Shadows Return - Lynn Flewelling [93]
Alec looked over at Ahmol, who still held the cup. Something dark was floating in it, but the slave turned and carried it upstairs before Alec could tell what it was.
The rhekaro’s cool eyes were still fixed on Alec, and he looked in vain for some sign of intelligence there. All the same, he couldn’t bear the thought of that little body being ravaged and tormented.
A child of no woman.
His child. Looking into this rhekaro’s face, remembering the screams of the other as it had been torn to pieces, his chest ached with sorrow and guilt. He thought of his picks, still safely hidden in his mattress.
It was time.
Khenir helped him down to his room, where supper had been laid out. The tub had been made ready for him, too. After hanging in that cage, Alec was almost glad to come back here to such simple comforts.
Neither spoke as the slave gently cleaned and dressed him. Alec was too tense to enjoy it, straining to listen for any sound of pain from above. But none came.
“Something different happened this time?” he asked, sinking gratefully into bed and starting on the cold meat and cheese laid out for him.
“I do hope so, for your sake. Perhaps he’ll leave you alone if it is what he wants it to be.”
“Maybe.” Alec took another bite of the meat. “What was in the cup?”
The other man didn’t answer, just smoothed the blanket over Alec’s legs.
“You saw. Tell me!”
“The color of the water changed. I don’t know what it means,” Khenir replied, not looking at him.
And Alec knew that Khenir had just lied to him. The realization weighed like a stone in his belly.
The door was closed; the guards were outside. “What’s to stop him from making more if they’re so important to him? How many times do you think I can go into that cage and come out alive at the end of it?”
“Don’t talk like that, please!” Khenir begged. “If he has what he wants, then I’ll beg him to make you a house slave, like me. It’s not so bad, really.”
Alec caught his wrist and pulled him closer. “I am no one’s slave! Have you been here so long you’ve forgotten what it is to be free?”
“Perhaps I have. But what can we do? Accept your lot and make the best of it, like the rest of us.”
Alec wanted to tell him about the horn picks hidden in his mattress. He wanted to ask for his help, and somehow find Seregil and offer Khenir his freedom in return, too, but the lie earlier made him hold his tongue and Alec said nothing as Khenir kissed his brow and took his leave.
Just for now, he told himself, unwilling to give up yet on the only ally he had. When the time comes, if I can help him, I will.
He reached into the hole, needing to touch the picks, his keys to freedom.
They were gone.
And his meal tonight had come with no implements.
Stunned, he kneaded the mattress over, then turned up the edge to peer inside.
Every piece of horn was gone, the picks and all the broken bits.
Alec felt cold and sick all over. Anyone might have been in here—the guards, Ahmol, Yhakobin himself. But he knew for a fact that Khenir had been.
What was the old saying? Smiles conceal knives, talí.
He curled up in a tight, miserable ball under the covers, wondering what the punishment would be this time.
For the first time since his capture, he felt like a slave.
The following morning he was summoned to the workshop before breakfast. He expected to find the alchemist ready with the whip, but instead there was a tray of warm apple pastries and another pot of the excellent Aurënen tea. Alec eyed both distrustfully, wondering what new drug they concealed.
Yhakobin laughed. “Come now, don’t look like that! This is a day of celebration, and these excellent pastries are your reward.”
“For what?” Alec asked, still wary. Was it possible the man didn’t know about the picks, or was he just playing with him?
Yhakobin took one and bit into it. “See? They’re very good.”
Alec sat down slowly on the stool and picked one up, but couldn’t make himself take a bite.
Yhakobin sighed, then cut his own in half and gave the