silverchain.
chapter eleven: some men take quite a lot of pride in being right
Ivan deeply despised the uneasy feeling currently spreading over his limbs with every fiber in his being not already occupied with worry for Karis and irritation with the entire situation. Trekking through the cavern, he swung his lamp around, knowing Alex's avoidant and sneaky manner. Dread struck his heart in the silence of the cave, but he continued on bravely.
The Lemurian had remained on board with Nowell, partly due to concern for her safety (despite her continued reassurances that she could definitely take care of herself), and partly because Ivan asked him to do so. He did not wish the burden of another's safety on a mission so close to his heart, so it was up to him to make the journey alone. Whether Alex currently occupied the hidden chamber was quite a different matter than the fact that he certainly frequented the spot; Ivan felt quite skeptical of having so much good (or bad, as the case may be) fortune to happen upon the safe place when "Arcanus", as he now styled himself, was present.
Even though it had been three decades since he trained his ear to the sound, Ivan quickly zeroed in on the gently swishing of a cloak. Quietly, he choked out, "Alex."
A Psynergetic ball of energy appeared over his head, illuminating the figure before him, who coolly extended a hand. Ivan refused it, and Alex, looking only mildly offended and very much as if he expected such an outcome, lounged on a stone parapet. The Jupiter Adept glanced around.
"Hardly a welcoming place, is it?" he remarked, and Alex's eyes glinted with amusement.
"The lower level is where I entertain guests," the man replied, voice silken, "but you do not seem to have come for a friendly visit."
"You're right," Ivan confessed, standing at his full height and allowing his observant eyes to flick around the place. Alex chuckled.
"I haven't booby-trapped it, or any such nonsense as that. I am well within my own country, if you remember."
Lavender eyes flashing, Ivan countered, "Why all the secrecy, then?"
"I am a high-ranking official of this country," Alex returned casually, with a smirk. "If something were to happen to me, I daresay the country would suffer a great loss. So tell me," he continued in a conversational tone, "what is your purpose in coming here, Ivan?"
It was second nature for Ivan to reply in kind. "Alex," he said, voice level with measured amounts of spite and confidence, "I find it hard to believe that you, always the great chessmaster behind the scenes, do not understand the reason for my visit."
"Ah, but I quite honestly do not understand, old companion. That would be the reason that I asked you." Stretching a hand towards a lever on the wall, he said in an off-hand tone, "Let's move to somewhere a bit more comfortable, shall we?"
The bottom dropped out of Ivan's stomach and of the floor: it wasn't a floor at all, but a moving platform, made of zol, which now glimmered with energy. The rush was quickly over, and he stumbled into a richly decorated chamber. Alex gestured lazily to a comfortable chair near the one in which he seated himself, and Ivan was quick to regain his composure.
Alex posed himself in a traditional "listening" stance, legs crossed, eyes bright, and head resting on a propped arm. Deciding to cut to the meat of the matter, the Jupiter Adept broke the silence.
"Have you had any...romantic...partners over the years, Alex?"
It was evident that a question of that nature was not what the man had expected, and he repositioned himself, raising a quizzical eyebrow. "I assume there is a reason for you to ask this, Ivan?"
He nodded curtly.
"I have never known you to ask needless questions," continued Alex, "and your theories were nearly always right. Those little eyes, darting from place to place, and that expression you have when you have it all figured out, oh yes, I see that again. What do I have to gain from answering such a rude question?"
"Just answer the question, Alex," Ivan replied through gritted teeth.
"Is it possible to turn it around on you? Of course, I have met the evidence of your 'romantic partner'...that daughter of yours. Karis. I hear she is quite as bright as you were when you were her age, and twice as tall." He inspected his gloves at this offhand insult, and a faint blush tinged the still-youthful cheeks of the man near him. "I suppose you married?"
"Yes," admitted Ivan, feeling his control of the situation slip away.
"Something terribly tragic must have happened to her," Alex mused, "I can see it. Well?"
"There was an accident. She died. Surely you know this already, don't you?" Ivan's tone was accusing, and Alex raised his hands in a mock gesture of peace.
"Stay, stay, and why would I care about your personal matters? I've hardly bothered to research your romantic life in the years since I saw you last, Ivan. If I answered 'yes', as you no doubt expect me to, what would be the consequence?"
"Could it be possible for you to have a child from such a union?" inquired Ivan immediately.
Alex's eyebrows ascended in a way only perceptible to one paying close attention to his person. "I suppose it would be possible, naturally. I am quite astonished at this...usually you are immediately on track with such matters, but it seems as though you are 'barking up the wrong tree'."
"Am I?" Ivan's eyes were dark and intense, and he realized he was gripping the arms of his chair. "What if she bore a son, about twenty years old now, appearance very like yours, traveling companion of Matthew's?"
He blinked slowly. "Well, I see that you are onto my little tryst. I may as well admit that yes, I am the father of the young man you speak of. Amiti. Quite a charming boy, isn't he? They teach very good manners in Ayuthay. His mother—"
"Does he know?" Ivan demanded instantly, and the look on Alex's face answered his question. Pleased with the way things were going, he reclined in his chair, unable to keep a smug smile from his face.
"I won't ask why it is of consequence to you," Alex replied, "because it's written all over your face. Such a doting father! I'm sure that you think your dear, darling clever daughter is too good to marry any son of mine."
"Did you put him up to this?" Ivan asked angrily, and Alex waved him away.
"How could I? We've barely met. No, I'm afraid that he took the idea into his head all on his own, although if it becomes helpful to my ends, well, that is just the icing on the cake." The glint in those mysterious eyes, so very like Amiti's, made Ivan feel sick.
The three young Adepts returned that night, silent as death and twice as morose. Jenna, in all of her upbeat temper, tried to wrangle an explanation or a smile out of any one of them, but all avoided her eyes like she was Medusa. Isaac, for his part, regarded them with penetrating looks, but said not a word.
The sheets felt cold and unwelcome to Karis's legs, mostly bare in her sleeping-robe. She curled up miserably beneath them, clutching the edges and breathing heavily. Eventually, her body heat brought warmth to everything except the recesses of her heart, where chilly depression, despair, and apathy towards all things not Amiti forced shivers down her spine.
She considered, shaking under the covers, reaching into the next room to feel the presence of the young men, but she shook the idea off quickly. It would only bring her more misery, and she hardly had room in her heart for another drop of the stuff. Praying for alleviation, she ducked her head under the sheets and slept.
Matthew, quite tired, fell asleep almost immediately, but woke up fitfully. The periods of wakefulness felt worse than the most horrific tortures to him, because he had nothing to think of except Sveta, and Amiti, and Sveta-and-Amiti, the last of which was a thought almost physically painful to consider. The sword leaning against his bedposts served as a terrible temptation to the troubled young man, who, if not for his nobility and strength of character, would gladly have killed the king who slept deeply a few feet away.
Amiti's dreams were hardly more pleasant than Matthew's schemes for him. Caught in a dizzying, almost hallucinatory landscape, the Adept was helpless to aid Karis, whose cries became louder and more fervent with every dazzling mound of technicolor that consumed him. He nearly woke several times in an attempt to check his own temperature, which, while in fact normal, felt more feverish than any inferno conceived of above the gates of Hades. He gasped for air, and Matthew glanced at him dully, unable to force compassion for the young man that had ruined his most treasured dreams. The Venus Adept sighed and, scrunching his pillows, attempted to return to the peaceful repose of slumber.