by Katy Winter
Jane dismounted. First he signalled to Mishak that the boy was to take the reins, before he walked briskly back to Kel who watched the exchange with interest.
"Trouble, Jane?" Kel asked, his smile crooked.
"Why do you ask?"
"That one never comes to the ranks, other than to the archers, unless there is," Kel answered quietly. "Has something happened to our young warrior?"
"Not yet, and not if the tempkar can help it, Kel." Kel looked thoughtfully at Jane.
"Me and the men are developing an affection for the lad, Jane. We'd hate to see him hurt for no reason."
"So would I," said Jane sternly, "which is why Mishak and I are going ahead. Can I leave you, Kel?"
"Of course," was the stolid and immediate response. "There'll be nothing happening here to distract you from helping the lad."
"Thank you," murmured Jane, his hand held out. Kel grasped it, his smile again awry.
~~~
Lodestok called a halt fifteen minutes after he spoke to Bethel. He listened to Bethel's discourse on the scenery with appreciative amusement, the boy's monologue hopelessly disjointed and the warlord well aware Bethel had no idea what he was saying. When Lodestok raised a hand to indicate a halt, he looked measuringly at Bethel.
"You will now go to your men, flower, but will come, as is your habit, to serve me. After that, we shall carry out the seeking. Do not be late, will you, boy?"
"My lord."
Bethel turned his horse. In an effort to find his men, he began to ride blindly down the line that slowly drew to a stop. Sarssen rode quietly towards him but had to swerve and pull up his horse sharply, because Bethel's horse made no effort to avoid him. Sarssen quickly drew in beside the chestnut, caught the slack reins and drew Bethel's horse next to his so he could control it, then he led youth and horse back up the line to where his pavilion was already being lifted from a wagon and assembled at speed by practised slaves. He saw Jane and Mishak come towards him and called urgently.
"You, boy," he ordered Mishak curtly. "Help your master by looking to his horse!"
As he spoke, Sarssen dismounted. He almost collided with Mishak who rushed forward to obey and received an additional command that he take the tempkar's horse as well. The warrior crossed to Jane. The stocky man tried to support the figure that nearly tumbled to the ground, while Sarssen, too, put an arm around Bethel to keep the boy on his feet. At the same time, he yanked back the hood that fell forward over Bethel's face. Jane drew in his breath at the sight of the face, the big eyes blank.
"My lord," he murmured. "What's been done to him, again?" Sarssen didn't waste words.
"Just you keep hold of him, man, and get him seated. Remember, Jane, do not leave the boy alone in his present state."
Sarssen strode away. It left Jane to struggle to keep Bethel upright and direct him towards a small clump of bushes where he carefully let Bethel down. Jane knelt beside him, lifted the dark head to rest on his shoulder and talked gently and quietly. The eyes closed. Then tears squeezed their way under the lids to cascade down the ashen face.
"Nothing, lad," Jane whispered, "is worth this. Nothing. Come, young lad, talk to me."
He cradled Bethel. His hand ran over the tumbled curls in a comforting gesture that he didn't realise imitated Sarehl throughout Bethel's early life. Bethel made no sound and didn't move. Jane stayed still. He continued to comfort. After ten minutes, he saw Sarssen approach with a mug in one hand, but didn't speak when he watched the warrior go to one knee and hold the mug to Bethel's lips.
"Has he spoken?" Sarssen asked sharply. Jane shook his head. "How long has he wept in this manner?"
"Since you left, my lord."
Sarssen entered Bethel's mind. What he read there, prompted him to give a quiet but unmistakable command. It brought the eyes, almost black, wide open. Bethel stared straight up at the warrior and began to shake, but when the mug was held to his mouth he obediently drank until it was empty. The shakes caught him in waves. He tried to speak, but found Sarssen's fingers at his lips.
"No, boy, do not speak. We have much to do and you need rest. Jane is going to take care of you until I return." Sarssen looked deeply into distraught eyes. "You are badly frightened, boy, but all will be well. Trust me." He waited for Bethel to nod, then calmly placed his hands on the young forehead, the fingers pressing heavily. Bethel relaxed.
The warrior stayed that way for several minutes, watching the young face. Then he rose and spoke, so quietly to Jane, Bethel couldn't have heard even if he'd wanted to.
"Jane, the boy wants to die. I believe he can will it. He has nothing to fight with and for one like Bethel that is dangerous." Sarssen saw Jane's face and shook his head. "You will understand later," he added, with a shrug. "What he has just drunk will calm him but he must take nothing else. Try to get him to sleep once the pavilion is up and do not on any account leave him." Jane cradled the dark head even more protectively and shook his head.
"I'll keep the lad safe, my lord," he murmured.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Kaleb was quietly curled up on his bed, perusing a book, when he received the call from Sarssen. He sat abruptly at the clarity of the voice in his mind.
"You are thinking profoundly," came the cool thought.
"I answer to you, Adept. I was told there'd be a call."
"I am Sarssen."
Kaleb's mind reeled. The only Sarssen he knew about was a Churchik warrior close to the warlord and that knowledge came from Sasqua.
"Quite correct, Kaleb," came the amused voice. "It is odd, I grant you."
"Not at all," sent Kaleb, grappling once more with the unexpected.
"I need your help, Kaleb. It concerns a boy you know is here in the camp - Bethel."
"Bethel?" asked the healer, trying to pull himself together.
"Yes, the boy you have all wondered about for so long, Level Four. His mind is under threat. Can I explain what has happened to him?"
"Please do," invited Kaleb, a little weakly.
"Then, Kaleb, open to me."
Filled with Sarssen's awareness, Kaleb saw Sarehl's younger brother for the first time. He sensed Sarssen's amusement at the healer's utter astonishment at how like his brother Bethel was. Kaleb saw a very tall, slender youth lying in a pavilion, his beautiful face in repose, ridiculously long black curls tenderly stroked from his forehead by a stocky man, belligerently protective. The young face was pale but sculptured, a sensual mouth slightly open as Bethel breathed deeply and evenly, the usual familial thick, black eyelashes splashing the cheeks. Kaleb sensed the strength of Sarssen's powerful block in the boy's mind, the healer very aware of the raw power that came from the warrior.
Kaleb listened to the warrior and then to the explicit instructions. When Sarssen finished, there was a long pause in the healer's mind before the cool, bass voice echoed again.
"Kaleb, the boy is scarcely a Level Two. Though he has considerable talent, what Jaden proposes puts him in grave danger. Sarehl would be harmed, but this boy would unravel. To use a child so is an abuse of every tenet we believe in. Assuming we all live through what I suggest, I shall close the boy down for an indefinite time. I hope I shall not have to disturb you again. Do you have anything you wish to tell me?"
"Yes, Adept. I was told to tell you all I told Adept Leon."
Sarssen absorbed all he could of Sarehl, Daxel and Luton, and at the end his advice was terse and blunt.
"Keep the two brothers blocked as you have done. It seems there is a variety of extraordinary talent that touches all the family. This is singularly dangerous. Look to yourself likewise, Fourth Level."
"Yes, Adept."
"Until this evening, Kaleb." As Sarssen's consciousness left him, Kaleb heard the cool lingering voice a last time. "You do not discuss this with anyone."
"No, Adept," he responded.
The link broke. Kaleb was left trying to come to grips with thoughts that seethed.
~~~
Late in t
he afternoon, Sarssen entered his pavilion, to see Jane on the bed propped up by a mound of cushions, eyes alert. Curled up tightly beside him was Bethel, his breathing deep. Sarssen crossed the pavilion to stare reflectively down at the somnolent figure, then at Jane, a smile in his green eyes.
"How long has he been asleep like this, Jane?" he asked. Jane yawned.
"Hours, my lord."
"Has he had nightmares?" Jane shook his head.
"He's been very peaceful."
"That bodes well," said Sarssen quietly.
He pulled over a chair, sprawled back in it, crossed his legs and closed his eyes. Jane studied him.
"Can you tell me what this is all about?" he asked tentatively, flexing his free arm.
"Not without possibly endangering you, Jane, no. The fewer who know about things the better. Believe me when I tell you it is no lack of trust." Jane smiled.
"Aye, I know that, my lord."
Sarssen sat still, his thoughts far away with what Kaleb had just told him of Bethel's family. Jane said nothing more and turned back to Bethel. He stayed silent. When Sarssen rose unexpectedly, Jane looked up.
"Where do we go from here, my lord?" he enquired calmly. Sarssen crossed to his table where he poured two goblets of wine, one of which he handed to Jane.
"We hope to the gods, my man, that we see tomorrow. Time will tell." He slouched back to his chair and drank deeply, only vaguely aware Jane sighed before he too upended his goblet.
Half an hour later Bethel stirred, shivered and settled back under the furs. When Jane saw the big eyes open, he looked across to the still, silent figure outlined in the early twilight.
"My lord," he said, with a note of urgency. "Beth's awake."
Sarssen rose and went to the bed, sat on the edge of it and took Bethel's hand in his. His deep voice was as gentle as Jane remembered it.
"You are awake, are you?" Bethel's eyes looked tired but calm and met the warrior's without flinching.
"Yes, my lord."
"How do you feel, boy?" There was a flicker of uncertainty in the dark eyes.
"Rested, my lord."
"You had a fright, Beth, but that has passed, has it not?" Bethel nodded, his eyes unable to break contact with Sarssen's, though he tried hard to blink. "I want you to think deeply for me, boy - let your mind drift freely."
The dark eyes briefly clouded, then shone luminously and alive and in such a way that interested Jane very much indeed, and it made him considerably more curious about this tempkar. Bethel and Sarssen stayed with their eyes locked for some minutes, then the warrior gently touched the young forehead in a caress and watched placidly until he saw Bethel's eyes close. Sarssen stared down at him.
"Until later, boy," he murmured. He glanced at Jane. "If you believe in any gods, Jane, then pray to them for us this evening. We will need it." He continued after a pause. "The boy will wake again shortly and be quite tranquil. Keep him occupied. Bring him to the warlord's pavilion in an hour from now. And Jane, when I bring him back, he may be unconscious."
Jane gave Sarssen a long and speculative look that was met blandly.
"Oh, aye, my lord?" he said interrogatively.
"If," said Sarssen meditatively, "all goes well, it is best he is so."
He glanced down at Bethel again, before he turned and strode from the pavilion.
~~~
Bethel paused outside the warlord's pavilion, then hesitated on the threshold. Lodestok's eyes lit up at the sight of him and he was beckoned imperatively to enter.
"Come in, little flower. You see we have company this evening."
Bethel crossed the ground and bent his head respectfully, first to Sarssen and then to Jaden. The latter studied the tall youth furtively. The warlord merely pointed to the laden table that Sarssen had earlier prepared, aware, when he did this instead of Bethel, of the warlord's raised eyebrow, though nothing was said.
"To your duties, boy. We await your service."
"My lord," responded Bethel, ever the slave and automatic in deference to a barked order.
The warlord lounged back, watching the youth with interest, because he sensed no distress about his slave, just the usual submission that went with the boy's station. He would ponder that at his leisure. Bethel served each man in turn, then withdrew to his mat set away from the table, where he hunched himself and was ignored by those eating above him. He picked up the estibe and plucked a few notes, aware the warlord looked up from his food.
"Yes, boy, play for us," he was instructed. The warlord turned to Jaden. "You have not been nearby when the boy has played, have you?"
"No, my lord, I haven't."
"Well then, petal, play southern music to make Jaden feel at home."
Bethel plucked the strings and was immediately lost in melody. Sarssen listened appreciatively as he always did - he made no effort to look at Bethel, though he sensed Lodestok's approval and Jaden's curiosity. Bethel only stopped when he heard the warlord tell him to clear the table and pour wine. When Bethel had obeyed and went to retreat with a bow, the warlord nodded at him that he take food and drink, then retire.
The three men moved from the table to comfortable chairs, stretched and lazed back, aware of being replete and satisfied and their conversation didn't touch Bethel, who felt slightly despondent and vaguely apprehensive. He couldn't pin down what made him so. He sat cross-legged as was his wont, and, beginning to eat half-heartedly, realised he wasn't hungry, finally stopped bothering with his platter and merely pushed it to one side. He watched the men carefully, rising to fill goblets every so often before retreating to his mat. Clicks of the warlord's fingers told him he was to remain where he was. He picked up the estibe again and very quietly began to play, but for himself.
When he stopped, he suddenly realised how quiet the pavilion was. Sarssen studied the ground, but Jaden looked very impressed. The warlord had a faint smile in his bleak eyes.
"That was a singularly beautiful piece you played, flower," came the arctic voice. "What was it? I do not remember hearing it before."
Bethel went to put the estibe to one side, then changed his mind.
"It is by a northern composer called Keric, my lord. He wrote ballads. The music is written to be sung to." Lodestok swung one booted foot that was draped negligently over a chair arm.
"You will play it for us again later, flower," he said coolly.
"Yes, my lord." Lodestok turned his stare on the healer.
"Did you enjoy that, Jaden?"
"Yes, my lord," replied the healer, with genuine appreciation, looking very hard at Bethel. "Your slave has rare talent."
"Possibly," said the warlord carelessly, unaware how the dark head went down and stayed down. Lodestok's voice caught Bethel. "You now have something to do for me, petal, have you not?" Breathless, but not sure why he was, Bethel put the estibe to one side and rose. "Come to me, little flower!" He approached the warlord, who placed his huge hands on Bethel's shoulders in a way that forced the youth to his knees. A hand was transferred to Bethel's chin and when his head was tilted with the strong finger, he knew the unspoken command to respond. Purple eyes locked with pale blue. "Are you ready, petal?" Bethel licked his lips.
"Yes," he whispered. Lodestok saw, approvingly, that there was no defiance in the eyes, only anxiety and some bewilderment.
"I will not be involved, boy. Sarssen and I will watch to ensure you do not avoid the mind-meld. Be warned, flower. We will know and you will be most thoroughly punished. I think you understand me clearly, do you not?" Bethel still licked his lips, but faster. He didn't speak. The eyes holding his seemed to look through him. He felt he lost control of himself and what went on around him, as if he moved through a dream. He gave an inarticulate murmur. "You will open your mind to Jaden and follow exactly what he tells you to do. You will project the full force of your mind to your brother. I ask again, petal, do you quite understand?" As he spoke, Lodestok pulled Bethel to his feet. The words wrung from Bethel were barely a whis
per.
"My lord."
Jaden took Bethel's hand and pulled the youth down in front of him on the deeply piled rug in the centre of the pavilion. Lodestok turned to pick up his goblet and then, when he turned back, he saw Sarssen slip in behind Jaden and raised an eyebrow.
"I can see clearly from here, my lord," explained Sarssen, easily and glibly. "The boy is quite visible." Lodestok nodded.
"Then I shall stand behind you, little flower," he said. He did exactly that. He placed a heavy and warning hand on Bethel's head. Sarssen noticed Bethel now gnawed on his lower lip and prayed Jaden would begin.
~~~
That evening, Kaleb declined to eat with company. He asked for food to be brought to his chamber where it remained, mostly untouched, because the healer had discovered his stomach was too taut for food. He preferred to be in solitude because his mind was preoccupied.
He retired to his bed where he felt comfortable and closed his eyes so he could adequately prepare for what lay ahead. He badly needed this respite if he was to function for Sarssen. He mused on the depths of restrained power in the Churchik warrior, power he knew he'd see in action very soon. He might have pitied Jaden had the man not been prepared to use a young Level Two in so cruel and destructive a way. His affection for Sarehl made his sympathy, for Jaden, if any, fade to a cold resolve to serve Sarssen to save Bethel. He wondered how a level as high as Jaden could've let his talents become so warped.
The one image Sarssen allowed him of the warlord filled Kaleb with repugnance and apprehension. Kaleb swung from that thought, to let his mind dwell instead on the youth he saw sleeping. In that boy there was none of Daxel's vitality, nor, at times, the graven but handsome features, nor Sarehl's authority and strikingly attractive face that was more than good-looking. The Samar brothers were very fine featured men.
What Kaleb saw in Bethel was gentle sensuality, almost delicate grace in the beauty of the face, and where his brothers had sculpted, almost chiselled features, Bethel's were girlishly aesthetic. Kaleb was sure the graceful elegance that characterised the brothers he knew, was also deeply a part of Bethel, and realised, with a jolt, Sarehl hadn't exaggerated his young brother's charms. Bethel was, indeed, a beautiful young man.
As a boy, Kaleb sadly reflected, Bethel had no chance once the warlord sighted him, the healer well able to imagine how soulful the large purple eyes would be. What staggered Kaleb, was that a boy could still be this way after so many cycles with someone like Lodestok. He gave a shudder when he thought of the boy in the power of the warlord and deliberately let his mind drift at will. Without being conscious of it, he slept.
