Shadows Return - Lynn Flewelling [125]
“Stay down,” he whispered to the others, then pushed the trap all the way back and climbed up.
The stable spoke of money and title, and the horses were good ones. Treading softly, he discovered a young ostler asleep with a jug in a stall near the door. Seregil could smell the wine on him from two yards off.
He crept back to the shaft and motioned the others up. Ilar came first, then Alec, straining a little now under the slight weight of the rhekaro.
Seregil pointed to the drunken ostler, and then motioned for them to follow him out. He kept a close eye on the drunkard, poniard at the ready, but the man never stirred.
Outside they found a well-kept farmyard and corral, and a slope-roofed little cottage with darkened windows. A larger house stood on a nearby rise—a hunting lodge, perhaps, and also dark. This Yhakobin fellow was well prepared for a hasty departure should he ever need to make one.
Wary of watchdogs, Seregil led the way across a small onion patch and an herb garden, and into the shadow of a small orchard just beyond. A few apples still hung from the branches. They paused here and picked a few, letting the juice soothe their dry throats.
Ilar plucked nervously at his slave collar as he ate, as if the weight of it pressed on him more now that they were fugitives. Alec unwrapped the rhekaro from its sling and set it on its feet. It hunkered down beside him, completely still.
Seregil wanted more than anything to grab Alec, check him for damage, and never let go. After all the weeks of uncertainty and abuse, he ached to hold him and be held. If Ilar and the rhekaro hadn’t been there, he probably would have, and damn the danger.
It hurt a little that Alec seemed more engrossed in caring for the unnatural creature. Seregil watched jealously as he bit off a small piece of apple and offered it to the rhekaro. The creature just stared at it, as if it had never seen food before.
As Seregil watched, Alec took out his knife and nicked the end of his own finger, then held it out. The creature grasped it eagerly and sucked it like a teat.
Seregil grimaced. “It eats blood?”
“His name is Sebrahn.”
“Oh lovely. You’ve named it.”
“That’s right. And it’s my blood he eats. Just mine. That’s why I couldn’t leave him. He’d starve. It’s all right, though. He never needs very much. See? He’s done.”
The rhekaro sat back and licked a last dark smear from its colorless lips. Its tongue looked grey in this light.
“Bilairy’s Balls.” Seregil leaned over and pulled off the rhekaro’s head scarf. Silvery white hair tumbled down its back, so long it brushed the ground behind it. “More hair to cut.”
“I’m not sure it will do any good.”
“Oh?”
“Things—grow back.”
The child-like thing was watching Seregil now, its eyes white and blank as a corpse’s in the starlight. Seregil’s every instinct warned him to get Alec as far away from it as possible.
“Why didn’t you kill the ostler so we could steal the horses?” Ilar whispered, eyeing them both as if they’d gone mad.
“If I wanted to leave no doubt of where we’d been, that’s exactly what I’d do,” Seregil snapped, taking it out on him. “Next you’ll be leading us back to the seaport to find a ship. And eat that apple core or bury it. They’ll have trackers on us soon enough.”
“Where are we going, then?”
“Let me worry about that.”
“You still don’t trust me? I helped you!”
Seregil bit back an angry retort. If it had been just the two of them, he could have just stuck a knife in the man and been done with him. Ilar had served his purpose, after all. He was nothing but useless baggage now. Still, hiding the body would be a bother, not to mention the time it would take to calm Alec down.
“We’ve got to get as far as we can tonight and find a good place to lie up. And get these off.” He tugged irritably at the iron collar around his neck. “Is there any magic in them?”
“Not that I know of,” Ilar replied. “But you won’t find a smith who’ll do the job.”
“I’m pretty handy with a chisel. We just need to find the tools.