When he was completely empty, bled out, she needed yet more. This would be difficult for them both. She took a moment to gather herself and went further.
She could sense his struggle, feel him trying to suppress the natural desperate need to fight what she did. It was like a drowning man trying not to breathe air. But he was empty of power and unable to block her. She plunged into him and seized him.
He recoiled, straining backward although his physical body hardly moved. His wrists trembled in her grip. She tightened her mind’s grasp on his very self and began to tear it away.
There was a long shriek somewhere far away, but Ariana did not allow distraction. She pulled and twisted at him until a piece ripped free, quivering in her mental hold. Immediately she turned her attention to the tapestry of the binding. The power she poured into it easily, just as if creating a battery of energy for later use, and then she wove the living soul through the threads and ropes and chains, the warp and woof of the binding, and with every movement it cried in her grip, shrinking as if the strands burned it, writhing so that it was hard to keep hold of it. But she persisted, and at last it was firmly ensnared in the careful layers. She began to close the broken bits, weaving the cables together and setting the hooks firmly into the screaming bit of his self.
When it was fully bound she reached for the final seal, the great lock that held every thread and cable and chain together. As she clasped it she felt the key burn across her mind: Tamaryl. His name, his true name, would release him, if spoken with intent by the mages who closed this lock.
She had finished, and she withdrew into herself, releasing the metal wristbands and letting the mental picture fade away. Sound assaulted her and she opened her eyes, disoriented.
The boy Tam lay on the ground before her, gasping and clutching his chest. She stared for a moment at his panting, sweating form. “Tam!”
Becknam was on his feet beside them. “Is that right?”
She seized the boy’s shoulders, trying to steady him against the ground. “Tam, can you hear me?”
“Don’t,” he gasped. “Don’t touch.” He squeezed his eyes tightly closed, his fingers spasming against his chest as if trying to reach his heart. “Just—wait.”
“He was screaming. It didn’t seem like you heard him.” Becknam looked at her. “I don’t—did you hear him? Did you keep on through that?”
Guilty horror washed over Ariana. “I didn’t, not really. I was concentrating.”
Tam’s panting slowed, and his rigid form relaxed a little bit. Ariana looked at him. “We don’t have any more chocolate.”
Tam’s hands left his chest to wrap around his torso. “Wouldn’t—help. It helps—power.” And of course he could not gather power now.
Becknam leaned over the boy. “He sounds a little better.”
Tam opened his eyes. “I—I will be all right.” He swallowed. “Need time.”
Ariana bit her lip. “What did I do wrong?” she asked.
His eyes found hers and he shook his head slowly, his cheek brushing the ground. “You executed everything perfectly. Your father would be proud.”
“But—you said it would hurt a little!”
He gave her a small, grim smile. “If I had told you what to expect, would you have done it so readily?” His eyes closed again.
Ariana felt angry and relieved and horrified together. She sat back, slumping as she realized how tired she was. The binding had been difficult.
Becknam sighed, relieved. “It looks like we’ll be here for a while at least. We’d better make ourselves comfortable.”
“No,” Tam said. “Only a few minutes more.” He pushed himself up, crossing his arms over his chest. “It passes quickly.”
Becknam looked at him critically and then shrugged. “Then we’ll go.” He nodded toward Ariana’s bag. “Much of the slide went over the edge, but it looked passable. We’ll have to backtrack and try again.”
Ariana looked at him. “Again?”
“We can’t get through down here.” He jerked a pack cord tight. “Pray we don’t meet another catoblepas.”
Tam opened his eyes and breathed deep, as if testing his lungs. “All right.”
“Good. On your feet.”
Ariana began to protest, but Tam shifted his weight and rose, mostly steady. Ariana looked at him and then stood herself, hoisting her pack to her shoulders.
Becknam stepped toward Tam and held out a pack. “This is yours.”
Tam looked at the pack and then raised his eyes to return Becknam’s gaze evenly. Though the pack sank as he took its weight, he did not drop his eyes.
Becknam turned away and slung his own burden onto his back. Tam hesitated before finally heaving his onto his shoulders, wincing.
Ariana looked at him, remembering his injuries. “You can’t carry that,” she said.
Becknam turned, and Tam clenched his jaw. “My lady, I can.”
He would not back down before the commander. She hesitated, and Becknam gave the order. “Move out.”
Ariana started after him, watching Tam. But the boy moved forward determinedly, as if nothing were wrong. She looked at Becknam’s stiff posture; there would be no talking with him now.
She was already weary from the binding. She thought of nothing at all as Becknam led them around and up the mountain once more. Ariana kept her eyes on his pack as they climbed, her lungs straining as they ascended. Her mind was empty of everything but following, breathing. Finally they reached a level place and she paused. “Please,” she panted, “let’s rest a moment.”
Becknam nodded without speaking, and she saw he was winded as well. She sat against a rock, stretching her legs before her, and then jerked upright as she realized Tam was not with them. “Where is he?”
Becknam, drinking from his leather bag, gestured down the trail behind them. “He’s coming.”
She turned to look, and indeed after a moment she could pick him out, head bowed as he struggled up the rocky slope. “But he’s so far behind!”
“He’ll catch up,” Becknam said darkly. “I carry the food and water.”
She looked at him hard. “What?”
He looked at her. “Prisoners of war carry no rations or tools.” He held out the water to her. “He’ll have plenty with us tonight, of course.”
“He’s not a prisoner!”
“What is he, then? He is either a Ryuven in our hands, stripped of power by your own magic—our prisoner—or he is your slave. I think you’ll agree it’s hard to think of him as only the latter.”
“He is on our side.”
“So he says. I might even believe him, after I learn more about it; there are always turncoats and opportunists. But it’s also possible he was only biding his time to some purpose, and now that we know what he is he might act more precipitously.” He proffered the water again. “Want a drink?”
Ariana took it. “He’s no threat now. That binding is strong.”
“He broke it once before.”
“Incompletely,” she said. “Most of it was still in place. He was helpless.” She looked back, seeing Tam a little closer. He was climbing the steeper parts on hands and feet, pulling himself up.
Becknam sighed. “I leave it to you, my lady. He is no proven ally. Is he to be a prisoner or a slave?”
Ariana looked at the recently-ennobled count, more the military commander to which he’d been trained, and the indecision behind his eyes. He didn’t know what to make of Tam—how could he?—and so he treated him with the caution of one who had been raised to fight the Ryuven. She tried to soften her angry tone. “He is my servant.”
Becknam gave her a formal nod. “Then we will treat him as such. He is your servant.” He reached for the water and took a final drink. “Are you ready to move on?”
“But he—”
“He will find us tonight; the way is clear enough. Or is my lady in the habit of waiting upon slaves?”
All sympathy vanished. She glared at him and wa
s rewarded by his flinch. He opened his mouth, hesitated, and then spoke. “We’re losing daylight.” He shifted his pack and turned away, tackling the next slope. Ariana followed, glancing back once more at Tam’s distant form.
Chapter 8
Shianan Becknam slowed in the city traffic and came to a halt, shifting the pack with the Shard on his shoulders. “I need to take this into the Naziar,” he said.
Ariana gestured. “Our house is just a bit—”
“I will not take the Shard into the house of a possible traitor,” Becknam said flatly.
Ariana resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Would that be the same possible traitor who helped determine the Shard’s potential and who sent you to bring it for the kingdom’s benefit?”
Becknam’s lips thinned. “I will deliver the Shard for safekeeping,” he said. “And then I will come to Mage Hazelrig’s house to discuss his… unorthodox choice in slaves.”
Ariana’s heart quickened. “He will have an explanation for you.”
“I am certain he will. The question is whether his explanation will be acceptable to the Wheel and the council.”
Ariana’s stomach twisted. Becknam turned away toward the gates to the palace-fortress of Naziar. Ariana saw the guards step forward to challenge him and then snap to attention as they recognized the commander-count. He spoke to them and went inside without looking back.
“If we—”
“Quiet,” she said more sharply than she’d meant. She was angry with Tam, she realized, and it was because she was afraid and it was his fault. She swallowed. “We should hurry.”
“That’s what I was going to say,” he responded, his voice faintly petulant. He could be such a twelve-year-old boy, and it disturbed her how easily she might have slipped into believing again.
She did not answer, only started into the heavy afternoon traffic again.
The White Mage’s townhouse was on a high street overlooking the marketplace a quarter-mile below, an easy walk from the Naziar. From the front step one could just see the slow river which bisected the city en route to the nearby sea. Between the street, from which it was walled, and the welcoming entrance, it boasted a tiny garden in which were set a variety of flowering plants and two small fruit trees, somewhat overgrown.
Ariana pushed open the ornamental iron gate and went directly to the front door. “Father! Are you here?” Tam came behind her, already reaching for the straps on his pack.
“Ariana!” Ewan Hazelrig hurried around the corner into the elegant entry, his arms outstretched. “Safely home!” He crushed her in a welcoming hug. “Oh, here, darling, slip your pack. Everything went well, I expect? How well you look! I half-expected you to have withered away with travel. Tam, welcome back.”
Ariana clung to her father, uncertain of how even to begin. She stepped back and tripped on her discarded pack. “Tam! Take this away.”
“Let it wait a moment,” her father said, smiling. “It’s not urgent, and he’s likely as weary as you are.”
“Not Tam,” Ariana intoned, turning to look at the boy, who hesitated. “He’s capable of all sorts of surprising things.”
Ewan raised his eyebrows. “Tam, you seem to have gotten on the wrong side of your mistress.”
“Let us say rather,” amended Ariana, “he has gotten on the wrong side of the between-worlds.”
Ewan went still. Tam, his eyes on the far wall, held out one arm to Ewan. The mage glanced at him and then touched the wrist cuff lightly. His eyes widened, and he looked at Ariana.
“How could you have kept this from me?” she burst. “Do you know what this means? By all that’s holy, Father, why?”
Her father looked suddenly tired. “Sit down, Ariana. I’ll try to explain.”
“We don’t have time for you to explain—not like you should. Commander Becknam will be here as soon as he’s delivered the Shard, and he thinks you’re a traitor. And I know you can’t be, it makes no sense for a traitor to want the Shard to defend the kingdom, but all he can see is that you’ve disguised a Ryuven. And—and that’s what I see, too.” She stared at him, willing him to somehow laugh and declare it all a fantastic joke, though that was wholly impossible.
Ewan Hazelrig rubbed a hand across his face. “Let me say first, it was not for lack of trust in you. But you were too young to be given such a secret for a long time, and… by then, I think it had become habit.” He turned and went into the sitting room, taking his favorite chair and lacing his fingers together. Ariana and Tam followed, and Ariana took another padded chair.
Her father took a breath. “How did Becknam learn the truth?”
Ariana’s stomach clenched. “I—we were—we were attacked by a catoblepas, and—I fell. I would have died.”
Her father stared. “What?”
“There was a rockslide into the ravine, and—Tam saved me.” She looked at the boy standing between them, and her throat tightened as she recalled the rush of wind past her face. “He saved my life.”
Ewan exhaled. “Then no matter what comes, it will have been worthwhile.” He looked at Tam. “How can I thank you?”
Tam shook his head. “There is no need. I did only what I was sworn to do—what I wanted to do.”
Ewan braced his hands on his legs. “You broke the binding yourself?”
“Only just enough to take my own form.”
“We didn’t think you would be able.”
Tam looked at his feet. “I was so afraid I wouldn’t.”
“But that should have been enough….”
“Enough to be noted, yes.” Tam glanced at Ariana. “I told her to hide when they came. Afterward, the commander found us and—”
“No!” Ariana interrupted. “No, he’s leaving it out. They came for him, six of them.”
“Six,” Ewan repeated. “And the binding was not shattered?”
Tam shook his head. “They—were killing me.”
Ariana wondered for the first time what it must have been for him—not only the physical brutality which had horrified her, but seeing his own kind for the first time in so many years and nearly dying at their hands.
“But then,” Tam said, “Oniwe’aru came.”
Ewan caught his breath. “Oniwe’aru?”
“Wait—that was Oniwe?” repeated Ariana, stunned. She had not fully grasped the name until hearing it in her father’s voice.
“The aru is the ruler of the Ai,” Tam told her. “So he is Oniwe’aru.”
“I didn’t know aru, but I know Oniwe and the Ai.” The Ai was the most powerful clan of the Ryuven. “Why should Oniwe himself bother with you?”
Tam wet his lips and kept his voice low. “We share a mother.”
Ariana’s jaw dropped. “You….” She shook her head incredulously. “A half-dozen Ryuven, a secret friend, Oniwe himself as your brother…. King’s sweet oats, it’s a streetside melodrama.”
Surprisingly, her father did not correct her language. “This melodrama, as you call it, is a very real concern for us now. Let’s focus on a solution. But first, tell me of Oniwe’aru. What happened then?”
“He stopped them.” Tam would not meet their eyes. “He granted that I would not be killed by che, and he—he drained me himself.”
“Knowing you would not heal from your injuries,” Ewan said softly. Ariana noted he did not have to ask what the che were. “Could he not bring himself to…?”
Tam swallowed. “Or it may be that a traitor does not deserve a clean, painless death.”
This talk was disturbing. “Then another one came,” Ariana began, and briefly related her exchange with Maru.
“And so I healed, at least enough, and then my lady renewed the binding.”
Ewan nodded to Ariana. “That would have been a difficult thing to repair; I am proud. It proves again your talent and skill.”
Is that why I failed the Black examination? Ariana wanted to demand, but they did not have time for other topics. Becknam was no doubt already on his way.
> Ewan looked back at Tam. “So they think you dead?”
“All but Maru,” said Tam, “and he will say nothing.”
“Why do they want you anyway?” demanded Ariana. “What’s to kill for after fifteen years? It just doesn’t make sense.”
Tam’s eyes flicked to her father’s. Neither answered.
Insight came to her. “Tam’s very powerful—aren’t you? That is why they could sense you though the binding was only cracked, why—that’s why you were able to break the binding!”
“It was meant more to conceal than to permanently disable.”
“Still.” She shook her head. “I didn’t know there were many Ryuven like that,” she said in a little awe. “I mean, to work at all through that seal, you’d have to be—really frightening, to be honest. The stuff of stories to scare naughty children. Pairvyn ni’Ai, returned.” She looked at Tam. “So they wanted you to fight for them, to be their champion.”
Ewan wrapped his fingers deliberately about the arms of the chair. “He wanted a choice.”
“You realize what this means, don’t you?” Ariana looked between them.
“I will have lived fifteen years more,” Tam said.
“But what about my father?” she demanded. “What about you? Bailaha is coming here right now. Do you know what the council will do if they discover you’ve harbored a Ryuven all this time? Or the Court of the High Star?”
“I did the right thing,” Ewan said. “He did not want to fight. I did not want to kill him unresisting.” He paused. “I do not think you would have wanted me to, or that you would have done so yourself.”
Ariana looked at Tam, his serious eyes in his boy’s face, and shook her head slowly. “No, I hope I wouldn’t. But I don’t know what we’ll do now. If Shianan Becknam tells….”
“King’s oats.” Her father looked at Tam. “He has not killed you, obviously.”
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