Wizard Rescue Pavoni 14

[setenaya]

As it turned out, Anat was very bad at the White Scars’ game.

It turned out to involve—as far as he could tell—guiding a horse and rider through obstacles that gradually became more challenging: mountain passes with periodic rockfalls, flooding rivers, airborne predators. This was difficult enough; simply reaching the mountains took him several tries.

Each failure was marked with an animated death for horse, rider, or both. The first time was piteous; after a bit it became another element of frustration, along with Sogetai’s suggestions about what he ought to be doing. (Sogetai had a rather dubious view of the screen, largely blocked by Anat’s head; and anyway, Anat’s reactions were not fast enough to make good on even good advice.)

It had been a long time since Anat had felt frustration of this sort. He tried to be philosophical about it.

When he finally reached what must be the end of this—this level, he thought the word was—he was rewarded with a short animation of the rider petting and feeding the horse. It was endearing enough to make him feel a brief and irrational twinge of guilt for the number of deaths both had suffered in his attempts so far.

At least it had effectively distracted him from Sogetai’s hands in his hair.

Hands, only. Sogetai had put the comb down, and he was—what was he doing? He could feel pressure—too faint to call tugs, but—

It was only when Sogetai let his hair fall to his back with a little thump that he realized he’d braided it.

For a moment Anat wondered if he looked like a Space Wolf, and his stomach churned.

No. The Space Wolves hadn’t put their hair in single braids—that wasn’t a men’s style at all, on Fenris. And his coloring was (Magnus’s, therefore) Prosperine.

Sogetai just didn’t want his hard work undone while Anat slept, that was all.

“Do you want help with the jewelry too?” Temechi asked. Anat hadn’t even noticed his return.

Anat reached up—but his fingers were still clumsy. “Yes.”

Temechi sat down beside him. For a moment Anat felt cornered between them, and told himself how foolish that was. They were his only protection here, and he’d been trapped since—since—well, for a long time.

Then, abruptly, Sogetai got up to stretch, and Anat was torn between relief at the space and rekindled worry. Had he… No. Sogetai was probably just a little stiff, that was all. He’d been still for longer than any of the nearby White Scars—they were all full of pent-up energy.

Or maybe Anat was making excuses for him. (He wanted Sogetai to have kept his word. Well, of course he did—it would go badly for them both if he hadn’t.

But he wanted—if not a brother—

No. Don’t hope. Don’t.

Besides, he would see his brothers—and they might even—

That hope was harder to deny.)

By the time Sogetai sat back down—not behind him, this time, but at the opposite shoulder from Temechi—Anat had managed to compose himself. With both of them busy at his neck he couldn’t have concentrated on his book, but that was fine. That was fine. That was—

A necklace slipped free, and he barely managed to catch it before it slithered from his lap.

Someone touched his head—he thought it was Sogetai again until Temechi said, softly, “I know, I know, it’s been a long day.”

Anat turned and stared at him. It wasn’t as if he’d done anything—it wasn’t even as if anyone had done anything to him. But he finally made himself nod.

Sogetai took another chain from his neck, and he shivered.

“Do you want us to stop?” Temechi asked.

“No.” Anat wanted this done, before—he still had to wash up tomorrow. Before then. If they stopped now, he’d have to work up his nerve for it again later.

And he wanted to sleep with a bare neck.

So he steeled himself as Temechi put warm hands to his neck to pry loose another clasp, as Sogetai teased a chain out of a deep tangle. He tried to keep his breath even.

Their hands touched on his skin—he was trapped, he was—he always had been.

Sogetai pulled away, perceptible only by the rush of cool air behind him. Temechi looked… concerned. That was probably the expression.

“Sogetai tells me you’ve been reading The Adventures of Tahai?”

Anat froze. “Yes.”

“Do you have a favorite character?”

Anat was so startled by the question—did Temechi truly want his opinion? On that of all things? How long had it been since anyone had—he nearly forgot to answer. Sogetai’s hands at his shoulder, undoing another clasp, reminded him to do so.

“Zerrina.” He almost whispered the name.

He more than half expected Temechi—or Sogetai for that matter—to cast himself as Tahai in response.

There were certainly similarities. (Weren’t their motives the same?)

But instead Temechi said, warmly, “Yes, I think the book gets a lot better when she’s introduced.”

He went on—asking question after question, first about Zerrina, then Tahai, then plot events that he had to admit he hadn’t yet reached. Sogetai’s hands were at Anat’s throat again, but he could not pay attention to that. If Temechi had questions, he couldn’t afford not to answer, and answer quickly.

Questions about the plot were easy; he either knew or he didn’t. There was little to speculate about. Questions about characters were harder.

Why was it so hard to speak of Zerrina, of a woman who did not exist and never had?

(Because she is a mirror that reflects your face, whispered a part of himself he no longer wished to listen to.)

(His face, or his father’s?)

But at least he was distracted. He scarcely noticed Sogetai’s fingers at his throat, teasing loose another chain. When he leaned in to get a better look, Anat felt his hot breath, but could pay it little mind when Temechi had just asked about the possible relationship between two of the villages Tahai had visited in the course of his adventures. And when he pulled the chain away and it drew across Anat’s throat, he made himself finish his answer, and by the time he had the sensation was gone.

He no longer had the discipline to keep track of the time while that was going on. But when Sogetai took the last necklace off him Temechi said that it was getting time for dinner, so it must have taken a long time.

“Sogetai, go get a bag for all of that.”

All of that—Anat felt his stomach clench. All that. All the remaining wealth of Prospero, save what was in the other bundle, to be shoveled into another bag and likely tangled again. There was nothing he could do; it was their plunder, now.

“I’ll get Anat’s supper.” They were both rising to go. Leaving him alone—

“No!” Anat didn’t mean to speak; didn’t realize until he heard his own voice that he’d protested Temechi’s decision. He cringed backwards into the bed that was now empty except for himself. He couldn’t believe his own folly—contradicting a White Scar, raising his voice to him. He was in trouble now. And for what? They wouldn’t be gone long. It wasn’t likely that one of the others would take advantage in that span of time, not when they’d be right back.

Something twisted in Temechi’s face. Anat was fairly sure now that it was pity. “All right. I’ll stay until Sogetai gets back.”

That was a relief before it was anything else. But when Sogetai had gone, Anat began to worry again.

In the heat of the moment, in his panic, he’d defied Temechi. Even if they’d both overlooked his errors so far, surely that had been too blatant to be ignored.

But Temechi did nothing. Said nothing, either. He wasn’t even looking at Anat.

Temechi hadn’t punished him at all so far. Either he truly hadn’t displeased him, or he was waiting for Anat to recover physically.

It was easier to believe the latter.

Still, it was better than what he’d become used to. Maybe Temechi would even start fresh, when he was better, instead of keeping a tally of his mistakes. …But that seemed like too much to hope for.

That was the future. Here and now, it seemed nothing was going to happen. The tension in Anat’s mind and body gradually gave way.

He could at least make sure the necklaces were clasped together. That might keep some of them from tangling, if they were circles rather than strands.

His hands weren’t so stiff or sore, after that rest. But there were a great many necklaces to work through, and he began to fumble.

“May I help?” Temechi asked, and didn’t move to do so until Anat nodded.