Lynn Flewelling - Shadows Return

The night air was cold enough that they could see their breath in front of them. It was poor country for shelter or hiding. Trees were sparse, and the few villages they passed were mean little places.

Seregil was grim, and Khenir wisely kept his mouth shut, though he was obviously in pain. Alec could feel the tension crackling between the two of them. And no wonder, if he’d understood Ahmol and Yhakobin correctly. He tried to keep his mind on the way in front of them, but his heart was in turmoil. This wasn’t how he’d envisioned his reunion with his talimenios; Seregil was distant and clearly upset by Sebrahn’s presence, as well as his obvious loathing of Khenir.

Alec felt betrayed. Hadn’t there been signs enough that Khenir had lied to him? But deep down inside, he was also sorry to have his worst suspicions about the man realized.

When Khenir began to lag behind, however, it was Seregil who fell back and took his arm to support him.

“Are you going to kill me now?” Alec heard Khenir whisper.

“Shut up and keep walking,” Seregil growled back.

They’d gone another mile or so when he heard the sound of moving water. Veering to the right, he soon found a small spring. Alec put Sebrahn down to the ground and stretched, easing his stiff shoulders. Ilar collapsed where he was, shaking with exhaustion.

The spring water was sweet and cold. Each drank his fill, then sat a while to rest. Seregil settled beside Alec and hugged him close, obviously not caring what the others might think. Alec hugged him back. Khenir watched them with an almost hungry expression.

Alec glared back at him. “All that time, you knew, and you lied to me.”

“I–I didn’t dare tell you,” Khenir stammered. “Not while we were still in that house. Once Ilban had freed me, I would have explained.”

“I’m sure you would have, and enjoyed it, too,” Seregil said, in that dangerously calm tone that always boded ill for someone. “There’s a lot you didn’t tell him, isn’t there? Alec, I’d like to introduce you to an old friend of mine. This is Ilar í Sontir.”

For a long moment Alec felt numb. Then the pieces began to fall into place. “Then…why is he still alive?”

Seregil sighed. “When I figure that out, I’ll let you know.”

Alec barely heard him. He jumped to his feet, sword drawn, and advanced on the cowering slave. “Ilar? Ilar? You bastard! The spoon, and those walks…You played with me and lied to me, and all the time…”

Seregil caught him before he lunged at Ilar, locking his arms around Alec’s chest as he fought to get loose. “Listen to me! Right now we need to find somewhere to hide before the sun comes up.” Seregil held him fast and brought his lips close to Alec’s ear. “Trust me, too, talí.”

Alec lowered his sword, but any compassion he’d felt for his false protector was gone. Ilar was now his betrayer, too.

Seregil took Alec by the arm and drew him away from the others.

“Let it go, talí,” Seregil whispered. “Ilar’s a silky customer, and always was. Whatever happened between you-”

“You think something happened?” Alec sputtered, stung by the notion.

“I saw you two down in the garden, by the fish pool,” Seregil told him, sounding pained to have to speak of it.

Alec took his hand. “He tried to seduce me. Even though I trusted him then, I wouldn’t betray you. I wasn’t even tempted.”

Seregil raked his fingers back through his shorn hair, the way he did when he was particularly uncomfortable or exasperated. “It’s all right. But I remember what he was like-what he’s still like.”

“And yet you didn’t kill him?”

“You stopped me, remember?”

Alec clenched his fists in frustration. “And now we have to anyway, or keep dragging him along so he doesn’t betray us.”

Even in this light he could make out Seregil’s strained little half smile. “I’ve never been much for killing in cold blood, and neither are you. I suppose we’re stuck with him, at least until we’re far enough away from Yhakobin that it doesn’t matter.”

“I still don’t understand. You always said you’d kill him on sight!”

Seregil shook his head. “I’ve seen his scars, talí, and what’s been done to him all these years. He’s not the man I remember. He’s-broken.”

“You pity him?”

“You’re no more surprised than I am. But what could I do to him that his life here hasn’t done already?”

Alec paused, trying to take that in. “Were you with him, all the time we were apart?”

“No, not for the first part. There was an old woman who looked after me while I was sick.”

“I saw you, on the ship. At first I thought you were dead.”

“I damn near did die from the magic they put on me. I don’t know how long I slept, or what he did to me while I did, but when I woke up it was just the old woman for a long time. Ilar showed up later, after he made sure I saw you two together in the garden.”

“That bastard!” he hissed. “How was he with you?”

“He had me at his mercy, and he enjoyed it.”

Alec thought he caught just the slightest hint of uncertainty in his lover’s voice. “Did he force you-”

“You saw what they did to him. But if that had been what it took to get to you, I would have, without a second thought.” Seregil pulled him close again. “Would you have hated me for that?”

Alec looked deep into his own heart. “No,” he murmured, and felt Seregil’s sigh of relief.

“Besides, I attacked him the first chance I got,” Seregil added, clearly pleased at that. “After that, he knew I’d kill him the minute he let his guard down. Whatever else Ilar is, he’s no fool. Come on, now. We’ve got to find someplace to lie up before the sun rises.”

“How far to the Strait?”

“I’m not sure, but if we turn south tomorrow, we’re bound to strike it.”

“And then?”

Seregil gave him a crooked grin. “We take what the Lightbearer sends. Hopefully in the form of a nice swift little boat, eh? Luck in the shadows, Alec. It hasn’t failed us yet.”

“And in the Light,” Alec murmured, hoping the Immortal in question was listening.

As they moved on, Seregil half expected Alec to drop the rhekaro and attack Ilar again.

Instead, when Ilar fell behind, Alec resumed their earlier conversation. “So, who do you think betrayed us to Yhakobin in the first place? The queen, or Ulan í Sathil?”

“I don’t know. Maybe both. But having had a good long time to ponder the matter, I’d say that if the queen was looking for an excuse to cast doubt on her sister’s loyalty, our disappearance with the only missive might be a good starting point.”

“What about Prince Korathan? Would he do something like that to you?”

Seregil frowned. “I wouldn’t have said so, but who knows? If things are really that bad, there isn’t much point in going back to Skala.”

“Do you think Micum knows we’re in trouble yet? Thero must have figured out there was something wrong when the messages didn’t come.”

“We don’t know that they didn’t get them, Alec. Whoever caught us might have figured the sticks out and used them. There’s no way of telling. It’s just us, talí. We’re on our own.”

Alec shrugged. “Well, we’re free, and we’re together. That’s a start.”

Seregil’s grin was all the answer he needed.

LED BY THERO’S sightings, he and Micum entered Virésse as travelers and lost themselves in the crowds of one of the seedier dock wards. They soon located the tavern with the dragon and serpent sign-a low, dirty place frequented by Skalan and Plenimaran sailors, Zengati traders, and other rough sorts. There were no ’faie there, apart from the proprietor-a one-eyed Golinil clansman named Wharit. He was as dirty and disreputable as his clientele, distinguished only by his lack of facial hair and his filthy brown-and-white sen’gai. The barmaids and potboys were all foreigners, as were the whores plying their trade there.