Storms of Destiny (47 page)

Jezzil stood in the center of the practice ground behind the stable, sword in hand. He had given up his crutches, but still used a cane to walk.

Talis narrowed her eyes in concentration, trying to feel the sword as an extension of her arm, as part of her body. “Don’t watch the tip of your weapon,” Jezzil had drummed into her during countless drills. “That’s the way to get killed. Watch your opponent, and make sure your sword is part of you. You have to know where your sword is without having to look at it.”

When she’d first met Jezzil, she thought she was fair at swordplay, but a few lessons had convinced her that she was naught but a beginner. But she was learning. Each day she practiced, repeating all the moves he had taught her, refining her hand-eye coordination, trying to be faster on her feet.

She worked on her balance, her stance, her lunges, feints, thrusts, and parries.

On the day that Jezzil was finally able to walk without the cane, Talis was able to slip inside his guard for an instant. He managed to parry her thrust, but it was a last moment thing.

“Excellent!” he shouted. “Excellent!”

Talis stepped back and saluted her teacher, breathing hard, her face flushed with exertion and pleasure. Thia, who was sitting on paddock fence, watching, while Eregard cleaned stalls, cheered aloud.

Talis’s exhilaration was short-lived, however. When the group returned to the doctor’s house that evening, she found a hired courier waiting for her from her father. She scanned the letter he handed her, her jaw set, lips tightly pressed together.

Talis:

I have made inquiries after you, and discovered that
you have lied to me about your reasons for staying in
Q’Kal. Blessed Goddess only knows what you have
done with Clo, but, according to reports, she has not
been seen for more than a month.

Nor have you bought a single pretty gown, or attended a single afternoon party or evening ball. Instead
you have been frequenting taverns and wine-gardens,
wearing sinful clothing and consorting with Imperial
troops. I have heard the reports of your wanton activities directly from my observer, so do not think to try and
deny my findings.

You are to start for home immediately upon receipt
of this letter. I must tell you that when your poor
mother, Goddess bless her, heard of your sluttish antics, she collapsed, and has not been able to rise from
her bed since that day. You are needed to tend her,
Talis.

If you come straight home, daughter, do not fear
that I will insist that you marry. Instead you may stay
on here, caring for your mother. That is also a daughter’s proper role, and I will not be ashamed to have
you living here, unmarried, so long as your mother
lives.

I believe in being truthful, so I feel I must tell you
that we have a new addition to the household. Daughter, you have been gone now for two months, and during that time, your uncle Jasti has been of great help
to me. He tells me that he is sorry for his drunken behavior that night, Talis, and I believe him. He has gotten himself into debt, and I was in strong need of an
overseer, as you well know. So Jasti has come to live in
the overseer’s cottage. But fear not, Talis. He is a
changed man. I do not allow him drink, and he attends
services with us regularly. He has worked hard and the
farm is prospering under his care. He will not accost
you again, he has assured me.

You are a good girl at heart, Talis. You have always
been a dutiful daughter. I am gravely disappointed by
your duplicity and behavior there in the city, but I, too,

was once young. I am prepared to forgive you, and will
welcome you home.

Please start for home as soon as you have finished
reading these words. Your mother longs to see your
face, and I do also.

I remain, your loving father,
Gerdal

Talis finished the letter, drew a deep breath, and looked up at the courier. “Return to North Amis,” she said, “and tell my father I will do as he commands. Tell him I am sorry for my behavior.”

The courier nodded impassively.

“Also tell him,” Talis added, “that I will start for home in four days. I must wait until Market Day, because I still have to sell off that troublesome slave.”

“Careful, Jezzil,” Khith warned. “The fumes that will arise from this distillation are powerful. Unless you wish to take a nap on the floor, cover your mouth and nose, then hold your breath while pouring.”

Jezzil glanced over at the Hthras, took up a length of cloth and tied it across his face. Then, very carefully, he tipped the distillation flask and began filling the six small bottles with the greenish liquid.

“Be sure you get the same amount into all of the bottles,”

Khith said. The Hthras was perched atop a human-sized stool on the other side of the room it had set up as a laboratory. “My notes say this distillation makes exactly three doses per vial.”

Jezzil did not speak. Eyes narrowed in concentration, he poured with great care. Not until he was finished and the bottles were sealed did he step away from the distillation tubes and burners to face his teacher. He glanced at his notes. Khith had begun teaching him its own language, so it could translate the spells and potions with greater accuracy.

As a result, Jezzil’s notes were a strange mix of Chonao script mixed with additions in the Hthras tongue. “Used to

treat insomnia … obviously,” he muttered. “A general soporific when used in combination with a strong analgesic, can render a patient unconscious for surgery.”

“Correct, Jezzil,” the Hthras said, pleased. “You are a good and conscientious student. A minuscule dose can be used to facilitate a dreaming trance state, for possible foreseeing or farseeing.”

“How much is a minuscule dose?” Jezzil put down the distillation flask and began stoppering the vials with small corks.

“One thimbleful,” Khith said. “Half of a regular spoonful.”

Jezzil nodded, then brought the rack holding the corked vials over to his teacher. “Now what?”

“The corks must be sealed with wax,” the Hthras said.

“The hot wax will keep the mixture fresh for many months.”

Jezzil nodded, then gestured at the small brazier that sat on the laboratory table. “Where will I find the wax?”

“Not now, young Jezzil,” the doctor said. “You are limping a bit. Sit down. Rest. We do not want to strain that leg.”

Jezzil shrugged, then sat down on one of the tall stools.

Khith slid down, went over to its student and looked down at his leg. “I want to check for heat and inflammation,” the healer said. “Remove your trousers, if you please.”

Jezzil sighed. “My leg is fine, Doctor,” he said, but obeyed, sliding his trousers down until they were puddled around his ankles and he was sitting on the stool clad in his shirt and underdrawers.

Khith carefully examined the leg, pressing delicately, checking for inflammation, heat, or signs of pain. The physician could feel slight swelling but no heat, and Jezzil showed no signs of pain when it probed the site of the break and the surrounding area. “A bit of massage, then elevation, will help,”

it said, beginning to gently knead the patient’s calf muscle.

Jezzil’s skin was very warm, the flesh tight and youthful.

The human was not very hairy, as humans went. The Hthras went on massaging, realizing that the touch of human flesh was … very pleasurable. Deep within itself, it felt a faint stirring. Its heartbeat quickened, its respiration grew faster.

What is this?
Khith wondered, then suddenly realized that it must be experiencing something it had never felt before … the first flush of sexual attraction.
For a human?

Khith had never felt this way about one of its own people.

How can this be happening to me?

It felt a sudden urge to lean forward and press its face against the human’s bare skin. Quickly, it pulled its hands free, and did not look up at the Chonao. “Now make sure you keep it elevated this evening.” it mumbled.

“I will,” Jezzil said. “Thank you, Doctor, that feels much better.”

Khith glanced at the clock on the wall. “Nearly time for dinner,” it observed. “Do you know where—”

The Hthras broke off as the door to the laboratory was flung open. Adept and student turned to see a panting, flushed Thia standing there. “Jezzil,” she gasped. “I ran all the way. You have to come!”

Jezzil was on his feet and yanking up his trousers before she finished speaking. “What is it? What’s happened? Come where?”

“Talis sent me. There are some men who have been talking with Castio, and they’re like you. Chonao. Talis wants you to come to the taproom at the Blue Boar.”

“Do you need a translator?”

“Something like that! Hurry, come
on
!”

Jezzil didn’t even pick up his cane as he headed out the door. Khith watched his apprentice go, and was relieved for the chance to regain its composure before having to face the young human again.

Can I be falling in love?
it wondered as it moved around the lab, automatically making the proper preparations to seal the sleep distillate.
Is that possible?

It was true that the Hthras felt closer to both Jezzil and Thia than it ever had to any being, since the death its father.
But
love? No, it cannot be,
it thought fiercely.
It is impossible!

The Blue Boar was only a few blocks away. Jezzil followed Thia through streets thronged with sailors and soldiers. Several ships had docked that day, and the taverns were full to bursting.

Why does Talis want me here?
Jezzil wondered. He had no intention of talking to any of his countrymen. He knew that if they knew the truth about him, they would despise him for a coward and a weakling.
I don’t care what she says, I’m not
talking to them!

He thought about trying to explain this to Thia, but was hard-pressed to keep up with her smaller form as she wove her way through the crowd.

Finally she turned into one of the broader alleyways. The lamplighters had been busy, and there was enough light to see the splashed contents of an emptied chamber pot. Jezzil leaped over it, wincing when his wounded leg took his weight.

Rowdy laughter and bellowing voices assailed them from the tavern. Just as they reached it, the door opened and two drunken sailors reeled out into the alley. Jezzil pulled Thia aside as they staggered along. One of them slipped in the puddle and sat down with a splash and a curse. His companion laughed so hard that he nearly joined him. Jezzil snick-ered.
Serves the sot right.

Thia tugged on his arm. “Come on!” Moments later she stopped with the door held halfway open, letting out a blast of hot, alescented air and the off-key chorus of a bawdy ballad. She beckoned him to lean closer. “They’re over on the other side of the room,” she said. Her breath was warm and tickled his ear. “Talis wants us to stay near them, so you can hear if they talk in your language. They want to make some kind of alliance with Castio, but she says some parts of their story don’t ring true.”

Jezzil hesitated. “Do I have to talk to them?”

She shook her head. “Just listen. We don’t even want them to know you’re Chonao.”

Jezzil glanced down at what he was wearing. Except for his boots, which were those of a Chonao horseman, his clothing was Katan and unremarkable. He nodded, then gestured at her homespun blouse and the laces on her bodice.

“Loosen that up,” he said, and when she gazed at him in confusion, he reached over and did it himself. “Good, now unbutton a few buttons.” Blushing, she awkwardly obeyed.

“That’s better,” he said, “And, Thia, if I act, um, unmannerly toward you, I’m only doing it so we won’t be noticed. Play along.”

Thia’s eyes went wide, then she bit her lip and nodded.

They went into the dimly lit tavern, and Jezzil stopped by the bar to order them a couple of glasses of strong, sourish wine. Thia, who had never tasted spirits before, made a face when she took her first sip. Jezzil shook his head at her warningly, and she squared her shoulders and took a second sip.

The Chonao looked around the tavern. It was so dark that it took him a minute to spot Talis, wearing her ordinary masculine attire, seated beside the printer, Denno. They were in one of the back booths, talking to two men who were plainly steppes-born. Jezzil, who had been raised on the lowland plains, was relieved to see that. He’d been worried that they might be kinsmen, and that he might be recognized.

He waited until the man in the adjoining booth began to slide sideways, then nudged Thia. She followed him to the now empty booth and they slid in, sitting back-to-back with the two Chonao. Jezzil was careful not to catch Talis’s eye.

He put an arm around Thia, pulling her close to him, and began to nuzzle her hair, stopping only to sip his wine. She went rigid in the circle of his arm but did not pull away.