Master of the Dance (33 page)

"I do not want vengeance," she whispered. "I only want to die."

"That will pass, and I will promise you a gift if you promise to live. I will bring you Endor and make him suffer before he dies."

She looked away. "I do not care if he dies, and I have no wish to see it."

Blade slapped her. Chiana gasped and tried to jump up, but he shoved her back. She glared at him, holding her cheek. Her eyes, which had been flooding with melancholy, filled once more with fury.

A mocking smile curled his lips. "That is better. Hate me, Chiana. Live for the hate. Let it sustain you."

"I do hate you, you bastard. You have brought me nothing but pain, and you still do."

"And chances are, I always will. But now you know why, do you not?"

She lowered her gaze. "Yes."

"Good. And hate is good. It is better than the melancholy and endless sorrow into which most people plunge. They spend the rest of their miserable existence waiting for death to release them from the torture of their empty lives. Unless they have someone to hate."

"Like you."

"Yes." He sat beside her. "And now you hate me, because the one creature you loved above all else is gone, and you cannot allow yourself to love anyone else."

Chiana buried her face in her hands and sobbed, her thin shoulders shaking. Blade sighed and draped a blanket around her to stave off the cold, then lay down and rubbed his chest where she had hit him. He waited for the next outburst, which did not take long to come. She leapt up and dashed for the balcony again. He rolled off the bed, his boots skidding on the smooth floor.

A rug almost floored him, but he grabbed the back of her nightgown and yanked her off her feet. He caught her before she cracked her head on the floor, fell to his knees and held her against his chest. Chiana flailed at him, landing several painful blows on his head and face before he grabbed her wrists. Turning her head, she tried to bite his arm, but he kept it out of her reach. She twisted to glare up at him with impotent fury, then spat in his face.

"Damn you! I hope you rot in Damnation, you bastard!"

"I probably will." He wiped his cheek on his sleeve and waited for her to give up the unequal struggle, holding her pinned. Her fury was uncharacteristic, and he knew that it stemmed from the severing of the ties with her gentle familiar. Already she was losing the soft nature and meek ways of a woman of doves and reverting to the true nature of an unbonded person. He recalled his own unbonding, and the strange hatred and rage that had engulfed him when he had woken after his familiar's death, emotions alien to cat kin.

Blade had sensed the draining away of his affectionate nature into the cold emptiness that dwelt where his heart had been. Chiana's original character would now come to the fore, and, since dove kin were not known for their affection, he had to assume that her former affectionate ways had been a part of her original nature. In time, when the initial rush of hatred and rage that always followed a familiar's death had worn off, some of her prior, more pleasant traits would return.

Becoming aware that she had stopped struggling, he rose to his feet and pulled her up, then dragged her back to the bed and pushed her down on it again. To an outsider his actions would seem cruel and heartless, but he knew that comfort was the last thing she needed right now. People who were lavished with sympathy and affection inevitably took the spiralling downward road of self-pity and apathy, falling into a deep depression from which they never recovered. Most people who lost their familiars became dull, blank-eyed individuals who existed rather than lived. He was not going to allow that to happen to her, and when she bowed her head and wept again, he slapped her.

Chiana's head jerked up, and she glared at him, scrubbing the tears from her cheeks. He leant over her and thrust his face close to hers, meeting her furious eyes.

"Come on, Chiana, hate me. Hit me! You want to, I know you do."

Chiana lashed out, and he ducked in the nick of time. Frustration flared in her eyes. She lunged at him, took him by surprise and landed a glancing blow on his cheek as he jerked his head aside. He pushed her back onto the bed, sending her sprawling, but she sat up quickly, her eyes bright with rage. Already she was entering the silent phase of the slow healing process that would take many days to complete, and it was unlikely that she would speak again during that time. She glared at him, and he sat beside her to study her grim, tight-lipped visage.

"Good, you are coming along well. I do hate being a punching bag, so I hope you will appreciate this one day. Want to take another swing at me?"

As he had anticipated, the slightest provocation was enough to bring a reaction, and she aimed a slap at his face. He evaded it, which added to her ire, and she flailed at him, forcing him to fend off or avoid her blows, although a few landed. When she stopped, he goaded her again, braving several more attacks as he continued to rile her until she failed to react. She stared into space, and he waited. After a few minutes, she rose and wandered around the room. Her eyes flicked to the balcony doors often, and he was ready to prevent another rush at them. Instead, she continued to roam the room, picking up things and throwing them down.

Priceless vases and ornaments smashed on the floor, then, when that lost its appeal, she hurled things. She was entering her destructive phase, something he had not had the luxury of going through. Ornaments flew across the room, smashing the wall mirrors, and when all the breakables were exhausted, she started on the curtains. Silk and velvet drapes were ripped down with satisfying rending noises, then kicked across the room. When the windows were bare, the tapestries followed, then the pictures. Blade watched with a slight smile as his gentle wife proceeded to trash the room, leaving piles of torn cloth and broken china in her wake. Lastly, she yanked open her wardrobe and pulled out her gowns, ripping them up as much as she could before hurling them across the room.

When only a few dresses remained on the hangers, she sank down, her face blank and pale with exhaustion. Thirteen days in a coma had left her weak and dehydrated, despite the sugar water Verdan had fed her, and until now, fury and grief had fuelled her. Now that was exhausted. Blade rose, stretched, and walked over to pull her to her feet, helping her to the bed, where he pushed her down. Her eyelids drooped, and he lifted her legs onto the bed and pulled the covers over her. When she closed her eyes, he went to the doors and let himself out. Verdan and several maidens waited outside, and the old healer hurried over to Blade, his face taut with concern.

"Is she all right?"

"She will be."

Verdan sagged. "Thank God."

"He had nothing to do with it."

"How is she?"

"Asleep. Have someone sit with her. I need a drink."

Verdan caught Blade's arm as he turned away. "My Lord, should you not stay?"

"No."

"What about when she wakes?"

"Call me. But do not speak to her, understand? She will not talk to you right now, anyway."

"What happened? We heard things breaking."

Blade jerked his arm from the healer's grasp. "She will need new furnishings, ornaments and clothes."

"Will she not try to kill herself again?"

"She may, but not while she is asleep."

Chiana slept through the night, and Blade spent a good portion of it indulging in a generous bout of drinking. Arken woke him at dawn to inform him that his wife was awake, and Verdan urgently required his presence. He groaned and clutched his aching head when he sat up, waiting until the throbbing ebbed slightly before he rose and dressed.

Verdan met him at Chiana's door, looking anxious. Blade found his wife up and dressed in a pale grey gown, suspiciously serene. Her maidens bustled around her, laced her gown and brushed her hair while she stood staring into space. She ignored his arrival, and he turned to Verdan, running a hand through his hair.

"What is the problem?"

"Is she all right? She will not speak."

"No, she will not for a while yet."

Blade yawned and flopped into a chair, eyeing his wife, who stood like a statue, her hands folded before her. A maiden entered carrying a tray laden with a plate of grilled ham, poached eggs, and a pot of aromatic tea. She placed it on a table and poured the tea, adding milk and sugar. The girls tugged Chiana over to it, and although she followed them, she ignored the food.

Blade stifled another yawn. "She will not eat."

The room had been tidied, he noticed. The torn curtains and broken ornaments were gone, leaving it bare and drab. Chiana wandered around it, ignoring the girls' attempts to make her sit down. Blade watched them with growing irritation.

"Leave her alone," he finally said.

They retreated to a twittering huddle, and Verdan turned to the assassin.

"How long will she be like this?"

Blade shrugged. "I do not know."

"How long were you like this?"

"Two days."

"Then she will talk again?"

The assassin accepted a cup of tea from a maiden and sipped it with a grimace. "Perhaps."

Verdan snorted. "I thought you knew about this?"

"It is different for everyone." Blade studied his wife. "She was bonded to her familiar far longer than I was to mine, so her grief will be greater."

"Will she try to kill herself again?"

"Probably."

Verdan sighed and sank down in the chair opposite Blade, eyeing the assassin. "Tell me about what happened to you."

"Why would you want to know that?"

"It may help me to understand her."

Blade lowered his eyes to the steaming cup of tea on the table. He disliked the stuff, but he was thirsty after his bout of drinking, and it was wet. The memories of his ordeal had dimmed with time, though some were still bright with pain, and he had never spoken about it to anyone. Now Chiana's suffering brought it all back, and he found that he was not averse to telling the old healer.

"Two dozen children were taken from my village," he said, "but only a handful lost their familiars. Most were bonded to small creatures that escaped unharmed, like birds and insects, a few lizards and mice, a couple of snakes. After I woke, I was tied up in an officer's tent and left alone, for the most part. The Cotti had plenty of experience in dealing with the Bereft. They knew exactly what to do, so they made no mistakes. The officer would come in from time to time and kick or slap me, and he made certain that I could not kill myself."

Verdan's brows rose. "You wanted to?"

"Oh yes, all people do when they find themselves Bereft. I was kept tied up through all the stages of the unbonding. I lay unmoving for four days. First there is the strong wish to follow the familiar into death. When that fails, rage takes over, and hatred. During this stage, I wanted to kill the officer who kept me in his tent, but of course, I could not.

"After a few time-glasses this wears off, and then I just wanted to destroy everything around me. This is followed by a few days of introspection, when I was oblivious to my surroundings, as she is now. During this time most people come to terms with their loss and resolve to continue living, though some are little more than zombies. After that I became rational again, but I was a different person."

The healer glanced at Chiana, his expression grim. "What do you mean by unbonding?"

"I lost most of my feline traits, just as she is losing her dove's gentleness. Without a familiar, we are merely human."

"And truly alone."

Blade sipped his tea and pulled a face. "Yes. The sorrow can be overwhelming, and after losing my parents and familiar in the battle, I was forced to watch my sisters die. Chiana will be spared that, so she should not become too different."

"Why did you tell her to kill you?"

"Because I knew she could not, and her attempts to make herself do it would purge the desire for it."

"Why did she want to kill someone? I thought she only wished to end her own life."

The assassin smiled. "But I was preventing her, so she wanted to remove me."

"I see." Verdan stared at his clasped hands. "So now we wait."

"Yes."

Chapter Twenty Two

Chiana remained in her serene stage for two more days, and her servants began to relax. Blade remained vigilant, and spent a fair bit of time with her, studying her mood. When he was certain that she was not about to snap out of her introspection, he would return to his rooms. On the third day, he was forced to give another brief audience, but it ended without mishap. The lords brought only a few minor, urgent issues to his attention. He knew that they were waiting for Chiana to return to her office before they brought more serious matters for consideration, for which he was glad.

Afterwards, he made his way to Chiana's rooms, still clad in his court finery. He found her sitting listlessly on her cushions, a tray of pastries untouched beside her. Her maidens had returned to their embroidery, and Verdan dozed on a chair near the window, basking in the autumn sun's fading warmth. Insash was also in attendance, his nose buried in a tome. Blade frowned at their inattention, his gaze sharpening when he noticed that Chiana's eyes were focussed on her hands, which were clasped in her lap. He walked towards her, and she looked up at the sound of his footsteps.

The utter despair in her eyes warned him, and he quickened his strides. She rose in a fluid motion, causing the maidens to glance at her, their needles poised. Moving with determined speed, Chiana headed for the balcony doors.

"Chiana! No!" Blade broke into a run, cursing the size of the room and the distance that still separated them.

The maidens jumped up, throwing down their embroidery. Verdan woke with a snort, and Insash glanced up in confusion. The girls were too slow, and Chiana thrust open the balcony doors before Blade could reach her. She ran to the balustrade and flung herself over it, her arms outstretched like slender wings.

Blade lunged after her, grabbing her wrist as she sailed into space. The balustrade caught him across the hips, stopping his forward motion with a jolt. The force of her fall almost ripped her from his grip, and her weight jerked him partially over the balustrade, his feet leaving the floor as he teetered. For an instant he thought he would follow her down to the flagstones far below, and the world spun. Then many hands grabbed him from behind, pulling him back to safety, but his hand slipped on her wrist and pain shot through his arm and shoulder.