Rezo looked carefully over the mathwork. He had been teaching Zel basic
algebra as they had walked to the next city. Zelgadis admittedly missed a
fair amount of school travelling with his grandfather, but he learned more
from Rezo than he ever did from his teacher. "Good work, Zelgadis. They're
all correct." He gave the boy a light pat on the back.
"Ow!"
Rezo furrowed his brow. "Zel? Are you okay?"
Zel forced a normal voice. "Yeah, fine."
"One does not generally say 'ow' when one is fine. I didn't touch your back that hard. Do you have a bruise on your back?" And, more importantly, why didn't you tell me?
Zel kicked the dirt, sending a small cloud of dust into the air. "A group of boys at school pushes me around sometimes."
"Oh," said Rezo, "I see."
There was a short silence, stained by crickets and spring peepers.
Finally, Rezo spoke, "Zel, have you ever seen a pack of cats hunting?"
Zel furrowed his brow, a gesture that exacerbated the resemblance between him and his grandfather. He shifted slightly, as if the movement would shake forth the intended memory. "No, I guess I haven't."
Rezo nodded. "And you won't, either. Cats aren't pack animals. What do cats hunt?"
This time, Zel had an answer. "Mice, shrews, small birds, stuff like that."
"Mmm-hmm, and are these things bigger or smaller than cats?"
"Smaller."
"Think of a pack animal, Zel."
"Uhhh, how about hyenas?"
"A little exotic, but they'll do. What do hyenas hunt?"
"Lions!" said Zel, excitedly.
"And lions are..."
"Bigger," replied the mildly confused boy. Where was this going?
"Well then, if these boys at school come at you in a pack, remember that: You're bigger."
Zel smiled. "I like that." But Zel also drew a conclusion, or, more accurately, reaffirmed a conclusion he had already drawn when his parents had died: Anyone with more power, anyone stronger, they could hurt you. Didn't mean they would necessarily, Rezo was proof of that, but they could.
************
(Three days later)
Rezo smiled pleasantly and adressed the woman in front of him, "Now, let's talk about your boy keeping his hands off of my grandson."
************
Zelgadis watched in silence. This was the second day of silently watching the two men. 'It was your choice to come!' Zel reminded himself. Rezo had been asked to mediate the development of a peace accord between two warring factions. Upon arriving, Rezo had informed the two leaders that they were not to speak or write for the duration of the deliberations.
For the first three hours, Zel had been as puzzled as the leaders at the rules, but he quickly caught on. With no speech and a blind mediator, they would be forced to connect on some other level, hopefully developing an actual desire for peace. They had spent most of the first day staring at each other or pointing at the map which hung on the wall. Zel saw that Rezo had even set down his staff, rendering him entirely sightless. He wondered briefly is Rezo had any idea what was happening.
During the second day, they had returned to their staring and pointing. The only meaningful gesture Zel had seen was, "Let's eat." on behalf of the Zagros representative. Finally, around three o'clock, Rezo spoke. "So, what have you decided?"
Silence.
"You may speak now, friends." Rezo had the habit of calling even people he found despicable, 'friend.' "What have you decided?"
Silence.
"Well, sir..." The Zagros consul started and trailed off.
"We haven't actually decided anything," finished the Corabrant duke.
"Really? What did you do this whole time?"
The two leaders stumbled through a series of "Well..." and "Really..." and "Uh...".
"Just glanced around the room, yes?"
"Yes, Rezo."
"And what have you concluded?"
The Zagros consul, young and sarcastic, was mildly frustrated with this game. "The rocks are nice. The window is nice. The table is okay, though the ornamentation is rough."
The duke cringed at the disrespect, but Rezo laughed. "Well, friend, it is nice to see you have a sense of humor!" The leaders exchanged glances; for all of his wisdom, Rezo was wierd. "I propose a simple plan, then. Zagros, cease your retaliation. Corabrant, the Zagros are not to be punished. Free trade of goods and information will resume. If violence continues on either side, we will convene again." The plan would've been scoffed at, had Rezo mentioned it earlier in the deliberations, but after two days of staring at each other, the duke and consul were ready to consider a deal.
The Corabrant leader turned to Rezo, still defiant. "My people deserve revenge!"
"Do they? Do they not also deserve peace? Do they not deserve to see their sons live to adulthood?"
Silence.
"Then I agree to the treaty."
"As do I."
***********
Rezo had become increasingly bothered by his blindness. He devoted his life to healing others! Was it so much to ask, this one, little thing? To see, to watch, to know what red was and what his grandson looked like. Shabranigdo welcomed these most useful feelings and nurtured them as best he could without alerting Rezo. He saved his strength. Soon. Very soon he would be able to take control of Rezo, if only for a short time. The agony would be delicious.
***********
Rezo tapped his fingers on his forehead, contemplating the...satisfaction he had felt today. Zel's fear...afraid of you. He was afraid of you, some inner voice said. Might as well say it out loud. Truth is frequently difficult, but never evil. "He was afraid of me. Zelgadis was afraid of me. My own grandson was afraid of me." Say it. Say the rest. "And I liked it."
No one was in the deserted upper eschelons of the tower. No one heard, but Rezo's shame was almost overwhelming. He felt dirty, disgusting, unclean. He ran his fingers over the stone over and over again, hoping that the heat would burn away the impurities.
Unclean. Zel's blood. It was on his robes, he knew. He vaguely touched the blood spot, six inches wide. He suddenly wanted the blood away from him and pulled his outermost robe off over his head, his hands shaking so erratically that he could barely unhook the clasp. He touched the same spot on his next robe. Still bloody. He pulled that one off too. Kept taking off his clothes until only his underwear, the only garment not touched by the blood, was left. He threw the rest of his clothes in the corner opposite him, as if physically separating himself from the blood would make him clean. Forgiven.
He dropped to the floor in the corner opposite his clothes, pounding his head lightly against the stone. No, the pain would do Zelgadis no good. Nothing would do Zelgadis any good, not with that delicious fe- No. Don't think delicious fear. Don't think about how hungry you are and about how good his fear made you feel. Don't think about the fact that he's in his room, angry and afraid and part of you likes it. Don't-
A knock at the door. "Can I come in, Grandfather? I had a scary dream." Zel sounded uncertain, worried.
"Sure. Wait one moment." Rezo threw the robes into his closet and pulled a longshirt over his head. He furrowed his brow, trying to decide what to say, how to- he opened the door.
Zel blinked repeatedly and found the floor fascinating. "I had a nightmare, Grandfather. You were there. You were angry."
"I see. Was anyone else there?"
"No. Just you and me in the tower."
"Hmmm, what happened?" Please, gods, no.
"You cast a spell that held me still. I didn't like that, being still. I wanted very much to wake up."
"Mm-hmm, and then?" No, I'm sorry. I'm already sorry. Please, no.
"You said, 'Weak little boy,' because I was crying. You said, 'Are you crying?' I said 'no,' even though I was. I hoped you wouldn't see. You said 'A weakling and a liar!' and cast a spell. It burned really bad, so I tried to go outside, where the water was. You-" Please don't say it Zel. I can't bare to hear what I did from your mouth. "caught my arm and broke it. It was all hurt and bloody."
***********
Shabranigdo smiled.
***********
Zelgadis Greywyrds felt slightly ashamed that, at age eleven, he still went to his grandfather carrying a nightmare. He walked slowly, quietly down the stairwell, glancing around himself as if the stones were spies. He turned, staring up the stairs, and saw nothing there. But for some reason, his eyes couldn't convince his mind and he began to run. No reason, no cause, just a stupid dream.
He kept running, his feet slapping the ground sounding like bones snapping like his arm in the dream like Grandfather let me go I don't want to be still what did I do so wrong that Grandfather would hurt me weak weak weak I really tried not to cry.
Zel stopped, craning his head to see where his feet had carried him. The hall from his dream; why here? He stepped slowly in, trailing his heel on the pale tiles. He surveyed the room evenly, unsure of what he was looking for. Painting. Tile. Window. Tile. More tile. More tile. More- a spill on the tile. Red, like his dream.
Zelgadis padded softly towards the stain, almost like he was hunting it, as if the slightest false move would make it dissapear. In his dream, Grandfather had fixed his arm, but the blood had remained on the floor. If he shut his eyes very tight then the blood wasn't there and it was just a dream and-
Zel ran his fingers across the floor, all energy draining out of him as the tips of his digits graced warm, sticky blood, drawing it out into red lines across the floor. He opened his eyes. This was wrong. This was very wrong. If grandfather could hurt him, there was nothing right in the world. He remembered his old mantra, 'anyone who is stronger could hurt you,' and drew another conclusion: Anyone stronger, anyone with more power, would hurt you. It was just a matter of time.
***********
Rezo spent more and more time in his lab, away from Zelgadis. Zel no longer trusted him. Behind whatever his grandson said were fear and anger. And Rezo could feel himself drinking from the sweet darkness. He almost never had control of himself now, spent most of his time in a room his mind had made. It was empty, but not silent. He could hear what his body heard and feel what his body felt. Zel's stifled sobs and angry words still reached his ears, but so did the satisfaction of satiating the biting hunger he felt.
And Rezo fought, every ounce of strength and will going towards pounding on the walls of the empty room, staying in his lab. Shabranigdo aquiesced, settling for a few, brief attacks when Rezo was too tired to fight, but the gag spell proved effective; Rezo found certain thoughts he couldn't vioce.
And Rezo heard. He heard Zel scream as the memory of his parents' death was played back in the boy's mind. He heard Zel quietly praying to 'Gods, Dragons...even Mazoku...anyone who can hear me.' as he walked past the door. He heard Zelgadis angrily announce that he hated Rezo, with a crack in his voice, barely held together through the pain. A spell attack and another. Sometimes physical attacks, Rezo could feel his grandson's skin, sometimes his bones, always a little weaker than those of other boys, give way.
And Rezo felt the last bit of control slip away.
***********
Zelgadis rapped his head lightly against the floor, hoping the dull ache would distract him from his throbbing left side. Angry at him for no discernable reason, Rezo had physically thrown his grandson at a stone wall. Zel tried to clear his head and think; to list options, choices, paths. Strength was the key. More power; less pain. A simple equation. And from where would he derive power?
Rezo.
Rezo had power; strength. Had the power to make Zelgadis strong. Zel shuddered, wondering what he would have to pay. He absently rapped his fingers gently against the stone in a cyclic pattern and ran his tongue against his teeth. Though he knew it was pointless, his mind reminded him how important it was that he choose correctly; he would have to make an irrevocable decision. The boy was reasonable enough to recognize that some of Rezo's earlier advice was still valid. "List the facts, Zel. Try to break ideas down into the simplest cause-and-effect statements possible."
Zel recalled the advice (It had been given as he had struggled over a particularly difficult logic problem.) involuntarily. Just because he knew Rezo's words had value didn't mean he liked the fact. Simplest fact: If he received strength from Rezo, there would be a price.
***********
Zelgadis's first thought was, 'This is very wrong. Something is very wrong.' Rezo had considered Zel's request and agreed. He would give the boy strength, no strings, no requests, nothing in return. The offer was suspicious, but enticing. Was it possible that a remnant of the kindly priest who used to make wooden toys fly had issued the proposal? Pain overcame paranoia. He agreed.
Flashes of darkness and light crept from his peripheral vision into his entire body and his skin felt like fire.
His bones stretched and contorted.
Who is that, screaming?
Oh, I'm screaming.
He looked at his hands, the stone figures that insisted they belonged to him.
***********
Shabranigdo laughed.
Rezo wept.
"Ow!"
Rezo furrowed his brow. "Zel? Are you okay?"
Zel forced a normal voice. "Yeah, fine."
"One does not generally say 'ow' when one is fine. I didn't touch your back that hard. Do you have a bruise on your back?" And, more importantly, why didn't you tell me?
Zel kicked the dirt, sending a small cloud of dust into the air. "A group of boys at school pushes me around sometimes."
"Oh," said Rezo, "I see."
There was a short silence, stained by crickets and spring peepers.
Finally, Rezo spoke, "Zel, have you ever seen a pack of cats hunting?"
Zel furrowed his brow, a gesture that exacerbated the resemblance between him and his grandfather. He shifted slightly, as if the movement would shake forth the intended memory. "No, I guess I haven't."
Rezo nodded. "And you won't, either. Cats aren't pack animals. What do cats hunt?"
This time, Zel had an answer. "Mice, shrews, small birds, stuff like that."
"Mmm-hmm, and are these things bigger or smaller than cats?"
"Smaller."
"Think of a pack animal, Zel."
"Uhhh, how about hyenas?"
"A little exotic, but they'll do. What do hyenas hunt?"
"Lions!" said Zel, excitedly.
"And lions are..."
"Bigger," replied the mildly confused boy. Where was this going?
"Well then, if these boys at school come at you in a pack, remember that: You're bigger."
Zel smiled. "I like that." But Zel also drew a conclusion, or, more accurately, reaffirmed a conclusion he had already drawn when his parents had died: Anyone with more power, anyone stronger, they could hurt you. Didn't mean they would necessarily, Rezo was proof of that, but they could.
************
(Three days later)
Rezo smiled pleasantly and adressed the woman in front of him, "Now, let's talk about your boy keeping his hands off of my grandson."
************
Zelgadis watched in silence. This was the second day of silently watching the two men. 'It was your choice to come!' Zel reminded himself. Rezo had been asked to mediate the development of a peace accord between two warring factions. Upon arriving, Rezo had informed the two leaders that they were not to speak or write for the duration of the deliberations.
For the first three hours, Zel had been as puzzled as the leaders at the rules, but he quickly caught on. With no speech and a blind mediator, they would be forced to connect on some other level, hopefully developing an actual desire for peace. They had spent most of the first day staring at each other or pointing at the map which hung on the wall. Zel saw that Rezo had even set down his staff, rendering him entirely sightless. He wondered briefly is Rezo had any idea what was happening.
During the second day, they had returned to their staring and pointing. The only meaningful gesture Zel had seen was, "Let's eat." on behalf of the Zagros representative. Finally, around three o'clock, Rezo spoke. "So, what have you decided?"
Silence.
"You may speak now, friends." Rezo had the habit of calling even people he found despicable, 'friend.' "What have you decided?"
Silence.
"Well, sir..." The Zagros consul started and trailed off.
"We haven't actually decided anything," finished the Corabrant duke.
"Really? What did you do this whole time?"
The two leaders stumbled through a series of "Well..." and "Really..." and "Uh...".
"Just glanced around the room, yes?"
"Yes, Rezo."
"And what have you concluded?"
The Zagros consul, young and sarcastic, was mildly frustrated with this game. "The rocks are nice. The window is nice. The table is okay, though the ornamentation is rough."
The duke cringed at the disrespect, but Rezo laughed. "Well, friend, it is nice to see you have a sense of humor!" The leaders exchanged glances; for all of his wisdom, Rezo was wierd. "I propose a simple plan, then. Zagros, cease your retaliation. Corabrant, the Zagros are not to be punished. Free trade of goods and information will resume. If violence continues on either side, we will convene again." The plan would've been scoffed at, had Rezo mentioned it earlier in the deliberations, but after two days of staring at each other, the duke and consul were ready to consider a deal.
The Corabrant leader turned to Rezo, still defiant. "My people deserve revenge!"
"Do they? Do they not also deserve peace? Do they not deserve to see their sons live to adulthood?"
Silence.
"Then I agree to the treaty."
"As do I."
***********
Rezo had become increasingly bothered by his blindness. He devoted his life to healing others! Was it so much to ask, this one, little thing? To see, to watch, to know what red was and what his grandson looked like. Shabranigdo welcomed these most useful feelings and nurtured them as best he could without alerting Rezo. He saved his strength. Soon. Very soon he would be able to take control of Rezo, if only for a short time. The agony would be delicious.
***********
Rezo tapped his fingers on his forehead, contemplating the...satisfaction he had felt today. Zel's fear...afraid of you. He was afraid of you, some inner voice said. Might as well say it out loud. Truth is frequently difficult, but never evil. "He was afraid of me. Zelgadis was afraid of me. My own grandson was afraid of me." Say it. Say the rest. "And I liked it."
No one was in the deserted upper eschelons of the tower. No one heard, but Rezo's shame was almost overwhelming. He felt dirty, disgusting, unclean. He ran his fingers over the stone over and over again, hoping that the heat would burn away the impurities.
Unclean. Zel's blood. It was on his robes, he knew. He vaguely touched the blood spot, six inches wide. He suddenly wanted the blood away from him and pulled his outermost robe off over his head, his hands shaking so erratically that he could barely unhook the clasp. He touched the same spot on his next robe. Still bloody. He pulled that one off too. Kept taking off his clothes until only his underwear, the only garment not touched by the blood, was left. He threw the rest of his clothes in the corner opposite him, as if physically separating himself from the blood would make him clean. Forgiven.
He dropped to the floor in the corner opposite his clothes, pounding his head lightly against the stone. No, the pain would do Zelgadis no good. Nothing would do Zelgadis any good, not with that delicious fe- No. Don't think delicious fear. Don't think about how hungry you are and about how good his fear made you feel. Don't think about the fact that he's in his room, angry and afraid and part of you likes it. Don't-
A knock at the door. "Can I come in, Grandfather? I had a scary dream." Zel sounded uncertain, worried.
"Sure. Wait one moment." Rezo threw the robes into his closet and pulled a longshirt over his head. He furrowed his brow, trying to decide what to say, how to- he opened the door.
Zel blinked repeatedly and found the floor fascinating. "I had a nightmare, Grandfather. You were there. You were angry."
"I see. Was anyone else there?"
"No. Just you and me in the tower."
"Hmmm, what happened?" Please, gods, no.
"You cast a spell that held me still. I didn't like that, being still. I wanted very much to wake up."
"Mm-hmm, and then?" No, I'm sorry. I'm already sorry. Please, no.
"You said, 'Weak little boy,' because I was crying. You said, 'Are you crying?' I said 'no,' even though I was. I hoped you wouldn't see. You said 'A weakling and a liar!' and cast a spell. It burned really bad, so I tried to go outside, where the water was. You-" Please don't say it Zel. I can't bare to hear what I did from your mouth. "caught my arm and broke it. It was all hurt and bloody."
***********
Shabranigdo smiled.
***********
Zelgadis Greywyrds felt slightly ashamed that, at age eleven, he still went to his grandfather carrying a nightmare. He walked slowly, quietly down the stairwell, glancing around himself as if the stones were spies. He turned, staring up the stairs, and saw nothing there. But for some reason, his eyes couldn't convince his mind and he began to run. No reason, no cause, just a stupid dream.
He kept running, his feet slapping the ground sounding like bones snapping like his arm in the dream like Grandfather let me go I don't want to be still what did I do so wrong that Grandfather would hurt me weak weak weak I really tried not to cry.
Zel stopped, craning his head to see where his feet had carried him. The hall from his dream; why here? He stepped slowly in, trailing his heel on the pale tiles. He surveyed the room evenly, unsure of what he was looking for. Painting. Tile. Window. Tile. More tile. More tile. More- a spill on the tile. Red, like his dream.
Zelgadis padded softly towards the stain, almost like he was hunting it, as if the slightest false move would make it dissapear. In his dream, Grandfather had fixed his arm, but the blood had remained on the floor. If he shut his eyes very tight then the blood wasn't there and it was just a dream and-
Zel ran his fingers across the floor, all energy draining out of him as the tips of his digits graced warm, sticky blood, drawing it out into red lines across the floor. He opened his eyes. This was wrong. This was very wrong. If grandfather could hurt him, there was nothing right in the world. He remembered his old mantra, 'anyone who is stronger could hurt you,' and drew another conclusion: Anyone stronger, anyone with more power, would hurt you. It was just a matter of time.
***********
Rezo spent more and more time in his lab, away from Zelgadis. Zel no longer trusted him. Behind whatever his grandson said were fear and anger. And Rezo could feel himself drinking from the sweet darkness. He almost never had control of himself now, spent most of his time in a room his mind had made. It was empty, but not silent. He could hear what his body heard and feel what his body felt. Zel's stifled sobs and angry words still reached his ears, but so did the satisfaction of satiating the biting hunger he felt.
And Rezo fought, every ounce of strength and will going towards pounding on the walls of the empty room, staying in his lab. Shabranigdo aquiesced, settling for a few, brief attacks when Rezo was too tired to fight, but the gag spell proved effective; Rezo found certain thoughts he couldn't vioce.
And Rezo heard. He heard Zel scream as the memory of his parents' death was played back in the boy's mind. He heard Zel quietly praying to 'Gods, Dragons...even Mazoku...anyone who can hear me.' as he walked past the door. He heard Zelgadis angrily announce that he hated Rezo, with a crack in his voice, barely held together through the pain. A spell attack and another. Sometimes physical attacks, Rezo could feel his grandson's skin, sometimes his bones, always a little weaker than those of other boys, give way.
And Rezo felt the last bit of control slip away.
***********
Zelgadis rapped his head lightly against the floor, hoping the dull ache would distract him from his throbbing left side. Angry at him for no discernable reason, Rezo had physically thrown his grandson at a stone wall. Zel tried to clear his head and think; to list options, choices, paths. Strength was the key. More power; less pain. A simple equation. And from where would he derive power?
Rezo.
Rezo had power; strength. Had the power to make Zelgadis strong. Zel shuddered, wondering what he would have to pay. He absently rapped his fingers gently against the stone in a cyclic pattern and ran his tongue against his teeth. Though he knew it was pointless, his mind reminded him how important it was that he choose correctly; he would have to make an irrevocable decision. The boy was reasonable enough to recognize that some of Rezo's earlier advice was still valid. "List the facts, Zel. Try to break ideas down into the simplest cause-and-effect statements possible."
Zel recalled the advice (It had been given as he had struggled over a particularly difficult logic problem.) involuntarily. Just because he knew Rezo's words had value didn't mean he liked the fact. Simplest fact: If he received strength from Rezo, there would be a price.
***********
Zelgadis's first thought was, 'This is very wrong. Something is very wrong.' Rezo had considered Zel's request and agreed. He would give the boy strength, no strings, no requests, nothing in return. The offer was suspicious, but enticing. Was it possible that a remnant of the kindly priest who used to make wooden toys fly had issued the proposal? Pain overcame paranoia. He agreed.
Flashes of darkness and light crept from his peripheral vision into his entire body and his skin felt like fire.
His bones stretched and contorted.
Who is that, screaming?
Oh, I'm screaming.
He looked at his hands, the stone figures that insisted they belonged to him.
***********
Shabranigdo laughed.
Rezo wept.
