by Katy Winter
~~~
Luton was obediently bent double at the feet of his master, making no effort to move when prodded roughly with Blach's foot.
"Rise, slave." Luton was made to stand in front of his master, his eyes held by the hollowed depths that were Blach's. Blach abruptly cut the contact and shoved Luton to a chair. "I'll interrogate you more closely later, Luton. I see you obeyed me."
"Yes, Master." Luton blinked, his eyes unexpectedly sore after contact with Blach's. He rubbed them.
"You appear to have done well. The girl's pregnant."
"I stayed a little longer to be sure."
"Excellent, Luton. You begin to show indication of intelligence at last." Luton stared at the floor. "Did you enjoy anything?"
"A little, Master."
"What did you most appreciate?"
"The countryside, Master, and the space."
"Ah, you appreciate the elements, do you? How delightful!" There was malice in the voice, but since Luton had become accustomed to being treated with scorn, he stayed silent. Blach walked around, his robe swirling about him. "You'll return to your study, slave, where your life will continue where it left off. You are proficient in some arts but lack in others."
"Master."
"Enchantments are all very well, slave, but they must have cohesion and be credible, nor have you adequately mastered divination of the properties of things merely by contact, have you?"
"No."
"You've only begun to move beyond the range of sense." Luton stayed silent and still while the voice in his mind spoke meditatively. "You can enhance images and perceptions almost instinctively now - we need to build on that. Your spell-casting lacks finesse - work on it or I'll make you sorry you haven't."
"I will, Master."
"I wish you to use force to ensure a spirit responds to your immediate call - it must be a compulsion, Luton. You must channel the hidden forces of nature, so you can shape them. You'll create your own objects as givers and takers of life - these you will keep constantly with you or else suffer the consequences.
But today you begin to order the mysteries of power over imagination and over individual will. You'll learn all this, though not for a moment do you cease your copying and the learning you've already begun. I don't wish to see you until I call for you again. You'll work, slave, because if you don't, you'll die." There was the ghost of a laugh in Luton's mind.
He answered passively, "As you will." Blach stared at the still figure.
"Rise and get out of those ridiculous clothes."
Automatically Luton rose and stripped, so he could don his apprentice robe and pants. When Blach snapped his fingers and the travelling clothes disappeared, Luton knew he was back with his master again. It was as if he'd never been away from the Keep.
"Approach me!"
Luton obeyed. With his chin gripped by long, boney fingers he was forced once more to look into fathomless eyes. He sank, fully submerged to a master's power and will that was absolute. This time, Blach went deeply into Luton's awareness, both to check the block he'd put in place cycles ago was still intact, and then to enjoy what his slave did at his bidding. He passed rapidly over most of the youth's recent experiences, shrugging off as totally insignificant Luton's meetings and conversations. When he saw no obvious signs of tampering other than his own, and certainly unsuspicious of any other touch that might be superior to his, he withdrew with a mirthless smile at the callous use of Soji. It reminded Blach of his triumph when he'd taken Melas with the same cruel indifference. His smile broadened.
He released Luton and watched him stand motionless and submissive. Luton heard the disdainful voice in his mind, even as his eyes and head began to uncomfortably throb.
"You have barely three cycles to master both your acquired skills, and your new ones, slave, before you leave me again. You simply won't survive if you haven't learned, so think on that while you work and be diligent. Before anyone has a chance to touch you, Luton, I'll destroy you before the appointed time myself."
"I understand, Master." Luton was ungently kicked and backed.
"I'm sure you do, boy."
The sneer that went with the words was ignored by Luton, nor did he see the contempt with which Blach turned his back on him. He went quietly from the room.
He stood meditatively at his desk, staring at the empty shelves where the tomes he'd worked from had been and knew instinctively that should he forget anything from them, that he'd learned by heart, Blach would make him suffer in a most unpleasant way. He sat, waiting for the work to materialise in front of him. Though his master was never physically present at such occasions, still Luton knew the trials and endurance of testing and interrogation that he endured would begin again with remorseless regularity. He bent his head. Blach would've been surprised to see his apprentice lick his lips as he'd done as a sentient and badly frightened boy.
When he stooped over the pile of manuscripts and scrolls that appeared on his desk, Luton felt an uncharacteristic yearning he didn't understand. He missed the fresh air and the open spaces; most of all, he missed the clear waters where he'd often gone to sit on his own with his hands trailing in the water. He shrugged in self-mockery, then that passed and he thought of the warrior lord, Kher, who was so different from everybody else. He even remembered the haskar's touch that stirred something very deep in him.
With characteristic obedience and the faintest of sighs, Luton turned to his task, acutely aware the sorcerer didn't jest when he said his slave's life hung in the balance. Sometimes Luton wondered idly when Blach would dispose of him.
Blach was busy in his study where a paralysed mute lay on a table, the only movement permitted the man during Blach's experiments being his agonised eyes. So Blach didn't see the new haunted look in his apprentice's eyes, he didn't register the hunger in the boy's essence and he certainly didn't hear the wistful sigh.
Subservient as ever, Luton wisely and intuitively relegated any thoughts concerning his trip to his deepest subconscious, where he'd an instinct they'd be safe. The disturbance, around the base of the sorcerer's block in Luton's mind, flared briefly in agitation then became quiescent.
Luton stared intently at the scroll he held in one slender hand, and, reading it, became engrossed. He hunched over the desk.
CHAPTER TWELVE
On the day Kosko brought two strangers through the gates of Indigo, Chlorien, up a tree with Jochoh watching comings and goings with fascination, felt suddenly choked. Jochoh noticed her distress when she whitened, her eyes went very dark and she desperately drew back into foliage and abruptly closed her mind. She watched while the desert lord and the other two men dismounted, then left the courtyard. Chlorien and Jochoh quickly scrambled down from the tree, Chlorien grasping her friend's hand with urgency.
"Take me to my father," she implored. "Please hurry!"
Together they ran through the halls, dodging people and racing along corridors, until, panting, they arrived at the door to Autoc's chamber, where he was ensconced in a chair with a book open in his lap and a pipe at his mouth. He looked up with a smile that deserted him as soon as he saw Chlorien's face.
"What is it? Tell me." He snapped the book closed and placed it on the floor, then held out his arms to the girl who stood trembling. Chlorien dropped Jochoh's hand and rushed to Autoc.
"They're here, Father." Her voice was muffled against his chest.
"Our pursuers?" Autoc asked, his voice tired but resigned. Chlorien nodded. "When did you see them, lad?" Chlorien couldn't speak, so the mage directed the question at Jochoh, who shuffled from one foot to another but answered readily enough. "Who were they with, Jochoh?" Quickly, the boy told the mage everything he'd told Chlorien. "I see," muttered Autoc. "This comes as no surprise."
He was about to speak again when Jaim came into the room, forgetting to limp, or use his stick, as he hurried forward. He didn't see the odd look Jochoh gave him.
"What is it?" he asked anxiously.
"Our he
nchmen have come with a desert lord. No doubt some bargaining's been going on. I suppose it was to be expected." Jaim groaned and sank into a chair.
"If it's not one thing, it's another," he grumbled. "What now?" Autoc looked across at Jochoh.
"You're a good lad, Jochoh. I'm grateful to you for bringing Chlorien to me safely and so promptly. You must now return to your father. And Jochoh," he added very softly, "you stay with your father. You do know what I mean, don't you?"
There was instant comprehension in the green eyes, before the boy turned swiftly and left the chamber.
Autoc then bent his energies to calming Chlorien. His usual reassurances had no affect this time. Jaim glanced over at the two, his lips pursed. Though he felt he could cope easily with Ohb and Queeb, Autoc was concerned for Chlorien - she was so young and vulnerable and felt such terror, his face became remarkably grim. He felt he couldn't rely on a panic-stricken girl keeping her mind closed, so, meeting her darkened eyes, he entered a mind where seething thoughts and fears tumbled over each other. Autoc calmly closed her mind so she had no memory, other than that she was Schol's son. She retained her experiences as a boy. He withdrew, his eyes still looking deeply into the violet ones.
Chlorien shook her head and then yawned widely. She didn't see how gravely Jaim's face was set. Jaim and Autoc saw nothing in her eyes except alertness and curiosity, all traces of the confusion and fear gone. She yawned again. Autoc leaned forward to pick up his book and opened it, glancing casually first at Jaim, then at Chlorien. Jaim quietly turned and began to be busy on the other side of the room. Autoc spoke calmly.
"You were saying, little one?" he asked, bending to collect his pipe that was knocked to the ground. He became preoccupied with it. Chlorien stood looking puzzled.
"I forget, Father."
"Then it can have been of no moment, can it?" Chlorien shook her head and though Jaim's expression relaxed, Autoc's didn't.
"Then I'll go and find Jochoh," she announced, moving swiftly to the door.
"No you can't, lad," disagreed Autoc, looking up from his pipe. "You'll stay with one of us from now on. There are many desert lords about and Jochoh has to be with his family. There's no place there for you, nor do I wish you to wander. I hope we can be on our way very soon, lad."
"Oh!" Chlorien digested this and threw herself on the bed. "I'll miss being here, Father."
"Aye, lad, we all will. It's been very pleasant in Indigo."
"What's there to do?" mumbled Chlorien.
"You could read and learn in a way that's become foreign to you these last weeks, child," suggested Autoc, his face a little less grim.
Chlorien looked over at him, saw his expression and didn't argue. With a sigh, she stretched to a nearby table, lifted a book, and, opening it reluctantly, hauled herself up on the cushions and idly began to read. Jaim lounged over to a chair and sprawled at his ease. There was silence in the chamber.
~~~
Mid-afternoon Choja entered unobtrusively, a serious expression on his face. He looked hesitantly at Autoc.
"The Sophy requests you come to the gathering for any questions that may be asked."
Autoc rose. Jaim stretched and pointed to where Chlorien lay, sound asleep, so Choja crossed to her to gently shake her awake.
"Waken, sapling!" Chlorien blinked up at the tribesman who stood over her and stumbled to her feet obediently. "Follow!" instructed Choja curtly.
"Caution, little one," came into Chlorien's mind, as she meekly fell in between Jaim and Choja.
The hall, in one of the east wings of the palatial establishment, was enormous, but it didn't look overly large with the crowd of desert lords assembled there. Autoc looked for one man, Kosko. He picked him out immediately. There was a cruel, calculating curl to the desert lord's mouth that warned Autoc to tread warily. Beside Kosko sat Queeb and Ohb, the latter's face wearing a complacent smile, the former's face rigidly cold. It could've been cast in stone. At their entrance, the Sophy spoke sharply.
"Come forward, travellers."
Keeping Chlorien close to him, Autoc stepped forward, aware of the softly muttering Jaim flanking him and of tension in Chlorien's shoulders. Chojoh turned to the gather.
"These are the strangers who request permission to travel through our lands. Listen as they're questioned and consider their request in the light of our earlier discussion. They ask to pass through to the Elban lands to the north."
Autoc gave an inward grin; so the Sophy was good at dissembling, too, was he?
"Gently, child," he sent to Chlorien. "We're part of a game."
There was a hum of words tossed to and fro, then a desert lord stepped forward.
"Who are they?" he demanded. Chojoh waved at Autoc.
"Speak!" he ordered. Autoc imperceptibly sighed.
"I'm Schol, a traveller who goes with his son, Lorien. We're accompanied by the lad's uncle, Jaim." Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Chojoh, Choja and Jochoh all impassively accepted Chlorien's name change.
"Why do you wish to pass through our lands?"
"There was a very large army behind us after we left the Samar States. We'd no wish to be followed by such."
"Why do you go to Elban lands?"
"The lad's Mam awaits him. She's not seen her lad for some cycles."
"You don't wish to deal or trade with us? You make no demands of us?" Autoc shook his head.
"We ask nothing except that we travel unmolested through your lands." There were more loud mutterings, before Kosko stepped forward.
"The old man wasn't with you when you left the Samar States, was he?" he asked, a contemptuous smile curving his very full lips.
"No," responded Autoc coolly.
"Why not?"
"I'm not the man's keeper. Since he lives in Sindabar for part of the cycle, we stayed a time with him and then brought him with us. Ask him yourself."
"Why?"
"I wish to see my youngest sister who's the lad's mother," growled Jaim. "Is that such an odd concept for you to grasp, desert lord?" In turn, Kosko stared hard into tawny eyes that warned him to be very careful. Like Chojoh before him, Kosko had an uncomfortable feeling this old man had a touch of menace about him.
"No," he replied. "Desert lords understand the concept of family."
"Good," growled Jaim, lapsing back into silence. Kosko turned back to the mage.
"It's a long journey for one so young and one so old, isn't it?"
"Aye," agreed Autoc courteously.
"Is it necessary?" persisted Kosko.
"Yes, it is," was the polite response.
"And if others wanted the boy, say, for a harem, would you object?"
"I'm the lad's father, desert lord. A father knows how to care for his young. Of course I'd object. Wouldn't you?"
"The boy's very pretty. Have you met the two travellers who are with me?" Schol stared disinterestedly at Ohb and Queeb.
"We've met," he said, in a bored voice. "They tried to buy my boy. He's not for sale."
"What if that's the only way you'll be permitted to leave Indigo, traveller?"
The smile on Kosko's face was cruel and anticipatory indeed. There was a long silence. Chlorien shrank closer to Autoc and Jaim stood very straight.
"I'd suggest," said Autoc, his voice gently threatening, "that it would be a most unwise man who attempted to harm my son."
Kosko shrugged and turned from them. He spat on the floor as he did so. Choja tensed at the insult to both their guests and to the Sophy, but Autoc saw the Sophy's infinitesimal shake of the head. The deep green eyes conveyed a very clear warning both to his son and to their guests. Choja stepped forward and, as if to highlight the desert lord's lack of courtesy and deliberate insult, the Sophysun's bow to Kosko was deep and flourishing. Jaim saw it was noted with approval by the majority in the hall.
"May we also see your traveller guests, Kosko?" Kosko shrugged. He turned to Queeb who nodded, then he and Ohb stepped forward. Choja eyed them, his eyes like
flint. "Who are you?"
"I'm Queeb and my friend's Ohb," came the cold response.
"What are you?"
"Travellers, like the others."
"Where are you from?"
"The south."
"Why do you seek passage?"
"Like the travellers, we move north."
"It's usual for any strangers, who aren't turned back from the desert, to be brought immediately before the Sophy as is our custom. You weren't. How long have you been with the desert lord Kosko?"
Queeb had his back to Kosko, so didn't see the warning frown come to the desert lord's face. Nor did he see the tiny shake of the head.
"We've been travelling with Kosko for some time now."
"As I said," stated Choja clearly. "That's unacceptable." Queeb merely shrugged. Choja paused, before he went on. "Did you try to buy Schol's son?" Queeb gave an unpleasant smile.
"Yes. He's very pretty. If we had him, we'd consider leaving your lands and turning south again." Choja's look at both men was unreadable, though when he stepped back it was with a gesture of disgust that wasn't missed by the gathering.
"It's not the custom of our people to bond boys to sexual servitude," he said very quietly. "Nor do we expect strangers to give one reason for their presence in our lands, then say that they'll leave for another reason. We can only wonder what your motives are for being amongst us. I ask no more questions."
The Sophy waved a hand of dismissal at the mage. Autoc quickly turned and shepherded Chlorien from the gathering. Jaim followed. Neither he nor the mage was surprised when they saw some of Choja's men meet them at the hall entrance and discreetly escort them back to Autoc's chamber.
It was dark when Choja quietly entered. Autoc stood looking out the window into blackness and Chlorien, bored, had gone back to sleep. Jaim sat on the edge of the bed watching her.
Autoc turned, saying resignedly, "What are they doing, Choja?" Choja eyed the mage grimly.
"It's quite simple, Schol. Kosko will continue to recognise the Sophy without the anticipated challenge and without contest if he gives your boy to the strangers." Autoc drew in his breath. "They're your pursuers, aren't they? And it's not a harem they want the boy for, is it?"
"And Jaim and me?" Autoc asked, nodding then shaking his head in answer to Choja's questions.
