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

by Robin Lythgoe

  Now and then Deishi glanced back at them, as much out of wariness as curiosity. “History and language.”

  “No magic?”

  He looked self-conscious. “I have a small talent with water. What about you?”

  Sherakai ignored him and crooked a brow. “Are you being modest?”

  “No, I really don’t know how it measures up. My tutor tells me I have great potential, but he never really said what I need to do to reach it.”

  “Why aren’t you at the College of Magic?”

  “My older brother is not well. The mages haven’t been able to cure him, and it’s made Father a little prejudiced against them. If my brother does not survive, then I become his heir. There is much to learn.” He shrugged.

  “You don’t want to take over the family duties.” It was an observation only and carried no sting of criticism. He had no room to judge.

  “Not really. I had a military career in mind, but that is forbidden.”

  “Really?” He smiled at the irony. “Are you any good? At fighting?”

  Deishi glanced back at Fesh and Teth again. He had remarkable self control. In spite of his alarm, he kept his composure. “My father decided there was some wisdom in being able to defend myself. I’ve had the best teachers he could afford.”

  “And you like it?”

  “I really do.” He followed Sherakai when he turned to ascend a wide stairway set with evenly spaced brackets for lamps. Shadows danced on the steps. “I haven’t been in any real fights, but when I spar I feel free.”

  The sense of joy crept through Sherakai’s senses and he slowed to puzzle it through. It was similar to what he’d perceived in his brothers, but different, too. Most of the time they’d been deadly earnest, but yes, they’d known pleasure in their skills, speed, and strength.

  “What about you?” Deishi asked.

  “Warrior class, and quite terrible.”

  He laughed in genuine amusement. “How did that happen?”

  “I like horses better.” Down the hallway, he opened the the door to his quarters, then stood aside to let his new roommate enter.

  “Great Saints. Are you a prince or something? Is that why the jansu left off your rank and family name?” he asked as he walked slowly through the three rooms, taking in the high ceilings, the carved moldings, and the heavy fabric on the windows.

  “No, my father was an officer in the army.” No need to mention how high an office he’d held. He followed Deishi, the memories of his own surprise and awe when he’d first seen the room rekindled. Pain tarnished them.

  Deishi glanced at him in disbelief. The sitting room gleamed in sumptuous perfection. The room’s ornate decor gave him pause, and when he’d gathered his scattered wits again, he continued his exploration. He must have a dozen pointed questions, yet he did not press them. The huge bath drew a whistle of appreciation. “This is yours?”

  “It is Lord Chiro’s.”

  “Magnificent…”

  Try enjoying it with two outlandish creatures dunking you in and scrubbing you down. “It is. It takes a few minutes, but the water comes out of that pipe hot already. And sometimes there’s a musician to play relaxing tunes.”

  “And you’re not a prince.”

  “No. Not even close.”

  “Then what’s all this for?” he asked, waving his hand to include the entirety of the sumptuous quarters.

  He shrugged. “Part of Bairith’s little game. He has… great expectations.”

  “To what end?” Back in the bedroom, Deishi sat on the bed, giving a little bounce or two as if to test the softness of the thick mattress.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re a suspicious fellow, aren’t you?”

  “I didn’t used to be.” He hadn’t meant to say that aloud, and moved abruptly to the wardrobe to open the doors. The clothing he’d been given filled it; he had no idea how Deishi’s things would fit in it.

  “Where do they sleep?”

  He looked around to see Fesh and Teth sitting in front of Deishi, watching him with keen eyes and barely exposed fangs. They had perfected the art of canine exposure. “Wherever they please. Usually by the fire or by the door. Fesh likes the bed.”

  His fine brows wrinkled. “They are hideous.”

  Sherakai closed the wardrobe and leaned against the doors. “They can also understand what you say.”

  Pulling back, Deishi said a single word in another language. It didn’t take a sage to figure out it was a swear word. Galayan, maybe.

  “Fesh. Teth. Leave him alone, please.”

  Fesh blinked innocently, then settled down on the rug, still watching but no longer threatening. Teth, as usual, ignored the request and remained where he was. No one would mistake his demeanor as friendly.

  “Thank you.” Deishi remained where he was on the bed. “Do they follow your orders?”

  “If it doesn’t contradict their orders from their master.”

  “Jansu Chiro.” His posture suggested that he wanted to move away, but didn’t know whether to scoot backward over the bed or pretend indifference and stand. “How did you come to be here?”

  “My family has—” Emotion clogged his throat. The subject was not one he broached to anyone but Mimeru. And Bairith. His jaw knotted. He swallowed the uncomfortable lump. “We have suffered several tragedies recently.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Truly.” Deishi edged sideways and got up to approach him, but Teth nonchalantly stepped between them and resumed his seat at Sherakai’s feet. He didn’t look at either of the humans. He might simply have wanted attention, but Sherakai knew better. “The jansu took you in, then?”

  “You might say that.” To save himself from blurting something rude or revealing, Sherakai bent down to rub the beast’s head. He didn’t need to see with his eyes to know Deishi’s astonishment, and thought it rooted in his familiarity with the beast.

  “That is most fortunate for you. Are you related?”

  “By marriage.”

  A small silence followed, then Deishi shifted minutely. Fear prickled all around him, but he did not let it motivate him to rash action. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to intrude on your privacy.”

  “If you don’t, you’re not following instructions.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Sherakai went over to the window and looked out. “He told us to become acquainted.”

  “You dislike the idea.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you know?”

  He held his hand up toward the view. “This is a good vantage point, and when it’s clear you can see for miles. Mostly mountains and forest, but there are little hamlets here and there. You can see them better at night when the lanterns show in the windows. And there’s the ghost village, of course.”

  With a slow exhalation illustrating his attempt at patience, Deishi came to stand by him. Clouds and wandering snowflakes veiled the view. “I’ll have to take your word for it. Do you know anything else?”

  “I know a great number of things. I don’t know yet if I want to tell you. If I can trust you.” He hadn’t meant to say that out loud, either, and for a moment he thought Deishi had used magic on him. He moved away, putting space between them.

  “Trust me with what?”

  He could discern no trace of active aro, but that may just mean that Deishi was clever with its use. Sherakai’s brows knit. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It was thoughtless. Please forgive me.” He offered a bow, one hand over his heart to show his sincerity.

  “There’s no need for that.” Deishi folded his arms, clearly puzzled. “You’re an odd boy, or frightened. If you’re frightened, perhaps I can help you.”

  He had not expected to make use of his practice partner so soon, if ever, yet he felt compelled to try to discover whether or not Deishi was being honest. Fingertips balanced against a cold pane of glass, he drew on the aro. His companion watched, curious, concerned, and unexpectedly kind.
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br />   “Are you sworn to Bairith?” Sherakai asked.

  Surprise flickered in the young man’s aura. “No. My father does business with him. He has not included me until now.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “No, I—”

  Fesh trotted out of the bedchamber just before a knock came at the door.

  “That will be your things.”

  Two large men entered when the beast opened the door. Between them they maneuvered a new wardrobe. “Where’d y’like these, sir?” they asked Sherakai, faces taut and nervous. He looked past them to see a large trunk still in the hall.

  Did it really matter? “In the bedchamber, please.”

  It took a few minutes of scuffling and grunting to rearrange the heavy furniture. They left and the servants bearing Deishi’s gear filed in, unpacked for him, then left.

  Deishi walked through the rooms again, then stood looking out the window. “This is quite a large castle. Surely the jansu can afford to put his students in separate rooms.” He cast a glance over his shoulder. “Unless his roster is full to overflowing?”

  “There are no other students.”

  “Really.” He left his place to wander about, trailing a finger over the expensive appointments. “He’s wealthy. Surely he can bear the expense of furnishing a few sleeping chambers?”

  “No doubt.”

  “Then why are we required to share a room and a bed?”

  “To teach me a lesson, I imagine, though he’ll tell you something different if you ask.” He dropped into an over-stuffed chair. Fesh put his head beneath Sherakai’s hand, demanding a rub.

  “Are you suggesting the jansu is a liar?”

  “He is.”

  Deishi laughed in surprise. “That’s bold. And rude, considering that he’s taken you on as his apprentice.”

  “Taken being the key word.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  Sherakai shifted in the chair to take Fesh’s knobby, rough head in both hands, rubbing with deliberate attention. The beast whined happily. “If I told you, he’d probably have you killed.”

  “Are you mad?” Deishi asked, inquisitive and astounded.

  “No.” His kneading fingers found a particular sensitive spot and Fesh twisted to take better advantage, head thrown back and neck exposed. Trusting. “The jansu will say I am… overwhelmed.” The word choice pleased him; it sounded exactly right.

  “Are you?”

  “I have some free time today.” Another half truth. “Shall I show you where to find the library and the stables?” His two favorite places to be, and he never got to see either of them. He would take advantage while he could.

  Deishi offered a smile and a bow, eminently polite, clearly amused. “By all means.”

  Chapter 73

  With his feet half buried in the sand of the arena, Deishi gave Sherakai a smile, beautiful and relaxed and overflowing with good-natured confidence. “I do like staffs. Not as much as the sword, mind, but there’s a different sort of satisfaction in the feel of a well-executed movement and the vibration of the blow.”

  “You did not tell me you were a poet.” Shirtless as usual, Sherakai could only look at his opponent’s well-muscled torso and calculate the weight of damage it would inflict on him.

  Iniki, who also outstripped him in the physical aspects of manliness, stood nearby, unwilling to trust his pupil to the whim of an untested stranger. His waspish expression was practically endearing. When he signaled for them to begin, Sherakai stepped forward. The staff went from his shoulder straight into a punch, lines smooth, body straight.

  Deishi had already proven himself an amiable dinner partner, a tidy roommate, and now he proceeded to demonstrate his facility with the staff. Clack! Clack! Thump!

  Sherakai winced and stepped back on one foot, balancing against pain in his hip. A feint Iniki had taught him made no impression whatsoever except to give Deishi ample opportunity to whack his ribs. Another exchange, and he had Sherakai on his back with the heel of his staff against the youth’s throat.

  Air shoved it aside. “Not so close,” Iniki growled.

  “Saints, you’re a mage?”

  “Life is full of surprises. Get up, boy.”

  Getting to his feet, Sherakai didn’t bother to dust the sand off his pants. He shifted the staff in his hands, searching for the aro in it. Dead, it had little to call on, but the connection helped him focus. He moved forward, spinning the staff in a cross strike.

  Deishi met him, easily deflecting each dip of Sherakai’s weapon, then raining down a series of strikes. Attention fixed on trying to protect his head, he didn’t see the wood swerve toward his knees until too late. Flat in the sand again, knee smarting in concert with his hip, he imagined the days ahead with both Deishi and Iniki hammering on him.

  Deishi, of course, came to offer his hand and ask if Sherakai were injured.

  Silently, he accepted the help and got to his feet. Rolling his shoulders helped ease some of his—what? Humiliation? Anger? How did the two emotions manage to fit together alongside resignation?

  Iniki approached and came to stand directly behind him, reaching around to lay his hands over Sherakai’s where they grasped the pole. It was a familiar habit, though they’d never had an actual opponent when his teacher showed him exactly how to respond to a particular offense. Being cradled against Iniki’s broad chest always made Sherakai feel small. And trapped.

  “You,” the mage nodded at Deishi. “The same pattern again, but slowly.”

  Obediently, the young man engaged. He was as graceful when he moved slowly as he was at full speed terror. The staff twirled, smacking gently once, twice, three times, four—and then Iniki guided Sherakai’s staff to meet the blow that had knocked him down.

  “Do you see?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  He stepped back and made a circular motion with one finger. “Again, slow, then repeat it faster.”

  Deishi complied, his handsome features serious as he focused on the movements. Each time he executed the maneuver, he went a little quicker. At speed, he varied the number of overhead strikes before switching to the sweep. Sherakai caught the rhythm after the first two times through, and had no trouble blocking. After that, he saw how to shove the end of his staff forward after a parry, smacking hard at Deishi’s knee.

  His companion blocked it well enough to avoid injury, nodded and transitioned into a new pattern, slowing a bit until Sherakai understood, then going faster again. Three new patterns he taught, then moved back and forth between them as easily as if the sets had no beginnings or ends.

  Sherakai held his own for several minutes, then found himself looking up at the ceiling of the arena with no idea how he’d landed on his back.

  “Nicely done,” Iniki said, and meant it.

  Sherakai huffed a sigh and rolled onto his side.

  “I’m sorry.” Deishi crouched next to him, brows tented into worry. He balanced his staff across his legs and cautiously inspected a gash on Sherakai’s head.

  He winced and pulled away. “Don’t be.”

  “Easy, boy.” Iniki went down on one knee, trapping him between them.

  Sherakai submitted to his examination with a knotted jaw.

  “You’d best go see Tylond.”

  “No.”

  “If you don’t want to see him, don’t get hit. You,” he waved at Deishi as he straightened. “Go with him.”

  Deishi bowed politely, then picked up the staffs to put away. He had to trot to catch up with Sherakai and his guards on the stairs. “He doesn’t like me, does he?”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “He calls me ‘You.’” He grinned, unworried and unfazed.

  “He calls me ‘Boy.’” Sherakai’s hand pressed to his wound to keep from bleeding all over the place. He looked sideways past his arm and the fabric of the shirt he’d tossed over his shoulder. No sense in ruining it by bleeding on it. Deishi, thankfully, had donned his own.<
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  “So when he wants us both he’ll holler, ‘You, Boy!’”

  A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of Sherakai’s mouth. “He complimented you, and he’s right. You’re good.”

  Deishi shrugged. “So are you.”

  “Yes, that is why you put me on the sand three times.”

  Beside him Teth growled his disapproval, earning a sharp look from Deishi.

  “They really do understand, don’t they? I didn’t realize you meant that literally. I thought it would be more the way natural creatures pick up on certain words and tones. They never leave your side?”

  “Not really, no.” As they came to the top of the stairs and turned down the corridor toward the infirmary, Sherakai recalled his first night in this place. Tipping his head so he could see Deishi’s reaction, he said, “He bound them to me.”

  “Bound them. What do you mean?”

  “With blood magic.”

  Deishi stopped. “That isn’t something to joke about, or even discuss lightly.”

  “You have proof of what he’s doing here.” He up-nodded at Fesh, then held out his bloody hand.

  Fesh’s nose pressed against Sherakai’s scarred hand, then he tipped his head back and let loose a long, wailing howl. Worse, Teth joined him. Their voices echoed through the hall like the cries of tormented souls—a commiseration, a protest against what had been done to the three of them.

  Deishi blanched and staggered against the wall, his hands covering his ears. Shouts of alarm came from up the corridor and down.

  Sherakai winced and raised his hand as if that might protect him from the noise. Both the beasts stopped abruptly and moved toward each other, pressing noses then bodies together like dogs seeking comfort.

  “Easy, easy,” Sherakai soothed, going to rub their heads. They leaned against him, one on each side, chittering softly and pushing their faces into his hands.

  “That’s just… flooding strange,” Deishi croaked.

  “What’s going on? What happened?” Iniki demanded, appearing around the corner with blades in either hand.