Sword of Jashan (Book 2) (20 page)

Chapter Twelve

Callo paced the floor. The servant who brought his dinner had almost dropped it on the cream-colored foreign rug. The guards escorting the servant had been as uncommunicative as usual, but there was a tension to their stance he had not seen before. Yhallin and Kirian, who could be depended upon to visit him during the afternoon hours had not made an appearance.

Something was wrong.

Callo’s nerves vibrated with hyper-awareness. The last dose of phodian had worn off, and the magery lay along his bones like an extra set of muscles, ready to be used. Dusk dropped over the room as daylight ebbed from the barred windows.

The breeze that had searched its way into the little room earlier that day was gone, replaced by summer’s typical heat. It was almost full-dark before the door lock rattled. There was a rumble of voices, quick and raised as if in disagreement, then a heavy-shouldered form entered the room.

“Jashan’s eyes, it’s dark as Sharpeyes’ soul in here,” said Balan ran Gesset.

There was more movement at the door. A spark flared, and a lengthening flame grew from the large candle on the table. The light illuminated Balan’s face and Chiss’ tired, narrow countenance as well.

“What is wrong?” Callo leapt to his feet. With the drugs out of his system, he felt an energy he had not felt in sennights.

“Word from Hon Kirian,” Chiss said.

“
Run,
” Balan said. “That’s the word. Come on, my lord, you’re getting out of this place at last.”

“How?”

“Suffice it to say this departure has His Majesty’s blessing. Mage Yhallin awaits you with her men who will join up with the northern caravan before dawn.”

Callo drew a deep breath. “I will not stay to hear the details. You may tell me on the way. Jashan’s heart, out of this place at last! Have you my sword, Chiss? And Miri—where is she?”

“Awaiting you.”

Callo pulled on his boots and grabbed his cloak, and followed the pair down the stairs and corridors to a little-used stable yard. Yhallin was there, her ascetic face thrown into even starker relief by the torchlight. Kirian welcomed him with an arm on his, drawing him toward Miri.

“Gods smile on you,” Balan said. “Good journey.” He held Kirian’s horse as she mounted. He nodded to them and faded back into the castle.

“Now, and fast,” Yhallin said. “Our aim is to be far from here by dawn.”

Callo did not argue. He mounted Miri and stroked her mane as she followed the other horses out of the stableyard.

As soon as they were away from the castle environs, they moved into a trot. The horses’ hooves were loud on the cobbled streets in the merchants’ district. It was not very late, but people fell silent and drew off the streets to watch as the little group from the castle passed. A candlemark later they were out of the city, into a night so humid Callo’s hands sweated on the reins.

His memory called up other nighttime journeys of the past year: the flight from Las’ash after rescuing Kirian from the Ha’lasi prison, and the dark ride away from Seagard Castle after breaking the Collar from Arias’ neck. He knew this journey was different. There was no attempt at subterfuge, so clearly no one was in pursuit; there was just an imperative to get out of Sugetre Castle, as soon as possible. Callo wondered what had happened, but he refused to delay them to satisfy his curiosity. It was a close, hot night and uncomfortable riding, but he felt full of energy, free of coercion or the deadening effects of the phodian. He grinned as they left the dim light of the outlying taverns and homes behind them, and rode into the darkness.

One of the guards lit a torch. Callo’s eyes found Chiss and Kirian riding alongside a smaller form he could not identify—a servant girl of some kind, he surmised. Yhallin dropped back to ride alongside him, and explained to him in a few words what had driven their immediate departure from the castle.

“It is to protect you,” Yhallin said. Her seat on the horse was stiff, her elbows out. Callo remembered the woman had been a street child, never trained to ride. The hint of awkwardness made her more human, drawing aside the veil of mystery she cultivated.

Callo made a face. It did not suit him to owe Sharpeyes another debt for his safety.

“We planned to take you to Deephold with the next caravan anyway,” Yhallin said. “We simply rode out sooner.”

“What threatens me so much that Sharpeyes did not feel he could guard me in his own castle?” Callo asked.

“Despite precautions, the gossip is all over the Castle that you tried to pay street thugs to kill Lord Ander. The Council has been complaining about you to the King, whining that you should be exiled. Lady Dria Mar nags the King morning and night that you are a bastard, an offense against the
righ
who should never have been allowed to live past the birthing chamber. Aside from the King, who is enamored of your mage gifts, the only one defending you has been the boy.”

“You mean Lord Ander.”

Yhallin nodded.

Callo sighed. “I take it his defense has ceased.”

Yhallin’s dark eyes glanced his way. Lit only by the single torch, her face was spare and otherworldly as a ghoul’s. “He has been silent on the matter.”

Callo knew what that meant. Ander believed Callo had betrayed him, even seeking to end his life. Callo tried to ignore the bitterness that swept him. He liked the boy. This was no fault of Ander’s. In fact, the boy was tossed here and there by the intrigue that buffeted them both. Callo hoped the tide of events did not end up smashing Ander’s broken body ashore.

The planes of Yhallin’s face lit in a brief glow. Looking around for the source, Callo discovered a drift of color magery lighting his hands on the reins. Miri must have felt it; she bobbed her head and rumbled a nervous whicker.

“We have brought phodian with us,” Yhallin said.

“No!” Callo flung up a hand. He willed the color magery back behind his wall. It faded away and left Yhallin regarding him. A headache began to pulse behind his eyes. He heard an echo as of a voice barely heard and shook his head to clear it.

“I will not take it,” he said. “I will go to Deephold, do what I said I would, not for you but for someone else. But I will take no more of your poison.”

“And if you lose control and become a danger to the rest of us?”

“Then you may slay me. I will not spend my days more dead than alive.”

“King Martan has gone to great trouble to make sure you are not slain,” she said. But she looked at his hands, saw the magery ebbing away to darkness, and nodded. Then she rode ahead to give some direction to the guards who led them. Callo tried to ignore the flickers of headache-induced light in his vision, and rode on.

* * * * *

They arrived at Yhallin’s mountain hold days later, just as the sun slipped toward the horizon.

Red-gold rays lit the western face of Mount Vesh. The lower slopes of the neighboring mountains were cast into accelerated dusk by its bulk. Callo knew that, in any homes in those valleys, it would be night.

Yhallin’s hold was built into the rock. Its door faced into the setting sun. As they approached, Callo began to feel the color magery fighting back against the barrier he imposed upon it. His head pounded. When the groom came to take Miri, he slid off her back and wavered as the magery swept through him.

Kirian, who had ridden beside him most of the last day, took his wrist. “Your heart beats too fast,” she said.

“The treatment,” Callo said. “I want it done now.”

“Now?” She looked around. “It is dark, almost. You are weary from the saddle. I think not.”

“Kirian.” Callo looked directly at her, his eyes meeting her soft worried ones. “It has to be now. I am done being a pawn.”

She did not look away. Then she nodded. “I will tell Mage Yhallin.”

* * * * *

“Are you sure about this, my lord?” Chiss asked.

“Not at all,” Callo replied. He looked up at Chiss, who stood over him wearing the vaguely ill expression he had worn since he had been attacked in Kirian’s room. “Are you well enough to be here, Chiss?”

“It’s just a headache that won’t go,” he said. “I will see Hon Kirian again after you are settled.”

“I hope it was worth it,” Callo grumbled.

A servant came into the room and began locking his arms into the soft restraints attached to the side of the padded cot. Callo’s heart jumped. He would be helpless, left alone in this place with no one near him, for who knew how long.

“Is there anything you want me to do?” Chiss asked after the servant left.

Callo laughed. Chiss’ gaze sharpened as he noticed how strained Callo sounded. “Aside from sparing me all this? No. Just—if it seems too long, or if you notice anything not right, then perhaps you can speak up.”

“Of course.” Chiss grimaced. “Mage Yhallin says she will be monitoring your condition. I will make sure I do as well, my lord.”

“I trust you.” Callo knew his breath was coming fast. He did not like being restrained like this, and it would be candlemarks yet before he was released. If he was fortunate, that is. He looked up at Chiss. “If things do not go well—there are not many people in the world that I trust, Chiss. You have been with me through everything. I want you to know how I value you.”

Chiss’ mouth twisted. “I am surprised to hear you say that, my lord.”

“What, you mean after that mess at Seagard Castle?” Callo gave a shaky laugh. “I was angry. I wanted never to see you again, since you betrayed me, or so I thought. I still do not completely understand. But honor carries us in strange ways sometimes, and I have never since that time doubted your care for me.”

Chiss looked at him for a moment, then gave an odd smile. “You are not going to die here, my lord. There is no reason to be saying your goodbyes.”

He shook his head. “There have been bodies carried out of this place before, Chiss. Mage Yhallin was truthful about that, at least. As for Kirian . . . where is Kirian?”

“Mage Yhallin refused to let her in.”

“Afraid she would weep all over me? That is not Kirian’s way.”

“Mage Yhallin does not yet know her well.” Chiss turned then and became businesslike, checking the tightness of Callo’s bonds and otherwise making sure his lord was comfortable on the padded cot. “Are you thirsty? It may be awhile.”

“I’m fine.” Callo wanted nothing in his stomach. He did not know what was to happen here. Memories of his ordeal in Ha’las, when the god Som’ur came to test him, floated through his mind. That experience was painful, and only Jashan’s intervention let him come out of that alive. He hoped whatever awaited him here was no more difficult.

Chiss bowed. “I will see you later, my lord.”

“Later.” He tried to lift a hand in farewell, but the restraints pulled him back.

Chiss left the room. Callo looked around, trying to distract himself. Thick, dark cloth covered the walls of the room and seemed to muffle sound. The floor was black, and he could see no windows. They were underground, in the lower levels of Yhallin’s Deephold, in a chamber down a hallway with no other doors. It had taken them only several days’ riding to get here from Sugetre, and yet he was so far from aid he might as well be in another world.

Callo closed his eyes. His nerves tingled, and he knew the internal barrier he kept against the twin powers he had inherited was eroding. Put him in a battle, and he would fight. Put him in the ring, and he would use every skill to win, meanwhile delighting in the flow of action. But restrained in this strange little room, Callo felt his fears rising up to overcome him. Was this part of the ordeal—overcoming his fear of constraint?

The door opened again. Yhallin entered, wrapped in her mage cloak against the chill of this lower level. She stood near the wall for a moment. Callo took a deep breath, trying to calm his jittery nerves.

Yhallin began to examine him. She checked his heart rate with a cool hand on his wrist and looked into his eyes. She picked up his hands, testing the restraints, and placed a hand briefly on his forehead.

“Are you still willing?” Yhallin asked.

Callo had an uncomfortable feeling that the question was asked to protect herself from later recriminations, should something go awry. He swallowed. “Yes.”

“You are feeling well?”

“I
was
.” He rattled the restraints. “These things are . . . worrisome.”

“Before long you will no longer notice them.” Yhallin stood. “It is not unusual for people to feel stress upon being restrained, especially when a new experience awaits them. I find this is especially true of unCollared
righ,
who are accustomed to little restraint in any form.”

“Indeed,” Callo said. “When does this experiment begin?”

She frowned. “This is not an experiment, Lord Callo. This is a method that I have used eight times previously.”

“Still, a trial,” he said.

Yhallin nodded. “It is. I believe you are ready. Is there anything else?”

He paused and thought. It would be nice to delay her by talking, putting off this trial longer. But then, he wanted it over, so he could be confident his magery posed no threat to those around him unless he willed it so. He wanted done with the guardsmen, the drugs, and the confinement. Only if he succeeded would he be free to take Kirian to his bed again, confident he would not use his psychic magery as the Ha’lasi mages did, to manipulate and corrupt.

He wanted to trust himself again. Once he did, he could proceed to fulfill his vow to avenge Arias’ murder.

“Nothing else,” he said. “Go.”

Her eyebrows went up. “In a hurry? I don’t know whether that will work in your favor or not. Gods watch over you, Callo ran Alkiran.”

She went out then, taking the lone lamp that stood in the corner. The door closed behind her with a muffled sound; apparently it was wrapped with hide as well.

Total blackness came down on Callo as if he were in a tomb.

He lay flat on the cot, evaluating. He could see nothing. He hoped that after his eyes adjusted, a stray crack or fissure would permit some light into the room, but he was not hopeful. They had padded the walls, swathed the place in cloth and hide; they had gone to some effort to make sure there were no cracks where light could enter.