Blood and Shadow (The Mage's Gift Book 1)

by Robin Lythgoe

  “He won’t kill me with exercise,” he pointed out to the brown-eyed beast. The pair stood on the landing in front of him, waiting. They were, of course, completely unfazed by his training. “I won’t let him.”

  “You won’t let who do what?”

  “Ru!”

  His sister smiled and curtsied, well away from the demons. “May I join you?”

  “If you dare. I stink.”

  “That has never stopped me before. Warriors fresh off the practice field are not new to me. Will your companions allow me to approach?”

  “They’ve let the servants and a few others get near.”

  She moved cautiously, and as if she hurt, easing herself down on the step beside him. “So these are your demons?”

  Sherakai glowered. “Not mine. His.”

  The gray-eyed creature showed his teeth. The other gave Mimeru a once-over, then turned away to pace back and forth across the landing.

  “I’ve seen them before. I hope you are very careful. Don’t—take them lightly.”

  He gritted his teeth. “After they pulled my shoulder out of joint? And with Iniki setting them on me every day to make me run? I doubt it.”

  “Iniki?” She turned weary, curious eyes on him. “What is the air mage doing?”

  “He says he’s rebuilding my strength. After that, he will give me instruction in combat. I expect that tomorrow I’ll finally fall flat on my face. Do you suppose he’ll beat me, or tell them to eat me?” he asked, waving at Fesh and Teth.

  Mimeru took his hand, slipping something small and cylindrical into it. Then she lifted her fingers to press them against his mouth. She gave a tiny shake of her head and brushed damp hair from his forehead. “I don’t think Bairith is ready to let you die, so a beating seems the likely choice.”

  He grimaced, but didn’t pull away. He missed the affection of his siblings and parents. “I guess it can’t be worse than the trip here. I used to think the bruises I got under Master Chimoke’s instruction were like beatings. I’d suffer them again in a heartbeat.”

  “You will.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  She drew him against her shoulder, still stroking his hair. “I have faith. In you. In the All Father.”

  Sherakai tightened his fist on the object she’d passed to him. It felt like a piece of wood. What did it mean? “It doesn’t seem like the Father cares.”

  “Hush,” she scolded. “You’re still alive, aren’t you? Be careful. Be smart. Pray always.”

  “Is that what you do?”

  “Pray? Yes. Be careful and smart?” A little movement revealed the shake of her head. “I try. And now I understand why I am still in this place.”

  “Why?”

  She pushed him up and tweaked his nose. “For you. And that makes me happy.”

  “If you go by that reasoning, then maybe I am here for you.”

  “I like that. Now up with you. Go wash the stink off you.”

  “Can’t you stay for a little longer? It’s nice to talk to a real person.”

  “Oh, besh me, I can’t.” The happiness evaporated, leaving sorrow in its place. “I need to get back to my rooms.”

  “And I stink.” The corner of his mouth turned down in a rueful smile.

  “You really do. Go on, now. We’ll talk again soon.”

  “Yes, m’lady.” He pushed himself up with a groan, slipped the item Mimeru had given him into his pocket, then held out his hand to help her rise. She kissed his cheek and shooed him off, but stood watching as he ascended the stairs. The gray-eyed demon sniffed at her hand, startling her, then scampered away and up.

  “Sherakai?” she called softly when he reached the top. “Be ready. Always be ready.”

  Chapter 43

  After more than a week in the company of his so-called bodyguards, Sherakai had convinced them to leave him alone in the privy. It was the only privacy he got. While they kept an eye on the servants preparing his bath, he pulled the cylinder out of his pocket. Mimeru had rolled a piece of paper into a small, tight stick that required patience to unwind. He wondered how long she had carried it in her hand, waiting for a convenient time to pass it to him. She’d worn the edges smooth. A whine and a rattle of the latch let him know he needed to hurry.

  “Go away!” he barked, and leaned his shoulders against the door.

  The outer room remained quiet but for the sound of falling water and the occasional clink or thump as the servants arranged things to their liking. He’d yet to coax one of them to speak of anything past their duty of tending to him. Did fear or nature stopper their tongues?

  Carefully pulling the curled paper straight, he turned it to the light.

  When you are done reading this, burn it at once.

  You must not let anything prevent your escape from this place. Bairith is without conscience, without honor. Do not vex him. He practices shadow magic.

  Shadow magic? He grimaced in disgust. Shaders, his father called them, aura prickling with distaste and distrust. They drew on the dark, and manipulated shadows. The Shiran priest taught that if they kept up their dabbling, they would become the dark. None of the races capable of feeling were ever meant to trifle with the dark. They were creatures of the light, created by the All Father to follow him. To return to him. Old-fashioned beliefs or not, Sherakai could not dismiss the discomfort he felt in Bairith’s presence.

  Atop the wardrobe in your bedchamber you will find a change of clothing and a knife. It is all I could risk. I am sorry I can’t do more. Try to take some food from the kitchen if you can.

  You will have to find a way to kill or cage the creatures. I wish I was more help with that, but I am uncertain what to suggest. Drugs may or may not affect them, for their bodies have been completely altered.

  From what? he wondered. What were they before they’d fallen into Bairith’s hands?

  A troop of soldiers will leave the keep the day after tomorrow. A train of supplies will accompany them. Be on it. After you come to a place where the stream runs over the road, look for a field with a bramble hedge. Leave the train and go north across country. You’ve a good sense of direction. Trust it. Do not slow down for anything.

  I love you, and I will pray for your safety.

  Beneath the last line, she’d drawn a rough map. He turned it this way and that. The spikes clearly represented the Choke Mountain range, and perhaps the repeated X’s were places he should avoid.

  He bit his cheek. The family had visited Mimeru only twice, and they’d traveled on the road. The landscape between here and home was unfamiliar, and he wouldn’t have a horse to help with directions—unless he could steal one. Education and manners awoke a sense of guilt, but Mimeru’s life was in danger. Bairith had stolen him. He’d do what he must.

  The latch rattled again, harder this time.

  “I’m coming already. By the stars and all the saints, I can barely move, I’m so tired!” Sherakai complained, and he didn’t have to lie about it. He rolled the message up again and tucked it into the cuff of his sleeve. With his sash draped around his neck and his shirt loose, no one looked at him twice when he stepped out. In the bathing room, he knelt in front of the fireplace and held his hands out to the warmth. One of the demons came to pluck at his shirt.

  He swatted at it. “Let me enjoy the fire for a minute. Do you have someplace you have to be soon?”

  The beast stared at him for far too long. When Sherakai refused to back down, it made its way to the bath, claws clicking across the tile. The two servant boys waited close together, as far away from the creatures as they could contrive. Where the other beast had gone, he did not know. He lingered for a little longer. Then, as he got to his feet, he flipped Mimeru’s message into the fire. In an effort to draw attention away from the flames, he gasped and caught himself on the ornate stone header. He didn’t have to exaggerate much; his head swam and for a moment his vision darkened.

  The demon appeared beside him, catching Sherakai as he stumb
led. One of the boys scooted the padded chair beneath him and he blinked in surprise. “Thank you. I think I stood up too fast.”

  The other boy poured a drink and held it out while the demon inspected Sherakai’s face as if he’d sprouted warts. He took a single sip from the cup, then handed it back so fast the wine sloshed over the servant’s hand. “Gah!” he choked. “Why do you keep giving me that stuff? It’s disgusting. You drink it if you like, but I don’t want it. Ever. Do you understand?” He pointed to the cup, then himself, and shook his head hard. “I’ve asked you nicely, now I’m telling you. No izaku. Izaku is for Lord Chiro. Can you bring me te’hai instead?” he asked, naming a smooth, rich drink distilled from plums and less likely to go to his head. “Or water?”

  Dismay poured from the pair, flavored with a strong hint of indignation. Sherakai didn’t care. On its own, the izaku made his gorge rise, but he associated it with the jansu and he’d drown in the Abyss before he drank it willingly.

  The demon looked from one to the other, then growled at the hapless servants, lips pulled back from its teeth for effect. It worked. One boy grabbed the flagon of wine and dashed out of the bathing room. The other bowed several times, then hurried after.

  The demon grinned.

  “Do you think they heard me this time?” Sherakai asked. For a moment or two he forgot to fear it.

  It chittered a long string of incomprehensible sounds and caught the youth’s hand to pull him toward the bath. Once there, it started disrobing him—until Sherakai knocked its hands away.

  “Stop it. I can do this myself.” He didn’t dare put any force into the blows lest it strike back. He knew from experience that he’d be the one hurting.

  It made a sad face and stroked his arm. Then the other demon reappeared and he couldn’t fight them both off. Into the bath he went.

  Chapter 44

  In spite of his earlier failure, Sherakai tried to open the windows in his rooms. The latches jiggled, but refused to yield. Fesh and Teth followed Sherakai from window to window and watched with unabashed curiosity. One of them even copied him, going on its hind legs and working at the contrary latch with long, knobby fingers. Twisted ridges marked the skin of its crooked hands and snaked through wiry hair. The middle digit on one hand angled beneath the others, a claw missing.

  Sherakai’s inspection traveled up the ropey arms. Lined scars like slashes bespoke more wounds. A gnarled mess on one shoulder bore mute testament to grave hurt. Life as a bodyguard put one in the way of sharp weapons, he supposed. Who had they guarded before him?

  The creature chose that moment to turn to him with a furrowing of its brow. Annoyance shaded expressive gray eyes. It whined softly as if to ask what they should do next. Its uncanny human behavior drew a long shiver up Sherakai’s spine, and then the thing went back to worrying the window. They looked like nothing he had ever seen or heard of before, even from the terror tales Tasan and Fazare told him when he was little. Fazare used to make shadow beasts on the wall, but nothing so bizarre as these. From what abysmal corner of the world had the hideous things come?

  He turned away, swallowing revulsion. They’d done nothing to harm him since wrenching his arm, even when they chased him around the arena. He still could not shake the sense of fear and dread they spawned. But why did Bairith bother with guards at all? Why not just lock up his unwilling guest? It made no sense.

  What if it was as easy as walking away? Nothing had been expressly forbidden as far as the keep was concerned. He had not been told to stay inside the gates. Fesh and Teth would keep him safe, one presumed, and once he got home, his father would deal with them. Insane as the idea sounded, it also struck him as obvious. He had to try.

  It set his teeth on edge when the pair scampered down the stairs behind him. Outside the tower, he stopped to lean against the wall, ostensibly to rub his leg. It ached after all the exercise he’d forced it to, but it wasn’t the first time he’d broken a bone. It would support him. Sucking on his teeth, he snuck a glance around the courtyard. The impending departure of the troops resulted in a whirlwind of activity. Stable hands and servants scurried this way and that. Soldiers yelled. Horses and dogs seemed to tangle in an uncontrolled knot.

  Perfect.

  Mustering an attitude of confidence, Sherakai walked across the yard, nodding greetings to those whose path he crossed. They took one look at his keepers and gave him a wide berth, which made it difficult to blend in. He passed the wagons, passed the men carrying sacks to load, and walked out the gate. His heart beat like a wild thing. Any moment, someone would order him to stop, or grab hold of him and march him back to the jansu. The handful of gate guards watched him. He held his breath. They gave a long look at Fesh and Teth, but said nothing. One of them shifted his hold on his pike. The mouth of another twitched. The air sang with anticipation: his and theirs. And humor.

  Why humor? Was it funny somehow to see someone strolling down the road? Maybe they scoffed at his ridiculous cap. Or the demons.

  A deep ravine cut through the earth across the front of the Nemura-o. The heavy bridge spanned the space, with braziers set atop posts of stone. Like the rest of the keep, it lacked grace and beauty. No Alshani architect would ever build such a monstrosity. What it needed was an entire company of shapers to level the thing. It was a wonder that a half-elf so devoted to beauty would live in such an ugly place.

  The instant he stepped onto the bridge, Fesh and Teth took hold of his arms and dragged him to a halt. The gray-eyed one shook his head vehemently and jabbered in a shrill voice. Sherakai stumbled in surprise, then tried to jerk free. The demons held him without difficulty.

  “Need some help, boy?” a guard called out, a knowing grin on his face.

  The brown-eyed demon hissed at the fellow, sparking a round of laughter.

  “Let go,” Sherakai demanded between gritted teeth. Knowing he couldn’t shake the creatures off, he backed away from the bridge. To the tune of the guards’ laughter, Fesh and Teth helped him retreat. To his great astonishment, hardly anyone inside looked at him. In fact, they took pains to turn their gazes in any other direction.

  He felt strangely… ashamed.

  His escort released him once they passed the keep doors, and the second demon bounded up to join them again. Sherakai forced the shame aside and composed himself. He caught his breath and tried to calm his nerves. How was he going to get rid of two gaolers he didn’t understand and couldn’t predict?

  Nothing his tutors taught him prepared him for dealing with demons. Or abduction. Or bonding. When wracking his brain for a practical solution failed, he considered what his brothers would have done. Or better, what he would have done to them. The tricks they’d played on him had rarely resulted in injuries, but he’d often had to counter their brawn with his wits. As he made his way through the halls, a plan to rid himself of the demons began to form.

  Chapter 45

  In the apartment, he yanked off his belt and draped it around his neck while he paced from one side of the sitting room to the other. The demons followed him for a while, then sat down to watch. He moved into the bathing room, to the bedchamber, and back to the sitting room. They trailed him.

  “Stop following me,” he growled.

  They exchanged a look and stuck to him like grotesque shadows as he stalked into the bathing room again. Three-quarters of the way around the tub, with them on the far side, he whirled on them. “Stop following me!”

  It made his heart race to confront them. What would they do and how much restraint did they really have against their wild natures? The bath was a pitiful means of defense. The gray-eyed one yipped at him and pulled its lips back in a show of teeth that nearly made Sherakai change his mind. It’s incisors had to be two inches long. Sheer nervousness put him into motion again. He moved back and forth in front of the door, never looking away from the pair.

  After several turns, one of them sat down, then the other. The first even closed its eyes.

  On his next pass,
he spun out the double doors and slammed them shut. Quickly, he tied them closed with his belt. He stepped away an instant before a body crashed into the other side. The doors bowed, but the belt held. The demons set up an awful racket, howling and tearing at the wood.

  Eyes wide, Sherakai ran into the bedchamber. He yanked a chair to the wardrobe and climbed up. There, where Mimeru had said they’d be, were the clothes. From the kitchen staff if he guessed right. He stripped and donned them swiftly. Plain tan trousers, a loose shirt of the same color, then low shoes. A kerchief covered his hair. Soot from the fireplace aided his deception. Tucking the knife out of sight beneath the shirt, he darted out the door and pulled it shut behind him.

  He could still hear the noise of the demons. Surely the entire keep did though the tower had the advantage of less traffic. He didn’t see anyone until he reached the ground floor. As he hurried past sparse groups of men and women, nobles and soldiers, he ducked his head and tugged on his forelock. The temptation to ask for help turned his feet toward one small knot. Then it occurred to him that the jansu’s friends were unlikely to make good allies. If they had, Mimeru would have already begged for help. Better not to be seen by them at all. For all he knew, they would call the castle guard. He slipped into the nearest hallway and took a left toward the front of the keep. Where was he?

  Think, Kai, think!

  Down this corridor, then right to the service area. The rooms he saw did not look familiar. Backtracking, he took another passage. When he stumbled onto the storage rooms, he grabbed a small barrel and hefted it to his shoulder. Down another passageway, then past the noisy, steamy kitchen. Where was the door to the courtyard? Here? No, a rectangle of light led the way, servants coming and going. He bumped into one and earned a shove and a curse. He mumbled an apology and kept going.