The White Road - Lynn Flewelling [94]
"My name is Alec."
"Alec. A Tir name." The way the man said it sounded like an insult.
Alec was in no position to object; instead he asked, "Your sen'gai--I've never seen that pattern. Are you really a Hazadrielfaie?"
"Yes."
"From Ravensfell?"
"Where else would we be from?"
"And you actually came looking for me?" Alec almost felt like laughing. "How in Bilairy's name did you find us?"
The man just smiled that unpleasant smile.
"Now that you've found me--us--what are you going to do?"
"I have questions for you, but first I want you to see something." He stepped out through the ruined doorway and returned with several people. Alec ignored all of them except for one thin man in a red bird mask, and he only noticed him because the man was holding Sebrahn in his arms. The rhekaro clung to him like a little porie, head on his shoulder, looking perfectly at ease.
The man in the wolf mask said something to the other man, who took off his mask. He was young and unremarkable as 'faie went, except that his back seemed slightly hunched and his face showed no more expression than Sebrahn's. The man in the wolf mask took Sebrahn from him and said something else softly as he waved a hand in front of the other's face.
Alec stared up in amazement as the young man's appearance changed completely. He had the same white skin and silver hair and eyes as Sebrahn. As Alec watched, he put Sebrahn down, pulled off his tunic, and unfolded--wings! Pale, leathery ones like a dragon's; not large enough to actually fly with, maybe, but wings all the same. They extended an arm span to either side, opaque as new vellum. He stretched them as if it felt good to have them free of confinement. It probably did, too. "He's a rhekaro!"
The man in the wolf mask was clearly amused now. "My magic is better than this Oreska's for hiding them."
The tall rhekaro didn't resemble Sebrahn in his features, yet he had the same ethereal look.
Wolf face made no move to stop Sebrahn as he wiggled free and went to Alec. Kneeling beside him, brown and silver hair spread around him like a striped cloak, Sebrahn touched a cold finger to Alec's lip, then licked the blood from it. A woman in a lynx mask placed a wooden cup of water and a small knife on the floor beside Sebrahn. He made a healing flower and pressed it to Alec's lip. Alec's nostrils filled with the familiar sweet smell. He ran his tongue over the healed place and waited for the others' reactions.
The man in the wolf mask knelt beside Sebrahn and gently took his hand to let another drop fall into the cup. "I've never seen one this color," he said, inspecting the new flower. "But the effect is the same. I looked at your fingers. You feed him too much. That's why his hair is so long. They don't need to eat except when they've used their magic, or are badly injured."
Alec thought of how depleted Sebrahn had been in Plenimar, and how it had taken days of careful feeding to bring him back to what passed for health. Clearly this man, this companion of a man-sized rhekaro, knew more than Alec did about them. "What do you want with Sebrahn? You have one of your own."
"I'm more interested in what you want with it, ya'shel. How did you learn to create it?"
"I didn't. It was made from me without my consent."
"If that's true, then why are you taking it to Plenimar?"
"We're not."
"I know that you are. Are you in league with the dark witches of that land?"
"That particular dark witch is dead," said Seregil, and Alec wondered how long he'd been awake listening.
The man turned to him. "How do you know this?"
"Because I killed him."
"Really? What proof do you have of that?"
Seregil struggled to sit up against the wall, hampered by his bound hands and feet. He was pale and had a familiar sickly look to him; whatever magic had been used on them wasn't agreeing with him at all. Even so, he still managed to look a little cocky as he said, "We have the tayan'gil. You can see who he was made from just by looking at him, can't you? He was made in Plenimar