Children of Ambros

by Katy Winter

  The unsel flap was pulled back and Jane's head came out, surprise on the rugged face that changed instantly to consternation. Lute was out before Jane. He growled joyfully at Bethel's boots, jumped up at the tall figure, but became anxious at Bethel's stillness. He began to whine. Jane ordered the pup to quieten and, ears back, Lute did. Jane guided Bethel to a mattress, his eyes searching the white face.

  "Gods, lad, you're frozen through. Mishak, hold that damned dog!"

  Bethel couldn't speak. Jane realised how much Bethel had sweated when he finally had the damp clothes in his hands. He shook his head. Bethel shivered as if ague gripped him. The older man looked grimly at the sodden boots, icy water in the soles. The boots he pulled out for Bethel were very heavy, lined leather ones.

  "What made you go out in light riding boots, lad?" he asked, in a despairing voice.

  "I thought they'd drill us," mumbled Bethel.

  Jane laced up Bethel's woollen over shirt tightly for extra warmth, then a jerkin followed, before Jane turned for a doublet.

  "In this?" he asked incredulously.

  "They have every other day in the snow." Jane looked at the soaked boots.

  "What have you been doing all day?"

  "Shovelling snow with slaves," responded Bethel in a stronger voice, hauling on the second boot with a sigh. "The slaves are dying in droves, Jane. They are so pitifully thin and have rags rather than clothes. I try to help because I know I could be one of them. They need junior warriors to oversee work, but I always work with them."

  Jane looked hard at him, but made no comment. Bethel accepted a tankard from Mishak and pulled Lute into his lap, the dog eagerly licking the tousled curls.

  "What have you been doing?"

  "Sensibly, my lad, nothing at all," responded Jane, pushing Bethel and dog further up the mattress, until the youth lounged on cushions piled high behind him by Mishak. Jane draped furs about Bethel. Lute crept between the furs, his head now on Bethel's chest. Bethel gave another sigh as the last shiver subsided.

  "I thank you, Jane," he said meekly, when he caught sight of the deep frown in Jane's eyes. His free hand caressed Lute.

  "Lad, you could've died being so careless."

  Bethel just shrank gratefully into the cushions. Mishak got an order and promptly disappeared. Jane sat back on his haunches, his countenance severe while he looked at the resting figure. Bethel opened his eyes. Jane gave a reluctant smile.

  "I know, I know," admitted Bethel. "Haskar Alleghy told me so as well." When Bethel realised he'd have to explain and did so, he saw Jane's lips tighten. "Jane, I am not a child."

  "No," agreed Jane, "but you're an uncommonly foolish young lad!"

  Bethel relapsed into silence. Jane watched the young man snuggle under the furs, the dog firmly ensconced, and he turned away leaving Bethel to doze.

  When Mishak returned, he carried a tray uncertainly balanced in very cold hands. Jane relieved him of it and told him to sit beside Bethel, who stretched and yawned. Bethel took one look at the white, shivering boy and pulled him under the covers, where Lute obligingly licked the snow from the young face and head.

  "I t-thank you, m-my lord," stammered Mishak, gratefully snuggling under the furs, his teeth chattering.

  "You are as cold as I am, are you not, boy?" Mishak nodded.

  Jane took first one hot bowl, then another, handing them to the two young ones who grasped at them for warmth. Jane settled on another mattress, his eyes rested on the pair propped up by cushions, one very dark but pale, the other auburn-haired and gray-eyed. Mishak wasn't quite ten cycles, and, though more strongly built than Bethel, he was slender. Jane knew the boy was constantly cold. He could only smile as he looked at the young ones huddled under furs, feeding both themselves and the pup who lurched imploringly from one to the other. Jane grinned as he ate.

  There was silence all round them, eerie in a camp usually so full of noise and activity. The snow had got heavier and muffled all sound, so it surprised them all when Sarssen suddenly appeared, stooped and entered. He was so big there was simply no room and he had to crouch, snow covering him from head to booted feet. He pushed back his hood. His glance took in Jane, who was clearly amused, then Bethel and Mishak comfortably ensconced with the dog, and his eyebrows went up. Mishak went to move, but Bethel's hand stayed him. Sarssen's eyes smiled.

  "Very domestic," he observed.

  Bethel held out his bowl. Sarssen took it, helped himself to several pieces of meat and chewing reflectively, shrugged off his cloak and sank onto the mattress next to Jane. He looked across at Bethel.

  "Haskar Alleghy tells me you nearly chilled before, boy. That was unwise."

  "It crept up on me, my lord," Bethel excused himself, holding back Lute who struggled to propel himself at the warrior and the bowl he held.

  "Let him go, boy!" said Sarssen, his smile widening. He held out a morsel to Lute who snatched at it, big furry feet holding the meat flat on the mattress. "What a repellent animal you are," said Sarssen entertained. "You need to be taught manners!" He heard a boyish laugh and looked up at Mishak appraisingly. He saw the slave boy shrink back.

  "The tempkar will not hurt you, Mishak," Bethel reassured him.

  "He's a Churchik warrior," whispered Mishak, edging closer to Bethel.

  "So, Mishak, am I," said Bethel quietly, putting an arm round the boy without conscious thought. Sarssen saw the gesture, but said nothing, aware of scared eyes.

  "I will not hurt you, boy," he said quietly, his glance flickering to skinny, scarred arms that told him the child was beaten by other warriors. "And," he added amused, "you may laugh in my company whenever you wish. Your master does." Mishak gave Bethel an awed look, before going back to poke in his bowl. Sarssen's eyes rested briefly on Bethel. "Are you warm, boy?"

  "Yes, my lord."

  "Are those boots over there yours?" Bethel followed the warrior's glance and nodded reluctantly. When Sarssen leaned forward and tipped the icy water from them, the look he gave Bethel made the young man tense. "You deserve a sound hiding for wearing gear like that in these conditions. You are old enough to know better."

  Bethel bent his head. Mishak stole a look, first at Bethel, and then at the warrior. Jane started to laugh.

  "There, lad," he chuckled. "Didn't I tell you the same?" Bethel just hunched and meekly took back his bowl from Sarssen.

  "Oh, aye," he mumbled, his eyes not holding the warrior's scrutiny. Sarssen rubbed his hands together and stretched.

  "I am here for a reason, boy. When you finish your food, I wish you to accompany me to my pavilion - before you go to your master. There is something I wish to discuss with you."

  Bethel made an immediate move but Sarssen's hand waved him back, the big warrior turning to Jane so he could talk quietly with him. Bethel lounged back comfortably and smiled at the slave boy endeavouring to teach Lute some manners. When Mishak finished with his bowl, he cuddled down further, his small body no longer shivering.

  "Are you warm, Mishak?" The child nodded. Gray eyes looked up into purple ones and a small chilly hand touched one of Bethel's warmer ones. "You are to keep warm," said Bethel calmly. "You must keep Lute with you because he will give you additional heat."

  Mishak nodded again and Bethel kept hold of the small hand that curled round his.

  ~~~

  In Sarssen's pavilion Bethel pulled his heavy cloak more firmly round him before he obeyed the order to sit. The warrior kept his cloak on, too, Bethel noticed, though he'd never seen the big man shiver with the cold. He was handed a goblet and drank from it immediately, aware as he swallowed that the liquid was noticeably sweetened. He coughed, swallowed again, then looked across at Sarssen who sat likewise and now watched him with a slight frown furrowing his forehead.

  "You still have a cough, boy. I thought you were well."

  "Only sometimes. Being out in the cold brings it on and makes me ache."

  "Today's effort would not help, would it?"

  "No, my l
ord."

  "Enough of that," commented Sarssen calmly. "I see you have attracted Haskar Alleghy's attention."

  Bethel's gaze at the warrior was intense, the big eyes burning.

  "Yes, my lord. I have another brother who is alive." He absently noticed Sarssen didn't show any sign of surprise.

  "I am delighted you have, boy, but it creates difficulties. That is unfortunate under the circumstances, Beth."

  "What circumstances, my lord?"

  "Your brother's situation, Bethel."

  "It is Lute, my lord, is it not?"

  "It would seem so. It is inopportune you and he should be linked now because Alleghy's rage will spill over onto you. I will explain the basis for that shortly. It would be preferable the warlord make no link between you either. Has Haskar Alleghy seen you in the warlord's pavilion?"

  "Not as such, my lord."

  "Explain."

  "They do not notice me, my lord, because I am always crouched at the far side of the pavilion and only go forward to fill goblets."

  "And nothing has been said by either man when you are there?" Bethel shook his head. "And what was the Haskar's reaction to you when you presented yourself as a junior warrior?" Bethel recounted the conversation. Sarssen contemplated the ground thoughtfully.

  Bethel stared at his boots, before saying jerkily, "The southern sorcerer has my brother and the warlord has me. They work together, do they not?" Sarssen's expression was inscrutable.

  "What makes you say that, boy?" Bethel scuffed the ground.

  "My lord, I listen to the talk and I know even the elite warriors obey the sorcerer because it is the warlord's wish. My master has entered my mind, so I always supposed that was a skill the sorcerer offered him for some reason."

  "I see," was the placid comment. "And?"

  "I know the sorcerer is to be feared above other men, my lord." Bethel's eyes filled with sudden tears. "He has Lute," he added in a whisper.

  "So it seems, Beth, yes. And all you know about Lute, boy?"

  "Haskar Alleghy," was the comprehensive response.

  "Let me see, Beth," suggested the warrior gently. Even though Bethel had explained the conversation with the haskar, Sarssen wanted to see the older man's reaction for himself. Bethel let the green eyes absorb him - it was so often done, he no longer even thought about it, his mind opening to Sarssen with absolute trust. After only a moment he blinked and took another sip of the sweetened wine.

  "There is more to it than that, boy," Sarssen said seriously.

  "About the haskar wanting to kill Lute, my lord?"

  "Let me tell you what I know, boy, then perhaps you will understand a little more." Sarssen drank deeply, pondering for a moment. "Your brother, Beth, was taken as a slave at Ortok -" He saw Bethel flinch and continued. "He was sent on one of the slave caravans. Some experience he endured, either on the caravan or before that, made him mute. He was not mute when you were a family together, was he, boy?"

  "No," said Bethel in a stifled voice. "Neither was." Sarssen's eyebrow went up.

  "Neither one what, Bethel?"

  "Neither twin, my lord. Lute and Dase are identical twins." Sarssen's eyes rested thoughtfully on Bethel, then he went on.

  "Somehow Blach found him - you know well now of whom I speak, do you not?"

  "The southern sorcerer," whispered Bethel.

  "Blach took the boy to his Keep where he," Sarssen paused, then continued smoothly, "manipulated your brother's mind. I can only guess what was done and you do not want to know, boy." Sarssen glanced at the anguished countenance. "He took Lute as his apprentice. As nearly as I have been able to gather, Lute, at seventeen or eighteen cycles, was sent to Chika to mate with Alleghy's daughter. She was only a child still, barely fifteen cycles I am told." There was an odd look on Sarssen's face but Bethel missed it. "It was an experience that left the girl badly scarred." He saw Bethel stare at him. "Your brother has no emotions, boy. Does that explain it to you?" Looking pale, Bethel nodded, a slender hand to his mouth.

  "Lute raped her, my lord?"

  "Repeatedly," came the unemotional reply.

  "But Lute would not - he is so gentle -."

  "You forget what the sorcerer made him," reminded Sarssen gently. He saw abhorrence in the purple eyes. "I know, boy," he added softly. "Let me finish. The girl conceived, as was the sorcerer's intent, and a daughter was born, the child to be sent to the Keep a few seasons after birth. Luton was already returned there with Haskar Kher as his guide."

  "The elite warrior Kher?" whispered Bethel, his face quite white and eyes big. Sarssen nodded.

  "From there, boy, things become a little blurred because there has been much gossip. The girl escaped with the child to the Sinhalien mountains and neither has been seen since. Alleghy's son challenged Luton in the desert, and, rumour has it, the apprentice is well able to take care of himself." Sarssen was very careful not to give any information to Bethel other than what was commonly known. The warrior knew considerably more of Luton and his current situation, and also knew a great deal about Soji through Adept melds with Setoni and Leon.

  "And Lute, my lord. Is he a sorcerer now? Is there any of my brother in him?" The deep voice broke in mid-sentence.

  "That, boy, I cannot tell you. It is known, however, that the boy has left the Keep, and, with Kher, is heading north. Presumably he will join this army."

  "And the sorcerer?"

  "Where the apprentice goes, Beth, so goes the master."

  "So that is why Haskar Alleghy wants to kill Lute?"

  "It seems so," agreed Sarssen, holding out his goblet.

  "What does the sorcerer want with my brother and why are both coming north? Is it because Blach and my master..." Bethel's voice trailed away.

  "Fill the goblets, boy." Bethel was on his feet instantly, his training over-riding any other emotion. He was so distraught, his hands shook. He heard Sarssen's voice behind him. "Do you look very like Lute, boy?" Bethel turned with the full goblets in his hands, crossed to the warrior and held out a goblet to him.

  "I think we are all very alike, my lord," he answered uneasily. "Other than Brue we all have black curly hair, are tall, and have dark eyes. The twins have black eyes like my brother Sar, but I have purple and my sister had violet ones."

  There was a long silence. Bethel grappled with the distressing and disturbing news of a brother he'd rough and tumbled with. Luton always laughed so much, his younger brother could only remember him as the merry boy with the teasing eyes, whereas Daxel's were wickedly inviting. Bethel bent his head into his hands. The warrior studied the forlorn figure. He mulled over what Bethel had told him, his suspicions about the brothers alarming him. His concern for the youth opposite was very real, not just because of the role this boy clearly had to play on Ambros, but because his affection for the deeply emotional and sensitive boy was profound.

  "We have much to ponder, boy," he observed in a neutral tone, so Bethel was given a chance to recover. Bethel couldn't speak for a moment, then when he did, his voice was hoarse.

  "Is Blach very powerful, my lord?"

  As he responded, Sarssen's face was as grim as Bethel had seen it. The warrior had no intention of telling Bethel the truth of who the Conclave suspected had his brother.

  "Extremely, boy. He could tear you and me apart quite easily despite all my training and all I have taught you."

  "Does the warlord know about his power?" Though Sarssen was unsure, he answered in the affirmative.

  "Undoubtedly, Beth."

  "Why us, my lord?" asked Bethel, desperately licking his lips. "The warlord wishes to kill Sar, though he spoke only of containing him, Dase may be dead for all I know, and I have accepted Myme Chlo is also, but now there is Lute with the sorcerer and I am a slave of the warlord's. I believe we are all meant to be dead but for some odd reason are still alive, certainly Lute, Sar and me. Why?"

  "Sheer coincidence," responded Sarssen promptly, in an effort to steer Bethel from a question that had puzzl
ed him for quite some time.

  That there was no coincidence, other than Bethel's falling into the warlord's hands, the warrior was certain. He even wondered about that. He'd also wondered how Bethel had lasted so long in the slave pens before Lodestok found him. He remembered Bethel saying those around him were taken away for caravans. He was always left behind, when he should've been on one of the first caravans going south, put aside and used for the duration of the journey south, but certainly kept alive as he was destined for a boy harem. He'd have fetched an inordinately high price, too, so was valuable merchandise. Sarssen also knew Daxel was alive, but in his difficult position he could say or do very little. He heard Bethel speak and turned his head.

  "Will the warlord know?"

  "Know what, boy?"

  "That Lute is my brother?"

  "Not yet." Sarssen drank deeply. "We must try to neutralise Alleghy in some way so he does not make the connection, certainly not yet. We need time, boy, we need time. I would rather little was said about the apprentice at all."

  "What would the warlord do if he knew, my lord?" A wry smile twisted the warrior's mouth at the question.

  "I am unsure, boy. He and Blach are very close. If Blach was permitted to use you, Beth, and believe me when I tell you he would know the depths of your talent simply by one look into your eyes, then the rewards for both would be enormous. Your talent melded with Luton's, boy - that worries me. Once your mind was used, Beth, your master would still have your body for pleasure, while Blach would have your talent and your essence. It would offer Blach immeasurably increased power. I am not sure our master would refuse him, not after how he used you over Sarehl."

  His lips bloodless, Bethel threw down his goblet as he sprang to his feet.

  "No!" he whispered fiercely. "Do not let this happen to me!" He flung himself at the warrior's feet. Sarssen gently touched the dark head.

  "So you think I can stop this, boy, do you?" he asked, the twist to his mouth more pronounced. "Blach's power is beyond that of ordinary men, Beth. I am an Adept, no more, no less. I know my limits." He felt tremors shake Bethel and carefully lifted him to his knees.

  "What can I do?" Bethel implored. "Tell me what to do!"

  "Gently, boy," said Sarssen quietly. "To transfer you from Alleghy's troop would occasion comment. Has he seen you before today?" Bethel shook his head. "So there has been no time for general comment then, has there?" The dark head shook again. Bethel raised a white face.