Shadowdance (60 page)

The black sky turned slowly to purple. Innowen watched it, biting his lip. Without quite planning it, he got up and stepped out of the gazebo. His sandals rang on the smooth paving stones as he walked a few paces away. He bent and unlaced the sandal straps and kicked them away. Though the air was warm, the stone was cool under his feet, and he relished the sensation. He flexed his toes, then took a few more steps, marveling at the contact on his skin as his weight shifted from the heel to the ball of each foot.

He looked back at Razkili, who had risen from his chair to watch him—tall, proud Razkili, beautiful Rascal with his perfect body and long, muscled thighs. Then he shot a desperate look at the sky again where purple segued toward violet.

He walked the length of the courtyard and back again, savoring the way his own muscles worked. He paced the circumference. The stone tingled against the soles of his feet. A slow fire warmed his calves and ankles. There was a tightness in his left knee, but that, too, was a delicious pleasure. He wanted to run, but he feared running. It would be too easy to lose himself in the sheer joy of motion, to forget and execute a turn or a leap, and he knew he would not stop.

He looked at the sky again—violet to cobalt blue—and went to Razkili.
Help me,
he pleaded silently with his eyes as he took Rascal's hands and led him like a dance partner away from the gazebo. The heat of Rascal's touch flowed through him as they moved together toward a clear, wide space.

Rascal's arms went around him, pulling him close, and Innowen locked his arms around Razkili's neck. So tight was Rascal's grip that Innowen couldn't move. Their chests rose and fell against each other as they shared breath. The harder Rascal held Innowen, the tighter Innowen clung to Rascal. He pressed his head down on Rascal's shoulder even as his gaze turned skyward.

The night faded away like a dream. Only a few stars remained visible over the courtyard. One by one, they winked out.

"Forgive me," Rascal whispered, laying a damp cheek down on the top of Innowen's head. A terrible trembling ran all through Rascal's body, but he only tightened his grip. It was as if he had decided to try to pull Innowen's body into his own.

Innowen couldn't get away, and he knew now Razkili would never let him go. "Thank you," he muttered gratefully, lifting his face into the soft part of Rascal's neck. "Thank you."

The morning came like a gentle sea foam over the walls of Whisperstone.

For a long time, they stood pressed together, trembling, neither willing to move or speak. Above them, a soft wind flirted through a perfect blue sky. Razkili's right hand shifted up and down Innowen's back. Innowen looked up into Rascal's eyes.

"I'm not supporting you," Rascal said with some confusion.

"I know," Innowen murmured in disbelief. He could still feel the stone under his feet, the touch of Rascal's thighs against his, the tightness in his left knee. Cautiously, he freed himself from Rascal's embrace, half expecting to fall. He stepped back, clutching Rascal's arms. Finally, he let go and took another step backward.

"I can walk!" he shouted suddenly. He jumped up in the air, bursting with excitement, "I don't know why, but I can walk! I'm not crippled, Rascal!" He jumped up again, clapping his hands for joy. He rose on the ball of his right foot and did a triple turn, stopped, flung his head back and let go a laugh.

Rascal laughed too. He executed his own triple turn. "You didn't know I could do that, did you?" he cried joyously. He caught Innowen around the waist and hugged him fiercely. "It's over, Innowen. It's over!"

"It's over for you," a voice said coldly from behind them.

Together, they turned. Sireos strode from a door and crossed the courtyard. In his arms he carried Dyan. It was she who had spoken. Innowen and Razkili moved aside as he bore her into the gazebo and set her down in Minarik's chair. In her right hand she clutched the doll-pipe, which Innowen had given her. Innowen stared at it. Was it his imagination, or had its features undergone a subtle change? It seemed in some respects to resemble the golden figure of Khoom that he had danced with.

Carefully, Dyan arranged her red silken dress over her legs, smoothing each fold to perfection while Sireos stood grimly beside her, his gaze smoldering with suppressed anger as he regarded Innowen and Razkili.

"You are free, Innowen," Dyan said at last, lifting her head with an air of disdain.

Innowen looked at her with an expression of dismay. He knew too well the odd, rigid posture, the way she gripped the chair arms, the way her upper body turned without any reaction from the lower half. "You can't walk," he said with a growing numbness.

"No, I can't," Dyan answered matter-of-factly. "I asked Khoom to let you go." She placed one hand on a thigh and rubbed her palm over it unconsciously, as if her leg was only asleep and she might awaken it. "But He would not. He wanted you, Innowen. He wanted you to be his priest, but you rejected him. And it angered Him that I defended you."

Razkili stepped closer, putting himself ever so subtlety between Dyan and Innowen. "Khoom did this to you because you spoke up for Innowen?"

A strange fire flared in Dyan's eyes as she regarded Razkili, and she paused. When she answered, her voice dripped with disdain and bitterness. "He offered me a bargain," she said. "He didn't believe you when you said you would not dance tonight. You had said that so many times before."

"He heard?" Innowen said, alarmed.

Dyan's mouth curved in a patient sneer. "He is a god, and He has a great interest in you. He hears us now." As if to prove her words, the wind swept down unexpectedly and shook the gazebo, rustled the dry vines, and vanished as suddenly. "He didn't believe you," she continued coolly, "but I did. So we bargained. If you danced tonight, then I would never intercede for you again. You would be His to punish, and I would not interfere."

"But I didn't dance," Innowen told her through clenched teeth.

Dyan raised one eyebrow. "So I won the bargain," she answered stiffly. "You are free of Khoom, and your legs are truly healed. You can walk normally, and never fear the sun again."

"But why can't you walk?" Innowen shouted, confused and enraged. She had used him like a piece in a game with her god. Yet she had done a great thing for him. He was glad he could walk, but not if the price was Dyan's own ruin.

Dyan looked at him as if he were the greatest of fools. He felt the chill that radiated from her, and he felt an unbreachable wall rising between them.

"Khoom is a jealous god," she answered. "Though I am His priestess now, I dared to take your side. My punishment is to bear your curse, walking by night, crippled by day." She raised a hand before Innowen could say anything. "It will not prevent me from doing His work and spreading His worship. With more worshippers, Khoom will grow strong, and I will grow strong as well. That was your mother's mistake. She thought she could keep Khoom for herself, but I will spread His name like a wind-driven fire." Dyan tilted her head, and a tiny, unpleasant smile blossomed upon her rose red mouth. "This land will be His one day. Akkadi will rise on the ashes of Ispor." She raised the pipe to her lips and blew a short riff before lowering it to her lap again.

Innowen felt a shiver up his spine as Dyan motioned for Sireos to pick her up. "Sireos served my father for many years," she said to Innowen from the cradle of the large man's arms. "Now, he'll serve me as Razkili served you."

Sireos stepped arrogantly between Innowen and Razkili, forcing them out of his way. "In serving you, Mistress, I serve Khoom."

"Wait!" Innowen cried, catching up with them, blocking their way. "Where will you go?"

That little smile again turned up the corners of her lips. "If I remain here, Minarik must pass some judgment upon me," she answered. "I don't hold a grudge against him for it. I murdered my father. He should have me executed, but his heart is soft. Instead, of my own will, I will go to Mikonos. That is where the Witch grew up and where Khoom has some few worshippers; They will teach me things I need to know."

Innowen tried to catch her hand. She had been a dear friend once. He feared for her, and he feared the change that had come over her. "Then you'll come back?" he said with a confusing mixture of hope and dread.

Dyan shook her head. "There are lands besides Ispor," came her response. "I have a great respect for Minarik and will not cause him trouble while he rules. For a time I will wander." She pulled her hand free, and her eyes darkened. "But yes. I will come back. Now get out of my way. Sireos already has our wagon waiting."

Innowen bit his lip as he stepped aside. She stared at him for a long moment, and briefly there was a familiar light in her face, and he remembered the young girl he had first met in this same courtyard.

"I love you, Innowen," she said quietly. Biting her lip, she tapped Sireos' arm, and he carried her toward the door. On the threshold, however, she tapped Sireos again. He paused without turning, and she looked over his shoulder. Once more, her eyes filled with a dark and deadly fire. She waited, letting Innowen feel her full power. In the same quiet voice she said, "I hate you."

When Dyan and Sireos were gone, Razkili came to Innowen's side. "She loves you," he said simply. "Khoom has taken on more than he knows. She has a will."

"So did my mother..." Innowen answered, staring at the door Dyan had gone through: "...in the beginning." He turned around, walked back to the gazebo, and grabbed a handful of vines. They crumbled in his grip, and he poured the gritty powder on the ground. "For those who've gone before," he muttered. He turned back to Razkili. "How would you feel about readying a pair of horses?"

Razkili pursed his lips thoughtfully and rubbed his chin. "Are we going to Parendur with your father?" he asked.

Innowen shook his head as hp folded his arms across his chest. "No," he answered slowly. "I've had enough of soldiers and armies. Minarik will have no trouble in Parendur."

"Home, then?" Razkili suggested.

Innowen considered, and a subtle grin lit up his face. "I'd like that," he agreed. Osirit was a beautiful country of softly rolling hills, green valleys, and gentle rivers, as good a destination as any. "You can teach me some philosophy on the way."

He gazed up at the walls that surrounded the courtyard, high stone walls with square dark windows, and an unspoken dread shuddered through him. Who had watched him from those windows that first night he had danced here? Minarik and Taelyn, he knew. Drushen, too—poor Drushen! Who else?

What had he set in motion that night by that innocent act? What forces had he unleashed? How could he know who was really to blame?

He shut his eyes and shook his head slowly. Such a suspicion was too great a burden to torture himself with.

He had to say good-bye to Whisperstone. This place had held too strong a spell on him for far too long. It was time to break that spell, and there was only one way to do it.

He looked at his shadow on the ground. For the first time in his life, he saw it stretching tall and straight in the sunlight. He reached for Rascal's hand and pulled him closer until their shadows merged and became one. With his mouth near his lover's ear, he spoke words he had said to no one else before.

"Dance with me."

About the Author

After completing a Master's Degree in Literature at a small Midwestern university, Robin Wayne Bailey spent five years as a planetarium lecturer, martial arts instructor, and performer of folk, pop, and country music in area bars and restaurants.

The author of ten previous novels, including the highly successful BROTHERS OF THE DRAGON trilogy, he was also a regular contributor to the THIEVES' WORLD series and has published short stories in various other anthologies and magazines. He's currently at work on a trio of novels featuring new, original adventures of Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser, characters created by science fiction grandmaster, Fritz Leiber. He resides in Kansas City, MO.