Servants of the Sands, page 71
“I’m not stupid,” Alyea said, very quietly. “I do understand what’s going on, Teilo.”
“You’re not as stupid as you once were,” Teilo answered. “You understand somewhat more than you once did.”
Teilo was playing her stupid disciple games again, but Alyea didn’t know the rules and was going to get angry in short order. Deiq felt his temper sliding even more rapidly than that.
“I swear by all the gods that may ever have existed, I will bury you both if you don’t knock it off right now,” Deiq said, favoring each of them with a piercing glare. Alyea nearly blanched, but held her ground. Teilo laughed at him.
She’d been deliberately prodding at his temper, testing, pushing to see if he could hold his balance. Or, more likely, to see if the renewed chains would hold him in check.
Idisio stepped out into view before Deiq could think too deeply about the implications of that, which was probably very much for the best.
The younger ha’ra’ha’s gaze locked on Deiq immediately, which wasn’t, very much wasn’t, for the best. Tunnel-vision hazed, peripheral sight reddening, and an all-too-familiar sensation took over Deiq’s muscles: A gentle, easy, floating stillness that would let him move in any direction at high speed—
Idisio let out a hoarse choking sound, like a strangling crow, wrenched his gaze away from Deiq, then sank to his knees, head bowed.
Teilo said something in a long-lost language that translated into kaenic, roughly, as: “Holy fuck.”
Deiq blinked, not at all sure what to do next. That reaction was—unprecedented. At this point in his development, under this particular set of stressors, Idisio should have been charging forward to assert his dominance. It should have been a matter completely outside of his conscious control. He simply wasn’t old enough to have that kind of strength.
He realized that Alyea was laughing—not loudly, and not maliciously, but she clearly found Deiq and Teilo’s astonishment amusing. She said, “Idisio, I think I’d have paid you everything I once owned to do that much sooner if I’d known that having you kneel to him would put that look on Deiq’s face.”
Idisio didn’t answer, but one shoulder moved in a brief, acknowledging twitch.
“It’s not the kneeling,” Teilo said, “It’s the situation—”
“I know,” Alyea said sharply.
Deiq’s vision darkened with irritation. “Stop it,” he snapped, not taking his attention from the kneeling younger. “Go away. Both of you. Go over to where he was sleeping, get out of my sight. Go. And be silent.”
Neither one argued. Idisio didn’t move as they retreated. His breathing was deep and even. He’d dropped into a full aqeyva trance with impressive speed.
After a few moments of baleful glaring, Deiq realized that the younger wasn’t about to emerge from that trance without a clear indication of safety. Smart. He ought to know better than to underestimate Idisio by now.
I am thinking like a human. This time, it didn’t seem like an insult—but it was strange, all the same. He’d been jerked from helplessness to full power and back to helplessness multiple times in the past days. Why aren’t I completely mad by now? Ah. The athain. He’d actually forgotten the rearrangement of his bonds. No doubt the clee was nudging that amnesia along at every chance.
They aren’t going to let me become violent until they’re ready. He sank into a cross-legged posture and dropped into a trance of his own, idly considering whether or not to be grateful for that restriction.
The teyanain want to control, not destroy. The Aerthraim want to destroy, not control. He’d been watching their respective focuses sharpen and solidify for hundreds of years. Evkit coming into power had been the seal on that side, while Osenna had done the same for the Aerthraim. Osenna had failed in the long term, constrained by the realities of descendants who simply didn’t do what one wanted. Evkit had chosen to extend his own lifespan rather than risk that same failure.
But Osenna hadn’t been a fool, and she’d still been alive when her granddaughter and grandson began their respective rebellions against the paths laid out for them. Much like Evkit, she’d been the type to have backup plans within backup plans....
Deiq had taken pride in neatly avoiding becoming a pawn in their respective maneuvering. The only way to stop them would have been to destroy both factions, and watching their games and avoiding their nets had been far too amusing to make that a worthwhile action. But now, wrapped in attiara-laced teyanain chains, driven by compulsion and oaths towards a task he did not want to complete, he had to admit—
—In truth, he’d been snared a long time ago.
Humans were far more intelligent than the ha’reye recognized. And far more interested in controlling their own path than the Agreement had been built to accommodate.
I tried to tell the ha’reye. I did try. It’s not my fault they didn’t listen. They wanted servitude. Humans considered it slavery. The ha’reye didn’t care....
It is my fault that I was careless enough to get caught myself.
Looking back over the span of his lifetime, he pondered, for the first time, what humans would do without any ha’reye or ha’ra’hain in the background.
They’d survive. They’d adapt. They’re resourceful. Something about those phrases struck against his inner ear; was there an overlap with his or Alyea’s memory?
It didn’t matter. It wasn’t important. He prodded at the storm once more, then gave up and let himself rest, conserving his strength, waiting on Idisio to emerge from his self-imposed hibernation... and trying to think of ways to stop himself from destroying the world.
Chapter 89
The air felt chill after the recent overheated hells he’d been thrust into. Idisio focused on enjoying that, on the feel of the breeze against his bare skin, on wondering how in all the hells he was going to get new clothes—not to mention money, and traveling supplies. Wonderfully mundane concerns, if one left out the events that had caused the worry.
Apparently, he was really good at not thinking about things that bothered him, these days, one more gift from his deranged mother. His memories—just—gapped. He’d been walking along the increasingly noisy underground corridor... and then he’d woken behind the rock, with a flat haze across one corner of his mind that warned him not to prod after remembering.
Blue beads, thrown with the entirety of his strength, becoming tiny, deadly missiles; a shrill, outraged shriek—The haze thickened abruptly, hiding images and recollection. Don’t think about that. Don’t. Simpler to think about immediate concerns of money and clothing. Safer. Much, much safer.
He’d stolen his way back up from mud trousers more than once, when he still thought of himself as human. With his current abilities, he could walk away with half a city and not be spotted. Hopefully Alyea wouldn’t find that reprehensible—not that her opinion mattered, and Deiq would understand.
Deiq. Idisio blinked, surfacing from trance involuntarily, a shiver of gathering tension running along his muscles. That was an immediate matter to be concerned over.
The elder ha’ra’ha sat, cross-legged, just out of reach, his eyes closed, a thoughtful expression on his face. His breathing was even, but his eyelids twitched in a way that suggested he wasn’t—quite—in trance at the moment. He was waiting, patient, solid, immovable, unavoidable.
Non-threatening, which eased the aggrieved tension twisting at Idisio’s muscles. And naked, which was... unexpectedly, not disturbing. Deiq seemed beyond matters of sexuality these days. His smoldering intensity had transformed into something much more... the only word Idisio could think of was groundlike. Flat, solid, impermeable, dry, and... red, in a nearly invisible pattern that made Idisio’s eyes water sharply.
He turned his attention away from that, intuition warning him not to look, not to ask questions, not to think about the swirling not-there not-movement not-safeness.
Teilo and Alyea had been naked as well. It hadn’t seemed at all unremarkable. Teilo’s dark, age-creased skin and alabaster-opaque eyes removed her from human to something... other, something connected to a deep, ancient power, coiled loosely about a convenient skeleton: waiting, watchful, dispassionate.
You do have an imagination, Tallisil laughed in memory. He wasn’t sure why that comment had stung so deep, clung so stubbornly. Were ha’ra’hain not supposed to have imaginations?
Another image pressed into very clear view: Alyea had been naked. Oh, damn, he’d thought for the briefest moment, before his entire focus had locked onto the absolutely dominant threat Deiq represented.
Oh, damn, came to mind again, linked in with the molten moment of her desire on the Wall Stair. I really should have taken her up on that....
He squinted at Deiq’s still visage, chill washing away the heat.
Almost definitely best I didn’t, he told himself. Emotionless Deiq might seem, but Idisio had a feeling he still considered Alyea to be his in a very basic sense.
I don’t belong to anyone, Idisio, Alyea said acerbically. Stop being an ass.
Idisio flinched, hastily rebuilding his mental shields. As Alyea’s irritation faded behind a protective wall, he glanced at Deiq again to see if the elder had overheard. Deiq’s head tilted slightly, acknowledging. His eyes stayed shut.
Deiq said without preamble, “What makes you think that Cafad Scratha is the one calling you to Scratha Fortress?”
Idisio stared at his elder, at a complete loss for words. “What?” he croaked.
“Don’t stare at me like that,” Deiq said. “Shut your eyes or look to the side.”
Idisio turned his attention to a nearby rock. He watched a lizard crawl across it, then said, again, “What?”
“You’re not stupid,” Deiq said. “Don’t act like it.”
The lizard emerged around the side of the rock and paused, testing the air, its beady black eyes examining everything intently. Lizards are... Scratha Family symbol, right? Or is it Sessin? Idisio worried at that question briefly, then shrugged it off and returned to the conversation.
“You think the teyanain are involved,” Idisio said.
“I know the teyanain are involved. There’s a clee nearby right now. Don’t look for them.”
“I know that much,” Idisio retorted.
“Good. Whether the teyanain had anything to do with your abrupt desire to return south is what I’m wondering.”
“That—” Idisio shut up, shut his eyes, and thought about it, then flattened a hand against his stomach as though the touch would provide him a clearer answer. The motion hurt. He turned his hand palm up, staring in surprise at the bruised and bloodied indentations across his palms and fingers. What had he been holding so tightly, to leave perfectly round marks—Don’t think about it, don’t think, don’t! He shifted attention to voicing the one question that had come clear in his thoughts so far. “How far can a desert lord reach under extreme stress?”
“Scratha would be lucky to contact the Qisani. You can hear farther than he can shout, but if you weren’t listening for it, there’s little to no chance you’d have heard him.” Deiq paused, then added, “There are ways to relay a call through—intermediaries—to extend the contact range. But Scratha doesn’t know about those, and neither do you.”
Idisio shook his head slowly, agreeing. “Then it had to be the teyanain.” A shiver ran down his spine at the thought that there had been teyanain—athain—trailing him all along. He’d never picked up the slightest hint of their presence.
“Likely, but not definite,” Deiq said. “The Aerthraim would also find it useful to drag you back into the current conflict, and they’ve developed ways around the restrictions of the Agreement. As have the huerg—Tallisil’s people—and the disciples of the Jungles. They all have ways of hiding themselves from you, these days.” He let out a long breath. “Thank whatever gods exist that nobody’s managed to coax the Aerthraim boy to return.”
“I tried to get Tank to come back with me,” Idisio admitted. “He refused.”
“Good. Let’s hope it stays that way. Open your eyes and look at me.”
Idisio hesitated, then obeyed. Deiq hadn’t moved. His broad, dark face was expressionless, his eyes still shut.
“You look different,” Idisio observed.
“I’ve had to completely reconstruct my appearance multiple times. It never matches up exactly.” Deiq let out a long breath. “You’re under my protection, thanks to Alyea. Do you understand what that means?”
Idisio studied Deiq’s blank expression for a few moments, then said, “No.”
“You killed your mother by feeding from her. I’m supposed to kill you for that. Alyea claiming you as under my protection puts me in a hell of a bind.” His chin lowered towards his chest, his head moving side-to-side for a moment. “I thought you were going to Arason, and once you’d crossed the line of the Hackerwood, especially once you were back on your birth lands, I could have said you were out of my reach. But here you are.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” Idisio muttered, looking away. Red danced along the edges of his vision; a sense of emptiness, a screaming that wouldn’t stop—and small blue stones, why did he keep thinking of—
“Shut your eyes.” Deiq’s voice flattened. “Don’t think about her. Or them.”
Idisio retreated into darkness and quiet without protest.
“Gods, your mother was fucked up,” Deiq said after a few heartbeats, his tone—regretful? “Fucking Roise and his fucking twisted friends—” His voice cut off, and he breathed deeply, as though gathering himself back under control. “There’s always a choice. Killing her was the best thing you could have done. But the way you went about it—that’s the unforgivable part. As the attiara no doubt explained quite clearly. What did you use to attack them with, by the way?”
Idisio shivered, a pale mist hazing his vision. He blinked rapidly until his sight cleared, then replied, “I don’t remember. There’s a—a gap in my memories.” He looked at his hands again. The right one was much more damaged than the left, but both bore distinctive bruises in a nearly identical pattern. He turned his hands palm down, his lips thinning.
“Ah,” Deiq said. “Yes, that’s a trick I’ve used to keep myself sane many times over the years. Teilo always warned me against it, but there are times it’s reflexive. You’ll remember the details when it’s safe to do so.” He paused. “It’s good that you can do that,” he added. “You’ll live longer.”
“Assuming I don’t get killed for what I’ve done,” Idisio pointed out.
Deiq shook his head again. “You’re under my protection,” he reminded Idisio. “That means anyone wanting to bring you to account has to go through me first.”
“Oh,” Idisio said, his stomach sinking. “Oh, shit. I—didn’t understand—oh, shit.”
“I may not be able to protect you for long,” Deiq said. “I’m in a complicated situation. The clee is keeping me fairly stable, but I’m not all that different from your mother, at the moment. And I’ve made some very dangerous enemies of late. I’m not in a good position to help anyone else.”
“Wasn’t my doing, but I’m sorry all the same,” Idisio said. “Would it help if I released you from any obligation to protect me?”
“No. I’d have to believe you capable of protecting yourself, and I don’t. Not against what’s coming.” Deiq rubbed his hand across his face, then opened his eyes again. This time they were a flat, human black. “As I said, I’m not particularly sane right now, so be careful. The only thing keeping me the least bit coherent, besides the clee, is centuries of practice at acting human, and that’s... a thin shield at best. As you can probably understand by this point.”
“Yes,” Idisio said. “I’ve been understanding your past actions more clearly of late.” He paused. “Will the clee get you out of this madness?”
A long silence followed that question. “No.” Deiq shut his eyes again, jaw tightening. His voice turned harsh. “I’ve been trying to think of ways, but I haven’t any ideas. My brothers were only stopped by the combined powers of our parents. There aren’t enough ha’reye outside of the Jungles to do that again.” He paused, breathing deeply, then added, “Sooner or later, I’ll truly go mad. When that happens, someone’s going to have to stop me before I destroy everything. I don’t think even all of Evkit’s athain combined will be able to do it.”
“Stop you?” Idisio said, chilled to the bone by Deiq’s matter-of-fact tone. “You mean kill you?” A whisper surged along his inner ear: blood, death, destruction... He pushed it away hard, a skitter of panic threading through his chest.
“Yes. You could probably combine your powers with Evkit’s athain and have a reasonable chance.” Deiq paused, then added, “It’s best if you don’t do it by feeding from me, unless you want to become... more like your mother, to put it mildly.”
“How in the hells are we supposed to... stop you?” Idisio didn’t want to risk saying kill again. His mother’s ghost-voice was dangerously strong of late. “I can’t imagine a... a weapon....” He stopped as a hiss rose in the back of his mind: I can show you, I can help you....
No. No and no and no. I won’t take help from you. Ever. He forced his mother’s ghost aside yet again, and wondered if he’d ever be rid of her. And if he killed Deiq by feeding from him, would he then be saddled with the elder ha’ra’ha’s voice for all eternity? The thought froze his blood. Oh, hells no.
Deiq laughed a little, apparently hearing that part, at least. “I’m not fond of that idea myself,” he said. “Fortunately, I wouldn’t care at that point.” An odd expression crossed his face. “As for your initial question—you might try talking to Alyea about it. She’s proven to be... surprisingly inventive.”
Chapter 90
Alyea sat quietly in the shade of an enormous slab of rock, watching lizards and beetles scurry from one spot to another. Beside her, Teilo seemed to have gone to sleep sitting up, her breathing even, her face untroubled. Meditation, of course; the ha’rai’nin had no doubt been practicing aqeyva since before it took on that particular name. Alyea couldn’t match that, especially at the moment, and didn’t try.
