by Katy Winter
Bethel had dreaded this and now knew why. It left him feeling limp and sick and disinclined for further company, so he wandered over to a well and sat disconsolately on the edge. He felt lonelier than he had in cycles.
While he sat and stared pensively down into the depths, he felt a shadow fall across him and stared up rather wearily, his eyes and head aching. He saw Sarssen observing him, a lurking smile in the green eyes.
"Gods but you look a mess, boy," he said quietly. Bethel looked down at himself and his smile was a shaky one. Sarssen sat on the opposite side of the well. "Had the traditional welcome to the troop, have you, boy?" he asked conversationally. Bethel nodded. "Unpleasant, is it not?" Bethel's smile was wan.
"It happens only the once, does it not, my lord?" Sarssen laughed.
"Yes, boy, it does," he answered. He looked more closely at the youth. "Have you a headache, boy?" Bethel put an unsteady hand to his head before he replied.
"It was a rough night, my lord."
"You certainly drank a very great deal, boy," agreed Sarssen on a chuckle. Bethel shrugged indifferently.
"My aches are of no consequence, my lord."
"I am pleased to hear that, boy. And your cuts from the trials? Sometimes a young warrior does not come out unscathed."
"I have healed, my lord."
"That is good, boy," said Sarssen gently. "You handle yourself well, Beth." He saw the blush and the smile in his eyes deepened. "How do you cope with your pavilion gone?"
"We manage, my lord," sighed Bethel, waving his hand vaguely to his left. "I am now with the other warriors, but I do not know for how long."
"You will adjust," was the bracing and somewhat unsympathetic response.
"Yes, my lord," murmured Bethel tiredly.
"Are you already in full training in the haskar's troop?" Bethel nodded. "How did your morning go, then?"
"There is so much to learn," blurted out Bethel, brushing back stray curls that escaped the queue and plastered his cheeks.
"Yes, boy, there is. You will not avoid the whip until you learn to make every move an automatic and disciplined response. I had to learn that, just as you will." Sarssen watched the dark head bend in a resigned fashion and added quietly, "It is the Churchik way, boy. Surely you have learned that by now?"
"Yes, my lord," was the submissive reply. "I know this is what my life will be until I die."
"Try not to let this change in your life distress you too much, Bethel. It is a time of adjustment and the inevitable result of maturing. Good will come from it all, you must believe that."
"Do you, my lord?" came the subdued voice.
"Of course, boy. There can be no comparison between merely being the warlord's boy and being a tempkar, although I do know how you feel right now. You see blankness, boy, do you not?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Give yourself time, Beth. Before you were only a boy trying to prove himself worthy of being called warrior. Now you find yourself turned upside-down, a warrior certainly, but nothing else has stability around you. That will pass. Jane is still with you and I have not changed."
"In the warlord's eyes I have changed."
"True, boy, but that was to be expected to a degree. Give or take a few days and you will notice there is no real change at all. Any alteration is merely superficial. What does it matter where you live provided you are alive?" Sarssen thought for a moment. "Apart from degree of comfort, of course." Bethel looked up, caught the smile in the green eyes and smiled responsively. He rose, stretching.
"I think, my lord, that I am very tired."
"Of that, Bethel, I am sure." Sarssen glanced at the standing youth and said suggestively, "You intend to tidy yourself before the haskar sights you, boy, do you not? As you are now, you would earn thorough discipline." Bethel nodded quickly, but hesitated.
"My lord," he began nervously, watching the tempkar get to his feet, his face as inscrutable as ever. Sarssen nodded. "Were you ever just an ordinary warrior like me?"
"Oh yes, Beth, I came through from the bottom."
Bethel sighed again and turned to leave, then he swung back.
"You said you wanted to see me, my lord." Sarssen came over to Bethel and rested a hand on the young shoulder.
"Yes, boy, that is so. I wish to see you as soon as your training finishes this evening. Your master has a meeting then, with Haskar Bensar, so you will come to me. Meanwhile, boy, you badly need a drink."
Sarssen pushed the boy in front of him and into the mess again. Heads came up, then promptly went down. When they'd been given tankards, Sarssen shoved Bethel back to the table he'd occupied before but the boy didn't sit - he just stood, hesitating, until Sarssen spoke curtly.
"Move along, Acedar!"
Bethel wondered how Sarssen knew he'd sat here before, but noticed the tempkar wasn't bothering to enlighten him. Almin's head came up. He looked as if he'd say something until he realised who spoke to him, then mumbling an apology he moved smartly.
"Sit, boy!" commanded Sarssen abruptly, his strong hand back on the young shoulder. Under the pressure, Bethel sat hurriedly next to Almin, the dark head well down. Sarssen strode round the other side and nodded pleasantly and respectfully to Esok and the other haskars before he sat directly opposite Almin.
"Acedar," he said easily. The flaxen head was lifted and pale blue eyes met incurious and bland green ones.
"My lord?"
"You have met Bethel, have you?"
"You could say that, my lord, yes."
"That is good. I can, then, rely upon you to show the boy the correct way of doing things, can I not?"
"Yes, my lord, if that is your command."
"No, Acedar," said Sarssen. "It is my wish that you do so." The tempkar was coldly courteous. "It would relieve my mind, as it is not possible for me to be everywhere to show the boy what to do and how to do it. You can. The warlord would expect it of me and of others."
He saw the look of chagrin on Almin's face and was also well aware of grins that crept across faces the length of the table at the acedar's discomfiture. He saw, too, Bethel's head come up with an appreciative grin. The boy's head dropped when he received a very hard kick on his shin. Sarssen was amused to see that the acedar's head was as lowered as Bethel's and that Almin chewed his lower lip somewhat savagely.
"I shall do as you ask, my lord," Almin uttered, through clenched teeth.
"I thank you," was the polite response. Sarssen relaxed. "Drink up, boy," he admonished Bethel coolly. "You should hurry and change, or you will deserve all you get."
At that Bethel quickly downed the badran, rose, bowed to the senior warriors and clambering over the bench made good his escape.
~~~
If anything, the afternoon was worse than before. Bethel struggled to learn. Compared with the state some of the other warriors were in after a night of heavy drinking, Bethel looked unscathed. He coped easily with the physical fitness side of the exercises, but the group manoeuvres caught him out. Twice Bensar ignored an error. The third time, his whip came down very hard across Bethel's cut shoulder and his deep voice snarled at the youngster to get into line and get it right. With clenched teeth, Bethel obeyed.
When the order to disassemble came, in the early evening, sweat dripped from Bethel and he shook so badly he could've been fevered. He looked to his horse as fast as he could, always standing back to let others go before him, because he never made any effort to assert himself in any way. By the time he led his horse to the communal corral, he was so tired he stumbled and was beyond being hungry.
At the corral, Bethel leaned over the fence to gently slap his horse's rump before he turned to go. He came face to face with Almin. The acedar's expression was ugly.
"What made the tempkar ask me to teach you, warlord's boy?" Bethel stood still and breathed very deeply.
"I do not know, my lord," he answered quietly, head bent.
"I do not derive pleasure from aiding a slave, boy." Bethel stayed silent. "You
know your place, do you?"
"Yes, my lord, clearly."
Bethel was brusquely thrust against the corral fence where he stayed, his eyes not meeting the acedar's. He was very soundly cuffed, before Almin stood back with a curling lip.
"Remember your place," he said contemptuously as he strode away. Bethel straightened and gave the fence a vicious kick to relieve his feelings.
~~~
He entered Sarssen's pavilion quietly and stood just inside the entrance, to see Sarssen lounge in a chair. The warrior looked up at the boy's entrance.
"Who touched you, boy?" he asked at last, an eyebrow raised. "Almin?"
"Yes, my lord. He felt I had to learn my place as warrior and slave." Sarssen's lips folded tightly as he observed the tired figure come forward.
"I see. How did the afternoon go?"
"Hellish, my lord." Bethel crossed to where Sarssen sat and, looking down, saw the tempkar smile gently up at him.
"Sit yourself, Beth," he invited. "It will get a lot worse yet, you know, boy, believe me. We have not yet broken camp, nor are we at all night and day sessions. Wait until you are so tired you can scarcely sit in the saddle. That is exhaustion, boy." Thankfully, Bethel sank into a chair and stretched out his very long limbs comfortably.
"I feel that way now, my lord," he murmured.
He watched while Sarssen crossed to a table to pick up two full goblets and took the one held down to him. When Bethel took it, Sarssen placed his hand on Bethel's forehead.
"Bethel." Bethel looked up and their eyes briefly met.
"Remember everything," Sarssen said gently. He turned on the words, went back to his chair and looked over at Bethel who sat stunned. His eyes were briefly blank. Fear even etched his face. "Drink your wine, boy," advised Sarssen. Automatically, Bethel obeyed. He raised the goblet to his mouth, then paused, a sudden smile touching his lips.
"My lord," he murmured, "are you an Adept?" Sarssen's lips twisted a little.
"Yes, boy, I am."
"And is it you who has spoken in my mind over all the cycles?"
"Yes."
"Who are you?" whispered Bethel, taking a large gulp of the wine. He took another for good measure.
"I am a half-breed, boy, Yazd and Churchik."
"Yazd?" breathed Bethel, staring at Sarssen in disbelief. "How did you ever survive, my lord?"
"Morjah - or as he really was, Adept Morsh - saved me. He saw talent and taught me. Upon his death I became Adept." Bethel swallowed hard and looked down, his cheeks reddening. "Boy," said Sarssen, very gently, "we will get nowhere if you keep remembering how and why Morsh died. I knew long ago it was not your fault and wish angry words flung at you were unsaid. It was a risk Morsh felt he had to take." Bethel's head stayed down.
"I did not know it was an Adept I betrayed. Can you ever forgive what I did, my lord?"
"It is not a question of betrayal or forgiveness, Bethel. If it was, yes, we both forgive you."
"Both?" asked Bethel, his head lifting in surprise.
"Morsh mindspoke me before he died. He knew he was betrayed, by whom and what awaited him." Sarssen heard the gasp and saw anguished eyes before Bethel's head went down again. "He was gone long before they butchered him, Beth. I did that for him. He was a father to me." There was a long silence, while Bethel struggled with threatening tears.
"I cared deeply for him too," he managed in a small voice. "Not as you must have done, but he was kind to me and so gentle a man - more like where I come from, my lord."
"Yes, boy, I know. He cared for you too. He felt you had great promise. He was a rarely talented Yazd."
"Ah," uttered Bethel, his head coming up. "Are they always Yazd other than you?" He missed Sarssen's slight rueful smile.
"They usually are, yes," he responded calmly. He drank deeply.
"Was Lokar?" Bethel saw a curious expression on the warrior's face.
"Yes, Lokar was Yazd by birth, but not in many other ways. You reacted very strongly to him once, boy, when you were a child. Why was that?" Bethel fidgeted with his goblet and hesitated. He got an encouraging nod.
"I sensed, my lord, that he could harm me. It was nothing he did or said. I just felt it. He frightened me."
"With good reason, boy," was the quiet response. "I wondered at your reaction at the time, because it was instant and instinctive."
"I feel Jaden would hurt me if he could. I am sure he betrayed me over Sasqua and may have watched me with Morjar." Bethel glanced at Sarssen. "Is he Yazd?" He saw the warrior's expression harden.
"Yes, he is."
"Is he an Adept, my lord?
"No, boy, he is what we call a Post-Level Three."
"Is that very high, my lord?" Sarssen looked down into the wine he was swirling around, a grimness to his face.
"High enough to cause you considerable trouble if you are not very careful, Bethel."
"I have tried not to arouse any suspicions, my lord."
"I know you have, boy," said Sarssen, looking over at Bethel in some amusement.
"I know, that apart from what Morsh taught me, I know very little," Bethel confessed, "but my sister taught me mind controls when we were little. I tried to use those when the warlord took me from the slave pen and so -." He broke off, his colour very heightened.
"It made those early days bearable, did it not?" asked Sarssen, his mellow voice kind and his eyes dwelling on the flushed face. "You taught yourself to block out much of the physical pain to survive. Yes?" Shyly, Bethel glanced at the warrior and nodded. "It worked too. You kept working at those skills until you could slip in and out of awareness. Am I right?" Again the dark head nodded. Sarssen said even more softly, "I used to wonder how it was you survived. Then I began to see why. You merged what your sister taught you with what you learned from Morsh, and you have hidden all this from Jaden, have you not?"
"Yes, my lord."
"That took some doing, Beth, for someone essentially untutored. I have worked with you for cycles, unbeknown to you for your safety, but seldom touched your mind. How did you do that? Can you show me?" Sarssen sensed naked fear and said very gently, "I will not hurt you, Beth, nor would I willingly betray what I suspect you are." He saw the boy lick his lips as he did when distressed. "Look at me, boy."
Ever obedient, Bethel looked up. Sarssen held the panic-stricken and wide-eyed gaze, his own eyes getting darker. Bethel felt himself lost as the warrior's eyes absorbed him and he knew he tried to withdraw when he sensed a very real presence in his mind. A quiet, cool voice in his head told him to relax and fear nothing, even suggesting he lounge back in the chair and let his mind drift at ease. Somehow the suggestion was easy to follow. Bethel sprawled, his eyes closing as if he were asleep.
He felt the presence touch his memory, here and there, curious but very gentle, and his apprehension of being hurt again disappeared. No memories too painful to be recalled were reactivated, though the presence lingered sometimes in a way that made Bethel want to weep. It touched Jaden's interference in his mind four cycles before and it swept past all Morsh taught him. What brought the presence to a startled halt was the catlin and Bethel's reaction to it. Sarssen now knew exactly what the creature was. Bethel moaned. The presence moved quietly on. It withdrew. Sarssen slowly let out his breath, his eyes still fixed on the now tranquil face.
"Boy," he said softly. "Boy!"
Bethel sighed, then took a deep breath, opened his eyes and gulped down the rest of his wine. He saw Sarssen pensively survey him.
"You have a powerful talent, boy. Did you know that?" Sarssen asked placidly. Bethel stared at him and said nothing. "Can you teleth, Bethel?" Bethel looked quite blank.
"What is that, my lord?"
"How did you call a catlin, little man? They rarely come to a call. They usually just appear at will." Bethel shook his head.
"I did not, my lord," he protested. "It was suddenly there behind me."
Sarssen looked down at the ground at Bethel's booted feet.
&nb
sp; "Like now?" he asked conversationally. Bethel leaned forward and then flinched back at eyes that curiously surveyed him.
"My lord," he muttered helplessly. "This frightens me."
"You must teleth, Bethel. It is the ability to call from one plane to another." Sarssen saw Bethel's look of disbelief. "Oh, yes, boy," he mocked gently. "It is not so dissimilar from what you have taught yourself to do, is it? You can slip from one state to another, while at the same time you leave a complete sense of what you want believed behind you, can you not?" Bethel looked uncomfortable. "You can also be partially here, yet let some of your awareness slip too. I am not sure how you have come to all this, boy, but it is very clever." Bethel licked his lips again. "That is how you elude Jaden, is it not?"
"Yes, my lord." Bethel scuffed the ground with a boot.
"That is a very dangerous game, little man. I think that is played out." Bethel's look at Sarssen was a wary and apprehensive one.
"It was the only way to stop Jaden using me," he mumbled, sipping from his goblet.
"Not true, boy," was the rejoinder. "Morsh taught you what to do and he thought you would do it."
"But what I had been doing worked, my lord. I saw no reason to change. It made me feel safe." Bethel heard the sharp indrawn breath from Sarssen and he stared into the nearly empty goblet. He bit nervously on his lower lip.
"We shall work on a safer alternative, boy, until you reach understanding of exactly what you have done," suggested the tempkar quietly.
"I will do what you say, my lord," Bethel said tiredly. "Will it not make Jaden suspicious if I change my mind patterns?"
"No, Beth, not at all. We will not change your patterns in any obvious way. And that is the last thing Jaden will look for, boy. What would arouse deep suspicion, though, is if he saw you with a catlin." Sarssen grinned broadly and stared down at the creature that fastidiously cleaned its face with a grey paw. "As soon as you subconsciously think of that catlin, it appears. You must teleth him."
"Where is he from, my lord?" Bethel leaned forward to peer at the creature that calmly ignored him.
"That I cannot answer, boy. My belief is that they move from plane to plane, but settle in none. They are somehow connected with others not on Ambros."
"Are you telling me that people exist beyond Ambros, my lord?" Sarssen saw incredulity in the big eyes. He decided Bethel was too weary to cope with anything other than his new routine.
