Shadows Return - Lynn Flewelling [150]
“And you wanted to punish Seregil, too.”
“When I overheard one of Ilban’s visitors speak of you and Seregil a few years ago, something happened…” He paused, gaze fixed on his muddy feet. “Some part of me came back to life. I wanted revenge. I couldn’t think of anything else. And Ilban trusted me enough to look into the matter, once he heard the claims about your mixed blood.” He looked up, a bit of spirit coming back into his eyes. “Seregil is right when he says that all that’s happened to you was my doing, but he bears some of the responsibility.”
“Don’t start that again. I don’t believe you and I don’t care.”
Ilar stood up slowly and pulled on his discarded cloak. “What’s stopping you from killing me now?”
Because I wouldn’t let Seregil do it, and now he won’t let me, Alec thought, resigned.
Ilar pressed his hand to his heart and gave him a small bow. “Whatever your reason, I thank you. If you only knew what it was like, seeing him again…But I’ll take more care around him, I swear!”
“You’d better.”
Seregil had found Sebrahn squatting in the dappled shade under a gnarled tree. His back was to Seregil but he turned as soon as he heard him approaching, long silvery hair swinging around his shoulders. Seregil had given up cutting it as often. It was too disconcerting to see it grow back.
Distracted by the hair, it took Seregil a moment to notice that Sebrahn held a cup in both hands. The rhekaro rose and offered it to him. A large blue lotus filled the cup. “What’s that for?”
Sebrahn pointed at Seregil’s bruised face. “Oh that? It’s—”
There was a deep gash in Sebrahn’s forearm. The strange pale blood was still flowing, and a trail of dark spots in the dust led back to the open bundle, and the knife beside it.
“How did you know?” Seregil muttered. “And what have you done to yourself? I don’t need that.”
He scooped the wet flower from the cup and pressed it to Sebrahn’s wound. It evaporated like a mist between his fingers, but the gash remained open and bleeding.
“You can’t heal yourself?” Seregil’s hands were covered in that strange blood now. It was cool and slick and unpleasant on his skin, yet he couldn’t help feeling pity for the rhekaro. What sort of life was Sebrahn supposed to have, made as he was?
The rhekaro walked unsteadily back toward the fallen cup, perhaps intending to make another healing flower for Seregil, but he wobbled and fell before he could reach it.
“Alec, come quick!” Seregil shouted, forgetting caution for a dangerous moment. Going to Sebrahn, he tried to staunch the wound with a rag from the bundle. Sebrahn was limp and slumped over on his side, eyes half-closed.
“What is it?” Alec asked, dashing through the trees toward him, sword drawn.
Seregil gathered the little body into his arms. “He’s hurt himself. I think he needs you.”
Alec knelt and examined the wound. “He did this himself?”
“Alec, I wouldn’t…”
Alec gave him a brief smile. “I know that. I just didn’t think he could—never mind. Give me that knife, quick.”
Alec sliced his own finger deeply and let his blood flow between Sebrahn’s parted lips.
For a long moment nothing happened. Red blood trickled from the slack mouth, streaking the pale chin, which looked even whiter than normal. Then those pale lashes fluttered and the tip of a grey tongue appeared, lapping like a kitten at the blood.
“Watch his arm,” Alec told him.
As Seregil watched, the skin closed itself, sealing into a thin white scar like the ones on Sebrahn’s fingers and wrist.
The rhekaro’s eyes were open now, and he was sucking harder at Alec’s finger.
“Maybe you should give him extra. He fainted, or something, just from what little blood he lost.”
“We don’t know what a lot or a little is to him.” Alec cradled Sebrahn’s head in one hand. “Poor little thing. Maybe I’ve been starving him.”
This time Alec let Sebrahn drink as long as he wanted. He’d always felt a strange pull inside when he fed him, but it was much stronger now, like when Yhakobin