The Scholomance (58 page)

Horuseps patted
her shoulder.

“You!” Malavan’s
remaining claw hooked at the tabletop. He heaved himself up, the stump of his
broken claw held tight against his chest. It was already healing, new bone
gleaming white as it grew from the knob of his finger. “I’ll
kill
you
for that, you clay-born cunt!”

He sprang, even
as several demons lunged to catch him, and Mara slapped him again. He landed
with a wet smack on the stone floor behind her, staggered up, and fell over
again, both fingers twitching.

He lay panting
while all the others watched Mara. The Mindstorm belonged to Malavan alone. Every
other had shrouded their thoughts.

Malavan kicked
once or twice, then rolled onto his knees and dragged himself upright. His arms
shook as he folded the blades of his claws in close against his sides and
leaned on his knuckles. He spat blood, wiped his mouth, and glared at her.

She waited,
ready for him.

“It is forbidden
to use arts against a Master,” he said sullenly.

Someone laughed.
She was sure it was Zyera that time. The sound made Malavan flinch. His
helpless hate ate up a little more of Mara’s senses.

“Mentalism is
not an art,” Horuseps said, leading Mara to the demon’s empty seat, there
between Zyera and the hulking spike-studded executioner, Argoth. “It’s a
talent. Something you wouldn’t understand.”

Malavan watched
as wine was poured into his cup and set before her. Argoth picked up the meat
in his plate and tossed it on the floor at Malavan’s feet while Zyera filled it
again with bread and fruit and cheese. He thought about killing her the same
way most people thought about winning the lottery—in a desolate, covetous way. Then
he spat more blood, turned around, and limped away.

“Thank you so
much,” Mara said, once the dining hall door had banged shut. “I was just asking
myself what could possibly be more fun than making a few hundred
students
resent me.”

“He’ll get over
it,” Horuseps said, tickling Zyera’s chin.

“Yes, he seems
like the forgiving sort. None of you like him,” Mara observed, feeling around
the table. “Why is he here?”

“It isn’t
necessary to like someone in order to live with him, precious. Besides, it
wasn’t our decision.”

“Why would—”

Argoth’s hand
lit high on her thigh under the table. She looked at him. He gnawed on a bit of
bone and gazed pensively at the vacant tables where no students were sitting.

“Why would
Kazuul bring someone in that he knew everyone despised?” Mara continued.

Argoth’s hand
slid up, lightly squeezed.

**What in hell
are you doing?** she sent at him.

His mind tapped
back at her playfully, but he said nothing.

“There were
greater issues at stake than camaraderie. If you want to know which, you’ll
have to take it up with him.” Horuseps accepted the cherry Zyera teasingly
offered between her lips in a deep kiss everyone else ignored, then delicately
took the stem out of his mouth and said, “It isn’t wise to pity him.”

“Who, Kazuul?”
Mara asked, and looked at Argoth again as his hand dipped between her thighs. He
ignored her, snapped his bone in half to suck at the marrow, and began to rub
his finger deliberately back and forth over her robe.

“No, dearest,
Malavan. Although I can’t imagine anyone pitying Kazuul either,” he remarked. “And
one shudders to think what he’d do about it if he knew…but no, Malavan. His
kind is quick enough to prey on pity, and quicker still to take revenge for
it.”

“I don’t feel
pity,” Mara said irritably, and sent to Argoth, **So this is your last chance
to stop what you’re doing.**

Argoth drank
wine and began to pull her robe up one handful after another.

“No? What is
this strange affection you have for Connie if not pity?”

“She’s my
friend.”

“Friend! Every
relationship you’ve ever forged has been carnivorous,” Horuseps declared. “You
feed on people, you don’t make friends.”

She started to
get angry, but forced it back, forced herself calm. “I wouldn’t have thought it
was like you to dismiss something just because you can’t understand it.”

Argoth’s naked
finger penetrated her slowly. He rumbled out a thoughtful growl, contemplating
his cup, and began to move in her.

“I dare say I
understand more than you do at this juncture,” Horuseps countered, and Zyera
laughed. “But I’ll take your word for it. You love the pitiful Connie, honestly
and unselfishly, in spite of her overwhelming ineptitude. But tell me, do you
think you’ll remain friends once you’ve saved her from us?”

She leaned out
to frown at him as Argoth stroked deeper. “Why wouldn’t we?”

Most of the
demons laughed then. Even Argoth chuckled.

“Perhaps I
flatter myself that we—” Horuseps indicated the table with a lazy flick of his
wrist. “—might make some lasting impression upon our students. But even if she
were as heartless as you—”

“I’m not
heartless, damn it!”

“—is it so
impossible to imagine some small ember of resentment when she thinks that she
had to be rescued from her failures by someone like you, who can be so callous
about her success? In fact, I should be very surprised if living in your shadow
was not what drove her to us in the first place.”

Mara stared at
him. “Christ, you’re in a bitchy mood tonight.”

Zyera laughed.

“I just want to
know if you’ve really thought about this,” Horuseps said, frowning at the
demoness with mock severity over some very genuine irritation. “Your single-minded
pursuit of the feeble Connie may seem admirable to humans, but I can’t help but
think you’ve failed to grasp the far-reaching consequences. Even the truest
friends seldom love you better for seeing them at their worst.”

Argoth removed
his hand and licked his fingers. He glanced at her, showing the tip of one fang
in a smile, and tapped at her mind again, telling her he knew she enjoyed it,
telling her she was just as sweet as the wine.

“I understand,”
Mara said mildly.

“Do you?”

“Oh, I think
so.” She reached under the table and put her hand unerringly on Argoth’s
crotch, boldly cupping the solid bulge of his cock beneath his skirt. He
grunted, his smile turning at once to dark surprise, but Mara ignored him and
leaned out to lock eyes with Horuseps. “You can’t find her, can you?”

Horuseps
twitched one eyebrow, expressionless.

“And you’ve
really been looking. Not just where you promised to.” Mara unbuckled Argoth’s
belt one-handed, stroked at his mind when he stiffened in alarm, then snaked it
deftly out from around his waist and tucked it into her sleeve for
safe-keeping. The sound of a few layers of leather falling aside wasn’t
anything at all against the sound of wine pouring, knives and claws scraping
against plates, and hushed whispers at the ends of the table. Mara wrapped her
hand around Argoth’s shaft, feeling it grow even hotter and harder as she
squeezed. She began to pump him in her fist, using her wrist mostly and moving
her arm as little as possible. “You’ve been looking and you can’t find her
either.”

“Don’t be
absurd,” Horuseps said curtly. “How would I know who to look for?”

“That’s the
thing, isn’t it? You don’t know exactly. That’s why you brought Pretty Doll out
to see me, but you’re not about to make that mistake twice after the way I
reacted, so now you’re searching on your own.”

Argoth had
stopped eating, stopped even pretending to eat. He stared straight ahead,
expression grim, hands frozen around his food, as Mara stroked him fully erect.

“And either you
can’t find anyone who could be Connie, or you’ve found too many. If I was there
with you, we could figure it out right away, but that would mean showing me
where you’ve been looking.”

Zyera looked at
Horuseps. He did not take his eyes from Mara.

“And you can’t
bring them up to see me for some reason, and you don’t want to show me why
not.” Mara paused to drink some wine and roll Argoth’s heavy balls over her
palm. “So this is your brilliant plan, to see if you can make me mad enough to stop
looking as well. It’s a good thing I don’t feel pity, because that’s sad,
Horuseps.”

He shrugged with
his eyebrows and pinched off a bit of bread, denying nothing.

“I’m going to
find her,” Mara said, working Argoth faster. “It doesn’t matter what you feed
me or where I sleep or how many angry students you put in my way, I’m still
only here for one reason and I am going to find her.”

Argoth tensed
and came, spurting semen in a thick flood over his own thighs. Mara wiped her
hand on his hard stomach where she figured it would show the most, and brought
her arm back up.

“You could be
right,” she said, taking another slice of bread from the tray. “She may resent
me after a while. She may even hate me. But if she does, it won’t be because I
didn’t come for her when she needed me.”

Horuseps swirled
the wine in his cup.

Argoth stared
broodingly down at the table and through it, his thoughts blackly focused on
how to cover himself and conceal this mess before anyone saw it or even
suspected it. The wrong rumor in Kazuul’s ear…he’d be a eunuch by day’s end. He
tapped at her again, asking for his belt.

**In a minute,**
she told him silently. **And relax. I won’t say a word to Kazuul, I promise.**

Everyone else
ate. It was very quiet.

“You won’t
believe me,” Horuseps said at last. “But I am trying to help you.”

“I do believe you,”
she said. “I just don’t think it’s possible for you to help me and yourself at
the same time.”

He started to
speak.

“I know you’re
hiding her,” Mara interrupted. “And now I think you might be hurting her.”

Horuseps closed
his mouth. Demons ate and drank and watched them as alarm came quietly back to
the Mindstorm from a dozen different minds. Mara felt it grow, shook her head,
and looked at Horuseps again.

“I want her
back,” she said softly. “That’s all I want. We’ll leave quietly. You can tell
everyone you killed us, I don’t care. Just give her back to me.”

“It’s out of my
hands, Mara.” All trace of a smile was gone. Horuseps’s eyes were, for the
first time, entirely lightless.

“You have to
know how this is going to end.”

“I do,” he said,
still with that grim intensity.

She sighed and
looked at her plate—Malavan’s plate—her appetite buried under her rising
temper. For now, she was still calm, but it was a fight she suspected she was
going to lose sooner or later. She picked out the fruit and put it in her
sleeve for later, smoothed down her robe, and stood up. “I still like you,
Horuseps.”

He smiled wanly.

“I don’t know
why, but I do. And that’s too bad, because this can’t go on much longer without
us becoming enemies. I’m not an idiot. I’m aware that I might not survive
that.” She paused behind his chair on her way out and looked down at him, just
at him. “But I’m sure I’ll risk it to get her back.”

He reached up to
pat her arm, nodding. He kept his head bent, hiding his eyes from her, but
through his touch she could feel his thoughts chewing at each other. He wasn’t
afraid of her and he didn’t share the wordless apprehension of his fellow
Masters, but his mood was a dark one regardless.

“Don’t think too
harshly of me,” she said, moving toward the Nave.

That got a laugh
out of him. “I could never be angry with you long, my darling. We understand
each other too well.”

“That’s a
tremendous comfort to me. Oh.” She stopped, brought Argoth’s belt out of her
sleeve and tossed it toward him. It landed before the table and lay like a dead
snake under the puzzled eye of the demons.

One by one, they
turned to stare at Argoth.

“Have a nice
night,” said Mara. She turned around and left. The last thing she heard as she
crossed into the Nave was Horuseps saying, “When you see Kazuul, tell him I
need to speak with him. And don’t wait until after he castrates you. You’ll
forget.”

*
         
*
         
*

The hounds let
her pass at their Master’s command (Mara gave him a bow for his trouble, which
Suti’ok answered with bellows of laughter). She climbed down into the student’s
wing expecting two things: Devlin waiting halfway up the stairs to meet her,
and trouble waiting at the bottom. To her surprise, she found neither.

There were
crowds of hungry students in the ephebeum’s front cavern, pinning their hopes
on the hounds being called away before the last bells rang, but they didn’t pay
her much mind. Oh, they blamed her for missing their dinners, but in an
abstract way that was nearly devoid of emotion. The demons did what they did
for their own reasons, and there wasn’t a person here who had not inadvertently
provoked one of them to violent amusement in some innocent way. So they blamed
her, but they weren’t about to confront her.

That eased her
mind some. She was confident in her ability to defend herself against any one
of them, but fending off a swarm of even the most inept wizards was a daunting
prospect.

This group was
nicely cowed, however, and too focused on missing dinner to make trouble for
her. She crossed the open cavern, casting for the familiar jitters of Devlin’s
mind as she reached into her sleeve for the scraps of food she’d taken—he’d
done the same for her often enough—but couldn’t find him. Mind by mind, she
tapped methodically through the throng, then gave up and just reached out and
grabbed someone.

“Where’s
Astregon?” she asked.

“Who?”

“That jumpy
little pest who likes to hang out around me. Looks like a goat.”

“Oh.” And before
he said another word, one image flashed in the fore of his mind: Devlin,
dragged shouting into one of the ephebeum’s many tunnels. “Uh, I’m not s—”