Shadows Return Part 15

Alec froze, cup halfway to his lips. He and Seregil had had dealings with the leader of the Viresse clan during Klia's negotiations in Aurenen. Ulan was a smooth, ruthless man, and one not likely to forgive them for their role in breaking up the Viresse monopoly on Aurenen's trade with the Three Lands.

Could it have been him who betrayed us? What was a year's time for an Aurenfaie to wait, who counted time in decades? Perhaps all Ulan had to do was bide his time until they came back to Aurenen. And there'd been no secrecy about their mission. What was a year's time for an Aurenfaie to wait, who counted time in decades? Perhaps all Ulan had to do was bide his time until they came back to Aurenen. And there'd been no secrecy about their mission.

"Is there something wrong with your tea?" asked Yhakobin.

Alec shook his head and took another sip of the fragrant tea, letting it wash away the lingering aftertaste of the tincture.

"The world is a large place, Alec, and I think you have seen only a little bit of it in your young life. You've been taught things about my country that are not true."

I knew you kept slaves, Alec thought, but wisely held his tongue. Alec thought, but wisely held his tongue.

"And you know nothing of alchemy, do you? Would you like to know more?"

"Yes, Ilban," Alec replied eagerly, though not for the reason Yhakobin probably thought.

Yhakobin filled both their cups again. "Alchemy is the art of manipulating the consciousness that exists in all matter. With skill and knowledge, an alchemist can effect great transformations."

"Turning lead into gold?" Alec asked, skeptical.

"That is certainly one of the better-known applications, the epitome of the lowly puffer's art, but one of very minor importance to any serious alchemist. No, we seek a deeper spiritual transformation, to heal the inner disharmonies of individuals, and of the world."

He pointed to an elaborate tower of gla.s.s vessels, now brewing on the athanor. They were the round-bellied type, with down-curving, snout-shaped outlets, each shedding drops of something into a small, three-legged cauldron covered in raised symbols.

"The distillation vessel is one of the more common implements. One of our great arts is that of refining and transformation. It was an alchemist who discovered the smelting of iron from base ore a great many years before our ancestors came to this part of the world. Others perfected the elegant balance of alloys to create hard steel, bronze, and other high metals. And we discovered the combinations of metal, symbols, and auspicious hours that give power to objects, such as that amulet you're wearing.

"But most importantly, we learned to extract powerful medicines from metals, minerals, common animal matter, and herbs. These tinctures I've given you are of that nature. They cleave to and bind impure energies in your blood, so that they can be removed by the natural functions of the body." He smiled. "In that way. I have been your physician. Or, if you prefer, your body has been like one of my distillation vessels. By combining the right elements under the proper conditions, I have transformed you into what you saw in the mirror."

"But why go to the trouble when you could have just bought yourself a pure 'faie?" Alec asked, intrigued in spite of himself.

"Because never before have I found one of your exquisite lineage. You are unique."

Alec kept his attention on his tea. While many people in Aurenen had made a fuss over his Hazadrielfaie blood, he'd been more of a curiosity than a wonder. No one had thought him particularly special. Khenir's talk of breeding and gelding came back to him, making his skin p.r.i.c.kle uncomfortably.

"May I ask, Ilban, why that's so important? I'd been given to believe that the Hazadrielfaie were only a minor clan."

"They are not a clan at all, but a group of individuals united by a unique accident of nature. I a.s.sure you, Alec, you are a very special young man. With your help, I will perhaps be able to make a very powerful medicine, indeed. One that may well cure all the ills of the body. Is that not a worthy goal?"

"And you need Hazadrielfaie blood for that?"

"Only that will do. And according to the texts, an even purer elixir can be distilled to prolong the human span of life to that of a 'faie. A very long time ago, longer even than 'faie memory, an alchemist from my land discovered the secret method of distilling it. The Hazadrielfaie selfishly wanted no part of the work, though. That's why they took themselves away as they did, and the few Aurenfaie who knew the truth are long dead, and the memory is lost there. But here in Plenimar the secret teachings have been pa.s.sed down in certain lines. I am the scion of one of those lineages."

"What would happen if a 'faie used the elixir that makes their life longer?"

"A very interesting question. Now, I must get back to work. And despite your earlier unruliness, I believe you deserve a reward today. Would you like to walk in my meditation garden with Khenir?"

Alec bowed deeply to hide his sudden rush of excitement, both at seeing the closest thing he had to a friend here and at the opportunity for a better look at that garden. "Thank you, Ilban. I would like that very much."

"Good. It must give you some comfort, having another 'faie to converse with."

"It does, Ilban." And it did.

When the guards came for him as usual, Khenir was with them. He wore a cloak over his house robe, and held up another for Alec, and a pair of thick, felted wool slippers.

Alec started to thank him, but Khenir caught his eye and made a quick, nervous nod in Yhakobin's direction. Alec turned and made a small bow. "Thank you again for your kindness, Ilban."

"And the veil, Khenir," Yhakobin reminded him.

Khenir handed Alec a veil similar to the one he was wearing and helped him tie it on. The guards let them out, but gave Khenir charge of the chain attached to Alec's collar.

"I'm sorry. Ilban's orders," Khenir whispered with an apologetic smile.

"It's all right. I understand," Alec whispered back, too eager to get into the garden to care about it.

One of the guards growled at Khenir as they left the workshop and he immediately bowed and said something servile. It hurt Alec to see it; the Aurenfaie were a proud and dignified people. He thought again of the lash marks he'd seen on Khenir's shoulders, and on the back of the slave on the s.h.i.+p. It made him ashamed again of how easily he'd acquiesced so far, even if he did have good reason.

The guards escorted them through the small side gate to their left and into the fountain court. A covered portico encircled it on three sides. The inner walls were painted a brilliant blue and bright, fanciful scenes of sea life showed through the white pillars. Neatly laid out paths of crushed sh.e.l.l led through tidy herb beds and leafless bushes to a large round fountain at the center of the garden. A slender pillar of white stone supported four stylized fish, whose spouting mouths filled the basin below.

Alec took all this in at a glance, then turned to more important elements. This courtyard occupied the angle between the main house and the workshop gardens, and was solidly enclosed on those sides. Over the east and south walls, however, he saw treetops and sky. There were two more guards, as well, stationed at the far end of the garden. The two who'd escorted them here remained on guard by the gate, leaving Alec and Khenir at least the semblance of privacy for a little while.

Khenir kept a grip on Alec's lead but linked his other arm companionably through Alec's as he led him around the portico to admire the frescoes. The simple friendliness of the gesture brought a lump to Alec's throat.

"What did those guards say to you before?" Alec whispered.

"They don't like us speaking our own language, which they can't understand. We're well contained here, though, so they're less concerned. They've agreed to let us walk about while they and the others keep watch."

It was such a relief to be out in the fresh air that for a little while Alec let himself forget about tinctures and masters and guards and simply lost himself in the pleasure of being outside. It was a fine day; the cold, sweet breeze carried the smell of pine and the sea. Gulls circled high overhead, s.h.i.+ning white against the deep blue of the sky.

"Are we close to the coast?" he asked.

"About five miles," Khenir replied. His hand tightened on Alec's arm as he whispered, "I know what you're thinking, and you must put such thoughts from your mind. Ilban's men are trained slave trackers."

"You've never tried?"

Khenir glanced nervously back in the guards' direction. "I did-once, before I came here. I was fortunate that the master who held me then didn't want me maimed. But he punished me so badly he might as well have. It's a different world here, Alec. You must accept that."

"So I should just give up?" Alec hissed bitterly.

"Yes. With that face and that hair, you wouldn't get a mile before you were caught."

Alec knew a thing or two about not being seen, but held his tongue.

They left the portico and walked along the sh.e.l.l paths. Khenir took off his veil and turned his face up to the pale sun. Alec did the same, savoring the feel of the breeze against his bare skin. He didn't think he'd ever get used to wearing the hated sc.r.a.p of fabric. He'd worn masks nightrunning, but this was a badge of shame.

"Why do they only make 'faie slaves wear these?"

"As a reminder of our bondage," Khenir replied. "But they also protect us, s.h.i.+elding us from the eyes of other masters."

"What do you mean?"

"If a n.o.ble of higher standing came here and decided he wanted you, Lord Yhakobin would have no choice but to sell you to him, or even give you away if his guest was of a very high rank. It's not uncommon for such things to happen, especially with comely slaves like you."

"Bilairy's b.a.l.l.s!" Alec pulled away and stared at him in disbelief. "We really are just chattel, aren't we? Like a hound or a horse."

"True, but it's not always a bad thing."

"How can you say that?"

Khenir hushed him, shooting another nervous look in the guards' direction. "Please behave. I don't want to be sent in so soon."

"What do you mean, it's not a bad thing to be owned?" Alec whispered angrily.

Khenir was quiet for a moment as they continued on. He looked so sad that Alec slipped his arm through the other man's again, covering the hand that held the chain with his own. Khenir gave him a grateful look that melted Alec's heart.

"You don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to," Alec told him.

"Actually, it's a better memory for me than most. I've had a number of masters, most of them far more...demanding. The last was the cruelest of all, the one I ran away from, and he nearly killed me. Master Yhakobin saw me during a visit to the man's country estate. He was so..."

Khenir paused, blinking back tears. "He saw the wretched condition I was in and took pity on me. He took me away with him the next day. I am so grateful for that! He saved my life with his elixirs, and ever since he's been the kindest master I've had."

"How many have you had?"

"Too many," Khenir replied, and Alec thought again of the terrible scars he had seen on his shoulders.

"Well, he must think very highly of you, to trust you with me like this." It struck him then that if he made a break for the wall now and did manage to escape, it was probably Khenir who would pay the price. So I'll just have to take him with me when I go. So I'll just have to take him with me when I go.

"Your collar is a lot fancier than mine, too," he went on. "I took it for jewelry the first time I saw you."

Khenir touched it self-consciously, as if he'd forgotten about it until Alec mentioned it. "I've earned his favor."

"Do masters ever let a slave go?"

To his surprise, Khenir nodded. "Sometimes, if the slave has done some extraordinary service. Or sometimes, a favored slave is bequeathed his freedom when the master dies. Usually, though, we're pa.s.sed along to the heirs with the rest of the household goods, or sold off to buy new, younger ones. It's a frightening time, when a master dies. You don't know where you'll end up."

Once again Alec sensed there was a great deal going unsaid and too many painful memories. He tightened his arm through Khenir's and said, "There was a n.o.bleman with Master Yhakobin today."

"The Overlord's legate. I served him breakfast this morning. A very powerful man, that one. Ilban was quite nervous about his visit, and what news he'll take back to Benshal. I hope you behaved yourself?"

"I must have. Ilban gave me tea and talked about alchemy."

"See? It's just as I said. Behave yourself and he'll treat you well."

"Do you know a lot about alchemy?"

Khenir smiled and shook his head. "I just do what he asks of me, grinding elements and cleaning the gla.s.sware."

"He doesn't have much good to say about Oreska magic, but I don't see much difference."

"Well, it's all the same to us, isn't it?" Khenir drew him over to the fountain. "Come see the fish."

"Fish?"

As they approached the broad basin a pair of white doves that had been drinking there took wing. Coming closer, Alec saw that there were water lilies growing there, and clumps of small, striped rushes in sunken clay pots. Large, sleek fish were swimming among the submerged stems. They were shaped like trout, but their markings were like nothing he'd seen before. Their bodies were white as fresh snow, with spots of brilliant orange and velvety black.

Khenir took a crust of stale bread from his pocket and showed Alec how to make them swim up for crumbs. The largest would take the bread from their fingers.

Alec grinned as a very large one with an orange face sucked greedily at his finger. "I wonder how they taste?" His mouth watered at the thought of a few of those plump swimmers spitted on a green stick over a bed of good hot coals.

Khenir chuckled. "Don't let Ilban hear you say that. These are imported from some land beyond the Gathwayd. Any one of them would bring a better price than either of us."

"Master Yhakobin must be a very rich man."

"And a very powerful one, as well. He's among the chief alchemists in Plenimar. The Overlord himself consults with him often, about his son."

"What's wrong with him?"

"The boy is very young and frail, and suffers from fits no physician or priest has been able to cure. Master Yhakobin's tinctures are all that keep him alive, or so I'm told. A courier comes once a week for new ones, sometimes more often if the child is doing very poorly. And the legate, too, as you saw today."

So that's why my blood was so important! If Yhakobin could cure the Overlord's son, then he'd probably be the most favored man in Plenimar. "Why isn't Ilban at court in Benshal?" If Yhakobin could cure the Overlord's son, then he'd probably be the most favored man in Plenimar. "Why isn't Ilban at court in Benshal?"

"I suppose it's a mark of how important he is that the Overlord lets him potter about down here in the country. They are on very good terms. His Majesty visits occasionally."

"You've seen the Overlord?"

"Yes. A powerful and ambitious man."

Alec tucked that information away. "You're sure alchemy isn't necromancy, using blood and all that?"

"Oh yes! The master despises necromancers even more than he detests wizards." Khenir looked around, making sure the guards were still by the gate at the far end of the garden. "He also worries about the hold they have on the Overlord. They don't practice openly in most parts of the country, but he keeps some of the most powerful at court, and Ilban thinks he relies on them far too much. It's rumored that he uses them against his own people, just as his father before him. Despite what you Skalans think, the Plenimaran people have no love for necromancy. It's a blight on the land, and there are those who say that the young heir's illness is a punishment from the Immortals."

Alec considered this as he watched the fish nudging about among the plants, looking for more crumbs. His only experience of Plenimarans before now had been at the hands of their soldiers and necromancers, but if the people were not all like that-if they hated their ruler and his filthy minions-then maybe he could find help of some sort when he escaped.

"He said that I'm important in some way, because of who my mother's people are."

"Oh? What clan are you?"

"Hazadrielfaie."

Khenir looked at him in surprise. "Those who went north? I've never heard of them mixing with any outsiders. Some even say they all died years ago."

"I never knew my mother's people, and I don't know how she met my father. He never told me anything except that she was dead. But later I found out that, after I was born, he took me away before her people could kill me, as they do all ya'shel. They murdered her, though, before my father could save her."

"That's very sad. I'm sorry."

"Well, it's not like I remember her. I didn't know anything about her until-" He hesitated, but d.a.m.n it, he was sick of being so guarded with the only person here who'd shown him any kindness. "Ireya. Her name was Ireya a Shaar. An oracle showed her to me. That's all I know, really." Except that she died to save my father's life. And mine. Except that she died to save my father's life. And mine.

"Then you don't even know where her people are?"

"Not exactly. The Hazadrielfaie kill outsiders on sight, so no one goes near their lands. Those who try don't come back."