared impassively back at him, his eyes bleak, then, to Sven's surprise, the tall, dark youth nodded at him. Sven rejoined the small group who'd come with him and, as one, they wheeled and returned to Chika.
Kher and Luton rode back to the warriors who sat silent throughout the interlude, their brows furrowed with thought. Kher looked hard at Luton, before he spurred his horse forward. They rode at a brisk canter, Kher's mind in turmoil. He hadn't expected Luton to act in his own defence but when he did, and so easily, Kher was more profoundly disturbed than he was prepared to admit. Yet again he wondered what Blach had done to the boy and what the future was for Luton - it frankly deeply concerned the haskar. He feared for Luton. Again he wished there was something he could do to mitigate some of the colossal harm done to the young man.
~~~
Their days northwards were easy. Certainly it was cold and Kher had to make sure Luton was properly clad and kept as warm as possible. If they didn't camp, they stayed in small hamlets, rather than in the towns that were quite noticeably more devastated beyond the borders of Churchik lands.
If it was possible for Luton to be content, then Kher thought he was. He liked the scenery and studied people they met with detached interest, his hands back on Kher's head to ask questions. Kher no longer felt Luton had to be protected because it was obvious the boy could look after himself. So, Kher reasoned, if Luton wanted to wander off on his own, as he invariably did, then it was not up to the haskar to hinder what the boy wanted to do. He just left Luton to it.
Of an evening, Kher studied the young face with the newly formed beard that clung to the chin and cheeks. As he'd done cycles before, Luton began to sprawl on his stomach again, his chin cupped in his hands while he stared expressionlessly into the fire. Some of Kher's longing and affection for him made Luton sit quietly next to the haskar one evening, his hands up to speak. Kher waited for the words to come to his mind.
"You show that you -," Luton hesitated, as though he chose his words carefully, "respond to me in a certain way. Why?"
"I care about you, Luton, and feel concern for you and for what your master may do with you."
"I'm his slave. I do as he bids, otherwise I'm badly hurt."
"Yes, boy," responded Kher softly. "I know that, but I still care deeply for you."
"As you did for the other slave boy you spoke of earlier?"
"In exactly the same way, boy, yes."
"Then your feelings do indeed run deep for me. I'm unable to respond, though it pleases me to be near you. I don't feel threatened." Kher had to cough to clear his throat.
"I would never hurt you, Luton," he said huskily, aware that Luton had taken his hands away and sat cross-legged, his eyes distant.
When Kher very gently touched the dark, curly head, Luton didn't flinch but stayed motionless, for the first time accepting the haskar's brief caress. Malekim would have been startled as well as angered had he seen Luton display such responses.
~~~
Not far from the Keep, late of an evening, they reached a small hostelry set back off the main road. In the public room, Kher ordered tankards for six while Lus led the way to a table set against the wall. They thankfully sank down. It had been a long day in the saddle and they were tired, even Luton, who was rarely weary and rested only infrequently, his restless spirit driving him though he had no idea why. When the landlord brought over tankards and set them on the table, he waited for Kher's order.
"What food do you have?" asked Kher, raising the tankard to his mouth.
"Potage, rye cake pie, stoup, weln cheese that's well smoked. You choose, my lord." Kher raised an eyebrow at the men and when the warriors plumped for potage, Luton nodded for that as well.
When food was served they ate with a will, even Luton who wolfed down his food as though he was starving. Kher was only half-way through his serving when he saw Luton was finished, his look at the youth rubbing a hand across his mouth a questioning and startled one.
"Are you hungry, boy?" The head nodded. "Do you want more?" The head nodded again. Kher pointed to the bar. "Go and ask the man for more." Luton rose and walked over to the landlord who stared curiously up at him.
"Aye, lad, what is it?"
Luton pointed to his empty plate, and then at the man who stood scratching his beard, his eyes searching Luton's. The landlord waited for a moment, then, when no words were forthcoming, he shrugged and took the plate that he filled generously.
"You still hungry, lad?" Luton nodded and waited patiently. "You need food by the look of you too. You're very slight for such a tall fellow, aren't you?"
Again came the indifferent shrug, before Luton bowed his head in thanks and carefully made his way back to the table, unaware of curious eyes that watched him.
"You seem abnormally hungry, boy," observed Kher casually. Luton looked across at him, his eyes still more empty than hard, then he bowed his head and began to eat.
While the travellers ate, conversation resumed, mostly concerned with the successes of Lodestok's army in the north. The talk ebbed and flowed. Kher listened with amused interest. He'd no idea when he'd be called north to join the warlord, but suspected it would be in another cycle, after Soji's child was taken to the Keep. He guessed he'd just have to wait and was content to do so.
He lounged comfortably, his ear attuned to the voices around him and his eyes settled on Luton who finished his food, pushed his platter from him and stayed slightly hunched with his tankard clasped in both hands. Kher glanced away when he heard a speaker close to them.
"Few slaves and all now, they say."
"Why's that?" came another voice.
"Everywhere he goes people have abandoned everything. The cities and towns are empty and the fields are fired before he gets there. It may not be true of course, but I believe it," said the first voice.
"Why would they leave towns and not fight?"
"Oh they fight alright," said a third and deeper voice. "They just don't wait in the towns. They fight from the forests and the mountains."
"You been up north then?"
"No," was the response, "but my lad brother was - he got injured and decided to head south. He counted himself lucky he escaped from the camp and had a few tales to tell, you can believe that."
Another voice spoke thoughtfully.
"It's said the warlord's getting fed up with the constant attacks on the flanks and rear of his army."
"He's got complete control though," argued the second voice.
"Aye," agreed the fourth voice, adding, "though it's said there's a very big army massed way up north that's waiting for the warlord." At that, Kher exchanged a startled look with his men.
"They'd better be good then," chuckled another voice. "Cartok's gone, Samar's dead, and Sushi's well on the way to falling."
"The warlord will easily defeat everyone."
"Not so easily," cautioned another voice, making Kher straighten and listen more intently. "I hear this northern army's very well organised and they have someone very clever who oversees strategy and tactics. That's why the warlord's angered by those attacks you talked about. Seems to me their tactics so far have been excellent. No slaves left for the warlord, no food, and fields fired. Withdrawal isn't so stupid." Listening, Kher had to agree.
"Could be a good fight when it comes then," murmured another.
There was a lull in the discussion and vaguely mumbled comments, until a carrying voice from the other side of the room brought Kher's head around with renewed interest.
"The warlord has a pretty boy, too." A murmur swept the room.
"He always has them," said someone else.
"Not like this one, so they say. This lad's a truly beautiful boy and's been with the warlord for some cycles now."
Kher drank and exchanged a look with his grinning men, because Lodestok's proclivities were well known in the south. Even so, the comments made Kher thoughtful, because the only boy who'd survived an
y long contact with the warlord was young Sarssen; Kher always thought the pale blond warrior an unusual young one. So another boy had survived life with Lodestok. Kher mused on that while the talk resumed about him. Luton didn't move.
"Travels with the warlord, does he?"
"Always, if what we hear's true."
"He won't last indefinitely," came a lazy voice from the far side of the room. "They never do." Another laugh went round the room.
"Better dead if you're pretty than caught by the warlord, eh?" chuckled someone.
Kher drained his tankard and was about to signal for another drink when the next words made him stiffen, his eyes flickering to Luton.
"Nor," said the voice earnestly, "would I want to belong to the sorcerer."
Seeing Luton's shoulders straighten, Kher spoke so very gently and quietly only Luton would've heard him.
"You must listen but say nothing, boy. Can you hear me?" Luton looked directly at the haskar and he gave a sharp nod in reply. "Your master would agree with me." Kher saw Luton's shoulders slump as the youth went into his typical hunch. The dark head went down and stayed down. "Do not respond so, boy. I act only from concern for you." Kher looked fleetingly at the head that didn't move and sighed.
The conversation about the sorcerer faltered to a stop, but it finished on an odd note that made Kher jerk up his head again, astonished. It brought Luton's up head too.
"Lagy was saying as how the sorcerer's apprentice turned up in Chika. He's a mute they say, and a slave, but I can't tell you anything else."
"Someone said the slave was taken as a boy."
"The sorcerer only likes mutes."
"How long's the sorcerer had this slave then?"
"No one seems to really know."
"He'll be destroyed once he's finished his usefulness," was the next comment.
Kher saw Luton's hunch deepen and he rose to show that it was time for the travellers to retire, a tap on Luton's shoulders having him instantly on his feet. Kher thought Luton looked drained and pale. What concerned Kher was the speed with which news travelled, especially since they hadn't wasted time returning north. He pensively stroked his beard as he led the way upstairs. He stopped outside the room Luton shared with Emil.
"See if you can try to rest, boy," he suggested quietly. "You look very weary."
He thought he saw a flicker in the dark eyes, before Luton nodded submissively and went into the room.
