The White Road - Lynn Flewelling [60]
As Ilar's body healed and gained strength, so did his mind. He grew increasingly lucid and paid more attention to his surroundings, but the fear and the longing remained. Questions about the rhekaros and their making remained unanswered.
At last Ilar--now Khenir to the household--allowed Ulan to lead him out of his room for short walks inside the clan house. After a few days Ulan was able to draw him out into the snowy garden for some fresh air. The color had returned to Ilar's face, and some of his beauty, as well. As long as he remained clothed, he looked like nothing more than a young man recovering from a long illness.
With this promising turn of events, Ulan began to ask more probing questions.
"Why was he so frustrated with the first one?" he asked one day as they sat together on the long balcony overlooking the harbor after one of Ulan's coughing fits. "Why would he go to such lengths and then destroy it?"
Ilar stared out at the boats for a while, pain clear in his eyes, and Ulan worried that he'd overstepped. But at last the young man sighed and said, "He was trying to distill an elixir of some sort from its blood."
"Yes, I know, but how was the rhekaro made?"
"I don't know, exactly. I only assisted him when required, but he used Alec's flesh, blood, spit, tears ... Ilban combined it with other things he called 'elements.' Still, it wasn't enough. He had more hope for the second one, and seemed pleased with it, even though it didn't have wings. He hadn't yet found how to unlock the secrets of its blood, either. But it could do little tasks around the workshop. I think he meant to keep it as a pet."
"And Alec--" Another cough tore at his chest and Ulan tasted blood. Ilar patted him awkwardly on the back until the fit was over. Ulan fell back in his chair, wiping his lips. "He kept Alec to make more rhekaros. What of Seregil?"
"He was given to me. If only--" Ilar broke off and would say no more. He looked thoroughly miserable.
"I see. Well, perhaps you will see him, in time."
Ilar's eyes widened. "But how?"
"Time will tell. In the meantime, would you like to live here permanently, under my protection?"
"Yes, Khirnari." Ilar sank to his knees before Ulan and kissed his hand.
"Now, now, dear boy. No need for such dramatics. We'll bide our time, and my spies will keep an eye on things. I doubt Seregil and Alec will go anywhere before spring, if they move at all."
"Spring?" Ilar said, disappointed. "Will I see him then?"
"Perhaps, and you'll be that much stronger by then. Now, I would like to hear more about the rhekaros and how they are made. Where did your Ilban's knowledge come from?"
Ilar actually looked around, as if he was still afraid of being overheard. "Books," he whispered. "He has three great thick books that he keeps in the little tent. He pored over them for years before Alec came. You told me about the boy--the Hazadrielfaie boy--and I told Ilban. I've never seen him so excited! That's when he promised Seregil to me."
"Ah, I see. But the books?"
Ilar subsided and the light went from his eyes. "In the little tent."
"And where is this little tent?"
"It's at the far end of the workroom, opposite the forge. I wasn't allowed to look in there, but I often saw him take out the books."
"And did you see what was in them?"
Ilar shifted uneasily, looking guilty now. "Sometimes I looked, when Ilban went back to the house for something. I couldn't read the writing. Most of his books are like that. Ilban says that alchemists keep their secrets by writing in code."
"In code? The book he showed me was not."
"Then perhaps he didn't show you the real ones. In the one I looked at, the words made no sense, but I saw a fine engraving of winged beings. Ilban was disappointed that neither of the ones he made had wings. They were larger in the drawings, too: the size of a man, at least in the pictures I saw."
Ulan knew that much already. He'd