Shadow War - Deborah Chester [25]
Orlo’s gaze dropped to Caelan’s wounded side. To the side that was now healed by a mysterious process that Orlo, in his fear of foreign religions and ways, probably didn’t understand.
“Thank you for your trust,” Caelan said. “I will not betray your confidence.”
Orlo shot him a look of despair mingled with exasperation. “You will not learn from it either.”
Caelan had no answer.
“You will continue to follow him,” Orlo said bitterly. “You great, stubborn lout. You cannot be taught. You cannot be shown. You cannot be warned. Always you will do things your own way.”
“My way works best for me,” Caelan said softly. “All my life others have tried to shape me to their will. I cannot do that.”
“Then he will destroy you,” Orlo said. “Perhaps he will even get you killed. Be damned, then,” he muttered, and flung himself out.
Chapter Four
Caelan turned around too fast, nearly lost his balance as his knees went wobbly on him, and sat heavily on the bed to save himself from falling. For a few seconds he was so dizzy he had to grip the side of the bed; then his head cleared again. Breathing hard, he wiped sweat from his face.
The door opened quietly. Inwardly Caelan groaned, and he forced himself to lift his head. “Orlo, I—”
It was not Orlo who returned, but the healer. For the first time the man stepped into the light where Caelan could see him clearly. It was Agel. His cousin and boyhood friend, whom Caelan had not seen since being expelled from Rieschelhold, the school of healing arts.
Agel... the steady, dependable one ... grown to manhood now ... more gaunt and austere than handsome. His face had the etched clarity of an ascetic. He stood tall and still, his hands folded out of sight in the wide sleeves of his white robe.
Caelan lost his breath. Thoughts tumbled through his mind without making sense. He had believed he would never see any of his family again, yet now he had found Agel. It was a miracle, a return of hope.
Consumed with happiness, Caelan smiled and tried to speak. But his throat choked up, and unmanly tears blurred his vision. Caelan averted his face sharply, struggling to master himself.
Agel’s hand settled gently on his shoulder. “You are overwrought,” he said. “Rest and let the healing finish.”
Caelan gripped Agel’s hand in both of his. “I cannot believe you are here,” he said in Trau, his words running eagerly over each other. “I have often thought of you, wondered how you did and where you were. And now, to find you here, in Imperia, is—”
“Rest,” Agel said. His voice remained calm and serene. He continued to speak in Lingua, and his hand lay slack in Caelan’s grip. “Loss of temper destroys the balance of harmony, and healing cannot finish. I should have denied you all visitors until you were stronger.”
Caelan stared at him. There was no joy, no recognition in Agel’s face. When Caelan’s fingers loosened, Agel withdrew his hand and tucked it back inside his sleeve. Caelan’s happiness faded, to be replaced by sharp hurt.
“Don’t you know me?” he whispered. “Cousin, I am—”
“Yes, Caelan, I know you.”
Caelan waited, yearning for more, but Agel said nothing. His eyes betrayed nothing. It was as though Beva had returned—cold, detached, unfeeling. Agel was living in severance, too distant to touch.
“Is there nothing you will say?” Caelan asked hoarsely.
“You should lie down and sleep.”
“Damn you!” Caelan shouted. He shoved himself furiously to his feet.
Agel blinked and took an involuntary step back.
That angered Caelan more. “How in Gault’s name can you do this to me? We were friends, the closest. We grew up together. We were—Is there nothing left between us? Nothing? You are all the family I have left. Can you not even say ‘well met’ to me? Can you not give me something?”
Agel’s expression did not change. He met Caelan’s eyes steadily. “What would you have me say?”
“Oh, something like ‘Caelan, I’m relieved to find you alive. Caelan, I’m glad to see you. Caelan, let us sit a while and talk of old times.