Shadows Return - Lynn Flewelling [136]
“He really does like you,” Seregil noted with a resigned sigh.
“How do you know it’s a boy?” asked Ilar, coming closer. “It’s not like it has anything between its legs.”
“Neither do you!” Alec spat back.
“It doesn’t?” asked Seregil.
Alec paused in his barbering. “Well, no, but he looks like me, so we might as well call him that as anything.”
“Then how does he piss?”
“I don’t think he needs to.”
Seregil rested his face in his hands, trying again to imagine how they were going to manage.
Alec kept his gaze on his work, frowning. “No one’s going to hurt him again. Besides, if Yhakobin wants him so badly, then he must be important, right?”
“To make some medicine.”
“That didn’t work,” Ilar reminded them.
“I think we should take him to Thero and Magyana,” said Alec. “Maybe they’ll know what he is.”
“I know a little,” Ilar said, giving Alec an arch look. “More than you.”
“Would you care to tell us?” Seregil replied evenly.
Ilar shrugged. “Ilban says there are many different kinds of rhekaro. The ones made from Hâzadriëlfaie blood are the rarest of all. According to the alchemists’ histories, a perfect poison can be made of their blood, as well as an elixir of perfect healing, and that it possesses a power that can strike a thousand men dead on the spot when its master speaks the key.”
Alec glared at him. “Liar! He couldn’t even protect himself.”
“As I said, this one turned out wrong, too,” Ilar replied. “Neither of them even had wings like they were supposed to. He blamed your mongrel blood.”
Seregil struck Ilar across the mouth so fast the other man had no time to duck. “Shut your filthy mouth,” he snarled as Ilar went sprawling.
“His words, not mine,” Ilar whined, cupping his split lip. “Nothing he tried with it worked as it was supposed to. He tried making something from your blood, too, Seregil, but that didn’t work properly, either. That’s why he didn’t free me, as he’d promised.” He sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees. “I was so close!”
“At our expense.” Seregil gathered the rhekaro’s shorn hair and twisted it into a rope to go into the bundle. “What else did he tell you about it?”
“Not very much. But I did see something. I’ll show you, if—”
Seregil arched an eyebrow. “If I promise not to kill you?”
“Both of you.”
“Well, Alec? What do you say? He has been of some use.”
“We could have gotten away without him,” Alec muttered, trying to comb Sebrahn’s ragged hair into some sort of order with his fingers. It stuck out in long, ragged tufts, but he looked slightly more like a normal child now. But only slightly.
“Maybe, but I think he’s bought himself some time. So, Ilar, that’s the best you’ll get. What is it you have to show us?”
“I need some water, and that hog sticker of yours.”
“You can have the water.” Seregil pulled a cup they’d stolen from the bundle and half filled it from their precious store.
“Now draw a drop of its blood and let it fall into the cup.”
Seregil handed Alec his poniard. Alec pulled the rhekaro into his lap and took one of its hands between his. “Don’t worry. It’s just a little poke. Just one. Hold out your hand.”
And it did, gaze fixed on Alec’s hand. Alec carefully pricked the tip of one small finger. What oozed out was not blood, but something pale and viscous, like the jelly around frog’s eggs in the spring. When it fell into the water, a flash of soft light spread, reminding Seregil of a firefly’s glow. It quickly faded, and something dark formed and floated to the surface.
It was a flower, and looked for all the world like a tiny river lotus, except for the color. It was dark blue, almost black, and gave off a sweet, heavy fragrance.
“This is it?” Seregil asked, eyeing it closely.
“It’s supposed