Hallowed Bond (Chronicles of Ylandre Book 2) (2 page)

Dylen shrugged. “What impels some patrons into our parlors rather than our beds?

Not all of them come to us to tend their bodies’ needs.”

“True,” Hirlen conceded. “But it must have been something calamitous for him to brave such weather.”

The Deir suddenly wheezed then began to cough. Dylen slipped an arm around him to keep him from sliding farther into the water. His color was better, and his lips were no longer this side of blue, Dylen noted with relief. At last, bronze-hued lashes fluttered before lifting to reveal startlingly dark irises. Dylen could not recall seeing eyes of a brown so deep, they were almost black.

They widened in confusion and alarm. The Deir began to flounder weakly.

Dylen quickly restrained him. “Don’t be afraid!” he said, imbuing his voice with just enough authority to compel the Deir to listen to him without overly intimidating him. “Be still and let the water warm you.”

The Deir drew a shuddery breath then leaned back and rested his head against the back of the tub. But his eyes flicked about fearfully nonetheless.

“What is your name?” Hirlen kindly asked.

The Deir swallowed. “Ri-Riodan,” he stuttered.

“How long were you out on our porch?”

“I-I’m not sure… An hour, I think.”

Dylen stared at him. “You’re very lucky I found you. Any longer and you’d have frozen to death.”

Riodan sighed. “I know,” he mumbled. “I thought I was going to die when it got so cold.” He caught his breath and looked at Dylen. “My deepest thanks, uh…?”

“Dylen Teris at your service. This is my
adda,
Hirlen. And you’re welcome, Riodan-tyar.”

“Just Riodan will do,” the Deir said, sitting up. “How can I insist on formality when you saved my life?”

He groaned when stiff muscles protested movement. He paused to give his surroundings a once-over. Curiosity replaced some of the fear in his eyes as he took note of the bathing chamber’s modern fixtures and plumbing replete with a commode and hot and cold water taps. And the chamber was located on the house’s second story rather than the traditional ground floor as evidenced by a glimpse of two bedrooms through the connecting doors. Such amenities were costly and generally accessible only to the affluent.

“Can I come out now?” Riodan asked. “I feel warm enough.”

Dylen grabbed the thick robe Tarqin had prepared. Helping Riodan to his feet, he guided him out of the tub and into the folds of the robe.

“Thank you again,” Riodan murmured.

Hirlen shook his head. “There’s no need to thank us for something any decent soul would do. Come, have some hot soup. It will warm you further.”

He looked once more at the cloak clasp Dylen thoughtfully fingered. With its engraving of a beaked delphinid in mid leap over waves of water, the clasp identified their guest as a member of the diplomatic corps or, judging from his age and the lack of the official insignia of an Ylandrin ambassador on the clasp, possibly the son of one.

Above the delphinid, a name was engraved in the ancient alphabet of the Deira’s distant ancestors, the Naere. But neither Dylen nor his father knew how to read the runic symbols and could not decipher their guest’s name.

“I wager he’s being groomed to succeed a parent,” Dylen remarked.

“Yes. Which makes his presence here all the more puzzling.”

They ceased their hushed conversation when Riodan stepped out of Dylen’s bedroom clad in one of Dylen’s flannel shirts and loose bed-trousers. The Deir shyly smiled at them when they beckoned to him to join them before the fireplace. Dylen reappraised him now that Riodan’s coloring was back to normal and his hair neatly brushed.

By Veres, he’s quite beautiful
, he mused.

Hirlen sank into his great chair while Dylen and Riodan settled side by side on the couch. They had all slept in late to make up for staying up nigh until daybreak. Now it was almost noon and the aroma of the food Tarqin was cooking for the midday meal wafted faintly from downstairs.

“Sleep well?” Dylen asked.

“Yes,” Riodan replied. “Thank you for lending me your bed. I didn’t expect such kindness.”

Dylen simply shrugged.

“Do your parents know you ventured out last night?” Hirlen inquired. “I can send word to them that you’re safe.”

Riodan reddened slightly. His mouth tightened. “They’re the reason I was out in the cold,” he quietly explained. “We quarreled, and I decided to leave rather than be forced into something I didn’t care for.” He hesitated then said, “They tried to betroth me to a Deir I heartily detest.”

He leaned back with a hint of defiance in his face, obviously expecting either of his companions to chide him for acting with foolhardy impulsiveness. After all, it was not unusual for the upper classes to arrange their children’s marriages.

“Why do you detest him?” Dylen asked.

Riodan looked at him in some surprise. “Because he’s a cold and avaricious bastard who has no compunction about destroying the lives of others to get what he wants,” he replied with blunt honesty.

“He’s not alone in that,” Dylen pointed out. “Especially amongst your class.”

Riodan bristled slightly at the mildly critical allusion to his social station. “But I would have to live out my life bearing witness to his cruelty,” he countered. “Bad enough to know that such Deira exist. But to marry one of them?”

“Surely he isn’t that terrible if your parents chose him,” Hirlen gently suggested.

Riodan snorted. “My sire is blinded by ambition. If he deems association with a Deir advantageous, he will ignore whatever flaws he possesses however egregious.” He sighed unhappily. “He’s not uncaring. I don’t want you to think that of him. Indeed he wishes only the best for me. But he doesn’t always consider the feelings of others before deciding their lives for them. I try to be obedient, but there are times I simply cannot abide his choices.”

“Be that as it may, you have naught with you but the clothes on your back,” Dylen said. “What are your plans? Surely you didn’t intend to stay away longer than a day.”

“Actually, I did,” Riodan answered with some embarrassment. “I didn’t travel here from Sidona just to spend the night.”

Dylen blinked. Sidona was some twenty leagues southwest of Rikara. “You came all the way here with no money or clothing?”

“Nay, I am not such a lackwit to travel so far without any provisions!” Riodan said a little indignantly. “I had money and some clothes. And I intended to draw funds as soon as I arrived—I have an account with Bank Cordona. But the wheel of my hired carriage broke, and I arrived well after dark.”

Dylen exchanged a glance with his father. Either Riodan was not gifted enough to journey by translocation or he had not received adequate training to create the mind-generated corridors that allowed travellers to cover vast distances in a matter of minutes.

“And your belongings? What became of them?” Hirlen asked.

Riodan gingerly touched the welt on his forehead. “I was looking for a decent inn, but I got lost very quickly. I’ve only been to Rikara a few times and never so late or in this part of town. I was set upon a few blocks from here. Some scoundrel shoved me into an alley. When I fought back, he hit me hard enough to knock me down.” Riodan looked quite forlorn. “He took my money and bag.”

“You’re lucky that’s all he took,” Dylen dryly commented. “The cold saved your virtue.” He gestured apologetically when Riodan paled. “How did you wind up at our door?”

“I’m not sure. I think I stayed in that alley for a while. But when it began to snow, I tried to look for help. The next thing I knew I was lying at your doorstep—I must have blundered my way here. It just got colder, and I suppose I lost consciousness then.”

“So you intend to stay in Rikara a while,” Hirlen murmured. “Wherefore? What do you hope to accomplish by not returning home soonest?”

“It will make my sire realize that I seriously oppose the match he is trying to arrange

for me.”

“And how long do you intend to stay away?”

“Until he comes for me.” At Hirlen’s frown, Riodan explained, “He likely thinks I will return with my tail between my legs. I wager it will be months before he starts to doubt that assumption. Only then will he search Sidona for me. It will probably take even longer before he realizes that I have gone farther afield.”

“And what if he doesn’t come to Rikara?” Hirlen asked a touch reprovingly. “Are you that determined to make him suffer?”

Riodan shook his head. “He will think of Rikara eventually. It’s the only place I have visited outside of Sidona.”

Dylen looked at him curiously, “You’re quite sheltered for a diplomat’s son,” he commented, handing the cloak clasp to Riodan.

Riodan stared at the clasp then clenched his fingers around it. “Not for much longer.

I was to finish my collegiate studies at the State University then train at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.”

“Who is your sire, Riodan?” Hirlen questioned.

“Ambassador Theron Leyhar.”

Hirlen shook his head. “The name is not familiar. But that only means he likely doesn’t frequent the Quarter when he comes to town.”

“The Quarter?” Riodan noticed Dylen’s earring for the first time. A deep red heartsfire stone set within a thin gold hoop. He looked wonderingly at Dylen. “You’re a
hethar
?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” Riodan glanced uncertainly at Hirlen, his eyes widening when he espied a similar earring at the older Deir’s left ear.

“I’m not as active as before,” the elder Teris smilingly said.

Riodan was spared making a response when Tarqin appeared bearing a pot of steaming stew. Hirlen stood and gestured to the younger Deira to do likewise.

“Come, let us eat. Riodan, set your problems aside for now. But rest assured Dylen and I will help you as much as we are able.”

Riodan murmured his thanks and followed his benefactors to the adjacent dining room.

Chapter Two

“When did you begin, um…?”

Dylen glanced at Riodan with some amusement. “Plying my profession?”

“Er, yes.” Riodan had the grace to look embarrassed.

He was seated on the edge of Dylen’s bed, watching the other Deir dress for an evening at his
hethare
club.

“When I reached my thirtieth summer.”

Riodan stared at him. “You didn’t wait for your majority?”

“I haven’t reached it yet,” Dylen informed him.

He pulled a tunic out of his closet. Its sea green hue further emphasized the color of his eyes. Following
enyran
fashion, the sword arm sleeve was cut above the elbow, the hem reached the knees, and the tunic was slit at the sides and up front to mid thigh for ease of movement.

The majority of
hethare
were considered
sedyra
or Half Bloods even when they were not wholly so. Many were the products of illicit unions where an
enyran
or True Blood sire had not acknowledged his paternity. Very rare was the
hethar
who was accounted an
enyr
by virtue of recognition by his sire or sire’s family of their blood kinship.

Nevertheless, the
hethare
dressed in the manner of the ruling class regardless of their caste designation, thus setting themselves apart from their lesser brethren, the overwhelming number of whom hailed from the lowest rungs of society.

“It’s the custom for a
hethar
to begin his training at twenty-four summers and receive his first patron once he reaches the age of thirty,” Dylen said as he shook out the wrinkles in the tunic. “It isn’t necessary for us to wait for our majority as long as we’ve attained the age of consent. So until I turn thirty-five,
Adda
acts as administrator of my affairs.”

“So an orphan can’t become a
hethar
.”

“Not unless he has a legal guardian. It’s the reason most street urchins turn to prostitution if they are unable to find other means of livelihood.” The corners of his mouth quirked upward at Riodan’s uncomfortable silence. “You wonder what differentiates me from a common whore.”

Riodan caught his breath. “What? Nay, that isn’t—! I mean…”

He flushed deeply. Dylen wondered if Riodan had blushed as often before as he had done this first day of acquaintance with the Terises. He donned the tunic and started to fasten it.

“I took no offense,” he assured the younger Deir. “Not everyone understands the distinctions between
hethare
and
felkar
.”

Riodan shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? For not knowing?” Dylen snorted. “Besides,
hethare
do not abide in all cities. Just the largest ones. Sidona’s capital is lovely and progressive, but it still has a long way to go before it attains Rikara’s sophistication.”

“You’ve been to Nivare?”

“A few times. At the invitation of one of my patrons.”

“Oh… Well, how different is a
hethar
from a
felka
?”

“Aside from the assurance that dalliance with us won’t result in assault, theft or disease? A whole world. A
felka’
s sole function is to spread himself for any Deir willing to pay his price. Whether he has a brain between his ears or a heart in his breast is irrelevant.” Dylen checked himself in the mirror, running his hand over the tunic to smooth out any remaining wrinkles.

“
Hethare
do more than provide sexual release,” he continued. “We entertain in areas other than bed, and sometimes that is all that’s asked of us.” On went a fine leather belt.

“Otherwise, how could
Adda
continue in this profession at his age? And why think you must we begin training ourselves so young? It’s not only the gratification of the body that we address.”

He brought out a flat jewelry box and studied its contents. “We are taught to comport ourselves properly in society and schooled in the politics and cultures of nations whose citizens we may find ourselves providing with our company. Many of our guests come from the High Houses or work in government and expect more than lewd banter from us.

For that reason,
hethare
must also finish secondary schooling to gain admittance into the fraternity. Many take collegiate studies as well.”