Shadows and Light (8 page)

Rafael kept his eyes down and his mouth sealed. A sudden strike with the stiff leather quirt across his upper back made him arch with pain, but he remained silent. A second blow fell, then a third. Then…nothing. No sound, no movement, no continuation. Just Xian standing behind him, looking at him and seeing… What did he see, Rafael wondered? After a few more minutes of silence he spoke. “A room.”

“Whose room?”

“Your apprentice’s room.”

“Which apprentice?”

“How should I know?” Rafael snapped.

“Is your memory so poor?” his master asked wryly. “Use your eyes properly or be denied the use of them.”

Rafael raised his gaze sullenly. “I neither know nor care who you’ve taken on as your new apprentice.”

He could feel Xian’s frown. “You’re being singularly thick, pet, and that manner of defiance doesn’t suit you. Do better.”

Gods help him, he did want to do better. Rafael’s bruised ego railed at the sudden capitulation of his spirit, but it was too late. He looked around the room. There was the bed, tucked tight against one wall. A dusty blue blanket covered it. There was a small chest at its foot, padlocked shut, and a three-legged stool stood in the corner. Books covered every flat surface but the bed, their covers thick with cobwebs. It felt like being in a tomb. “This is…” Rafael looked around again, feeling strangely transported. “My room.”

“Untouched since your fall,” Xian said. “Why do you think that is?”

“Perhaps you could not be bothered with it,” Rafael replied acidly.

“Thick again. Disobedient pets deserve to be punished.” Suddenly a hood covered Rafael’s head, the weave thin enough to breathe through without difficulty but permitting no light to penetrate. Xian turned him around and pushed him out of his old room, then down the hallway again.

It was much harder to walk this time around, unseeing, still forced into carefulness due to his bonds but worse, forced to rely on Xian to guide him. The High One could easily kill him now, damage him, leave him to wander in a place he wouldn’t be able to escape from. In all honesty, it was what Rafael expected. Therefore he was surprised when he suddenly realized they had reentered the tall, circular chamber they had started from. Their footfalls resonated familiarly, and despite himself he relaxed a bit.

Xian nudged his feet apart, then clasped each ankle in a cuff. Rafael had barely an inch of movement in any direction. He felt the quirt’s metal handle, no longer cool but warmed from his master’s touch, slide down the back of each thigh. “Are you thinking now, pet? Leaving witlessness behind? You only attempted adorable stupidity as an excuse with me twice as a child, and I don’t expect to receive it more than twice now. Your next deliberate foray into inanity will be treated like the offense it is.” Fingertips brushed the ragged ends of his hair and Rafael jerked forward, away from the touch. “Do you understand?”

“Why do you bother with this?” Rafael demanded. “Why not simply beat whatever you want from me?”

“The beatings are for later,” Xian said easily. “And they’ll serve you far more than they will me, pet. I’ve no desire to take instruction from either you or Myrtea. We’re establishing now that your continued existence, however brief it may be, isn’t going to be directed by anyone but me. If I want to dress you in tulle and parade you around the Hall of Ascendance for the next three days, I shall. If I want to hang you by your knees from the ceiling until the joints begin to swell and tear, I shall. If I want to make you stand here in silence for hours on end, I shall.” He tapped one of the cuffs. “If you fall, you’ll wrench your ankles so badly you won’t be able to stand. If you can’t stand I’ll be very unhappy. Keep that in mind, Rafael.”

Xian moved to Rafael’s front, and he could almost feel the heat of his master’s breath on his face. “Let me give you this much. No matter where I leave you or how you feel about it, I’m watching you. Emptiness is an illusion, solitude a fantasy. No matter what you hear or what you don’t hear, I will shadow you as long as you’re with me.”

“You’ll spend three dull days then,” Rafael whispered hoarsely.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” There was a brief murmur of movement, then the quiet click of the door, then…nothing. No sound. No boots tapping across the marble floor, no quiet
whishing
of moving cloth or the softer sounds of breathing. Just nothingness. Was it an illusion? Rafael strained his senses, trying to hear something other than himself, but there was nothing. Keeping his eyes shut of his own volition was one thing, but being hooded like a prickly, lamed falcon and left to perform feats of obedience for an audience of, perhaps, none… Damn it, where was the fucking torture? Could they get on with the pain yet? No more mind games, no more questions that cut deeper than knives, no more hooded darkness that smelled of stale tears.

That was what made this familiar. It was an old memory, practically his oldest. Five years old, dressed in a filthy smock like the rest of the orphans, he had been paraded out in front of the visiting High One, next to last in a long line of whimpering, sniveling children. Others had averted their eyes, cringed away and cried like their hearts were breaking, and perhaps they had been. It had been completely different for Rafael.

It had been as though when Rafael set his eyes on the High One, he had discovered his heart for the first time. What had come before was nothing. The past had melted away, mother and father subsumed by his sudden, certain desire. He would be chosen. There had been no other option. He’d known it from the start, and had waited patiently for the man to reach him. He’d stared at him worshipfully, eyes unwavering as the man approached. The High One had crouched before him and inspected him. The paleness of his eyes had disconcerted Rafael for a moment, but he hadn’t draw back.

“Would you leave this place to learn from me?” the man had asked after a long moment.

Rafael had nodded.

“Nodding is an inadequate reply. Speak aloud.”

“Yes.” His voice had been soft but firm.

“Can you be strong?”

“Yes.”

“Clever?”

“Yes.”

“Obedient and loyal?”

“For you,” Rafael had said earnestly. The man had tilted his head appraisingly.

“For me?” He’d chuckled and looked over at the orphanage’s manager. “Did you teach him to say this?”

“No, my lord,” the man had protested. “Not a word of it.”

“Hm. Then I suppose he really is for me.” Reaching down to his belt, the High One had pulled out a long-handled black dagger. He’d taken Rafael’s right hand in his and cut across his thumb with it, a sharp, shallow slice. The touch of the blade had burned his skin, beyond what he expected from a simple cut. Rafael had winced but hadn’t cringed away, instead staring in amazement as the High One had licked the welling blood from the cut. “Now I know your taste, pet.” He’d cut his own hand then, and held it out. “Drink.” Rafael had complied unquestioningly. It had been strange and salty and warm, and he’d licked it twice to be certain he’d gotten every drop. The High One had put their injured hands side by side. “Watch.” Rafael had done so, his eyes widening in shock.

The cut on the High One’s hand had been almost completely healed in moments, the gash becoming a slender bright thread that soon dwindled into nothing. The cut on Rafael’s own hand, astonishingly enough, had also been disappearing. It had happened much more slowly but the bleeding had already stopped, and after another minute the cut had been completely scabbed over without any pressure or bandaging. “And now you know my taste as well,” the High One had said with satisfaction. “What’s your name, pet?”

“Rafael, sir.”

“My name is Xian, Rafael, but for our purposes you will call me master. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good.” He’d stood and gestured to the manager. “Loose him.” The man had hurried over and cut the cord binding his left foot to the children on either side of him. “The standard fee.” He’d handed over a purse of coins. “In his case, a great bargain for me.” Then the High One had turned back to Rafael. “We’re going to my home. Pay attention to the route. Questions are acceptable if there’s something you really don’t understand. Obey me and I’ll take care of you, pet.”

“Yes, Master.”

It had been a long walk to the Upper City, and Rafael had been stumbling with fatigue by the time they’d arrived at Xian’s shadowed, windowless house. No sooner had they reached the round chamber than Xian had turned to him and said, “Your training begins now. You say you will be obedient?”

Rafael had licked his dry lips and nodded. “Yes, Master.”

“Good.” His new owner had pulled a hood from beneath his cloak and suddenly dropped it over his head. Rafael had been plunged into darkness, and he’d cried out and reached up to remove it.

“No.” Xian’s hands had found his shoulders, holding him firm, keeping his own hands away. “A High One lives in the darkness, pet, and you’ll have to learn to as well if you want to become one of us. Now I want you to stand here for me and not move, not fidget, not touch the hood. You understand? Stand here quietly until I come back and remove it. Show me your obedience.”

“Will you stay?” Rafael had demanded anxiously.

“You have to trust me now, Rafael. You understand that word? No matter what happens or where you are, trust me to look after you.” Xian had squeezed his shoulders reassuringly. “It will be all right.” Then he’d withdrawn his hands, then his presence, and Rafael had been left alone.

He’d cried, to his shame. Quietly, as quietly as he could, but he’d been unable to stop the tears. He hadn’t moved though. Hadn’t ran or yelled, hadn’t whimpered, hadn’t lifted one tired foot from where his master had placed him. He’d been sticky with sweat, and thirsty, hungry, worried…but not frightened. He could trust his master. He just hadn’t wanted to disappoint him. He’d stood there until he swayed, faint with fatigue and thirst, and finally Xian had come back to lift the darkness. With his first fresh, blinking view of his master’s face, Rafael had fallen in love.

The memory hurt. It hurt in a deep, personal way that Rafael despised, and he dug his fingernails sharply into the skin of his shoulders, trying hard to distract himself. He was tempted to fall and damage his ankles to help him drown out the remembrance, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t the prospect of pain, it was the prospect of compounding his already extreme failures to Xian. He shouldn’t care, he didn’t want to care, he hated himself for caring, but he did.

Rafael didn’t fall but he did crouch down, using his weight to force the edge of the cuff into his Achilles tendon. Pain radiated up his calves, stealing all his focus, and Rafael sighed with relief, then concentrated on his breathing and the shooting, squeezing pain.

It was minutes or maybe hours later when Xian spoke again. “My Rafael. You always manage to obey the letter of the law, if not the spirit.”

“Always is always.” His tone was bitter. “I spent the last five years trying to purge myself of your influence, and it was all for nothing.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps it was meant to be.”

“Perhaps the gods are a pair of sadistic bastards, too.”

“It’s possible,” Xian allowed. “Stand up.” Rafael stood slowly, which was the only way he could at the moment. He felt the warm pulse of blood ooze from cuts in his ankles. “Don’t move.” Slender leather tails slid over his right shoulder like a caress, and Rafael bit his lower lip. “I’m going to speak of the gods now, an old story, but still interesting. You may remember it from your childhood.” His voice took on a rhythmic note. “There was Ehvin, made of darkness and mind, and Ehva, lady of light and spirit. Together they made the world, and everything within it. To each thing they gave two sides, light and dark, mind and spirit, and they held it all together with form, or body. Each child was given its allotted time, a measure of light and life before returning to the darkness. Their greatest child was Erran, beautiful and beloved of his parents, a creature of swift action and great spirit and deep thought. He spent his measure of light in triumph, but when the time came for that measure to end, he refused to pass.

“Erran began to consume the spirits of his brethren, taking their light into himself, trying to stave off the darkness. His parents pleaded with him to return to them, but he was glutted on power and light. He ate and ate, and the world began to fall into shadow. His parents, knowing the value of balance, fulfilled their finest son’s wish. Ehva poured her eternal light into him until he was so full he was drowning in it. He called to his father to save him, and Ehvin twisted his son’s mind so that it would fear the light and crave the darkness. Erran burrowed deep into the earth, into the darkest place he could find, but even there the light was too strong. He was too bloated with spirit to die, too bound by darkness to think.

“Erran lay there alone, mad and blind and immortal, for eons. The wounds he dealt himself in his violent fits bled, and the blood welled up through the hole he had dug and spilled out onto the earth, powerful light twisted with darkness. A people found this wellspring and drank of it, and the blood of the demigod gifted them with eternal youth, while at the same time cursing them to live in barren darkness or be destroyed by the light. This is the story of our power, of the acolytes of Erran, blasphemers that cheat the gods by living off the blood of their most beloved son.” Xian’s voice shifted back into a more normal register. “Perhaps the gods are sadists, leaving Erran to suffer for all eternity. Or perhaps they’re simply biding their time.” Suddenly the hood was gone, and Rafael’s vivid mental picture of the demigod’s eternal anguish was splintered by the reality of Xian’s face in front of him. “You’ll have water and two hours’ rest.”

“Why let me rest?” Rafael asked, not really expecting an answer. He wasn’t surprised when he didn’t get one. He drank briefly but thirstily from a bowl, then his ankles were released and he was pushed unceremoniously to the ground. The ankle cuffs were rebound to the floor in his new prone position, and the rope was unwound from his torso and legs. Rafael groaned and quivered as each coil and knot was pried out of his flesh, and he was left gasping alone on the cold marble floor as Xian walked out of his line of sight. He wanted to turn to follow his movements, but every twitch was agony after so long bound in one position and his body, more practical than his mind, sent him to sleep instead.