Cethe (9 page)

heel to toe! Incredulous, he hefted the thing, feeling its weight, then let it fal . It made a loud thump when it hit the floorboards.

Reluctantly, his gaze dragged to Stefn’s stockinged foot.

And saw… nothing. It wasn’t until he’d pul ed off the stocking that he saw the cramped, misshapen toes and the long ridge of

angry scar running from his little toe to his heel. Eldering had a sixth toe. This was the Mark? This smal infirmity?

Stefn had become utterly stil again, seeming barely to breathe. Michael closed his eyes briefly. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but I must

do this.”

There was no answer. Nor was there a sound when Michael took the rest of the earl’s clothing, leaving him naked. The col ar

fit around Stefn’s neck as if it had been made for only him, the soft snick of the lock sounding eerily loud in the room. Against his

pale skin, the jewels flashed rainbow fire.

In the marshes, where mixed blood and lovers of the same sex were matters of little significance, a handsome boy found no

shortage of eager instructors in the art of pleasure. Michael Arranz had been both handsome and noble. He took another packet of

the herb and a jar of ointment from the valise and returned to the bed.

“Lift your hips,” he instructed.

Slowly, awkwardly, the youth pul ed his knees under him and pushed his buttocks into the air. Black hair hid his face. His

breath came and went, rapid and shal ow.

Mixing the ointment with the finely-powdered herb, Michael pushed a finger into Eldering’s tiny hole, using the combination of

herb and ointment to ease the tight passage. He took his time at it, letting the cettek’s effect take hold. Gradual y, as he gently

pressed and prodded, the muscles around his finger loosened. He tried not to look at the scars, many more of them down here. For

the first time, it occurred to him that Eldering might have been through this before.

But, “No,” came the whisper when he asked, then a long, shuddering gasp as Michael found that place deep inside. His cethe

was more than ready.

In the flickering candlelight, Michael took off his own clothes. Leaning down, he gently pushed Stefn over.

The younger man, lips parted, looked up at him. Under the spel of the herb, his eyes were al pupil, the green only a fine

thread around the black, and fringed with eyelashes sparkling with tears. His sex, thick and hard, quivered against his bel y, begging

for Michael’s touch.

Michael lowered himself to his hands and knees on the bed, mouth seeking Stefn’s. Those soft lips yielded at once, opening

wide. A fierce rush of desire consumed Michael. His kiss grew harder, more demanding. He drank in Stefn’s moans, pressing his

body down on the other man’s, rubbing their cocks together.

Some dim recol ection of purpose made him rol away and get to his knees, pul ing Stefn after him. “Open your mouth,” he

gasped. “Now!”

“P-please… ”

Ruthlessly, Michael pul ed Stefn’s head down. “Open!”

The sensation of Eldering’s mouth around him struck Michael with a force unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He felt his

eyes rol back, heard himself cry out. He was barely conscious of final y pul ing Stefn away, of looking into the tear-streaked face

before flinging the youth onto his bel y once more. Stefn was breathing hard, body slick with sweat. Unbidden, he raised his hips

and slid his knees apart.

Now!

There was a moment of resistance; the opening was so smal . Then Michael was past and deep inside Stefn. The pleasure

that fol owed exceeded even that of Stefn’s mouth, and Michael had no choice but to give in to it. Again and again, he plundered the

slight body beneath him, shaking it with the force of his thrusts, seeking release from the searing, exquisite need for more, just a

little more…

Then, from nowhere, came pain. Liquid fire poured through his veins, every muscle snapped into knots. The shock of it drove

the breath from him; he couldn’t even scream. Inside, in a place he’d always sensed, but never real y known, something tore wide

open. A howling chasm of darkness stared back at him.

There was only an instant to meet that vast, inhuman presence, to judge, and to be judged. Words not spoken for centuries

roared through him, remaking him. The agony was beyond description; his sense of self reeled under the onslaught.

He did not remember when everything col apsed in on itself, leaving nothing behind but darkness.

“Your Highness!”

Severyn looked up from his letter. Corliss stood in the doorway of his bedroom, his normal y expressionless face showing

clear signs of alarm.

“If I might speak to you, sir?”

The prince was in bed, propped up against his pil ows, a stack of correspondence in his lap. Most were letters from Nedby, his

steward at Tantagrel, reminding him politely of his royal obligations. He’d been ignoring them since the delivery of the post earlier in

the week. Now he looked up warily at his captain, heart sinking, knowing it could not possibly be good news. Before he had time to

reply, however, the room jolted, as if the entire house had been hit by something huge.

“Loth’s bal s!” Severyn sent the letters sliding in al directions as he lunged for his bedside lamp.

Another blow, harder this time, nearly knocked him off the bed and onto the floor. A vase fel , shattering to pieces.

“The fire!” he shouted to Corliss as coals, shaken loose from the grate, rol ed across the hearth tiles and onto the rug. The

captain, white and frightened, was clinging to the door, but at Severyn’s exclamation, hurried to kick the embers back.

“What the devil is going on?”

“The — in the north wing, your highness… ”

North wing? Oh, damn, …Mick!

Severyn jumped out of bed and dashed to the window. Through the dark and streaming rain, the prince saw a blaze of white

light on the top floor of the north wing.

“Lightning?” ventured Corliss when, after several tense moments, the room didn’t move again.

“I’l go,” Severyn said.

“No! Highness!”

But Severyn, not even bothering to put on a dressing gown over his nightshirt, was already out of the room.

“I was keeping an eye on things at the bottom of the stairs, Your Highness,” Corliss explained, hurrying to keep up, “just as

you ordered. When the screaming started, I wasn’t sure what to do. You did say not to interfere…”

“Who was screaming?”

“As to that, Highness, I can’t say, but — turn here, sir, it’s faster — shortly after the screaming started, there was this

tremendous crash… ”

Soldiers mil ed about at the entrance to the north wing. They came swiftly to attention. On the other side of the door, midway

down the dark hal way where the stairs led up, white light blazed.

“Your Highness!” Corliss cried. “Stay back!”

“Stay here! Under no circumstances fol ow me!”

While they watched in consternation, he pushed through the knot of frightened men and hurried toward the stairway. The

light’s intensity made his eyes water.

“Your Highness!” Corliss pul ed at Severyn’s nightshirt, trying to get him back down the hal , his normal y stolid features fil ed

with fear. The look he gave his prince was one of pure panic. “It’s the wrath of Loth, Your Highness! The sin-catcher’s up there!”

“It’s another damned thunderstorm, you superstitious fool! The house has been hit! We’l be lucky if the whole place doesn’t

burn down! Have the men assemble a bucket-line!”

Severyn plunged into the light, groping for the handrail, squinting against the painful bril iance. Behind him, he heard Corliss

swearing and ordering his men back.

Another shudder vibrated through the castle. Plaster sifted down and a crack opened up in the wal of the stairwel . Severyn

started to run, taking the steps, two at a time.

At the top, he saw Eldering’s room at the far end of the corridor, the door wide open. His gut knotted. The light came from

there, white fire that made him lift his hand to shield his eyes. Even as horror dragged at his muscles, he ran for it.

Another shudder. The ancient wal s groaned.

“Mick! Damn it!
MICHAEL
!”

Severyn reached the door of Eldering’s room and the light went out. Left with red spots floating before his eyes, it took a

moment for Severyn’s vision to recover. Broken glass littered the floor. Wind and rain raced through the shattered window. Furniture

was overturned. In the bed by the wal , naked and mute with terror, huddled the earl. On the floor…

“Holy Loth, Defender of Man!” whispered Severyn.

Nude, straight, and stiff as a corpse, Michael was stretched out beside the bed, but he wasn’t on the floor. Instead, he drifted

several inches above it! A haze of light surrounded him, pulsing gently, as if it came from deep inside him somewhere. Pale hair

drifted on the invisible currents. His eyes were closed and his lips moved ceaselessly.

“Oh, God! Michael!” Aghast, Severyn froze in the doorway, unable to take another step. He had feared something like this!

What was he to do?

After a moment, he got himself in hand. Entering the room, wary, he approached his friend. Taking a deep breath, he reached

down and set a hand on the h’nar’s bare chest. For an instant, it was lost in the soft, golden radiance. Warmth flooded through him.

Then the light vanished and Michael settled to the floorboards. Silence fel ; even the storm outside seemed to quiet.

Michael’s breathing was deep and even, but when Severyn shook him, he didn’t wake. Getting to his feet, the prince strode to

the bed, confronting Eldering. “What happened? Answer me!”

But the youth was clearly beyond speech, only shaking his head. His hands were bound, Severyn realized; he couldn’t have

done this himself. Severyn turned back to Michael.

It was a struggle to get him back into his clothes, but Severyn managed it. Getting Michael off the floor was another matter.

“Prince Severyn? Prince Severyn!”

Corliss! Severyn swore. Even his loyal officers would find this scene beyond any reasonable explanation he could give.

Lurching to his feet, he ordered Eldering off the bed. The sin-catcher nearly fel trying to obey. His thighs and buttocks were

smeared with blood. His cursed foot was bare, a heavy scar running along the outside of it, dark and inflamed.

Severyn dragged him to the next room and shoved him inside. “Take one step outside and I’l kil you!”

Just in time. Turning around, he saw Corliss at the end of the hal , the officer’s fear for his prince overriding his duty to obey

Severyn’s orders.

“Highness!” Corliss arrived at the bedroom door, looking around with wide eyes.

“Lightning,” said Severyn in a tone al owing no contradiction.

“Is he?… ”

“Just unconscious.”

“The earl?”

“Next door. Post a man there.”

Corliss hesitated, not at al sure he should leave.

“Now!” roared his overtaxed prince. Corliss bowed and took himself off at once.

A violent shudder passed through Michael. Severyn dropped to his knees beside him.

Mick’s eyes flew open. “Son of a whore!” He saw Severyn and added, “Damnation!”

“Thank Loth!” replied Severyn with feeling. “What happened? Are you al right?”

Michael got up and, with Severyn’s help made it to the fal en chair. Righting it, he sat down heavily. Corliss chose that moment

to return. His eyes went at once to Mick who, ashen and shaky, had dropped his head into his hand.

“Shal I summon a physician, Your Highness?”

Michael lifted his head. “I’m al right.”

“You’re not al right,” Severyn retorted, with an eye to his captain. “You were very nearly struck by lightning!”