Time passed and he sat frozen, slumped in his chair, mind racing. At last he heard the grate of a key in the door. He wasn’t at all surprised when Ilar stepped in and closed the door behind him. The veil was gone.
“Ilar í Sontir,” Seregil rasped, forcing the words out.
“Haba. I do hope you enjoyed your meal.” And he gave Seregil that warm, false smile he remembered so well as he crossed the room and bent over Seregil. He slipped a finger under Seregil’s collar and gave it a little tug. “This suits you. And I’m known as Khenir now, but you can use my old name if you wish. It doesn’t mean anything here.”
He picked Seregil up in his arms as if he weighed nothing and laid him on the bed. He placed the pillow behind Seregil’s head, pulled his robe down over his knees, and smoothed a stray lock of hair away from his face, mocking him with seeming tenderness, all the while with that unsettling look in his eyes. When he had Seregil arranged to his liking, he pulled the chair over and sat down beside him.
“I trust you’re comfortable, Haba? Do say so if you’re not.” Cruel glee began to show through the solicitous mask.
“What…Poison…”
“No, just one of my master’s tinctures. It’s not the first time you’ve had it, you know. Been sleeping well since you came here? Have your dreams been especially vivid?” He held up a silver perfume flask and pulled out the stopper, waving it under Seregil’s nose. The scent of wandril flowers. Adzriel’s scent.
“Bas—”
“What’s that? Do speak up.” Ilar set the flask aside, then leaned close and stroked Seregil’s hair and cheek. Then he leaned closer still and kissed him, thrusting his tongue deep into his mouth.
Seregil tried to bite him and Ilar pulled back, wiping his lips. “You used to like it when I did that.” This time he stroked his fingers down Seregil’s bare arm and across his chest, sending an involuntary shiver through him. Ilar paused as his fingers found the scar in the middle of Seregil’s chest.
“What’s this? Ah, but you can’t answer.” He traced the outline of the round mark, then examined the dragon bite on Seregil’s hand. “That’s a most impressive mark. Who knows all the things you’ve done, to get so many interesting scars since we last met.” Ilar stroked his cheek again. “I’ve been so very patient, all these years. I waited a very long time to see you again, my little Haba. Oh, I’ve enjoyed our evenings together lately, but it’s so much nicer with you awake.”
Seregil thought of those dreams he’d had, of an unseen lover touching him, coaxing his aching response. He’d have gagged if he’d been capable.
I’d know if he raped me. I’d know. Oh, Illior!
“You looked younger in your sleep, more like the boy I loved.”
Seregil managed a low growl of disgust.
Ilar’s hazel eyes went distant for a moment. “I did, I think. I was certainly very fond of you by the end. It was so hard to see it through, the commission given me by the khirnari of Virésse.”
He laughed as Seregil’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t think he’d stand by and allow your father to succeed, did you? But then, you were only a child, and not thinking of such things.” He stroked Seregil’s hair again. “But you’re a man now, aren’t you, and all grown up? Still, those pretty eyes of yours are the same, though I don’t believe I ever saw that kind of anger in them back then.” Without warning he slapped Seregil hard across the face. “What have you to be angry about? How does that compare with what happened to me? They let you live. They set you free!”
A cold chill rippled unpleasantly over Seregil’s skin. “You—knew?” he managed, his voice a ghostly rasp.
“Do you think I haven’t made it my business to know where you were, and how you were prospering? Poor little exile, weren’t you? Queen’s Kin! Lord Seregil, with your fine house and fine friends. And your freedom!” He struck Seregil again, and the coppery taste of blood welled along the edge of his tongue.
“You—your—own—fault.”
“My fault?” Ilar gave him an incredulous look. “You weren’t supposed to murder anyone! You were only supposed to be caught and made an embarrassment before your father. To upset his plans. That’s what I was paid to do. But you, you little monster, you killed a man! And I was the one who paid the price. That was your choice, but I’ve borne the curse of it.”
Seregil rolled his eyes, chancing another slap. He didn’t believe him, and he didn’t care. “Alec?”
“Ah yes. Alec. Word came from Aurënen that you’d returned, and that you had an Hâzadriëlfaie with you.” The hand that had slapped him traveled down Seregil’s belly and under the covers to caress his limp cock through his robe.
“So?” Seregil was for once glad of the drug, for the way it dulled him to the movements of that hand.
Ilar’s smile returned, thin and nasty, as he sat back and crossed his arms. “You really don’t know, do you? Or any of the khirnari of the Iia’sidra. No one remembers why Hâzadriël gathered her followers and disappeared, all those generations ago. But there are those here in Plenimar who do.”
Seregil waited, intrigued in spite of his distrust. To his dismay, Ilar only chuckled and stood up.
“Sleep well, Haba. Perhaps I’ll visit you again tonight.”
“No! Alec…” Seregil croaked, as his body lay there like so much carrion.
“He’s no longer your concern, is he? Oh, but just so you know?” Ilar pushed back his right sleeve and showed Seregil the underside of his forearm. The slave brand was smooth and faded, white against the pale skin. “This will be burnt over soon, marking me as a freedman. Your lover is the price of that freedom. And can you guess what my price was, for finding him for them?”
He paused, leaving Seregil to wonder who “them” might be.
“My price, little Haba, was you.”
CHAPTER 20
The Price of Loneliness
ALEC WAS ALWAYS left to himself the day after a visit to Yhakobin, so he was as much surprised as pleased when Khenir appeared at his door that afternoon.
“Would you like to take another walk?” he asked, grinning.
Alec was so glad to get outside again that he hardly minded when one of the waiting guards fastened the chain to his collar.
Once again, four guards were there to watch them. Making a break for it in daylight probably wasn’t going to be an option, Alec decided. That was not a cheering thought, but he couldn’t help enjoying being out of that cell again. It was a bit warmer today and he relished the warmth of the sun on his face as they strolled around the garden, enjoying the splash of the fountain and the cries of the gulls overhead.
After a while Khenir took Alec’s hand in his as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Alec blushed guiltily as the warmth of the other man’s palm against his own sent a rather pleasurable tingle up his arm.
What’s wrong with me? Am I really that lonely?
He tried to pull free without insulting the man, but Khenir gave him such a sad look and said, “Humor me, won’t you, little brother? It’s so lonely here.”
Alec was too kind to refuse him that, and Khenir gave him a grateful look.
They walked on like that for a while, then the other man sighed. “Your frown tells me there’s someone you’re faithful to, yes? Is she very pretty?”
Alec gave a noncommittal shrug.
“No?” Khenir smiled knowingly. “Or maybe not a ‘she’?”
“I’d rather not talk about that.”
Khenir seemed to shrink in on himself as he turned away. “Keep your secrets, then,” he said softly. “What am I in your eyes, after all, but filth and spoiled goods?”
“No, that’s not it at all!” Alec laid a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “I appreciate your friendship, Khenir, more than you know!” He paused, wanting to undo the hurt but knowing better than to give away that kind of information, even to a fellow slave.
Khenir still refused to face him. “No, I shouldn’t have presumed. It’s just—well, as I said, I’ve
been lonely here…Please, say we’re friends?”
He turned around and held out his hand. There were tears on his cheeks. Alec took his hand again. “Of course we are. It’s just…” What could he possibly say? “It’s just that my heart is broken, losing him, and I can’t think of anyone else. Not yet.”
Khenir touched Alec’s cheek. “I…That is…” He glanced back at the guards. They seemed to be engrossed in their own conversation. He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “I’m not asking for your heart, Alec. But if we could just find a little comfort together…”
And Khenir kissed him.
Alec tried to pull away but Khenir got an arm around his waist and gripped the back of Alec’s head, whimpering a little as he prolonged the kiss.
Alec twisted out of his grip and shoved him away. “Stop it!”
Khenir stumbled back against the edge of the basin and sank down on it, covering his face with his hand.
Alec wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Damn it, Khenir!”
The man was weeping in earnest now, shoulders shaking under his cloak. The guards were on their way over to them, but Khenir quickly said something that sent them back to their post by the gate. Looking up at Alec, he drew a shaky breath. “Forgive me. You see what I’m reduced to, shaming myself and my clan in front of you? What must you think?”
Alec kept his distance as much as the chain allowed, but his outrage slowly gave way to pity. He could only imagine what it must be like, lost in an enemy land for so long, stripped of every shred of dignity. “It’s all right. I understand,” he said at last, then regretted his choice of words when he saw renewed hope flicker in Khenir’s reddened eyes.
“Then perhaps—?”
“I’m sorry. No.” Then, to show there were no hard feelings, he took Khenir by the hand and pulled him up. “Let’s walk some more before they make us go in.”
Khenir tried to pull his hand away, and Alec knew he should probably let him, but he wanted to make it clear that he held no grudge. And even now, he had to admit that the simple clasping of hands was a comfort to him, too.
It’s just because he’s the only one here who’s been kind to me, he thought, but he still felt torn.
Khenir was very quiet for a while as he collected himself, then slowly he told Alec a little about his lost home. His eyes misted again as he haltingly named friends, family, and a lover long missed. In return, Alec found himself telling him of his father and the free life they’d lived in the northlands. That seemed like a safe topic since it had nothing to do with Seregil or their profession.
“How did you come to Skala?” asked Khenir, calmer now.
“I went to Rhíminee after my father died, looking for work.” That was close enough to the truth.
The weight of the chain pulled his thin metal collar uncomfortably against the side of his neck, and he reached absently to shift it. His fingers strayed to the amulet and he traced the marking on it. “Did you ever have to wear these things?”
“No. It must be part of the special purification.”
“Because of my impure blood.”
“Most likely.”
“Do you see the change in me?”
“Of course, but I didn’t know if he’d shown you.” Khenir gave him a shy, sidelong look. “You’re very handsome. You were before, but now you look more like a full-blooded ’faie than a…Oh, no. I don’t mean anything by it! I’m not…”
“It’s all right.” Alec gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and chuckled. “I’ve been called a lot worse.”
Khenir fell in step beside him again, but the silence that followed felt rather strained. “I saw your name,” Alec told him.
“You did? Where?”
“On the door,” Alec whispered.
Khenir looked honestly perplexed. “What door?”
“In my cell.” Perhaps it had been another man of that name. Whatever the case, Khenir seemed to have no idea what he was talking about.
But after a moment Khenir nodded sadly. “Oh yes, down at the bottom. I’d forgotten. That was a dark time.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”
Khenir patted his hand. “You apologize far too often, and for things that are not any fault of yours. It’s enough for me that I have someone I can talk to. You see, I was half-dead when Ilban brought me here, and I wasn’t kept down there very long. As soon as I could speak again, I pledged my life to him. I’ve kept that promise.”
Alec couldn’t really fault Khenir for that; he had been pretty damn grateful, himself, the night a stranger who’d turned out to be Seregil had gotten him out of that north country dungeon the night before Alec was to be sold to Plenimaran slavers. It was ironic, really. Everything that he’d done and become since then had landed him here anyway, with a collar around his neck.
“There were more names. What happened to all those people?”
Khenir shrugged. “Who knows? It’s a very old house and they could have belonged to Ilban’s family.”
Just then they were interrupted by shrill, childish laughter. A small boy dashed into the garden, clutching a toy horse to his chest and looking back over his shoulder with a challenging grin. Somewhere behind him, another child wailed angrily. Alec didn’t need to understand the language to guess that the boy was teasing his sister.
A woman called out sharply, and the child stuck out his tongue. He turned and made for the fountain, but halted as he caught sight of Alec and Khenir in the shadow of the portico. The child’s mischievous expression changed to open disdain. He snapped something at them, and Khenir hastily bowed and put on his veil.
“Cover your face!” he whispered to Alec.
Alec pulled his up, but not quickly enough to suit the little tyrant. The child stamped his foot and shouted at them.
Khenir replied with a deeper bow, but that only made the boy angrier. He snatched up a stone from beside the pathway and cocked his arm back, ready to throw. Khenir just stood there, hands at his side.
Alec stepped between them, glaring at the child to make him stop.
The boy’s eyes widened and the hand holding the stone lowered a bit. But there was no mistaking the malice in his eyes.
“Buko!” he cried angrily, and it sounded like either a threat or an insult.
The veiled nursemaid appeared before things could get any worse and hurried to catch the boy. Forgetting about Alec and Khenir, he dropped the stone and darted out of reach, laughing again as he disappeared the way he’d come.
Rhania paused a moment, looking at them, and Alec saw the unmistakable tracery of Khatme clan tattoos on her face above the veil. More surprising still was the naked animosity in her dark eyes as she looked past him to Khenir.
He spoke sharply to her and she flinched as if he’d struck her, then hurried away, hissing something back at him under her breath.
“What was that about?” asked Alec, wishing he’d had a chance to speak with her.
“She hates me,” Khenir explained. “I took her place in the master’s esteem, and now she’s just the nursemaid.”
“She’s a Khatme.”
“Yes, and no one holds a grudge more deeply. You’d do well to watch out for her. She’s a spiteful, ill-tempered one, that woman.”
“What did the boy say, before she came out?”
“Oh, he was just playing the little master, upbraiding us for having our faces bare. The whole household spoils young Master Osri, and his father worst of all. I hope I didn’t get you in trouble, letting you go without your veil again. If Ilban says anything, just put the blame on me. It was my fault anyway, and he’s less likely to punish you that way. Now come, let’s walk a little more before they make you go back.”
That evening Alec stared down at his supper tray in surprise, thinking, Yhakobin must be really pleased with me! First the unexpected walk in the garden with Khenir, and now this; in addition to the usual bread, soup, and apple, there was a thick wedge of white cheese.
His mouth w
atered painfully as he sniffed it, but he resisted the urge to wolf it down. Instead, he ate the bread and soup first, then savored the cheese a nibble at a time, between bites of the apple. If the alchemist had visited him then, he might have thanked him outright, not for his kindness, but for food that would give him that much more strength when he finally escaped.
That thought carried a twinge of guilt. Once again, he might have been able to pull free from Khenir and make for the walls before the guards could catch up with him. And of course, there was that business with the kiss.
With Khenir or without him, I’ve got to get out of here, and soon! He kissed his palm and pressed it to his heart. Soon, talí. I swear I’ll find a way…
He woke at Micum Cavish’s house to the familiar smell of sweat and woodsmoke, and the wail of the high wind off the mountains. It moaned through the tall pines outside and drove rain against the shuttered windows and down the chimney. Droplets glittered a moment in the smoky red light, then died, hissing on the smoldering embers.
For the first time, he and Seregil had shared this guest room at Watermead as lovers rather than friends. Already drained by the emotion of Seregil’s near escape, and hampered by his own inept and embarrassed awkwardness, Alec had thought to wait a little longer, but Seregil had conquered his fears with kisses and caresses, and treated him tenderly, showing Alec the first ways of pleasure rather than taking his own.
Now, snug and happily dazed under a pile of furs and blankets, with Seregil curled warm against his back, Alec lay there lost in awe of the experience. What was it the Oracle at Rhíminee had told Seregil, soon after they first met? “Father, brother, friend, and lover.”
Seregil had truly been all four to him now.
Lover. Talimenios. He couldn’t even think the words yet without blushing hotly, but there was no shame, and no regret. Just wonder.
And he couldn’t get back to sleep. When he finally pushed up on one elbow to see if daylight was showing through the shutters yet, Seregil made a sleepy sound of protest at the sudden draft sucked under the covers by Alec’s movement and snuggled closer, tightening his arm around Alec’s waist…
Shadows Return Page 16
