Will Shetterly - Witch Blood (20 page)

“Hold me.” Her voice broke with the second word, and I staggered backward as she threw herself into my arms.

“Whoa!” I said. “There, now.” She was crying, so I stroked her head with one hand while I hugged her. “There, now,” I repeated, and I remembered why I had walked the patterns at midnight. “It’s all right,” I said, which I suspected was a lie, but that did not matter then.

“Love me,” she said.

“I don’t—”

“No!” She forced her lips against mine with sudden violence, and her tongue tried to force its way into my mouth.

I cupped her head with both hands and pushed her back. “You don’t have to—”

“Love me!” she said. “Love me, Rifkin, damn you!” Her hand clutched my little man as if she would force him to stand.

“Naiji,” I said.

“Lady Naiji!” she corrected. “Lady Naiji!”

What could I do? I could not calm her and I could not please her then. I caught her wrist and hoped she would not treat me as I’d imagined myself treating the Seaprince some twenty minutes earlier. “Lady Naiji,” I whispered. “Help me.”

“Help you?” Her voice was scornful.

“Yes. Help me.”

“Help...” Her grip loosened, and she said, “Gods, Rifkin, I—”

I stroked her hair again. “Quiet, Lady. We’ve both experienced much this evening, I suspect.”

She stiffened. “You do?”

“Yes.”

“What’ve you learned?”

“That someone else lives in my skull. What’ve you learned?”

She laughed. “Oh, Rifkin...” She relaxed in my arms and began to stroke me too. “Later, Rifkin. Ask me later, please?”

“Certainly, Lady. Whatever you wish.”

“How did you learn?”

“About the other? Remember when your father fell?”

I felt her chin nodding against me. “Yes,” she said.

“That wasn’t me. It was someone else in my mind.”

“No, Rifkin. Not someone else in your mind. Another mind in your skull.”

“I know. I figured that—” I stared at her. “How much do you know?”

“Shush.” She hugged me. “Calm yourself.” Her voice became almost bitter, almost self-mocking. “There’s no knowledge too terrible to bear.”

“How much?” I repeated, not caring for anything then but an answer.

“That there are two minds in your body, Rifkin. Which belongs and which is the intruder, I can’t tell. Whose the other’s is, I don’t know. But I can guess.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.” She squeezed me again. “This body belongs to a witch, and you aren’t one.”

The night seemed colder then. I moved away from her to spread my sleeping pallet and then to wrap myself in a blanket. She watched without speaking. At last, I said, “When did you guess?”

“I didn’t guess, Rifkin. I told you I looked into your skull when I healed you in the woods. I learned more than I told you.”

“What else?”

“That’s all.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

I studied her. “I wish I could tell truth as you do.”

She laughed. “No, you don’t. Will you share your blanket?”

“You’re warm enough in your clothes.”

“That can be remedied.” She began to undress.

“Why do you trust me?”

“Because you’re honest, Rifkin.”

“And the other? Do you trust him too?”

“Not at all.”

“I lied this afternoon. I, Rifkin Truthteller.”

“Oh?”

‘To the Spirits.“

“So? What’s a lie told to liars?”

“A lie.”

“Oh. What did you say?”

“I told one I would kill him.”

“And you didn’t? I’d think you’d be proud of that.”

“You weren’t there.”

“No.” She was naked now. “You’ll share?” I opened the blanket, and she hurried in. “Thanks.” She pressed herself against me. A hand began to caress my thigh.

“No,” I said.

“You’re strange, Rifkin.”

I glanced at her. “Me? Old Rifkin Twominds? What makes you say that?”

“And you can joke any time?”

“Not always well. I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t worry about the other.”

I had to think a moment to know whom she meant. “No?”

“No. It may be his body, but you control it.”

“I thought he was dead.”

She nodded.

“He wants it back,” I said.

“How do you know that?”

“I don’t. But he never spoke before. He must want it back.”

“How long have you had—”

“This body?”

“Yes.”

“Two years. Almost three.”

“And you still want it?”

“Yes.”

“Then keep it, Rifkin.”

“That might not be easy.”

We lay there in silence for some time. I said, “Your turn, now. What did you learn this evening?”

“Not yet, Rifkin. If we’re still alive tomorrow night, I’ll tell you then.”

“As you wish, Lady.”

“Who is it?”

I started, thinking she had heard someone I had not, then understood. “Izla Seaprince,” I said.

“That’s the name Chifeo spoke.”

“He was more accurate than I thought.”

“Why did you deny it?”

“Because I’m Rifkin. Rifkin...” I searched for another name to identify myself, but I could not find a single one.

“Rifkin,” Naiji agreed. She kissed my cheek.

“Not Izla,” I said.

“No. Not Izla.”

“How can I kill him?”

“I thought you never chose to kill.”

“Is there a way?”

“I don’t know, Rifkin. Talivane might.”

“I don’t want to be in Talivane’s debt.”

“You don’t have to.”

“No?”

“No. Just learn to live with Ixla.”

“Izla,” I corrected.

“Right. What’s the story?”

“You’ll tell Talivane?”

She said softly, “He doesn’t need to know any of this.”

“What if the other takes over?”

“From what I could sense of him, Talivane would prefer him to you.”

That amused me in a morbid way. “Probably true.”

“Well?”

“It’s getting late,” I said.

“So?”

“The short version, then.”

“The long.”

“Or none at all,” I said.

“The short would be fine.”

“There was once a prince and a bodyguard who changed bodies, planning to change back again. They never did.”

She stared at me. “That’s the story?”

“Enough of it, for now.”

“What happened to your first body? Your... original body? Is it dead?”

“I don’t know. It might be. Perhaps that’s why Izla speaks inside me now.”

“Aren’t you curious?”

“Very.”

“And?”

I turned away from her, as if I would go to sleep. “I don’t know.”

“You mentioned a son.”

“He died, Naiji. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Your original body may still be walking around, and you don’t care?”

“I care very much. What can I do?”

“Go back. To Istviar.”

I turned over to face her. “You saw Chifeo’s reaction to me. Any Ladizhan I met would think I was Izla Seaprince. The Spirits pursue him with orders to kill him. They have good reason to do so. All I can do is flee.”

“To here?” Naiji began to laugh.

“Stop,” I said.

“Sorry. But of all the places you could come—”

“I thought it was coincidence at first, Lady. But if Izla is awake in my skull, he may have directed me. Magic seems to make him stronger. At least, he never spoke before, that I noticed.”

“And now?”

“Twice. Once when your father fell. Again tonight.” I suddenly remembered the sensation of being watched while Naiji healed me in the woods. I wanted to curse her for waking him then, but I realized that I would have died if she had done nothing.

“And you never recognized him.”

“No. I thought he was dead. Two minds in one skull...” I closed my eyes. “It never occurred to me.”

She laughed. “A number of things never occurred to you, Rifkin. You wear a witch’s body. You should learn to use it.”

I brought my hand up the inside of her thigh. “I have.”

She giggled and caught my wrist. “Not like that. As a witch.”

“I’m not one.” I turned to move my other hand along her side.

“You are, Rifkin,” she said patiently. “You are. That’s why I brought you here. I’d never have trusted some magicless human the way I trust you,”

“But I’m—”

“Magic is in your body and your blood, Rifkin. Don’t ever allow yourself to be tested with iron like you did this afternoon. It was only your ignorance and your disbelief that saved you.”

“I’m Rifkin,” I said. “Not a witch.”

“You want to stay Rifkin and not become Izla Whatzis?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Learn to use your magic, then. I suspect it’s the only way.” She lay there, holding me. “Well?”

“Maybe.”

“I don’t lie to you now.”

“I know.”

“I could teach you.”

I swallowed, then said, “Do so.”

“You’re frightened?” she asked in surprise.

“A little.”

“A lot. Poor Rifkin.” She wiped sweat from my forehead. “Relax. Izla won’t destroy you while you sleep, nor will Rifkin Justanotherhuman become a wizard tonight. The little tricks take months to master, and the art of magic requires years. I’m not about to begin teaching you now.”

“Good.”

“But you should learn.”

“I will.”

She stroked my brow, then kissed it softly. “If I can help you escape Izla, I will.”

“Thank you.”

“I like you, Rifkin.”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“No, Rifkin,” she said patiently. “But I like you.”

“That means you’re thinking of the things we could do together?”

“No. It just means I like you.” She squeezed me. “Go to sleep.”

I closed my eyes and began to concentrate on my breathing, as though I planned to meditate. That usually let me sleep almost as soon as I lay down, but too many thoughts kept peeking into my mind. I almost whispered “Good night, Izla,” just to show myself that I could still joke in the face of danger, a talent many fools pride themselves on. The thought that he might answer kept me quiet.

After a bit I remembered what Naiji had said about being willing to couch with a boundman, but never willing to sleep with one. I said her name quietly as I started to ask when she would leave me. A faint snore was her answer.

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