“No, no!” he hissed and drew away. No, not him! No, no emotion!
“What is it? What’s the matter? Are you hurt?”
“No. Quiet.” Head bent, he sought for something to calm himself. Something to focus on.
“Kai, he—Is he dying?”
“Mimeru, stop talking or we will die.” He was sorry for the sting she took, but he couldn’t help it, couldn’t help her. He could be like Bairith. Always in control of himself, always tranquil. Yes, be Bairith Mindar, just for the time it took to get them to safety. What would the jansu do?
He breathed stillness in, cool and refreshing. Memory of his lessons reminded him to let tension go with the exhalation. In. Calm. Composed. Out. Calm. Composed. How long did it take? Seconds? Minutes?
The scraping sound of constricted breathing continued. Sherakai got to his feet and lifted the man under the arms. “Can you get his feet?”
“What are you doing?”
“Taking him into the passage.”
“He needs help, Kai!”
“Help him or help me,” he said in a voice so cold it chilled him.
She stared at him for a moment, the back of her hand pressed to her mouth and tears streaking her face. Without a word, she bent and lifted the man’s feet. They carried him into the chamber and put him down next to the wall, out of the way. When Sherakai pulled on the inner door handle, it held fast.
Cool, calm, composed.
If it didn’t open, what were they going to do? It had to open. “Get the lantern. Put the pitchforks back.” He trotted out and down the aisle, counting stalls. A horse further down the aisle poked his head out over the stall door to look at him. One of the Indimi-o!
He froze as joy welled up inside him. No! No emotion. Certainly no joy. Just calm, calm, calm.
“Hello, there,” he murmured, approaching with his hand held out. The horse sniffed at him, then tossed its head. Had he missed it before, or was it a new arrival? A glance into the other stalls nearby showed two more of the precious, fast mounts. Risky, too. They were valuable not only because of their beauty and speed, but because they were smart. They tended to bond with their riders, rarely allowing any but that one to ride.
“I have an urgent need for you and your mates,” he crooned, rubbing her cheek. “Will you help me?” Soft, soft he coaxed the animals to accept him. He talked about the Indimi-o at Tanoshi, and how his family adored them, how fast they were, and how desperate his own situation. He touched each animal, experience helping him find the spots they like best to be rubbed.
“Sherakai?” Mimeru whispered. He barely heard her she spoke so quietly.
“One moment,” he answered, and opened the first stall. “Will you come?” he asked the tall chestnut.
The horse stomped one foot and arched its neck. Then it reached its nose out to nuzzle him and Sherakai grinned.
“Thank you. I cannot promise the road will be easy, but I thank you with all my heart.” With one convinced, the others came more readily. He led the first down the aisle and the other two followed.
When Mimeru saw them her eyes widened. “Oh, Kai, we can’t take them!”
“We can. We are.”
“They won’t let us ride. You know this.”
“They will. Come.”
He tugged the horse into the chamber. She didn’t like the narrow door and balked. With one hand on her halter and one on her shoulder, he coaxed her through. It didn’t take long. The others crowded in behind, murmuring softly between themselves. Pale manes and tails gleamed like moonlight. Hard to hide, yes, but hard to catch, too.
“Kai, no. Stop.”
He turned to her, one finger pressed against his lips. “Shh. I know what I’m doing.”
“And if they refuse to let us mount? Then what?”
“Then we’ll figure out something else.”
“We don’t have time to work out another plan.”
He ignored her to muscle two bags of oats into the cramped space. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. They’d need to forage. Another saddle and rope from the tack room completed his supplies. He lit the lantern the stablehand had dropped and hung it on its peg. With a handful of hay, he brushed over the floor in front of the door to hide their passage. He made sure, too, that he hadn’t bled enough to leave a trail. For extra measure, he tipped a bag of oats from the nearby pile against the door. He wriggled it into place from the inside so it would slide a little further when the door shut completely.
One of the horses had maneuvered around within the cramped space to watch him. He held the lantern up to look over the others. Mimeru’s pale face hovered like a ghost by the wall.
“That man—he sounds awful.” Her distress was palpable.
“I know. I didn’t mean to hit him in the throat. It’s—I can’t do this right now.”
“Kai!” she hissed, angry and afraid. “What are we going to do?”
“Go through that door,” he said, pointing to the sealed passage. “I need you to keep the horses quiet. Can you do that?”
“Yes, but—”
“Do it. Rest if you can.” He turned to the door and rubbed his nose. Barred on the inside, it had to open from the inside. Like the secret doors at Tanoshi, was it a puzzle? Bairith might very well make a door that only he could use, and let the rest of the castle folk burn if they came under attack. He stretched his neck and rolled his shoulders. Mimeru tended to the horses, but he could feel her eyes on him and her confusion in the air. He closed the lantern panel until only the tiniest glow leaked out. Mimeru started to speak, then decided against it. He heard her slide down the wall.
“Go to the inside wall. Someone might hear you move.”
She obeyed silently.
Sherakai rested his hands on the wood. Gathering aro to him, he studied the pattern of the door. Panels running up and down, the frame supporting them. Good, thick wood fastened with… wooden pins. Eyes closed, he ran his fingers over every inch, searching for whatever might hold it closed. He was cautious, not wanting to trigger a warding spell.
“Kai—”
“Shh.”
Patiently, he worked to coax the secret from the wood, focusing on the aro alone. He had no talent with earth magic. In the stillness, despite his focus, he became aware of the way his back burned. A tickling trickle of warmth promised blood. He doubted bandages and herbs came as a part of their escape package.
He stepped back, hands on his hips.
“Are we trapped?”
“No.” He wouldn’t give up, not now when freedom was so close. He stretched his neck again and put his hands back on the wood. Once more, he ran his fingers around the framework. Logic implied that locks would be located opposite the hinges. A catch of some sort must exist.
“There’s someone outside the door,” Mimeru whispered.
“Help me with the Indimi-o,” he said, turning to the closest and pulling its head against his chest. With his other hand he reached for another. He rubbed their faces and whispered in their ears. No stranger to the animals, Mimeru mimicked him. From beyond the door came the sound of muffled bangs, bumps, and low voices. Silence fell, but Sherakai remained quiet for a little longer to be certain the men had left. Messengers, perhaps, coming in late?
“Keep an ear tuned,” he whispered to her as he went back to the door.
“How much longer are you going to keep standing there? There’s got to be another way out.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes, but you’re just a—”
“A boy? I don’t know if I am any more, Ru.” He moved his exploration to the wall beside the door, gently poking and prodding.
“What have they done to you?” she asked wistfully.
“They’ve put me in a position where I’ve likely killed a man.”
“Don’t say that.” Her whisper carried a wagonload of horror.
He said nothing, refusing to defend himself for defending himself. He counted his breaths, slow and steady, in and out while his fin
gers continued to search. If I were Bairith Mindar, how would I hide a simple catch? He felt a slight give, but nothing more. Keeping one hand there, he searched further. At least it was warm here, and dry. And Bairith Mindar would never do anything simple. A double catch, then. When he found the second, the first bit of wood sprang back. A pattern? He tried one first, the other, then both together. A click and a thump announced his success.
“There, see?”
“How did you do it?”
“Patience, mostly. And patterns. It’s how I figured out how to open the secret doors at home.” He lifted the lantern again. “Here, hold this.” When she took it, he caught hold of the handle and tugged the door open. A wave of musty, cold air washed over him.
“There are secret doors? Where?”
Complete darkness lay beyond. The tunnel breathed the scent of earth and long disuse. “Throughout the keep. There are thirteen of them. Twelve for each of the minor gods and one for the All Father.” He took the lantern and peered into the gloom. The horses were not going to like the trip.
“I didn’t know that. Where does this go?” Mimeru asked, hovering just behind him.
“Out. It’s one of Bairith’s escape routes. We’d better saddle the horses and go.” He suited action to words, leaving the lantern on the floor.
“What if it’s blocked?”
“It’s not. Bairith would never allow that to happen. He values his life too much.” It didn’t take long for him to finish. Mimeru finished with the last buckles while he strapped the small packs onto the saddles. The third horse carried the oats and several torches. As he fastened them on he apologized profusely for using her as a pack animal. “We’ll have to walk. Can you manage?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” She tied her cloak to the back of her saddle, then took the mare’s reins. “What about him?” she asked of the stablehand. “How are we going to bring him?”
“We’re not. We can’t. There is nothing I can do for him without risking both our lives, and maybe a lot more.”
“Whose?”
“The people who helped us escape. Papa, if he brings more soldiers.” Those were the safe and obvious answers. He didn’t want to bring up the vision the nameless woman claimed she’d had. It didn’t make sense anyway.
“So we’re just going to leave him here on the floor of a hidden room where no one can possibly find and help him? Have you no conscience?”
He whirled on her. “I can’t! Don’t you see? I am bound to two demons and a very powerful mage. With any luck, Fesh and Teth won’t trouble us for days. I can’t say the same about Bairith. I am doing everything in my power—” He stopped suddenly, working his jaw.
“What do you mean, you’re bound to a powerful mage? Who? Bairith?”
“Yes.” Shortly. Fishing inside his tunic, he produced the cloth-wrapped bit.
“Oh, dear gods and goddesses… I’m sorry. How—When?” Shock shivered from her. She hugged herself.
“It doesn’t matter.”
Mimeru stepped closer to see what he held. “What is that?”
“Bleakstone.” He unwrapped it, careful not to touch the metal itself.
“No. No, you can’t use that. It’ll block your Gift.”
How many times could he surprise or shock her before she turned away from him? “Yes, it will. It’s the only way Bairith can’t find me.” He tied the leather straps together to make a loop. Then he took a deep breath, braced himself, and slipped it over his head. As he settled the bleakstone beneath his shirt against his skin, he lost his hold of the magic. He shuddered, stifling an instinctive gasp. Mimeru caught his arm. He held her and breathed. The room shrank in on him. The horses retreated, though they stood right beside him. Mimeru’s rich warmth faded from his sense. The darkness at the edges of the room swept closer.
“Are you sure?”
“Sure it’s the only way? Yes. Sure I can do this?” His jaw worked again. He could be angry now, and afraid, if only for a moment. “I have to, don’t I?”
Mimeru brushed her fingers through his hair, shadows exaggerating the distress on her face. “You are much stronger than I ever knew. Smarter, too. We can do this, Kai.”
“We can.” He surged to his feet, holding his determination with a death grip. “We will.”
Chapter 83
Balancing the crossbar and rigging the door to close behind them was no easy task. Sherakai devised a simple solution, but executing it required patience, and they had no guarantee that the bar on the other side would fall neatly into place. They took the stablehand’s outer tunic and sliced it into a long strip. Sherakai set the bar into the far bracket, looped the strip around it and then over the top of the door. It seemed as if it took forever to line the bar up with the opposite side. Mimeru grew more tense by the moment. When he got the door closed and heard the bar thud into place, he had to pull the strip free—without leaving obvious threads to give them away. There was no way to be certain he’d succeeded.
Sherakai lifted the lantern to examine the edge of the door, handing the fabric to his sister.
“Have you always been this devious?” Mimeru inquired.
“I don’t know. Maybe? I need something heavy.”
“Would a torch work?”
“No, stronger.” Both of them turned to examine the floor. A short distance farther, the smooth walls gave way to rough rock. Dust coated the ground, but little debris. Once past the door itself, the walls opened onto a large passage wide enough for two horses to walk side by side. The ceiling was only about two spans above their heads.
“What do you mean, maybe?”
“Fazare and Imitoru were always pulling tricks. They challenged me. They taught me. I had to be pretty inventive.” He paused and ran his hand over a protrusion in the wall. A crack ran down one side. He pried a fist-sized stone free and went back for the lead mare. Mimeru followed uncertainly.
“You must have resented them.”
“Not at all. I loved them completely. They were never cruel—Well, Zar might have got carried away now and then. I used to want to be like them.”
He led the mare to the bump. “You’re going to kick this, see?” he told the horse as if she’d understand every word. He turned his back to the wall, then mimicked giving the bump a kick.
The horse stared at him. Mimeru stared at him.
“Please,” he added, and gently urged her around. He half expected a fight, but she let him guide her. “Hold her head, will you? And the lamp?” Hands on the mare’s flank, he pushed her until he had her in the right position. He didn’t want her too close for fear of getting her injured. “All right, m’lady, whenever you’re ready.”
“Do you really think she’s—”
The mare lashed out at the wall behind her with both hind legs, shattering the bump and sending rocks and shards down the passage. Mimeru shrieked in surprise. The horse arched her fine neck and snorted.
“Perfect.” Retrieving a fist-sized chunk, Sherakai made his way back to the door.
“I cannot believe that just happened. How did you do that without using your magic?”
“I asked?”
“And you believed she’d oblige you.”
“What’s not to believe? She’s a horse, not a library table.” It had been a simple thing to ask the mare for help, showing her what he needed. Without the magic, an uncomfortable emptiness filled the place between him and his own sister. Why was that? Why should the horse feel closer than a human? Closer than family? Was this how other people lived?
He sized up the spot on the door where the top lock was located. Jaw clenched against his frustration, he smashed the rock into it viciously and repeatedly.
It made Mimeru jump and hug herself with one arm. Lantern light careened over the cavern walls.
He gave the second lock the same treatment, then used his rock to hammer wedges of stone beneath the door. Iniki could probably hammer right through the wood with a strong enough blast of air.
“Do
you need help mounting?” he asked Mimeru, dusting his hands on his pants.
“No, I can manage.”
Loosing his temper on the locks seemed to have subdued her. He waited until she’d settled into the saddle to shorten the stirrups to fit her. The mare danced a few skittish steps but as Sherakai stroked her neck and spoke to her she settled down. Without him using the magic. It was surprising, and something to think on. He gathered the reins of the other two horses and he started down the passageway.
“You don’t want to be like your brothers any more?” Mimeru asked after several minutes.
“In some ways. I’m not like them. I am no warrior, and all three of them were quite—accomplished.” Not accomplished enough to keep from dying, though. If they couldn’t, how could he? Despair weighed his heart and he urged the mare to walk more quickly, his hand on her neck.
“You handled yourself well back there.”
All except the part about leaving a wounded man dying. Alone in the dark. But what was another nightmare on top of those he already entertained regularly? “Just because I can fight doesn’t mean I like it or want to do it. And I’m not that good at it.”
“That’s not true. I’ve watched you.”
“Watching doesn’t improve my skill.” He touched his chest where the bleakstone hung. Was it his imagination, or did he sound cross?
“You’re younger than the others. You can’t expect to be their equal.”
“Is that what I ought to be? My father and grandfather, my uncles and my brothers were warriors, so I should be too?”
“Well…”
“I don’t like hurting people. The thought of hacking them up on purpose makes me sick to my stomach. It gives me nightmares. I keep seeing Tasan—and I can only imagine how hard he fought to keep from ending up as he did. The fear of being in that condition myself is only deepened by the thought that I might do that to others. It doesn’t matter anyway.”
“Of course it does. What would you choose for yourself, Sherakai?”
He kicked a stone and didn’t answer. Didn’t know anymore.
The clop of horse hooves rang off the walls, and from up ahead came the sound of water rushing over stone. Stream or river? he wondered, and kept walking. Mimeru didn’t say anything until the lamp guttered.
Blood and Shadow (The Mage's Gift Book 1) Page 47
