Instinct moved his hand to wipe the trickle of warmth.
“You’d better stop. Sherakai?”
“Nonsense,” Bairith decreed. “Hush.”
Squinting didn’t improve his vision or provide an answer to his searching. He thrust himself to his feet. “I can’t find it!” he shouted. “I can’t do this. I am no healer.”
Whirling, he fled the room, fled his failure.
An hour walking the cool, dark corridors in the dungeon with Fesh and Teth eased his temper but did nothing to relieve Sherakai’s sense of loss. He had deceived Deishi and let him down. He had failed Bairith, which might give him satisfaction if he didn’t have to worry about the cost. Punishment would not be put off. He offered a silent, desperate prayer that the jansu’s discipline wouldn’t cripple him. When he finally bolstered his courage enough to face consequences, he had to rely on the beasts to lead him out of the barely lit maze. Getting lost didn’t seem like such a terrible thing, except for Mimeru.
He wouldn’t stay lost anyway, he reflected. Bairith would use the link to find him.
His quarters seemed far too quiet. Tiptoeing into the bedchamber, he approached the bed. Deishi slept, his handsome face utterly relaxed. The heap of covers showed that he still had both legs. There was that, at least. Would the injured one work properly? What more could he have done? He kept seeing Tasan’s body, over and over, and he didn’t want that to happen to Deishi. Saving his life was worth his animosity, but by the stars how it hurt! He didn’t deserve it. He’d tried so very hard to do the right thing in a place where there were no right options.
What did he have after this catastrophe? Any approval he might have won from Bairith was undone by his failure to accomplish the task he’d been given. He hadn’t even been able to ease Deishi’s pain.
Backing away, he sat on the chest at the end of the bed and put his face in his hands. “Blessed One, if there is a way out of this, please show me the path,” he prayed.
“Who’s there? Is that you, Sherakai?” Deishi rasped.
Sherakai shot to his feet, heart in his throat. He had expected Deishi to sleep for—well, for hours. “Stars. Yes.”
“What time is it?” He frowned and squinted at the window. “Did I sleep through the jansu’s lesson? He’ll have my hide, for sure.”
“What? No.”
Pushing back the blankets, Deishi stood and stretched. “Good thing you woke me, I might have slept for a week. Do me a favor? No matter how tempted I am, don’t let me go to the library tonight. In fact, you should hide my books entirely.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, then plucked at his shirt. “Gah. I’m wrinkled.” Pulling the garment off over his head, he dropped it on the end of the bed and went to the wardrobe.
Not a limp, not a frown, not even a suggestion of displeasure. Sherakai stared at his own hands, where his nails had left red half-moons in the skin.
“Sherakai? Are you all right?”
“Yes. You?”
“Practically perfect. Thanks for letting me sleep.”
He had not dreamed the exercises in Bairith’s study. His hands proved it. Confusion made his head light. “You’re welcome.”
“How late is it? It’s almost dark,” Deishi observed, dragging his shirt on and wrapping a belt around his slender waist. “And I’m hungry.” He grinned.
“Yes, umm… The jansu had… other business. No lessons.”
“You’re lying.”
Of course he was. He folded his arms across his chest, trapping his reeling emotions and his suspicions. “Fine. We had lessons. I magically forced you to stab yourself in the leg with your own knife, but things turned out well.”
Deishi snorted a laugh and cuffed his chest. “I would probably remember that, but good try.” He straightened his shirt, then chose a burgundy tunic to go over it.
“I’m sure you would.” He should! Had Bairith used magic to make him forget? Why? And if he had, what favors did the jansu now expect?
He would not ask. He’d act like nothing had happened and be gone before Bairith demanded his payment.
Chapter 79
Dinner was strange, without question. When the three of them finished their food and the stilted conversation came to an awkward end, Bairith rose. “Deishi, if I may have a moment alone with my star pupil?”
“Of course.” Intentional or not, the dig prompted Deishi to his feet. Surely the mage didn’t miss the prick of irritation; he’d probably planned it. “I have studying to do. I’ll leave you two to your secrets,” he said, offering a negligible bow and withdrawing.
As he waited, Bairith caressed the curving arch on the back of his chair. His long fingers finally came to rest on the end posts. “Well?” The query came with a gentle probing.
“Sir?”
“Have you something to say for yourself?”
A hundred things, but he doubted Bairith would receive them well. “No, sir.”
He drummed the chair lightly. “You did not do well today. I am disappointed.”
Like a cold gray fog, that disappointment crept through the link and poured through him. Sherakai clenched his fists in his lap. “I did not like hurting Deishi.”
“I thought you neither liked nor disliked him.”
“I do not like hurting anyone.”
“You are taking this too personally.”
“Hurting people unnecessarily reflects badly on me and on my family.”
The mage’s mouth curved in a faint sneer. “It is dishonorable?”
“Yes.” He glared at the table top, refusing to meet the mage’s taunting eyes.
“Ah. Then it is fortunate that necessity is involved. You cannot learn to heal if there is nothing to mend. We will repeat the exercise tomorrow, and every day after that, until you are successful.”
Sherakai lifted his head on a swift, horrified intake of breath. “Surely there are other injuries I can practice on. Wounds that happen in—in the normal course of events.” What was ‘normal’ in Bairith’s world? Soldiers took frequent injuries whether on the field or at practice. Workers, cooks, household servants…
Bairith wagged a finger. “You need to practice using your Voice. Deishi is a perfect subject. He is, as you said, strong-minded. If you can develop depth and learn to overcome his resistance, you will grow into a force to be reckoned with.”
Sherakai had fantasized about the convenience of a voice laden with aro. Yet such coercion, such force, didn’t feel the way he thought it would. It didn’t earn action, it demanded it. Expected it. What of the freedom of choice? Of respect to one’s fellow man? No man so used would honor his tormentor. No man would regard him as the people of Tanoshi regarded Tameko dan Yasuma. His father’s respect for others had secured him a position of authority.
“You want to gain respect and admiration. You want to earn a position of power and security.” The link carried Bairith’s conviction.
“I do want those things. I don’t see them the same way you do.” In fact, he reflected, Bairith had misinterpreted. Was that possible, or did the mage think to trick him?
“Someone with your potential can aim as high as he can dream.”
Or as high as you dream. “Not everyone can be a king.”
“Not everyone should,” the mage agreed, running his hands along the curve of the chair back again. Everything about his appearance bespoke elegance and beauty. It would be easy to become enamored of his appearance and completely overlook the cruel wolf it hid. Sherakai wished he were as kind as he was beautiful. “But there are those, by their intrinsic strength of character, who must be.”
“I am not one.”
Bairith smiled, gentle and sweet. Through the link came reassurance and encouragement in a wave as warm as sunshine. “You are wrong, my son. Dedication will bring it out, and I will bring out the dedication.”
He could do anything… Possibility unfolded before him in layers of glittering promise. He could have anything, be anything. It would be easy…
&
nbsp; “Yes, sir,” he breathed, awash in unexpected hope.
“Tomorrow is a new day. I expect you to try your hardest. The rewards will be greater than you can imagine.”
With a jerky nod, Sherakai got to his feet, his chair scraping across the floor. The sound grated on his ears, harsh and unwelcome. It jarred the illusion, but didn’t banish it. “Thank you. Good night, sir.”
“Good night.” He waited until the youth had reached the door. “Sherakai? You will not run out in the middle of a lesson again.”
He lowered his head. “No, sir,” he whispered and slipped out. Pulling the door closed, he leaned against it for a moment. Temptation nibbled at him. Dread leered behind it.
Fesh nudged a leg and chittered softly.
“He doesn’t make things easy, does he?” He rubbed the beast’s head, then started down the corridor. “I’m off to the wine cellar, do you want to come?”
Teth gave a human-like snort that restored a measure of Sherakai’s humor.
He found the butler in a corner of the kitchen, chatting with the butcher over ale and the remains of a meat pie. If Bairith insisted he learn to use his Voice properly, he might as well practice. “You two stay right here,” he ordered his guardians. “Back where you won’t scare folks.”
Fesh and Teth exchanged a glance, the latter curling his lip in a suspicious growl. Fesh sat, grinning like a snaggletoothed child. Teth showed his teeth to Sherakai, too, then turned his back the way he sometimes did when he knew he ought not.
“Thank you. I’ll be right back, I promise.” Sherakai drew aro close, then cleared his throat and approached the butler.
“Forgive me, master butler, but I wonder if you would help me find a proper bottle of wine. A nice red, but nothing too extravagant. It’s for me and Master Deishi, you see.” They were valuable members of the nobility, but not too valuable—unless one counted the lengths the jansu had gone to to capture Jansu Tameko’s son. He projected an image of importance and followed with flattery. “You always know exactly what to choose.”
“Yes, well,” the man agreed, self-importance flowering like the grandest of blossoms. “Are we celebrating, young lord?”
“We are.” Sherakai ducked his head and shifted from one foot to the other. The nameless woman would approve of his duplicity. Mimeru would be horrified that he’d learned it so well. “I’ve passed another test.” He didn’t embellish.
“Good for you!” the butler exclaimed. “I won’t be but a minute,” he told his friend, then looked about with an uncertain expression. “Are your companions with you?”
“Fesh and Teth? Yes.” He ducked his head again, then pointed toward the doorway where he’d left them. “I told them to wait, but I never know how long before they’ll come looking for me. Long enough, I hope.” Aro conveyed uncertainty and a wish for haste.
The man paled. “Best come along, then.”
Before long, Sherakai had a bottle of decent vintage Deishi couldn’t politely turn down.
He asked the cook for a loaf of bread and a chunk of cheese. The cook didn’t like Fesh and Teth any better than anyone else did. He gave Sherakai a basket to carry the food along with the wine. When he turned his back, Sherakai swiped the remains of a roast and tucked it down where it couldn’t be seen. Smelled, certainly, but he didn’t let the cook get that close.
Fesh and Teth were another story. “You’ll have to wait,” he scolded. “You’ll get me into all sorts of trouble if I let you have it here in the hall.”
The pair grinned at each other and picked up the pace.
He had one more stop to make on the way to his tower rooms. A linen closet was tucked away under the stairs. As far as he could tell, the only room it serviced was his own. Beneath a pile of blankets in the furthest corner, he'd hidden the bottle of thousandleaf stolen from Mage Tylond. Deishi had let him get away with the thievery, but Sherakai didn’t trust him to leave it alone. If he got his hands on it, he might pour it out, return it to the infirmary, or worse, tell Bairith.
A quick glance up and down the hall showed it as empty as usual for this time of the day. Most guests and residents were busy with their meals or preparing to retire for the evening. Servants kept strictly out of sight unless their duties required otherwise.
“I’m going to get another blanket,” he told the beasts. “I don’t like being cold when I sleep.” He made a point of visiting the closet so that going there wouldn’t arouse suspicion. More pillows, clean bath sheets, a cloth to clean the spotless mirror… Inside, he retrieved the sleeping draught to pour a generous dollop into the wine. When he finished, he put the small bottle into his pocket, returned the wine to the basket, and grabbed a blanket. As he turned to shut the door behind him, he caught the edge of the basket on the frame. The basket tipped, and the contents spilled out, sending the cheese rolling down the hall and the precious bottle of wine on a fatal course toward the stone floor.
A scarce inch before it struck, Teth snatched it from the air. Holding it out to him, he gave a toothy, sly smirk.
“Oh, gods,” Sherakai breathed, clutching the blanket to his chest. “I mean stars. Really, I mean stars. No offense.”
Cooing, Fesh picked up the cheese. The bread suffered a mashed end. The meat miraculously remained inside the basket. They both sniffed at it and licked their chops, then stuffed the other goods inside.
“Thank you. You saved my life.”
While he meant that literally, Teth just gave him a long look. You’re being dramatic.
Sherakai laughed and rubbed Teth’s head. The beast squirmed and trotted away.
~Are you well?~
The voice in his head nearly made him drop his things again. How did one answer a question someone else put in his head? “Yes,” he said aloud. Stars and saints. Bairith could use the link to see what Sherakai saw. Did he see details, or only impressions? Awkward, fumbling, he focussed on the image of the falling wine bottle. A truth. He drew his teeth over his lip and tried to push assurance along the link. Everything is fine. It evidently sufficed, for Bairith remained at a distance. The shock, however, came as a timely reminder of the care he needed to take.
Don’t get excited. Don’t get worried. Don’t be afraid, he reminded himself, repeating the words like a mantra as he climbed the stairs and entered the sitting room.
Deishi looked up from a chair by the fire, a book in his lap. “Oh, good, you’re still alive and in one piece.”
“Yes, and I come bearing gifts.” He held up the basket.
“Food? We just ate.”
“The food’s for Fesh and Teth. I brought you a bottle of wine. Dzumari.” Deishi did have good taste. Unlike Bairith’s syrupy indulgence, the dzumari was light, only a little sweet. It reminded Sherakai of grassy fields and the scent of oranges.
“Oh? What’s the occasion?” He closed the book and set it aside.
“I figured I’d find you with your nose in another book, and the wine’s a good excuse to pull it out. Save you from yourself.”
Deishi laughed as he accepted the bottle and tipped it to read the label. “This is nice. How did you pry it out of the lord high butler’s hands?” He got up to fetch cups and plopped back into his seat.
“I said it was for you and asked if he knew what you liked. He was in a hurry to avoid them,” he said with a glance at his guardians. Half lie, half truth.
“Clever. I may have to borrow the three of you next time I go raiding the cellars.”
“Try not to drink it all in one sitting.” He tossed the blanket on the bed. All too aware of the narrow-eyed scrutiny of Fesh and Teth, he set the basket on a table. Ignoring the pair, he took the chair opposite Deishi and listened to him ramble for a while about his book. An occasional question kept him going, and Sherakai made sure Deishi’s cup never ran out of wine. Deishi grew sleepier by the sip.
When his chin hit his chest and stayed there, Sherakai knelt at his feet and pulled his boots off one last time. What a hideous, selfish idea it had b
een to ask for a companion to practice on. How Bairith-like in his disregard. Deishi’s companionship had become more dear than he could ever have imagined. Sherakai didn’t deserve his trust or his friendship. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and tugged on the aro.
As he focused for a moment on that, he absently rested a hand on Deishi’s knee. He wished he could do something helpful for him. Something useful. Like protecting him from Bairith’s tricks. He didn’t know how to weave a spell into a person, but he could try. Bairith always made contact, skin to skin. Sherakai pulled Deishi’s stocking down and wrapped a hand around his calf.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, barely moving his lips. Light so pale it might have been his imagination clung to his skin. He willed it to move, to seep into his friend and fill him. Sorry I brought you here. Sorry for all the hurts you’ve suffered because of me. Be safe, Deishi. Be strong.
Teth came to stand beside them. Of the two guardians, he was the hardest to read. Was he suspicious? Curious?
Sherakai rubbed the beast’s head then stood to poke Deishi’s arm. “Deishi. Finish your wine and go to bed.”
“Mm, right.” He roused himself and yawned. When he stood, he refilled the cup again and stumbled into the bedchamber.
“Sleep safe,” Sherakai murmured.
“What?”
“Good night, Deishi.”
He watched the beasts. They looked from him to the basket. After a moment or two, the first snores drifted from the bedchamber, and he got to his feet. “You two go tuck him into bed and make sure he’s got the blanket on him, not under him. I’ll get your food.”
The pair scrambled off, claws clicking, voices eager.
He wished he knew what they said. Were they talking about Deishi? Complaining that the meat was cold now? He cut the roast into a bowl he’d taken from the kitchens when he was still borrowing rather than stealing. His conscience pulled him one way, then the other. Stealing and lying were wrong, but was it wrong to use them to escape captivity?
Whatever it takes, you must not fall into his hands again.
He stirred cubes of cheese and chunks of bread into the meat, then sprinkled it liberally with the sleeping draught. Thousandleaf had a mild flavor, but it wasn’t undetectable. Every time he gave it to them, he expected Fesh and Teth to refuse their treat. Surely they were smart enough to realize what he was doing? Or did they get good food so rarely they didn’t care? Thought it a human flavoring? Or, another thought came to him, they were doing what they could to help him—which only made what he was about to do more awful.
Blood and Shadow (The Mage's Gift Book 1) Page 45
