Lynn Flewelling - Shadows Return

“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 Aurënfaie 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 ship. 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 shell 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, shining 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 shell 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 scrap 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, shielding us from the eyes of other masters.”

“What do you mean?”

“If a noble 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 Balls!” 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.

“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 passed 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 nobleman 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 Benshâl. 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 glassware.”

“He doesn’t have much good to say about Orëska 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.