The Surrogate (25 page)

Finally, he wrapped a scarf around his hair and a cloak around his clothes, though the day was warm and likely to be warmer, and walked determinedly towards the city.

Their home had been a dower house on the edge of one of the larger farms, a couple of miles from the city. When the resident died, the farmer, needing the money, had been glad to sell it off with some land to a couple of wealthy Gidinians in need of solitude and a place away from the bustle of the town. Seve had loved it from the moment he’d seen it, and for him, it was all he needed, though Jaime of course had work which took him into the city itself. They got milk, cheese, eggs and other produce from the farm, and they would soon be easily able to grow enough herbs and vegetables for their own use. What they couldn’t grow, they could buy from close by, so Seve had no need to go further afield.

That being the case, and with his hatred of being touched or jostled, or spoken to by strangers who might be Egin spies, he had only been into Hamer itself twice, and the last time a memorable disaster. He couldn’t remember where the artisans had their workshops. Asking for help was more than he could bear the idea of, so he was reduced to slinking along the streets until he saw something that looked familiar, all the time fearing the grasp of a hand on his shoulder, or his name being shouted as the escapee he was. How did Jaime do it, he wondered. How could he stand to walk into this cursed city every day or two and behave as if it was all perfectly normal? The crush of people was horrendous, and he couldn’t tell where voices and sounds were coming from. Sounds jarred and crashed, and the smell of cooked food, of animal waste, of spilled drinks and piss, came from everywhere, so he could get no direction from them. He realised he was trapped, here in this narrow lane. There was no obvious way to escape that didn’t involve pushing past people he was desperate to avoid contact with. Paralysed by his fears, he closed his eyes and wished himself anywhere else—even the temple might have felt safer to him.

“
Are you all right, sir?”

Seve jerked, covering his face instinctively with his scarf. The soldier continued to look at him with friendly concern. “What?”

“
Are you all right? You seem rather lost. You’re not from Hamer?” Seve shook his head, cursing that the man had somehow divined this fact from a single word. “Are you looking for someone?”

“
Ekinze,” he muttered. “The locksmith.”

“
Oh, you’re nowhere near the street of artisans—it’s that way, a quarter mile. I could show you if you....”

“
No!”

The soldier blinked, and then became more suspicious. “Maybe I should go with you anyway.”

“
No...please. I’m sorry, I’m not well. I’m just visiting my...my cousin, and got lost....” He was babbling now in his panic. “I’ll be all right, honestly, please don’t trouble yourself.”

But it was enough to reassure the soldier that he was only a harmless lunatic. “Calm down, sir, it was only a suggestion. Go up this road until you come to a statue of a horse rearing up. Turn left and follow it to the market square, and the street of artisans is third on the right. Jaap Ekinze’s shop is about half way down—just ask someone if you can’t see the sign.”

Seve bobbed his head in thanks, and tried not to be sick as the soldier strode off and his fear turned to relief, his skin prickling with leftover energy he’d gathered in preparation for flight, feeling almost light-headed at the sudden release from the threat. He gulped back the nausea, gathered his thoughts and his scarf around him, and began to walk in the direction indicated, keeping his face covered. Was he so obviously foreign? His accent—he supposed it was different. There were any number of blond, green-eyed men on the streets, but just as many as dark as Jaime—the J endonese were as heterogenous as the Gidinians, so it couldn’t have been his looks, and he was dressed Jendonese-style. Worrying over how he was flagging his alien status distracted him a little from his anxiety about Jaime, but as he entered the street of artisans, and almost immediately saw the elegant sign of Nikolas’ family shop, he found his courage faltering. What if Jaime was there? What if Nikolas refused to give in?

He clenched his fists and stalked down the alley, flinging open the small door of the shop with a rattle of hinges and bell, and startling the occupants.

“
Wh...Seve!”

Nikolas stood up and smiled as if he had been just waiting for his arrival. It confused Seve momentarily, since he wasn’t expecting to be welcome.

The response from Nikolas’ father was more what he had been expecting. “Good day, sir,” he said, his expression severe, his tone coldly polite. “May we serve you?”

“
My business is with your son.”

Nikolas’ father began to walk around from behind the counter as if he was prepared to dispute this, but Nikolas placed a hand on his father’s chest. “Let me, Father—Seve’s a friend.”

“
Are you sure, Niko?”

“
Quite sure. I can talk to him out back....”

“
No, I’ve got work to do. I’ll come out if you need me,” he said, shooting a quick warning glance at Seve, but as his son continued to smile pleasantly, he nodded and walked through a door to the rear of the shop, presumably where his work benches were. The door closed behind him and then they were alone.

“
Seve, I’m so glad to see you,” Nikolas said brightly. “You look very well.”

Seve said nothing, closing the door he had flung open so rudely, and wondering where to start. “You...Jaime spent the night with you.”

Nikolas’ smile faltered. “Yes,” he said quietly. “He was upset about something or other, and I asked if he wanted to talk. I’m afraid I’d been drinking so I fell asleep—he went home as soon as I woke up.”

“
Talk? Nothing else?”

“
He did nothing at all, Seve. Where is he? Why aren’t you with him?”

“
He...left. He...turned to you,” he added in an anguished tone. “He hates me.”

“
He does not,” Nikolas said, giving Seve a hard look. “He’d die for you. Why are you suddenly so worried about his affection?”

“
Because of
you
!” Seve shouted, slamming his fist on the counter. “You...he turned to
you
. I...have nothing. You have everything! Even him!” He reached across the counter and grabbed Nikolas’ shirt, and hauled the other man halfway across the countertop. “You...how dare you...you’ve had it so easy. Jaime and I paid in
blood
for what we have now, and you, you come in and steal him from under my nose!”

He raised his fist, not intending to use it—more as a way of releasing some of the pent-up anxiety and fury that was making his body thrum with tension—but Nikolas suddenly cowered, holding his hands tightly against him, fingers curled protectively against his chest, head tucked low, and his eyes pleading and terrified. “Don’t...please,” he whispered. “Don’t hurt me.”

Astonished, Seve lowed his fist. “What’s wrong with you? “ He could feel—no, he could actually
see
the violent tremors shaking Nikolas’ body. The man was scared almost to death—of
him
?

He let Nikolas go and the man slid back white-faced, collapsing onto his work stool, his hands still clasped tightly to his chest, and his eyes downcast. “Don’t....” he whispered again. “I’m sorry...please don’t hurt me again.”

Seve stepped back, horrified. He had used those words, those very words...he had begged Minas not to.... He made a choked noise and fled out into the road, the shop door banging shut behind him, almost skidding in some horseshit left in the alley, flailing as he struggled to keep upright and to get clear of the shop and his shame. Did he look such a thug? Did Nikolas think he was capable...did
Jaime
think he was capable...of such...?

He ran a few yards before he realised he was drawing looks from passers-by, and worse, he was heading back into the town, where he very much did not want to be. He stopped, leaning against a corner post, panting, sick to his stomach that anyone would think he could hurt another the way Minas and his thugs had. Was this how low he had sunk? That he was no different from them in the eyes of the world?

Blind with nausea and tears, he stumbled back up the street, finding himself in the market square. He had to get away...no, he had to find Jaime. He had to prove to him...he
wasn’t
like Minas! He hadn’t become like those who had chained him. He would
not
become like them!

He looked around wildly, and a tall, pale-stone building caught his eye—the academy. He stumbled towards it, cringing away from the people as they hastened about their tasks, avoiding the bustle and noise of the busy market, keeping his face shrouded as he hurried away from the square, towards the place where his lover had found the peace denied to Seve.

He had no real idea of the layout of the academy, and had somehow expected that once he entered its doors, Jaime would be right there, easily seen. But no—there was a foyer, a great room with a huge domed ceiling, and many doors leading from the chamber. It was a beautiful place, graceful and calm, and the serene subjects of the many paintings on the walls and the ceilings were a vision of loveliness completely at odds with his uncouth, flustered self. He stood, utterly lost, knowing he’d just proved yet again how unfit he was to be Jaime’s lover.

“
May I help you, sir?”

He forced himself not to cringe as he turned to face a blue-robed clerk. His eyes were drawn to her rope belt, to which was attached an enormous collection of keys—it reminded him of Minas’ assistant, the one who would.... No, he must not think of that now. He jerked his gaze from the keys, and made himself pay attention to her question. “Uh...I was looking for Jaime.”

“
Master Jaime? He’s teaching, sir,” the woman said politely. “But he’ll be free on the hour, if you’d like to wait.”

Which was another half hour away. He allowed the clerk to show him where to sit and wait, and tried to look perfectly normal, ignoring her curious glances and those of the people who were strolling in and out of the hall, laughing, chatting cheerfully, with no idea of the horrors he’d been part of, no idea that a brutish ex-’god’ sat so near them. He felt like his shame was branded on his forehead for all to see. Whore. Failure. Monster. It probably made people sick to look at him.

The minutes seemed like hours, but eventually the volume of people beginning to fill the hall and leave the building indicated that a class or lecture had finished. The clerk beckoned one of the students over and handed him a note, and the lad ran off. Seve nearly ran away too—his courage was no great thing at the best of times these days and the wait had drained away most of what he had managed to gather together.

He rose, intending to leave—he could explain to Jaime later—but no, it was too late. “Seve? What are you doing here?”

Jaime was calm, a little concerned, but apparently not unhappy to see him. His beloved voice set off a fresh ache in Seve’s heart. He squeezed his eyes closed, and whispered, “I...I am not a thug....”

Jaime took his arm. “Come outside,” he murmured, leading him out into the sunshine again, and making him sit on a stone bench outside the building. “Why are you all rugged up? Are you cold? You look very odd.”

He began to gently unwind the scarf from Seve’s head. “Don’t,” Seve snapped, grabbing his wrist and forcing it away from him in a panic.

“
You’re hurting me, Seve,” Jai said, frowning. Seve released his hand as if it was burning him, and Jaime rubbed it. “What’s wrong, Seve love? Why are you here?”

“
You didn’t...come home....”

“
No...I’m sorry, I just needed some time to think, but I....”

“
You went to
him
,” Seve spat, his anger rising, drowning his self-revulsion.

Jaime’s expression went cold. “If you mean Nikolas, no, I didn’t. A friend here allowed me to stay with his family.”

“
But...he said....”

“
He
said
? Seve, did you go to Nikolas?” Seve nodded, and Jaime read his guilty expression correctly. “Did you
hurt
him?”

“
I...I didn’t mean to, I didn’t hit him but I...he was scared of me. I would never....”

But Jaime had already stood up, and now whirled to glare at him. “Go home, Seve. Keep away from Nikolas.”

“
But where will you be?”

“
Looking after my friend, because he looked after me. Go home, Seve. I’ll come back to you, I promise, but I don’t know when.”

“
Can’t I...?”

Jaime’s expression grew even more frosty. “You’ve done enough, I think. Go home, wait, and don’t do anything—not to yourself, not to Nikolas. Swear it, Seve. Swear you won’t harm yourself or him.”