Chapter Four
Cadvan made his way up to his rooms, his face stormy. The Nameless One's threats against Maerad had put him in a sour mood, so when he threw open the door and she wasn't there, his temper worsened.
"Maerad," he called, and noticed the fire in the hearth was low, the logs burned down to ashes. He watched the smoke rise in lazy swirls and threw out his Bard hearing. He heard the drip of water and made for the bath. The tub was full of water, but it had cooled and Cadvan suspected that it had been hours since Maerad had been there. He rushed back into the sitting room, his fear and nervousness conspiring to make him angry. "Maerad!"
He sprinted to the bedroom and found the bedsheets turned down, her robe and night gown tossed over the back of chair. He ran his hands over the robe, but it was cool, and he tossed it aside with more anger than necessary. "Maerad, where are you?"
I'll have them both strung up in my dungeons to let the Hulls play with them, the Nameless One had said. Cadvan felt a prickling in the back of his neck, a warning that something was not quite right. Maerad should have been here, dressed in one of her ridiculous gowns and setting the room to rights. Maerad should have been here, unless the Nameless One took her.
Cadvan trembled as he knelt before the small grate in the bedchamber. He stoked the fire back up and sat down heavily on one of the couches. Visions flitted through his mind of the vision the Nameless One had shown him upon his arrival. He remembered the lifeless look in Berludh's eyes, the blood and the silent tears. He saw her face for the briefest moment, but she shifted and her hair fell away, and it was Maerad staring back at him. His eyes snapped open, bile rising in his throat as his stomach turned and he rushed to the bathroom. He retched, gasping for air. This feeling, this cowardly, shameful fear was too much for Cadvan, and he wished fervently that he could master himself, he wondered fleetingly if the Dark had somehow undone his courage and will.
Quite suddenly, he heard the door being thrown open and the resounding swish of a long dress. Cadvan snapped upright, the fear turning swiftly to annoyance. He stalked back into the room to find Maerad kneeling by the fire, her hands outstretched to the warmth. Cadvan crossed the room in a second, snatching her arm and pulling her upright.
"Ow!" Maerad yelped, tugging her arm angrily. "Cadvan, that hurts!"
"Where were you?" Cadvan asked tersely. "Do you have any idea how worried I was?"
Maerad stared pointedly at her arm clenched tightly in Cadvan's hand. "You're hurting me, Cadvan."
Cadvan breathed out loudly but loosened his grip on her. He looked down guilty a moment, gathering his thoughts, before meeting her stern gaze again. "I'm sorry, Maerad, but I was worried when I returned and you weren't here."
Maerad allowed Cadvan to lead her away from the fire, and she watched him curiously from the side. His face was more strained than it had been in the morning, his lips set in a distinct frown. She wondered what fresh darkness had transpired between Cadvan and Sharma that had put him in such a mood.
Be charming and wry, coax him out of his mood like Lyla would, she thought as she sank onto her seat. Maerad studied him a moment longer and noticed a faint flush high in his cheeks: he must have been embarrassed by his overreaction.
When he didn't speak, Maerad tossed her hair back and said, with an attempt at an easy smile, "I've a well-earned thirst, I say that much! Like I've walked the length of this tower twice over, and in these foolish shoes." She reached for the jug of wine that always seemed present in his room and poured each of them a glass. "Of all the idiot things the Nameless One sees fit to dress me up in, heeled shoes are by far the worst. Should I ever get the better of him, I'll curse him to an eternity of aching arches and cramped toes!"
Cadvan stared at her blankly when she handed him the glass. "If cramped toes are the worst of your curses, he might do just fine."
Maerad held his gaze a moment then sighed, shaking her head. "I cannot speak to the revenge I would like to give him. Whenever I visit our friends, I am beside myself with anger. He deserves worse than I can give him. And I reckon," she added, tilting her head to one side curiously, "that by the clouds on your face, you too would like to see him suffer?"
"Today was a bad day, but I think those in the near future might be worse," Cadvan mused, studying the red of the wine. He took a healthy gulp and met Maerad's gaze steadily. "I'm sorry, Maerad, for earlier. I shouldn't have been harsh with you, but the Nameless One said things today that made me think I had reason to fear for you. Coming back and finding you absent was unsettling."
Maerad turned away. "I should think that the day the Nameless One metes out his punishment on me, the world will know it. I am no fool, Cadvan, I know he would see me undone, my mind broken and my will destroyed. And I know he would let his Hulls have me first." She remembered with an uncomfortable sharpness the days she had spent when she first arrived, living in terror Cadvan was being tortured. She remembered the pit of despair that had opened in her heart. She said softly, "I didn't mean to frighten you. I think you have been frightened enough on my account as is."
Cadvan's fingers on her chin were tender when he turned her face to him. "Frightened, yes, but not so much to treat you like that." Then, with painstakingly slow movements, Cadvan balanced the glass of wine on the edge of the armrest and leaned forward and kissed Maerad.
She was, by now, used to Cadvan's determined gentleness when it came to loving her. He was deliberate in movements, making abundantly clear what he intended, as if he needed to give Maerad an opportunity to stop him. Maerad, though, was beginning to find it frustrating. She recalled the night before he had left for war, the way he'd grabbed at her, his hands igniting heat in her belly and that unspoken need for something else. She remembered too the moment of abandon, when she had touched him and for the briefest second he seemed ready to drop his stern, controlled demeanor.
Cadvan deepened the kiss and Maerad let him, leaning forward so her body pressed against his. He was warm-hot even-and she twined her arms around his neck so her fingers could play in his untidy hair. She waited for him to do more, to shift her to his lap or move her to the bedroom, but he didn't. His hand moved down and his arm wrapped around her waist, tucking her safely into the circle of his arms.
I don't want to be safe, at least not like this, Maerad thought immediately.
She was grateful Cadvan was taking care with her. After everything she had learned while living with Lyla, she would be the first to admit that the desires of men sometimes overwhelmed her, but…but after speaking to her about her own confused ball of emotions and desires, and watching Lyla navigate men easily, she realized that sweet kisses and tender words weren't the only thing she wanted. She shivered against Cadvan's lips, wondering with a hint of annoyance why he didn't do more.
You're allowed to take what you want, Lyla had teased, shocked when Maerad had hinted at the strict rules that governed Bard powers. She wondered if this was the same.
With the perfect recall of a Bard, the lectures Lyla had given her, the pages of the book she had read, came back to her. Still kissing Cadvan, Maerad carefully shifted her weight and Cadvan had to spread his legs wider for her to sit between them. She felt him pause as she moved, like he was taking note of her new position, but before they could fall back in the rhythm of kissing, she pulled her knees up.
Be confident, Lyla would say, you're a powerful woman, and men like powerful women. Maerad levered herself up onto her knees, and found that when she was kneeling, she was a head taller than Cadvan. She leaned over him, taking his face in her hands, running her palms over his neck and down his shoulders. She could feel his pulse jump.
Her lead was all it took. Cadvan dropped his hands to her waist, then to her hips where he tugged her forward. She fell into him and their kiss broke momentarily.
"You'll undo me if we keep at this rate," Cadvan said, his voice husky with desire.
"Is that such a bad thing?" The words sprang to Maerad's lips before she considered them.
Cadvan stared up into her face, saw the feverish spots high on her cheeks and her eyes that were hazy with desire. He titled his head to the side, considering. "No."
Maerad's lips pulled up into a small, seductive smile. "Have I not just undo you, but also your tongue? Have I silenced the famous Cadvan of Lirigon? Perhaps the great competition between you and Dernhil has been much exaggerated?"
At this, Cadvan chuckled. "I made an ass of myself when I decided to compete with Dernhil, but I held my own for a time. I think if I had met you, though, I would have barely managed one word."
Maerad rolled her eyes expansively. "That is no excuse for poor performance."
Before he could stop himself, Cadvan said, "I promise it won't be a poor performance."
A shy smile flitted across Maerad's face and Cadvan stroked her back. "I will be the judge of that," she said, sounding surer than she felt.
The surprise at her statement shone on Cadvan's face, but after a moment, he frowned. When Maerad said these things, when she gleamed at him with her eyes bright, he was taken in. That version of Maerad was a confident, powerful woman, a woman Cadvan would have chased after during his youth, admired and worshipped. But he also wondered how much of this woman was Maerad. And he worried...worried that this wasn't what she really wanted.
"Well, judge what you may, I can't do much lying on his couch. It's entirely the wrong proportions for judging." Cadvan sat up, Maerad slipping off him regretfully.
"So, you will blame the environment now for your loss?" Maerad teased, confused at Cadvan's sudden withdrawal.
He smiled recklessly. "I will never concede defeat. There are a thousand extenuating circumstances, and I will think of them all."
"A thousand isn't so many," Maerad mused.
"If we go through one a night it would only take a few years," Cadvan said reasonably.
Maerad turned her head so her hair fell, obscuring part of her face. Cadvan couldn't see her smile, but he heard it in her voice when she said, "Just one a night?"
Cadvan raised an eyebrow at her savvy. "I might have it in me to manage two."
"Five hundred nights," Maerad said contently, standing and smiling down at him. "Not even two years."
"That's every day, Maerad," Cadvan said, exasperated.
"You're not up to this task?" Maerad asked seriously, moving slowly away so he could admire the shape she made as she walked. "I thought you had the stamina to keep up with me."
"You might find it more exhausting than you think."
"Or as monotonous," Maerad rejoined playfully. Before Cadvan could reply indignantly, she said, "I've heard your poetry. It's dull."
"You cut to the quick," said Cadvan after a beat.
A smile flickered across her face, pleased she'd managed to stump Cadvan. "If not in deed, I'm mercenary in thought."
"I'll remember that," Cadvan murmured, joining her in the door.
Maerad was suddenly aware of how much larger Cadvan was than her; it was easy to forget when they were sitting side by side, but he towered over her, and had to tilt her chin up to kiss her. This time, it wasn't the gentle, languorous kisses he placed her neck, it wasn't a slow burning passion. He crushed his lips against hers and his hand dropped to her hips where they curled around her like a vice.
Men are easy creatures, Lyla had told her flippantly, but Maerad found herself doubting that.
As he kissed her, Maerad felt a shadow of Cadvan's power pass through her. Not his Gift, not the powers he possessed that made him one of the greatest Bards in all of Annar, but the power he wielded as a man. It wasn't just that he was bigger than her, it wasn't that he could lift her up and carry her off if he wanted, most men could do that. It was the confidence in his movements, the fleeting impression that he possessed her. He kissed her with the knowledge that she wanted it, he touched her knowing she desired it. It was knowledge that he didn't have to carry her off like some barbarian in Gilman's Cot, she would follow him of her own volition.
She found herself leaning back, grateful for the solid wall behind her, because she felt that same exhilaration as before: the urge to run but the longing to stay. Cadvan merely closed the space between them and she thought she would be engulfed by him. She felt his tongue flick over her teeth and her mouth opened wider. Her heart pounded but she felt herself to relax, enjoying the sensation of his fingers making circles on her hips.
Don't forget that you're leading this. You need to have control of this, she thought firmly. Yes, that would make this easier. Having a bit of control, knowing she was setting the pace for their love was reassuring, it meant she could stop it at any time. But it was difficult-so difficult-when Cadvan suddenly hooked his arm tightly about her waist and lifted her easily into the bedroom.
"I suppose I am rather mercenary in deed," Cadvan said against her lips, and his voice was low, rumbling like a growl. Maerad was surprised by the sound: it was singularly masculine.
"Then put your skills to use and help me out of this prison of a gown, it hurts," she said. In truth, her ribs ached from the boning and she could barely breathe for the tight lacing; she was desperate to be rid of the thing.
Cadvan, though, was surprisingly dexterous with the strings. "Gowns like this were never fashionable in among Bards," Cadvan mused, his fingers picking at the strings like he was strumming an instrument. "Perhaps in Den Raven, but they were viewed as too…impractical for women who did anything beside lounging around courts."
"Impractical is too nice a word for it," Maerad said dryly, releasing her breath as Cadvan loosened the last string.
Cadvan smiled to himself. "They suit you well." Maerad chuckled low in her throat and let the gown simply fall off her. She lifted her hair, shaking it out, and ran her hands through the strands. Cadvan placed a kiss on her exposed neck. "Don't take that literally, of course, everything you wear suits you."
Maerad turned her face halfway to him. "Even a plain old shift?"
Cadvan turned Maerad to face him, and he flicked his gaze down from the crown of her head to her toes. His eyes were bright with hunger and Maerad's cheeks grew hot. From any other man, she would have recoiled from that look, but from Cadvan, it seemed a compliment beyond words. But suddenly the look was gone and he was studying her like he might a fine horse, fingers hooked in the loops of his belt, head titled slightly to the side.
"If I had it my way, you'd go about in nothing but your bed clothes," he said decidedly. "Of course, that would mean you would never leave this room, but I would do my best to keep you entertained."
Maerad laughed, pushing away the heat of Cadvan's look. "Five hundred nights, at least."
Maerad turned suddenly, the white shift blooming around her like a lily, and she made for the bed. She knelt on the blankets, staring up at him from under a thick fall of hair, lips parted slightly. She knew, because Lyla had told her over and over again, that she looked like a virginal maid, an innocent woman waiting patiently for a man to come kiss her. Cadvan, though, was stuck again by how much she looked like Ardina. Out of her gowns and ribbons, with her hair hanging long and loose about her shoulders she didn't look like any mortal woman, maid or otherwise. She looked wild. He had an image in his mind that he would step toward her and she would bound away like a doe fleeing a hunter. He'd have to chase after her…
"Are you not coming to bed?" Maerad asked, and though she tried to keep her voice even, they both heard the note of longing there.
He moved with leonine grace, untucking his shirt and draping it across a chair. Maerad watched him, wondering if he was taking his time on purpose. When he turned around to face her, Cadvan was pleased to see her leaning forward slightly, her eyes fixed on him.
She's beautiful enough to tempt an angel, and I was no saint to begin with. Always cognizant of Maerad's unfortunate upbringing, Cadvan didn't like to lose control when it came to loving her. He tried to clear his head of the image of catching her and pulling her to the ground. "There's no hurry, the bed isn't going anywhere," he said with a sly look at her.
Maerad, though, felt there was a need to hurry. She wasn't sure why, but it seemed like every moment Cadvan wasted playing with his shirt or fiddling with his pants she was growing tenser and tenser. She bit her lip, digging her fingernails into her knees; she wanted him back in the bed with her.
Cadvan could sense Maerad's mounting frustration with him and felt a brief surge of satisfaction. He hadn't lied to her when he said he wouldn't have her in his bed unwillingly. He wasn't going to let the Nameless One force her hand, he would make sure she absolutely wanted him there. He refilled his wine glass and took a long draw of it.
He flashed her a narrow smile when he saw her flushed cheeks. "Or are you going somewhere?"
He was teasing Maerad, and she knew it, and unfortunately, this wasn't something Lyla had taught her how to navigate. In Lyla's experience, the men were easy, there was an unspoken contract that she would entertain them and then give herself to them. She pretended to run and they pretended to chase, but she was always caught. Cadvan, though, was far cleverer than those men. He allowed himself to be seduced by Maerad's words and smiles and looks, but right when she sure she had him, he retreated and forced her to come forward.
"To sleep," she returned, and now she didn't bother to pretend she didn't want him, "if I'm left to my own devices much longer."
Cadvan finished his wine, carefully not looking at her. He could feel her gaze on him, though, and reveled in the sensation. She might be beautiful enough to tempt an angel, but not him. "You have to give things their proper time, you can't rush them." He gestured to the glass. "Wine should be enjoyed."
Maerad was stumped, searching for the words that might bring him to bed without sounding blatantly wanton. When she couldn't, Cadvan chuckled softly to himself and crossed the room, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. He took her hands, playing with the fingers. "It's harder than you think, isn't it? Seducing a man?"
Maerad shriveled inside. She couldn't hold his gaze. "I'm not trying to seduce you-"
"Yes, you are," Cadvan said, not unkindly. "And, if I'm being honest, you're not half bad at it. I'm not sure who you were learning from for three months, but she did a good service."
Maerad snorted. "I'll be sure to let Lyla know you appreciate her methods."
Cadvan saw how uncomfortable he had made her and he lifted her face up. "Don't think I don't appreciate your effort-I do!- but…Maerad, I told you that you can play all the games you want in public, but for me, I just want you as you are. So, tell me, do you want me?"
If she could, Maerad would have looked away, but Cadvan's gaze was so intense she felt like she was trapped. She licked her lips before saying weakly, "Yes."
Cadvan's face softened and he kissed her. "You just need to say it. I don't want any games from you. I know what the Nameless One ordered you to do, but if you come to me, I want to know it's because you wanted it. You need to understand, the idea that a woman would be was a man for anything less than love is…galling to Bards. I don't want you to feel like you have to do these things. I want you to do them because you enjoy them."
Maerad trembled slightly. Oh, she wanted it, she wanted Cadvan to kiss her and hold her and do whatever it took to soothe the heat in her. "I do want to, but…"
She hoped Cadvan would speak, but in this, he wouldn't. It had been a long time since he had been involved with a woman, but he firmly believed that they needed to have a voice when it came to decisions regarding their bodies. He would wait for Maerad to articulate her feelings, even if she struggled with it. He nodded encouragingly instead.
Maerad scowled, angry that she was incapable of making sense of her thoughts. "I know that I want you, but don't know what all that is. What if I think I want something, but then I don't?"
Cadvan sensed the confusing ball of emotions Maerad was trying to express. "Then tell me, and I won't do it."
"But what if you want it?"
This seemed to be the crux of the issue, and something Maerad seemed most uncomfortable with. Cadvan shook his head, a truly sad smile on his face. "Maerad. That's not love. I will never force you to do something you don't want, even if I might want it. And I would, of course, expect the same from you." He saw Maerad's ironic smile, but his voice remained serious. "Maerad, there are obviously things I'd like to do with you, and I hope that you would be open to exploring them with me, but I am not going to rush you into something. I am, in fact, capable of waiting."
"What if it takes a long time?"
Cadvan shrugged. "Then it takes a long time. If you're not enjoying yourself, then I doubt I would be either."
"I mean, I know now what to do, but I'm not exactly sure if I'll enjoy it." She breathed out loudly. She was struggling to find words again, struggling to explain that she was curious about the things Lyla had taught her, but only insofar as they didn't scare. And, as much as she trusted Cadvan, she didn't know that she would when it came to the act.
"We'll figure that out together," Cadvan assured her, and kissed her knuckles. "You just have to know you're allowed to say no."
Cadvan's words sank in and Maerad felt herself relax for the first time that night. She looked up into his face. "I suppose that must sound strange-"
"It's not," Cadvan said quickly. "You didn't grow up knowing you were allowed to refuse a man. It doesn't surprise me that you might be unsure about it."
Maerad sat back on the bed, considering everything Cadvan had said. He waited patiently, supposing she was trying to decide whether to move forward or go to bed. He was pleasantly surprised when she gave his hand a gentle tug, pulling him back against her.
"I'm saying yes," she said against his lips. "Do you?"
Cadvan released a tight breath very slowly. "Maerad, I would say yes to you a thousand times."
Maerad felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips as Cadvan swung his legs around and pulled her on to his lap. He tugged the corner of her shift down to reveal her narrow shoulder. "Just a thousand?"
Cadvan chuckled but didn't answer. He continued kissing her shoulder, and Maerad found herself having to crawl onto his lap to accommodate him. She shivered as his hands moved down, bunching the shift up around her hips, and began to trace lazy circles on her thighs. Maerad tipped her head back, and when Cadvan gave her a sharp tug, she arched her back so her breasts were pushed forward. She gasped as he pulled the gown down exposing more of her chest and began pressing kisses to the sensitive skin.
Briefly, Maerad recalled the many things a woman might do to please a man. She thought of Lyla's crude lessons likening it to riding a horse, where to kiss, the sounds to make, the expression on her face, but these were pushed from her mind when he lowered his head and his lips found the small pink bud of her nipple. Maerad decided than that there was no point trying to concentrate-another time when she wasn't delirious was pleasure.
For his part, Cadvan was trying to focus on Maerad, but it difficult when she straddled him like she was now. He had thought before, when she had moved her hips against his in lazy circles, that she drove him mad. Now, he knew better. He could feel her legs squeezing his hips and thighs, her body move gently against him in rhythmic swaying motion, and the flimsy shift gathered about her hips so all he had to do was reach his hands up-
Slowly! he ordered firmly. She says yes now, but she doesn't know how this progresses. Still, his hands found their way to her hips and began to move them in time with own.
Maerad again felt the heat building up in her belly, the unspoken need growing larger and larger. She had an idea now what she wanted, she knew what Cadvan might do, but he was being tantalizingly slow. After a few more minutes of continued kissing and lavish attention to her breasts, though, Maerad felt something firm in Cadvan's lap and she recognized that part of him she had so clumsily grasped at last time. This time, she tried to do what Lyla had said and simply press against Cadvan and gauge his response.
Cadvan's voice was rough when he said, "For the love of the Light, Maerad." She was about ask if that felt good when his grip on her hips tightened and he flipped her on her back suddenly. He landed on top of her, distributing the weight of his body carefully on his arms, but she could still feel the weight and heat of him up and down her body. He paused a moment in his kissing.
"You can tell me stop," he said, though his voice was uneven. "I mean, tonight doesn't have to be-"
"Not yet," said Maerad sharply, longing for his hands on her. "Don't stop yet."
There was a touch of smugness to Cadvan's smile when he returned to kissing her. His hands were back on her thighs and he toyed with the idea of continuing there. He let his fingers move up higher and higher and heard Maerad gasp rather suddenly. He paused, but only long enough to make sure she wouldn't stop him, before continuing up to touch the center of her.
"Do you like this?" Cadvan asked huskily and Maerad merely purred in pleasure. He began to draw circles with his thumb on the most sensitive part of her. He watched her face closely, she was smiling faintly, biting her lip to stop the small gasps of ecstasy escaping her. "Maerad, do you like this?" he asked again, a little sharper than necessary the second time.
Her eyes snapped open and she found him looking down on her, a rather self-satisfied look on his face. "Yes," she gasped, and before she could continue, perhaps to tell Cadvan off for that smug look, he pushed aside her undergarment and pressed his finger inside her. She arched off the bed, a low moan escaping her. It was crossing her mind that Cadvan was a far more accomplished lover than even she with her newly gained knowledge was. And she was thrilled with the knowledge. "Don't stop."
"I won't," he assured her, enjoying the knowledge that he could satisfy her. "Not until you ask me."
Maerad allowed his words to wash over her and enjoy his hands on her for a time. She could feel the pressure in her belly growing the growing with the practiced motion of Cadvan's hands, hear her own cries of pleasure as he played with her. When it seemed she couldn't take much more of his attention, when she was strung so tight her body seemed ready to snap with the tension, she grasped Cadvan's so tightly she was sure her finger nails would leave marks and gave a low feral noise she didn't recognize as her own.
The pressure was gone. Replaced now with a delirium of pleasure, her head filled with mindless buzzing and her body was full of content warmth. It took her a moment to realize there was something wet between her legs, or that Cadvan had sat back and was admiring her. When he saw her looking, he smiled back lazily.
"I trust you enjoyed that?" he asked, laying down beside her.
"Is that how it always feels?" Maerad asked, her eyes bright with excitement.
"How it should," Cadvan said with an amused glance.
"For both of us?" Maerad pressed. "That feeling…is it like that for you?"
Cadvan grinned sheepishly. "Well, ideally, yes. But, in this case, practice really does make perfect. Men are a little different to satisfy than a woman, though some would say easier. I imagine," he added in a rush, "that you might have learned how to bring a man pleasure from this Lyla?"
Maerad laughed to herself. "Of course," she said, shaking her head. "Of course, that was something I learned."
"Well, if you're curious to test the validity of those methods, I'd be a willing a subject," he said with a wink. "If that was something you felt comfortable doing."
Maerad's eyes widened. "Of course, I want to make you feel that way. I just think that I need to-well I need to consider how best-"
Cadvan held up his hand. "You don't have to tonight." He reached out and drew Maerad into his arms. He could feel the rapid beat of her heart through her gown. "I'm glad I could make you happy. I'm glad you enjoyed that."
Maerad closed her eyes, reveling in the sensation. "I shall have to find a way to repay you in kind."
"I look forward to it," Cadvan said with chuckle, resting his head on top of hers and running her hands over the curve of her hip. "I very much look forward to it."
"It will be a wonderous sight," Sharma said to Hem conversationally. "The summoning of a Shika is a singular event. Few Bards have ever lived to see one, let alone summon it."
Hem was inspecting a piece of stale bread he'd been provided. This one didn't have any mold growing on it, for which he was immensely grateful, but he felt his stomach turn at the poor fare. Beside him, swirling a glass of wine, Sharma sat before a full meal: rare, steaming meat, herbed, buttered vegetables, soft slices of hearty bread. The Nameless One wasn't giving much attention to the food, though, just staring expectantly at the door.
"Few would want such a nightmare trapped in their heads," Hem muttered, and took a bite of the bread. It hurt his teeth.
"Don't be so obtuse," Sharma warned, his eyes sliding to the side to observe Hem. "For all their hatred of the Dark, Bards are a curious lot by nature. They will want to see the creature."
Hem considered Saliman, who would certainly be helping in the summoning, and who abhorred the Dark. He doubted very much that Saliman would find any pleasure in summoning the Shika. "I think you have too loose a definition of curious."
"I think you have too loose a tongue for a boy who waits on my pleasure," Sharma warned.
"Did you not enlist me as your jester?" Hem sniped, eyeing a slice of potato that was dripping in garlic butter. He reflected that his last meal-two days ago-had been watery stew. "Am I not meant to have a loose tongue?"
"You are meant to amuse me, not argue with me," Sharma growled. He saw Hem's eyes on his plate and flicked a carrot at the boy. "You know the old adage about flies and honey."
Hem caught the carrot and stuffed it in his mouth before reflecting that it was painfully embarrassing to be accepting table scrapes like a dog. He chewed the carrot slowly all the same, relishing the taste and wishing he could have more. "I also know how Bards feel about summoning horrid monsters from the Abyss."
"Cowards all," mused Sharma, leaning back in his seat. "Your people are pathetic. Playing with their powers but never using them. That will change now. They will know the depth of their strength."
"I didn't realize you were seeking to empower Bards."
Sharma grinned, showing all his teeth. "Oh, it will not empower them. I expect that many of them will break when they realize the enormity of what they have done." Hem looked ready to argue but Sharma's hand shot out, silencing him. "Be quiet, boy. They come."
The Bards entered the throne room looking particularly unpleasant. Cadvan, who would lead the summoning, had a face in shadow and his eyes were mutinous. Maerad walked at his side, her face pale, but her stride sure and confident. Behind them came Saliman, who was close to Malgorn and whispering to him. Hem caught his eye and the other Bard briefly smiled, but there was something unmeasurably sad in his face, something that hadn't been there even a few days ago and Hem wondered what had transpired.
The First Circles of Innail and Lirigon followed, and those Bards who had never felt the full force of the Nameless One's presence reeled. Silvia, who was keeping close behind Malgorn, went visibly pale and stumbled over her feet. The Nameless One's eyes moved to her, flickered down her body, and then moved on as if she had proven immensely dull. He glanced at Selmana, the red-haired Bard from Lirigon, and his lips turned up a little. Ceredin's cousin. Nelac of Lirigon, the old fool. Indik of Innail, a gifted Maker. There was power and history in these Bards, and he planned to mine them for what they were worth.
They assembled before him, pushed to the center of the room as the Hulls crept along the walls like wolves herding sheep for slaughter. The air was thick was their fear and the Nameless One leaned forward, his eyes alight. His gaze narrowed a fraction in annoyance.
"It is customary to bow to your lord." At his command, the Bard's knees gave way. The Nameless One studied the group of Bards intently, feeling out their rage and humiliation at being so quickly undone. "Better, but we'll have to work on that, won't we? You're all a fair bit too easy for my liking. My Hulls have not been strict enough with you. We will change that."
Malgorn trembled. The sound of the Nameless One's voice was like sharp nails dragging along his brain. He felt the wound in the back of his mind afresh and when glanced sideways, he saw that Vaclal was looking pale and his hands were shaking. Before him, Saliman, Cadvan and Maerad seemed the least troubled; they, at least, were still looking up at the Nameless One with bright, furious eyes.
"Have you all been told why you were summoned?" The Nameless One asked, eyes on Cadvan then Saliman. "Do you know your purpose?" When none of them answered, the Nameless One smirked. "Well, that's a surprise. I would have thought you'd all be gossiping like frogs."
"It is difficult to gossip when they are kept apart," Maerad said thickly.
The Nameless One's eyes widened at the sound of her voice. "I don't recall asking for your opinion, Maerad, and you would do wise to remember that I am your master. Such is your impertinence, however, that I think it best you and I have a discussion when our work here is done. You must be made to understand order in my world."
Cadvan noticed Likud watching Maerad with sharp, red eyes and cringed inwardly, but then found his voice. "We are to summon a creature of the Abyss for you. Something to aid your armies in their campaign in the north."
"Well said, Cadvan," the Nameless One agreed, tearing his eyes off the girl. "I have enlisted you all in their great undertaking because I believe you are the most suited to the summoning. It will be an immense task and I expect many of your will fail in the thing. Together, though, your powers should prove capable of my summoning."
"And what," said Nelac, his face dark and worried, "are we to summon for you?"
The Nameless One's lips curled up slowly until even the pink of his gums showed. "I require a Shika."
A fission ran through the Bards, and an audible gasp escaped them all followed by a pregnant silence. Shikas were the most feared of the uncreatures bound in the Abyss, their very presence on this plain of existence caused temporal and physical shifts in the fabric of reality. And, even after being summoned, they didn't last long in this world, winking out of existence and returning back to whatever dimension they normally inhabited. They were impossible things, nightmares that fed on the life force of all living things.
"You cannot," Nelac said after a beat. "To draw this creature into our world could damage-"
"I care not for your words and warnings, they are for lesser men. Weak men. I have become the most powerful being in existence, I will have nothing but the most feared creature of the Abyss in my service."
"Then you summon it." It was Siliva, and Malgorn wished fervently that she would not draw the attention of the Nameless One to her.
What a lovely young wife you have, Malgorn, the Nameless One whispered, sensing his despair. He searched Silvia with renewed interest and saw her look away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. I see why you guard her so from my men. They would make fast work of such a prize. She's brave, too. She might even give them a little sport.
Malgorn abhorred the Nameless One's presence in his mind; he felt his stomach turn and bile rise up in his throat at the sound of his voice. Silvia would serve you better with her Gift.
You are a poor liar, Malgorn, I know you fear for her. Come, beg me to spare her and perhaps I will stay my wrath.
Please, my lord, Malgorn thought, not caring much for his own humility. Please, do not hurt my wife. I will do as you ask, I'll help in the summoning, I won't challenge you in word or deed. He was staring up at the throne, waiting for the Nameless One to look at him, but he never did.
"You are pathetic," he announced, and Malgorn wasn't sure if it was directed at him or the Bards in general. "I will not summon the creature because it is below me, and because it is exhausting and because it amuses me to see you all do it and live with your own foul deeds. When the Shika wreaks havoc on this world, you will all be to blame." His eyes landed on Cadvan's face. "The blood is on your hands."
"There is no guarantee that we can summon it. Even uniting our powers together will not necessarily bring the creature to this plane," said Nelac thoughtfully. "You are putting quite a bit of faith in our strength."
"Rather in your desperation, for I do not suffer failure from my subjects lightly. You all have something to lose should you displease me. Think on that for a moment." The Nameless One's eyes moved to Saliman. He was pale and his eyes dull and the Nameless one assumed that his trip to ghetto to see his friends from Turbansk had gone hard.
Good, thought the Nameless One vindictively, and a sudden urge washed over him: he wanted to strike Saliman again and again until he vomited blood and wept and cried in his fear. Why not? Why not bleed him dry in front of all his little friends? But the Nameless One knew he still needed Saliman for the destruction of the Speech, and he sat with his bloodlust, drumming his fingers impatiently.
"Well, what have you all to say? Are there any here who would refuse my command? Are there any who still think they have the right to deny me?" When no one spoke, the Nameless One chuckled. "I thought as much. Likud, where is that book? You might have taught Cadvan a few clever tricks in his youth, but he's going to need refresher if he's to summon the Shika."
Nelac's face paled. "No! No, I'll summon the Shika. I'm older-more capable-than Cadvan."
Cadvan's heart beat painfully when he heard the emotion in Nelac's voice. "Nelac, don't," he said in a low voice, turning to face the older Bard.
"I will summon the Shika, not Cadvan."
"How sweet," mused Likud, coming forward, a book tucked under his arm. He approached Cadvan and knelt so they were on level. "He must love you dearly to offer himself to the curse. You and I both know how much this hurts."
Cadvan whipped around to glare at Likud. "You understand nothing of love."
Likud grabbed Cadvan by the forearm and tugged him to his feet. "I told you, Cadvan, you were like a son to me. And here we are again, you learning at the feet of your master."
Cadvan stumbled against a side table and Likud thrust the book under his nose. "You remember this volume, don't you?" Cadvan did remember it, the same book Likud had shown him years ago to release the Bone Queen.
"Keeping all your spells in one book? Isn't there an old adage about all the eggs in one basket?" Cadvan asked lightly, trying to keep his face straight though he could feel the pull of the book.
"You always did have a sense of humor," Likud smirked and threw the cover open. "It's the last few pages. Take a look."
Cadvan was appalled that he would have to find the spell himself, but when he glanced up he saw the Nameless One's rictus grin and knew there was no recourse. He stared at the spidery writing scrawled across the page like the hand that had written it was convulsing, and the strange symbols slunk into his mind. Beside him, Likud was watching with a look of avid hunger. "Just like before, Cadvan, isn't it? Just let the words lodge themselves in your mind, let them brand your consciousness so the spell will always be there."
Cadvan's hands flicked through the pages, and though he only glimpsed parts of other spells, he could taste something foul on his tongue. Behind him, Nelac watched in horror. To summon the Shika would require Cadvan to open himself to the Abyss. It was true that all the Bards present would unite their power to open the door between worlds, but Cadvan would serve as a conduit, a point of intensity where their powers would be focused, and ran the risk of severely hurting himself. There was an art to allowing the strength of other Bards to flow through you and direct it carefully into weaving a spell. It was almost like a dam: their powers would surge together to form a rapid river and Cadvan would have to gather them all and patiently and cautiously allow only a trickle of directed will to pass through. If, for even a moment, he lost control of their delicate balance, their combined powers might overwhelm him. Nelac cursed himself, he should have been more forceful. He suspected that the Nameless One would not allow him to die, but too much power could damage Cadvan's mind and he thought it better he take the risk.
"Let me summon the Shika," he tried again, but the Nameless One didn't even blink. "I am the greater mage. Cadvan's will is formidable, his Gift great, but mine is greater still." When the Nameless One said nothing Nelac threw caution to the wind and slammed his hand on the smooth stone. "By the Light, Sharma, listen to me!"
Cadvan, who was hurrying through the book, stumbled to a halt. The first thing he had learned in his service to the Nameless One was never to call him by his name. He suffered Maerad and Hem to make use of it, but he paid them back in kind. He spun about, his mouth open in a curse, but the Nameless One held up his hand and Cadvan felt his vocal cords turn to stone.
The Nameless One, who had been watching Cadvan with glee, slid his eyes sideways until he was focused on Nelac. The old Bard had the nerve to stand and was staring at him with a blazing look. The Nameless One was sure his skin was glowing faintly with power-another affront to his will. His smile turned into a snarl.
"I have not given you leave to speak my name, Bard." He pronounced each word carefully. "It would be wise of you to remember that when you speak to me."
Nelac saw Cadvan's face, a pale, dismayed mask in the corner of his eyes, but he pushed on. "I am the greater Bard. Cadvan's power, mighty though they may be, will never be better than mine. I should cast the charm."
The Nameless One blinked his golden eyes. "You disparage your own student?"
"I know the limitations of his Gift better than anyone else." Nelac glanced dismissively at Cadvan, and in that moment, Cadvan felt like a small boy again. "You think he will serve you well, but he won't be able to weave the charm. He hasn't that ability."
"He summoned the Bone Queen," the Nameless One said reasonably, now thoroughly enjoying this verbal dressing down of Cadvan. "He was skilled enough then, why not now?"
"And fool can summon a reverent. What Cadvan did in his youth was neither complex nor exceptional. Had his actions not resulted in the injury of one Bard and the death of another, it would have been unremarkable. The fact that she broke his word of command should be proof enough he has no right to summon another creature from the Abyss."
"You think so little of your own student, Nelac?"
"I love Cadvan much like a son, but I think he will botch this summoning and a Shika will be released without a master on this plain. We will all die because he hasn't the will to keep it in check."
Cadvan strained against the will of the Nameless One but still no words escaped him. "You did fail miserably in your first summons," the Nameless One mused, now inspecting Nelac with great care. "Even now I can see the power in the old man that you lack, Cadvan."
"Which is why I should summon the Shika," Nelac urged. He was looking up determinedly at the Nameless One, ignoring Cadvan's struggle. "Besides, you and I both know a summoning of this magnitude is bound to damage the Bard that performs it. My understanding is that you still have a need of Cadvan."
The Nameless One sat back, his gaze distant as he considered the possibilities. He wanted Cadvan to summon the Shika because he knew it would hurt, but…but perhaps having to watch the old man do it would serve him better. Besides, Cadvan did still owe him service, and the summoning would leave him bedridden for a few days.
"Nelac," he announced, clasping his hands, "you've convinced me. You are truly more worthy of the summoning than Cadvan." Cadvan made a furious grunting noise but the Nameless One ignored him. "You will summon the Shika and send it forth to the west to do my bidding."
Saliman looked disgusted and turned to face Nelac. "Nelac, you can't! You're a healer, we'll need people like you-"
"Cadvan, move aside," Nelac said calmly, weaving through the crowd to take the book. "Join the others in the summoning, I trust you can still weave your mind to theirs?" Cadvan was holding the book firmly, and though he could already sense the Nameless One bending his will, he gripped it tighter, refusing to give it up.
Cadvan felt his voice surge back. "Please, don't do this."
Nelac turned to him gravely. "You are too young, too inexperienced for this work, Cadvan." The words were cold, but Cadvan read their meaning as if Nelac had spoken aloud: I am old and if I die in this, it will not be such a loss as you.
"Please trust me," he said again, but it was useless to argue. He could feel the will of the Nameless One bearing down him, pushing him back to his place in line.
The Nameless One watched Cadvan return, smiling blithely at him. "Maerad, come here. You will not use your Gift."
Maerad smarted. "Why?" she asked. "Why, if I have performed the greatest of spells before, should I not take part in the summoning?"
"Because you have no right to your Gift," the Nameless One said softly. "You did your deed, served your purpose. You should have died, but since you have lived, you will live as a lowly, common girl."
It was a blow to take away her Barding, and Maerad felt the sting of his words. First, I am not deserving of freedom because I am a woman, now I am not deserving of my Gift. She felt a growl swelling in the back of her throat, her fury taking form, but she saw Hem watching her, Hem who was exposed to the wrath of the Nameless One. There will come a time when I will turn my Gift on him, but it is not now.
She lifted her chin. "Since it pleased you to bring me here, where shall I observe from?"
"Take a seat on that dais," the Nameless One said carelessly, disappointed she had not risen to his jeering.
Though it was expressly forbidden in Barding, Maerad was overcome with a morbid curiosity to see how a summoning was actually performed. She settled on the dais, straining to see as the Bards fell unwillingly into a circle with Nelac at the northmost point. There seemed to be a brief discussion among the Bards and soon Vaclal had taken the post opposite Nelac while Cadvan and Saliman were at the east and west points. Between them, the other Bards filled in the spaces. Nelac was still reading and Maerad thought his face had turned distinctly paler.
He said something to the assembled Bards, and she noticed the brief look of terror on Silvia's face before their eyes fell shut as one. Maerad wondered if Nelac had cast a charm on them because there was something odd about their stillness, like he had cast a freezing charm, but she felt no pulse of power. Nelac placed the book at his feet so two pages were open to him, and he began to chant.
At once, Maerad felt energy reverberate through the room. Though they didn't know the words he used, they felt the power in them. But it wasn't just Nelac chanting, she heard the low, monotone voices of the Bards calling as well. The spoke in perfect unison, their voices all muted and low. Maerad suspected that had all connected their minds to Nelac and he was directing them, for above them all, his voice rose the loudest. Nelac began to glow with a faint light and as he continued to chant, the glow became more and more intense until it was almost unbearable to behold. She looked to the other Bards and saw that they too were glowing palely as they wove the spell, lending their strength to Nelac as he meticulously shaped the summoning.
Maerad felt the mounting tension in the room and realized with a shock that it was coming from the Hulls. Hulls were powerful in their own right, but she suspected that whatever spell the Bards were weaving was far beyond their capabilities. She saw, with grim pleasure, that Likud was watching with a look of envy on his face. When she turned her attention back to the summoning, she was horrified to find that something dark was forming in the center of circle, a shapeless mass that seemed to be made of nothing, but was itself simple a void. Around her, a breeze began to move, picking at her hair and pulling it free of the combs. The temperature dropped more and more and she that a thin sheet of ice was blooming on the windows. The fires flickered then sputtered out and now only the glow of the Bards illuminated the room.
This isn't right, she thought childishly. It's not-this is something that shouldn't-
She found she couldn't form thoughts anymore, like the cold that was leeching the room of heat was drawing her senses out as well. She glanced at Hem to find him straining against the chain that held him, trying to get as far away from the summoning as he could. He scrambled at the Nameless One's throne like he was trying to get behind it.
When she turned back to the Bards she saw that objects in the room were now moving inexorably toward the circle. Tables and chairs were sliding along the floor, a comb came loose from her hair and flew through the air with the force of an arrow. She cried out, scared it might strike one of the Bards, but as it approached the circle a strange thing happened, so strange she thought that her eyes failed her. The comb shot through the air heading directly for one of the Bards from Lirigon, but right before it reached her, it slowed and began to lengthen as if it were made of wax. The comb stretched and stretched skyward, arching high above the circle before turning rapidly, like water running down a drain. It touched the point of blackness forming in the center of the circle and then winked out of existence.
"Stop this!" Maerad cried to the Nameless One desperately, but she saw his face aglow in the pale light, the wide, exuberant smile of a monster. "Please!"
Suddenly a chair launched through the air and followed the same track at the comb. It was followed closely by torches ripped from the wall. The world felt like it was tilting on its axis, they were all being pulled into the black ball that was now ringed in debris from the room. Maerad grabbed at the chains dug into the wall and knotted hem around her wrists. Above her, glass shattered and darted through the air, stary shards slicing her cheeks. She screamed but even sound didn't travel through the air correctly anymore: her voice echoed around her before warbling off.
Unbearable though it was to watch, Maerad returned her attention to the black mass forming in the circle. The Bards were chanting louder now and their voices bounced off the walls in strange rhythms. She saw that Nelac had raised his hands and his fingers were bent like he was straining to hold something up. Suddenly, one of his fingers snapped back. Maerad screamed but Nelac didn't seem to notice, and in quick succession, his other fingers broke as well. She watched him stretch his arms as high as they would go, and in unison, the Bards moved theirs up as well.
Nelac finally cried out a word, a command Maerad guessed. The wind roared louder than before and across from her a Hull that had not taken the care to hold on to something flew through the air, shot up and was then pulled into the black point that was now growing and growing. It stretched wider, and at its edges, Maerad saw that light and colors wavered and bent: the world was bending into a new shape.
For the love of the Light, stop! she cried out.
A cry answered her. At first, it came from far away, but it shook through the air, echoing around the room. The black pit was wide now, almost as wide as the circle of Bards, and from it, a clawed hand emerged. It stretched straight up and up and up, a pale, lanky arm reaching for the stars. Then came a shoulder, and the shoulder a wing snapped open. The being paused a moment, like it was struggling to pull the rest of its body free, and then the neck flung back a horrid face that screamed with a mouth that ran from ear to ear. It was stringy black hair that flew around it like a mane and pointed ears and no nose. Another arm freed itself from the pit and it curled its claws around nothing, before pulling its body free. It had a misshapen torso, bent at odd angles and so skinny Maerad could see its bones. When its legs escaped the void it gave a cry of victory.
Where it stepped, the polished stone hissed and burned and faded away. The Shika looked around the circle of the Bards, and they too were slowly opening their eyes to behold the horror of what they had summoned. Silvia wavered on the spot and Malgorn had to grip her elbow to hold her upright. It gnashed its fangs, its dead eyes searching for something…someone.
Nelac was speaking again, and the creature turn on him with feral interest. He paused and the thing howled, and the table that had been dragged forward flew back, crashing into the walls and shattering into tinder. It raised it claws as if to strike him, but Nelac held out his mangled hand and spoke a word and the creature reeled. Nelac repeated the previous command and it beat its wings, and Maerad suspected it was searching for a way to break his command. Evidently, it couldn't, and it threw its wings wide before bending at the waist in a cruel mockery of a bow. Its head on it snake neck wavered back and forth, nodding in agreement.
Right before the Shika departed, it snapped its mouth of teeth a Nelac and scythed its wings through the air. Lines of fire hung on the air, and Maerad thought that as they faded she caught a glimpse of black void: it had cut through the fabric of reality and left behind holes into the shadowplains. She gasped at the power of the creature, and it turned its eyes on her for one brief moment. There were only sockets, but she was sure it saw her, and as it launched itself into the air, a burst of black flame escaped its hands directed at her. The ball of flame collided with the dais and it exploded as Maerad lunged out of the way.
The Shika vanished. Time hung still for a second. Maerad lay on her belly, her bleeding face pressed against the cool stone floor. She took a deep gulp of breath, but it didn't seem to fill her lungs. There were tears in her eyes, like she'd stared too long at the sun.
Cadvan had seen the Shika briefly before it vanished, and watched its scorching arch slice the air at Maerad. Images raced before his mind's eyes: the grove in Lirigon, the Bone Queen's blade slicing Ceredin in two, her blood staining his hands. He stumbled back, so weak with cold and exhaustion that he struggled to put one foot before the other and staggered toward the remains of the dais.
"Maerad," he croaked. He could see Ceredin's empty, dark eyes staring back at him as he cradled her. Not again. "Maerad, please."
The fiery remains of the dais smoked in the cold air. He couldn't see her body. Cadvan fell to his knees, the last of his strength leaving him, and tossed bits of the debris aside. He thought he might pass out soon, but not before finding her body. He had to know…
"Cadvan, stop."
He looked over his shoulder. Maerad was there, her face bleeding and her dress torn, but she was there. She was shocked to see a look of reckless relief on his face before he collapsed forward into her. Maerad caught him and sank down to her knees to support his weight. He was as cold as a corpse and shivering. She placed her hand on the back of his neck and she felt his breath shudder out of him.
"I th-th-thought you h-had-"
"Shh," Maerad ordered firmly. "Don't speak. Save your strength."
She felt his cool lips press a cheek against her shoulder and she clutched him tighter against her. He was shaking so badly Maerad thought he wouldn't be able to walk, and she turned furious eyes on the Nameless One, but saw him surveying the scene before him with such unfettered joy that bile rose in her throat. It seemed the other Bards, like Cadvan, had collapsed upon the release of the Shika. She could see Malgorn gently rubbing life back into Silvia's cheeks and Vaclal helping Selmana to sit upright. There was a loud clang and the chain holding Hem shattered into pieces; he rushed across the space, and caught up Saliman, who was slouched against an upended table. Nelac lay on the ground, unconscious.
"Cadvan, I need to help them," Maerad said gently, running her hands through his hair. "Can you walk at all?"
"N-n-no," he stuttered. She pulled back and saw that his lips were faintly blue. "I'll wa-wait here for you." He looked angry at himself for his broken speech and waved her away. Maerad snatched a tablecloth off the floor and draped it over his shoulders.
"Tonight, I will run you the hottest bath and build the fire up so high our rooms will be a sauna." She kissed her forehead and felt his hand on her wrist. "And I'll hold you until you fall asleep, like Pilanel do far in the north to stay frostbite."
He smiled weakly. "I knew it was a g-good idea to send you there," he teased weakly.
She crossed the room, navigating the damage gingerly. The place where the Shika had formed, where the black whole that opened into another dimension had grown, was burned away and Maerad say layers of old stone beneath. She gave the area a wide breadth and made her way to Nelac. He was feverish and she inspected his broken hands with sympathy.
"Hem," she called.
Her brother had already righted Saliman and was checking his pulse.
Saliman stared at him balefully. "That s-summoning went hard on m-me, Hem."
"I can see that," Hem said in a blank voice as he moved his hand down Saliman's arms to check for broken bones. He squeezed his wrists and Saliman gasped. "I'm sorry. I want to set any bones before they start healing."
"The others wi-will need you," Saliman said, clenching his jaw to stop the chills that were racking his body.
"The others can wait. You are my mentor and my dearest friend and I will tend to you first, as is my right." Hem stubbornly ran his hand down Saliman's spine and was relieved there were no injuries. "You've been through too many illnesses and injuries in the past six months to go performing spells like that. Every time you do, it scares me."
Saliman sensed that Hem's anger was directed at the Nameless One's careless disregard for his health than his performing spells, but now didn't seem the time to point that out. "Just see to N-Nelac. I promise after th-that I'll be the most obedient patient."
Hem hesitated, but heard his sister's call, and, with a firm warning to Saliman about staying put, went to tend the older Bard. Hem checked Nelac like he had Saliman, cursing when he saw the damage to his hands. Maerad was resting Nelac's head in her lap, running her fingers through his hair.
"Will his fingers heal?" she asked nervously.
"Maybe," hedged Hem. "I can set them and place healing charms on them to speed up the process. But I'm afraid the force of his own charm did this, or the Shika, and that my Gift won't be able to mend them."
"You must try," she said determinedly. "Nelac was very good to us. He shouldn't have to live with this."
Hem nodded and began searching for something to use as a stay, but at that moment, the Nameless One stood from his throne, eyes gleaming. "Well done, my little Bards. It wasn't so hard, was it?"
None of them were in any state to answer, and Likud said, "I wouldn't have believed them capable myself, my lord."
"Nor I, Likud, but see how well they serve me. I shall have to reward them all for their loyal service." Cadvan, huddled under a tablecloth, scowled: he knew the type of rewards the Nameless One gave for loyalty he was sure he didn't want any more. "Perhaps a feast, to celebrate their great work? Fine food and wine and entertainment for an evening?"
Likud smirked at Maerad. "Speaking of entertainment, my lord, you'll be pleased to learn the Bards of Il Arundh have arrived."
The Nameless One and the Hull shared a devious look and crooked smile. "Oh, that is good news, Likud."
Maerad glanced at Cadvan, who had bowed his head. Silvia had told her Norowen had been a student of Nelac's as well, a friend of Cadvan's. It would be hard to hear that another one your friends was being brought to the Nameless One. His suffering woke a sudden ferocity in Maerad, she felt fire burning under her skin and she wanted to fling it at the Nameless One.
Instead, she heard a sharp gasp and looked down to see Nelac's eyes were open and his face rapidly changing from white to flushed. "Maerad?" he gasped.
She bent and kissed his forehead. "Don't worry, Nelac, I'm here."
The older Bard sighed with relief but Maerad was staring at her hands. The feeling of fire had left her as quick as it had come on, but she knew it lingered there just under her skin. She followed the Nameless One's progress as he left the room, casually ordering the Hulls to leave the Bards and lock of the doors. She wondered if she could call the fire again.