Cethe (14 page)

Arranz cal ed to the coachman, then shut the door and resumed his seat. The coach swayed and started up again. After

several more minutes, it final y reached the top of the hil and Stefn forgot about everything but the vista spread out before him.

They had risen at last above the mist. The road was clear again and a bit of the day’s light lingered. Stefn’s window looked

west, and for the first time in his life, he saw the sea. Its vastness took his breath away.

The sun hung at the horizon, a vanishing spot of bril iance hidden behind clouds of crimson and gold. The coach made its way

along the hil tops, fol owing the curve of the shore. Occasional y, the land would fal away from the road in a heart-stopping plunge

to the crashing, white-foamed turbulence far below. The pictures Stefn had seen of sea meeting land, no matter how skil ful y

rendered, could not compare to the dangerous majesty of the real thing.

“You’ve never seen the ocean either? Shia itself is not that far from the sea.”

“No,” said Stefn and returned to his enraptured gazing.

The coach took another turn and Stefn found himself looking out on another sort of sea. The vast, mist-shrouded marsh

spread east and south. It hugged the coastal hil s until, somewhere far beyond his sight to the south, it eventual y merged with the

Dragonwyr delta.

Ahead, built on the summit of the highest hil , stood a house. Its many roofs, dormers and turrets were stark against the fading

dusk. Here and there, a window glowed yel ow, but most were dark. The coach passed through a low stone wal surrounding a park,

itself little more than overgrown lawn and a few gnarled pines.

Pul ing up before the house, Arranz leaned forward and said, “Behave yourself or I’l have you chained.” Without waiting for

Marin, he left the coach. The front door of the house flew open and a servant hurried out, bowing and apologizing.

Arranz beckoned impatiently to Stefn as Marin lowered the carriage steps. With the cane in a death-grip, Stefn descended to

the driveway. The servant stared as he fol owed Lord Arranz into the manor.

The Parish of Shia lies far to the north at the feet of the Lothwall Mountains. A land of high plains, it is good grazing for

the grey-wooled highland sheep and nimble-footed north-hill goats. The parish is governed by the Earls of Shia, whose duty it is

to maintain vigilance against a return of the nara from beyond the Lothwalls.

Shia is home to five villages, a great castle and an Abbey. As a special Ward of the Church, a small garrison of Hunters is

under the Earl’s command, maintaining order in the parish.

from:
The Royal Atlas of Tanyrin
,

Year of Loth’s Dominion 1505

Michael hated coming home. The flagged stones in the entranceway were dul and cracked. Wal paper peeled, exposing

moisture-stained plaster beneath. The smel of wood-rot was strong and pervasive. Growing up, he’d barely noticed these things,

but now his visits home were rare. Each return was to see the ruin with fresh eyes.

Eldering fol owed without a word, a slight, wan ghost in the house of his enemies. The mouth Michael had so enjoyed last

night was tight with pain. His limp, which had nearly disappeared, was noticeable again. Green eyes were dark with exhaustion.

Ahead, a door opened, light spil ing into the gloomy hal way. A girl stepped out, holding a lamp aloft. Her eyes got wide and

round at the sight of Arranz. “Michael? Brother, is that you?”

“Annie!” Forgetting Eldering, Michael quickened his steps to meet his sister, pul ing her close. She hugged him back tightly.

“Oh, Michael! It’s so good to see you! Why didn’t you tel us you were coming home?”

Michael reluctantly released her, setting her back and examining her closely. “You look tired, sweetling.”

A voice interrupted them, cal ing querulously from inside the room. Michael’s smile vanished. “You’re taking care of Father,

again? Why? Where’s his nurse?”

She looked anxiously into the room and back. “Mistress Terry left two weeks ago. She went to Creighton to get more medicine

for Father and while she was there, some of the vil agers said terrible things to her. When she came back, she was in tears and

promptly gave her notice. It’s awful, Mick! Chris had to go al the way to Fieldton to get supplies!”

Michael’s heart sank. “Where’s Grandfather? What does he say about al this?”

“He left the day before yesterday, but said he’d be back by tomorrow… ”

From the room, the voice came, louder, more petulant. She gave Michael a helpless look. He grimaced. “I suppose I might as

wel say hel o to the bastard.”

“Michael!” she objected. “Please!” For the first time, she noticed Stefn. Her mouth formed an O of surprise.

“Oh, yes. Lord Eldering, may I present my sister, Miss Anne Elizabeth Arranz? Annie, this is Stefn Eldering.”

Her eyes got even bigger. “Michael! You might have warned us! There’s no room prepared!”

“Lord Eldering isn’t fussy, are you, Stefn?”

“No, my lady,” Stefn replied. He managed a smile. “Please don’t put yourself out.”

“We aren’t staying long,” Michael added.

“Oh, Mick… ” He heard her disappointment with a twinge and shrugged apologetical y, giving her his most contrite look. She

shook her head. “Say hel o to Father,” she said with a sigh, “and try not to upset him. I’l go see to your rooms.”

“Don’t worry. I shal be on my best behavior. And Marin wil take care of our needs, as always.” He gave her a gentle push.

After another wide-eyed look at Stefn, she hurried away.

Michael took a deep breath. “Stay here,” he ordered Stefn in a low voice. “Not a word about why you’re here or what His

Highness and I are doing. And if you aren’t in the same place when I come back, you’l spend the rest of your damned life naked and

in chains.”

Stefn took a seat on a chair nearby, leaning his back against the wal and closing his eyes. “Where would I go?”

Michael didn’t trust him; absolutely, he did not. “Good,” he said warily and, with another narrow look, went into his father’s

study.

“I thought I recognized that voice. Dare I ask what brings you back this time?”

To Michael’s critical eye, Phil ip Arranz seemed smal er and frailer than the last time he’d been at home. His father sat hunched

in his high-backed, wheeled chair, close to the fire. He was draped in shawls against any vagrant breeze.

“I was concerned for your health, natural y. You look wel , sir.”

“Liar on both counts,” retorted Lord Phil ip. “You’ve come only to see Father.” He broke into a spasm of coughing. Michael

immediately reached for the glass of water that was kept close, handing it to him.

Once, long ago, when he was a boy and had stil cared about his father’s good wil , Michael had tried curing his father of the

debilitating il ness besetting him, but witchery had little effect on anything but broken bones or torn flesh. Only high lothrian magic

could cure the most deadly diseases, and no knightmage would dirty his hands on treating a h’nar.

Lord Philip drank and handed back the glass with an unsteady hand. “You disappear for months at a time with your friends,”

he continued, stil breathless. “When you condescend to return, you stay a day or two and are gone again. If it were not for your

brother and sister to see to the running of Blackmarsh, we would be in dire circumstances, indeed!”

It was too much to hope for an invitation to sit, but for once, the pointed lack of courtesy didn’t bother Michael. He’d been

sitting too long anyway. “How fortunate, then, that they’re here. I trust the funds I’ve brought wil help ease your pain at my absence.

”

“In other words, you couldn’t care less,” his father said bitterly. “Wel , enjoy yourself while you may, boy. The day is fast

approaching when you’l have no choice but to do your duty and come home for good.”

“My work for Severyn keeps Blackmarsh afloat,” retorted Michael. “Or do you think we can live off our peat farms?”

Another spate of coughing was the only response — Phil ip’s inevitable response to unpleasant truths. After regaining his

breath, the elder Arranz continued hoarsely, “The farms do wel enough. Your brother is a good manager, as wel as defender. He

may not carry enough of the precious naran blood Father so desires…” The white lips twisted. “But he does the work you should be

doing instead of pursuing his own dreams, dear boy. If there was any justice, it would be Christopher who was heir, not you.”

Here we go.

“But why am I surprised?” Phil ip pawed at his shawls, bringing them closer around his emaciated form. “Your mother was just

such a selfish bitch, always doing what she pleased, everyone else be damned! I hope the Church chooses you just such a whore

for a wife! Now Marie, on the other hand… Ah, how I miss her.” The sunken eyes softened, becoming distant and mournful.

Michael’s memories of his pureblood human stepmother were less inspirational. He said only, “Chris is more than welcome to

my destiny, Father. Loth knows I don’t want it. But I apologize. As usual, I’m tiring you. By your leave?” He bowed and, without

waiting for a response, started for the door.

“Michael!”

Michael schooled his features to impassivity and turned around.

“How much?” demanded Phil ip. “How much money did you bring home?”

Michael closed the study door behind him with exaggerated care, ignoring his father’s angry demands for an answer. Even

when the coughing started, he didn’t turn back, but started blindly, unthinking, toward the central stairs before remembering Stefn.

The earl was asleep in the chair where Michael had left him, head fal en forward, dark hair a silken screen hiding his face. The

memory of him bound and naked on the bed rushed back; the way his body had leapt under Michael’s touch. Dismayed at his own

reaction, Michael shook Stefn awake.

“Come with me,” he ordered.

Stefn lifted his head, but not far enough to meet Michael’s gaze. He said not a word, but preceded Michael through the house

to the rarely-used guest wing. A door stood open, lamplight showing from within. As they approached, Marin emerged from the room,

arms fil ed with sheets. “It’s al set, m’lord,” he said to Michael with a wink. Grinning at Stefn, he strode off. Michael gave his cethe a

shove forward.

Marin had turned down the bed and built a fire in the fireplace. The curtains had been drawn tightly against the drafts coming

through the rattling old windows. On the bed lay shackles. Stefn saw them at once, stumbling to a halt.

“Strip,” Michael ordered, closing and locking the door.

Stefn looked like he might protest, then he lowered his head again and, without a word, took off his clothes.

“It’s too bad I don’t trust you,” continued Michael. “Sit there.”

Lips tight, pale, his cethe reluctantly did as he ordered. He took a seat on a large, heavy wooden chair at the foot of the bed.

Michael had him sit facing the chair’s railed back, legs spread wide to either side of it. He chained Stefn’s wrists through the rails.

Then, pul ing the chair around, Michael looked down at his hunched shoulders and bowed head.

“Look at me.”

Stefn slowly lifted his face. Michael bent closer, caught by the younger man’s beauty. He meant to tel Eldering precisely what

fate awaited him should he try another escape, but, “Kiss me,” is what came out instead.

To his surprise, Stefn’s head fel back and his lips parted. When Michael’s mouth covered his, tongue thrusting insolently and

deep, the cethe made only a smal , helpless sound. Hunger swept through Michael. Seizing that abundant mass of black hair, he

helped himself ruthlessly to the sweet warmth and wetness. Only when he was dizzy and breathless did he back away.

The youth, sobbing for breath, lowered his forehead to the back of the chair. He was trembling and, through the rails of the

chair-back, Michael saw his generous sex, hard and dark crimson.

Desire swept through Michael in a hot flood, but with it came memories of their first coupling. He wasn’t sure he wanted to do

it again, yet just looking at Stefn fil ed him with a need so intense he was powerless against it.

On the nightstand by the bed was a suspicious looking jar.

Marin, you son of a bitch!

Seizing it, he found it did indeed contain ointment. At his command, Stefn raised himself off the chair and submitted silently to

being prepared. When that tight passage was slick and ready, Michael slid onto the chair beneath him. Taking hold of Stefn’s narrow