SanClare Black (The Prince of Sorrows) (30 page)

He distracted himself
from any further internal disputes by tracing the well-worn plan he’d worked out, counting out what he’d saved over the past several moons plus this night’s possible earnings. Nights spent with Leovar always went on for hours.

I
’ll figure two hundred clinks, just to be safe.
Michael then subtracted known expenses and the considerable chunk of money he wanted to set aside for his new start.
And if I can get word to George by tomorrow, I’ll miss the Auditors and have all the tax money!
Without the tax money, he’d have enough for everything but bribes. But
with
the tax money...

That must be enough for bribes.
They can’t want any more than that. Oh, please, Holy Vail, let this be enough!

Michael
didn’t begin to suspect something might be wrong until the carriage stopped. The style of the servants’ entrance testified to the grandeur of the house he’d arrived at, but he’d been to Leovar’s residence before, and this was not it.

Before he had the chance to react to this surprise, the
clerk opened the door and nearly dragged him out of the carriage, never letting go of Michael’s arm as he propelled him into the house and up a narrow staircase. The clerk’s mind fairly gibbered, and fear and worry poured off of him like sweat, but nothing really helped Michael figure out what was going on.

Stupid,
Michael scolded himself, annoyed that the Voice seemed to have been right after all.
Whatever this is, it isn’t worth the risk.

He faked a stumble
and used the clerk’s own altered momentum to throw the man over his shoulder. It worked, though Daren had only shown him that particular maneuver a few times, and Michael almost whooped with excitement as the hapless man made a beautiful arc before landing hard on his back.

Michael
dashed back down to the door at the bottom of the staircase, only to find it wouldn’t open. The handle wouldn’t turn. And there was nowhere else to go.

“
Shize.” He looked over his shoulder.

A tall,
well-muscled, aristocratically-attractive man stood at the top of the staircase, looking down at him with an oddly fond gaze. He wore wire-rimmed spectacles, and the dim, ambient gas-light glinted off of them, hiding his eyes.

“
You aren’t Prince Leovar,” Michael said.

“
You’ve broken my clerk.” The man shook his head as he began to come down the stairs. “And you’re
still
running away from me. How delightful.”

The voice jolted into
Michael like a pistol shot, and he tried to take another step away from the oncoming stranger, managing only to flatten himself against the unyielding door.

“
You,” he breathed. “No.” He shook his head back and forth, trying to deny the inescapable truth.

The man stopped a length away, his height emphasized by the extra steps separating them.
“One hundred clinks an hour...seems a small price to pay.”

“
Who are you?” Michael gasped. The man stayed out of his reach, but Michael didn’t think it was for fear of his meager fighting skills. He had the sense that this man could counter anything he could try against him. He’d felt the hands on his body before and knew their strength. He’d seen the cold cruelty of this man’s eyes. He’d stared into them and seen his hopes drown in their blue-black depths.

“
I am the Duke of Reyahl, cousin to your beloved Leovar. Nice young man, isn’t he? Make some country a lovely king some day.”

Michael
knew why the clerk had been so terrified. The Duke of Reyahl had the power to destroy anyone with a word. He stood but two steps away from the throne himself and was said to have great influence over his aunt, the queen, and over his younger cousin. He’d won wars for Camarat. He might as well have been king himself.

Leovar had spoken of him often with a mixture of fear and
dislike and awe in his voice. But Michael had never connected Leovar’s impressions of the legendary duke with the man who’d held him still while Robyn had raped him.

Even now, hearing his voice again, he couldn
’t imagine what had brought such a powerful man to the alleys of Fensgate looking for his pleasure.

“
You may call me Terac Nalas. Or just Terac. As we shall come to know one another intimately, I’d prefer not to stand on ceremony.”

“
Let me go,” Michael rasped. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“
I thought you might.” Terac closed the final steps separating them. He reached out and stroked Michael’s cheek with soft, manicured fingers. “But I haven’t.”

“
Please,” Michael whispered. Terac’s thoughts were filled with nightmares. They cut into Michael’s mind like razors, turning his vision red as pain tore through him.

“
Dear Vail.” The man’s voice was a low moan of unspeakable pleasure. His hand tightened on Michael’s chin, pushing his head back so that he couldn’t escape the kiss.

When Terac finally released
Michael, the boy’s legs gave out, and he slid down to the floor. Blood ran from his nose. The man had only kissed him, but he felt as if he’d been beaten almost unconscious.

His voice sounded worse than it had after Lorel Burk, and he tasted blood when he spoke.
“What have you done?”

“
This is no place to talk, child,” Terac said as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

A shuffling noise sounded on the staircase.
The white-faced clerk hovered, a nauseated, anxious expression on his face.

“
Bring him to my workroom,” Terac ordered. He hurried back up the staircase then, almost seeming to skip.

“
Don’t do it, please.” Michael’s eyes pleaded with the clerk through a blur of tears. “He’s going to kill me.”

“
He’ll kill me if I don’t,” the clerk muttered, but he was gentle now. He helped Michael to his feet and almost carried him up the stairs. His horror overrode everything, and when they reached the door to Terac’s workroom, Michael believed the man when he whispered, “I didn’t know, I swear. I didn’t know he meant to do this.”

Michael
managed to nod, accepting the apology. It seemed stupid to hold a grudge.

Terac threw open the door and greeted the sad pair with a childishly delighted smile.
“I have dreamed of this moment for moons, my darling—Moons!” He waved the clerk into the room then directed him across the cluttered space beyond the door, talking all the while. “I mean, the first time I saw you, I thought you were special, but I didn’t realize just how special you were!”

He turned his smile to shine fully on
Michael. “That night of the fire, though...dear Vail, how amazing you were! The power! You just did it!” He waved his hands as if pulling something out of thin air. “And those healings, too! Saving all those horses and lowborns as if it were nothing. I can’t even imagine how you do what you do—but to think I nearly let you die! I still shudder at how close I came to losing you.”

H
is attention returned to the clerk. “Right here is excellent. Let’s get his coat and shirt off—won’t be needing those—Good, now help me with these.”

“
These” were two shackles, spaced about a length apart, which dangled down from the ceiling with an oddly decorative innocence. The cuffs were lined with velvet—a jarringly erotic detail for such a setting—and fit snugly around Michael’s slender wrists, stretching his arms out in a “v.” His feet just touched the floor.

Terac bustled the clerk back out of the workroom, patting him on the shoulder and muttering,
“Good work, there, it’s all going to be fine,” as the man cast a last, anguished backward glance at Michael. Once the clerk cleared the door, Terac shut it and locked the deadbolt.

“
That’s to keep everyone else out, my dear,” Terac assured Michael. “We won’t be interrupted.”

Shock
, Michael thought, as he watched himself as if from outside of his own body.
I’m in shock.
At the moment, it seemed a very good place to be.

He swallowed, still tasting blood.
The man’s mood had shifted with the slip of the lock, and now he seemed more like a cat settling in to enjoy his game.
Spoiled child or cat...it’s just the same
, Michael thought dully.
They both tend to break their toys.

“
What are you going to do to me?”

“
Just some experiments,” the man assured him. “Though, I admit, you probably will find them most unpleasant. I apologize, but there’s no avoiding it.” He went to a nearby table and picked up an old, leather-bound book, its cover crumbling orange dust all over Terac’s hands and clothes. The room was stuffed with shelves and books and glass bottles filled with strange substances. The table seemed wedged into the middle of the mess. And Michael now dangled in the center of the only open space in the entire workroom.

Terac brought the book over to
Michael and held it out. “You see this?” he asked, an excited light in his eyes.

Michael
stared blankly at the pages the man was showing him. A series of meticulous drawings, each one showing a more detailed view than the last of the same creature or woman or...

“
What is it?”

Terac shrugged, laughing.
He seemed as giddy as a child on his birthing-day, his glee cascading in stomach-churning waves over Michael. “I have no idea how to pronounce the precise name. But she’s some sort of Danae—a very, very old race of magical beings.”

Michael
echoed the word as if he’d never heard it before. “Magical?”

“
Yes. Do you notice anything about her?”

Aside from the fact that she
’s naked and beautiful?
“...She has wings?”

Terac
’s smile quirked as if he’d stifled more laughter. “Yes, that’s true. She has something else; something you share with her.” He waited a moment, but Michael’s shock ran too deep for him to be much good at guessing games. “Her eyes are an unusual color, aren’t they?” the man prompted.

Michael
’s fractured attention focused on the pictures, and he finally saw what Terac wanted him to see. “They’re gold,” he rasped. “Like mine.”

“
Precisely. Like yours. Or, more correctly, your eyes are gold
like hers
. You, too, are Danae, my dear. You, too, possess the innate magical powers of her ancient breed. You’ve proven that already—by your own admission—and got yourself convicted of heresy for your pains.”

“
I’m not magical,” Michael protested weakly. “It was Vail’s will... Robyn lied!”

“
Of course he did. I brought him up to lie! How else would he get anyone to trust him? He’s thoroughly horrid when he’s just being himself.”

Michael
’s only answer to this was a confused stare provoking an impatient sigh from Terac.

“
Artistic skill is an indicator of magical power. I have long taken an interest in promising young artists, such as yourself. Such as Robyn.” He let the implication hang in the air for several moments, watching, fascinated, as Michael’s mind caught up.

“
You made him into that...
thing
he is?” Michael blurted. “You did that to him?”

Terac threw his head back and laughed in delight.
“Yes! He was my most willing pupil, I assure you. He still is. So eager to please me, he even finds new toys for me to play with. He was greedy with you, though. Didn’t want to share until I forced him to. Not that I can blame him.”

Michael
made a choking sound and closed his eyes.
Why did he tell me this? It just makes it worse
.

“
Please,” he whispered. “Let me go.”

“
Don’t ask me that again.” Terac grew serious at last. “It only makes me think less of you.” He turned once more to his table and shuffled through his papers.

“
In any case, it was your heretical wielding of your healing powers that doomed you to the streets. If that had never happened...well, I don’t suppose Robyn would have happened, either, but if he had, I doubt poor Avram would have blamed you for it.”

“
The healing was a miracle,” Michael protested. “The will of Vail. I didn’t do
anything
!”

Terac
whirled and closed the little distance separating them in three steps. He looked down into Michael’s shocked, pale face. “You don’t sound convinced yourself. How do you expect anyone else to believe you?”

Michael
struggled against his chains, pulling so hard, the thin edge of one of the cuffs cut into the heel of his hand. “What do you want with me?” he demanded, panic beginning to filter into his voice.

Terac made shushing noises and pressed a gentle finger to
Michael’s lips. Michael flinched and tried to get away, though the chains afforded him nothing. For the moment, at least, the razors didn’t slash his mind.