Tyrant's Blood (17 page)

‘Nevertheless, you are here as Vested and that is what interests us today…you can heal through magic. Correct?’

Kirin held his breath. He desperately wanted Lily to come clean, tell Vulpan it was a mistake. But they were already in so deep, lying about being married, lying about her skills, Kirin himself lying about his role at Brighthelm. ‘Tell Master Vulpan, darling, how you can cure small ailments through touch,’ he encouraged.

Vulpan’s gaze slid, slippery and with a wintry coldness, to warn Kirin, but his encouraging smile never left his mouth, and never reached his eyes.

‘It’s true,’ Lily started again, haltingly. ‘I’m sorry, I feel rather nervous. I don’t like talking about my magic,’ she admitted.

‘Not many of us do, my dear. Ask your husband. I’ll wager he kept his skills quiet all of his life. I myself never thought my odd ability could be seen as anything but a curiosity. It’s quite odd, isn’t it, to taste blood and then to simply recognise someone, even if you’ve never seen him or her before. Who’d have thought it could be put to good use?’

Good use, my arse
, Kirin seethed.
I’ll bet you’ve never even tried to put it to good use
.

‘Let me ask, what sort of ailments could you heal through touch? A headache perhaps?’

She nodded. ‘Usually.’

‘How about a sore leg?’

‘I will always try.’

‘Well, let’s test it, shall we? Rather than wasting everyone’s time—because you don’t seem terribly confident, if you’ll permit my observation.’

Kirin felt the tendrils of fear flutter at his throat.

‘Test it?’ Lily repeated. Kirin had to admire that her voice didn’t shake and her body didn’t tremble. But all the same he could sense her fear. And likely so could Vulpan, who seemed to be enjoying this interview, watching them squirm.

Vulpan held up his hand. For the first time Kirin noticed the bandage on it. Until now their interviewer had kept his left hand either in a pocket or below the desk. ‘Accidentally burned it last night. Lo, how it hurt,’ he admitted with a rueful smile. ‘I actually sickened, I think. I spent most of the night with my hand sitting in a bowl of water, which seemed to be the only relief I could achieve. The moment I tried to remove it, the pain descended.’ He mimicked lifting his hand from the bowl. ‘No wonder people who
are burned by fire, or through accidents with cauldrons of boiling liquid, don’t survive. It’s not the wound, it’s the pain. I’m sure the heart gives up. This hand gave me serious grief last night. It continues to throb now.’

Kirin could envisage what was coming. He couldn’t bear having to listen to Vulpan build this scene any longer. ‘Lily, my love,’ he said sweetly, ‘why don’t you see what you can do to ease Master Vulpan’s pain?’ He gave her a smile of encouragement he didn’t feel. Kirin’s mind fled to how cunning and resourceful Freath always was in the face of impossible odds. He needed to show the same resilience. He nodded at Lily again.

‘I can try, Master Vulpan,’ Lily said, and Kirin felt his heart bleed to see how hard she was working to sound matter-of-fact. He watched Lily rise and give Vulpan a smile he knew she had to force.

Walking around the desk, she gestured to his hand. ‘May I?’ she said.

‘Of course. Let me unwrap the bandage for you.’

‘I can do that, Master Vulpan,’ Lily said gently. Kirin watched her skilfully unravel the makeshift bandages to reveal the ugly burn. ‘That must hurt, sir,’ she commented.

‘It does,’ he said blandly, ‘although I can manage some pain by shutting it elsewhere in my mind, using an odd skill I’ve had since I was a small boy. Do you understand what I mean?’

‘No, Master Vulpan,’ Lily admitted.

He glanced over at Kirin. ‘Do you?’

‘Not really,’ Kirin lied. ‘But it is an enviable skill, I’m sure. If you are not irked by the pain, though, do you need healing?’

Vulpan smiled and Kirin saw only malevolence behind it. ‘Show me what you can do, Lily Felt. I’m very intrigued by healers.’

Lily frowned. ‘It won’t be immediate, Master Vulpan. You need to understand that healing—even by magic—is not an instant process.’

‘Oh, is that so? I thought the wound would simply disappear after your ministrations.’

Kirin saw how she smiled coyly. He couldn’t tell if she was genuine or just the best actress across the Set.

‘But I’ll feel something, won’t I?’ Vulpan asked. ‘I mean, for the purposes of this trial, I will need to feel a change.’

The word trial was not lost on Kirin and he was sure it wasn’t missed by Lily either. ‘Oh yes, I’m sure you’ll feel a difference,’ she confirmed. ‘I will need to hold your head. Will that be permitted?’

‘Whatever works for you, my dear,’ he said, his sarcastic tone evident.

‘Lay your arm on the desk so I can see your wound,’ Lily said, standing behind Vulpan. ‘Now close your eyes, Master Vulpan. I need you to concentrate—just for a brief while—on the pain in your arm. I know you have banished it, but if you can bring it to the front of your mind you will help me reach the pain and deal with it. Does that make sense?’

Kirin stifled the thrill he felt at hearing Lily turn Vulpan’s words on himself. It was a hollow triumph because their situation was so tenuous but he took pleasure in realising that whatever fear Lily felt, it wasn’t going to get the better of her.

‘Not a word of it,’ Vulpan replied haughtily, ‘but there’s no accounting for our magical skills, is there, my dear?’

Lily smiled bleakly over the top of Vulpan’s dark hair to Kirin and he saw her shake her head with an expression of resignation. She was playing for time. She glanced behind her deliberately, and he saw that she was directing his gaze towards a letter opener with a sharp point. Kirin carefully kept his face blank but his heart sank. Lily was going to do something so unwise he couldn’t credit it. And somehow he had to stop it.

She was now uttering nonsensical words, massaging Vulpan’s temples—first the right, then the left. After she’d massaged his right temple for the third time, she kept her left hand busy while reaching behind her for the blade.

Kirin knew he had to move
now
! ‘Lily,’ he interrupted, shocking her, doing his utmost to cover his anxiety. ‘Surely that’s enough, my beloved? Your skills work so fast normally.’

Vulpan’s eyes, which had even conveniently closed as he enjoyed Lily’s touch, snapped open. ‘Shouldn’t your wife be the judge of that, Master Kirin?’ he demanded, vexation brimming in his tone.

Kirin matched the irritation in his own tone; it was the only way he could ensure the Vested’s attention would be focused on him and not Lily. He stood and beckoned to Lily. ‘Master Vulpan, forgive me, but I am now very tired. My wife clearly has more stamina than I, but if you’re not ready to add us to your list, then perhaps you could summon us when you are. My dear, we should leave.’

As Lily hesitantly returned to his side, the blade left behind, he pried.

Vulpan stood. ‘You will—’

Now!
‘Sir, can you just tell us whether or not your arm feels any better,’ Kirin demanded.

Incensed, Vulpan opened his mouth but the words seemed to catch in his throat and he frowned. Kirin held his breath, both from apprehension and against the rising tide of dizziness.

‘Well, yes, as a matter of fact, it does,’ Vulpan admitted, still frowning, shaking his head. ‘It worked, Mrs Felt. I see the scar but I am healed of its pain.’

‘Excellent,’ Kirin managed to get out through gritted teeth just before he staggered forward. ‘Forgive me, I feel unwell.’

He remembered reaching for the wall but found nothing of substance as he fell through darkness.

The roasted meat turned acid in Greven’s mouth at Piven’s words.
We all have secrets
. What did he mean?

He stared blankly for a moment or two at the half-eaten rabbit carcass, now carelessly tossed back amongst the embers. It had been a delicious meal up until this moment—he hated to waste it
but he feared he would return everything in his belly if he so much as thought about the food again.

Greven found the courage to raise his eyes to Piven. He was comforted slightly to see that his beloved child looked daunted by his words. But it was too late for recriminations and definitely too late to take it back—not that Piven looked to be withdrawing from his statement; he simply looked shocked that he’d said it.

As soon as their gazes locked, Piven looked down into his lap, fiddling with the axe handle, his own food forgotten and laid aside.

The silence between them lengthened until Piven, it seemed, could no longer bear it.

‘We could forget I just said that,’ he offered, finally looking up at Greven.

‘But it would always hang between us, and we have always been honest with each other.’

‘Have we?’

‘What have you not been honest about?’ Greven asked, quickly turning the scrutiny on Piven.

‘About what’s happening to me.’

‘Will you tell me the truth now?’

‘I can try. I don’t understand it but I have the feeling if I don’t say something soon no one will ever understand or forgive.’

Forgive?
Greven was already confused. ‘Tell me what is happening to you, Piven, please.’

At first the boy didn’t answer. ‘I’m changing,’ he finally said. ‘Just like I found my voice and emerged from the imprisonment of the strange void I existed in during my early years. It seems whatever that change has been about hasn’t finished.’ His voice was filled with regret. ‘I’m sorry that I can’t explain it easily.’

Greven wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or frightened. ‘How are you changing? What do you feel?’

‘Darkness. This is not a change for the better, I fear,’ Piven replied, his tone turning harsh.

‘Darkness? Do you mean—’

‘I mean evil,’ Piven snapped.

Greven rocked back. ‘In what way?’

Piven shook his head and Greven wondered if he didn’t see the lad’s eyes watering. He had never seen Piven cry, other than for a scraped leg or that time he broke his arm. The arm was healed the next day, of course, but they had never spoken about that. Piven had been too young to interrogate and Greven had been too swelled with joy to have the boy emerging from the shadows of his mind.

‘In the worst way.’ Piven turned his head, raised his knees up and hugged them, the axe loose in his hand, forgotten.

‘The worst way I can imagine is that you would want to hurt people.’

Piven’s head whipped around. ‘I don’t want to hurt anyone. I want to help people, heal people. And the more I do to save animals or help others, the more I’m filled with hate.’

Greven didn’t understand. ‘Piven, there isn’t a bad bone in your body,’ he began.

‘That’s what you think. That’s what you see, because I fight it every day. I ran into Green Herbery because I needed to do something for people, something that was positive and good. I wanted to find someone to heal and I found two. I made them whole, Greven. I ignored your warning and I turned two burned, dying bodies into whole beautiful people again. And you know what my reward is?’ Piven jumped to his feet, his voice escalating in emotion as much as volume.

Greven was surprised to feel genuine fear. It was such a novel sensation that a sense of wonder surrounded it.
Piven!
The sweet, helpless, beaming child was causing fear in him. Ludicrous!

‘I’ll tell you what occurs,’ the boy continued. ‘I get accused of evil and further filled with darkness. Do you understand?’

Greven shook his head.

Piven mimicked scales, his hands balancing invisible weights. ‘Like this!’ He moved his right hand down. ‘As I try to use my skills for the benefit of others, the…the…’—he reached angrily
for the word—‘the
space
that the outflowing of my healing power leaves behind is replenished’—he rebalanced his hands—‘with a destructive desire. It wants to tear down all the good. It wants nourishment, Greven, and I cannot control it.’

Greven swallowed. ‘How has this darkness manifested itself?’ he said, hoping his voice sounded even.

‘It hasn’t yet but it’s building within me. It wants something. And I know people will want to destroy me because of it.’

‘Destroy you? Piven don’t you think this is—’

‘Don’t, old man! Don’t you belittle what I’ve just told you. You’re involved in this, down to your very boots!’

‘Me?’ Greven said, astonished, his hands against his chest. ‘Piven, I found you. I’ve sheltered and raised you. I love you!’

Piven had stood and begun to pace, tension contorting his normally sweet face. ‘All of that is true. But why? Why did you find me, Greven? We are strangers. We are not related; our families never knew each other. You were living in the Great Deloran Forest, I was living in the palace. What on earth did we have in common?’

‘Coincidence. I stumbled upon you.’

‘No! You lie! Look over there behind me,’ Piven taunted.

Greven, confused, squinted over the youth’s shoulder. ‘What am I looking for, boy?’

‘Your guide. See him? In the nearest tree.’

Greven stared up into the tree Piven had pointed out. The raven stared back.

Greven shook his head, fearful. ‘How long has Vyk been there?’

‘He was here watching you the whole time. He has been waiting for me. He knows things. Don’t you sense that?’

‘I…I don’t know.’

‘Yes, you do. Does he talk to you?’

‘No!’ Greven felt horrified. ‘Does he talk to you?’

Piven shook his head, but an expression of cunning crossed his face. ‘But he communicates. And in the same way that he drew you to me, he beckoned me towards you that day.’

‘Who is he? What is he?’ Greven demanded.

Piven shook his head again. ‘You tell me. All I can tell you is that he belonged to Loethar.’

‘Loethar?’ Greven’s face twisted in fresh astonishment.

‘I never mentioned it before because he didn’t want me to. I don’t know how I know that about him.’ Piven shrugged. ‘I just do.’

‘This is the emperor’s bird?’ Greven squeaked, his tone filled with incredulity. ‘What? From his aviaries?’

‘No. It’s his pet raven,’ Piven declared. ‘It was he who called the bird Vyk, not I. The raven came to Brighthelm with Loethar when he slew our people.’