"Tell us if you can," urged Kaleb, his eyes fixed to Sarehl's face.
"My father brought home a man who lived briefly with us. Mam was nervous of him though I suppose he was kind enough. I sensed something different about him. I was only a child. One morning, the man just walked out the gate, without saying goodbye. Mam was in agonised despair and though I tried hard to help her, she couldn't stop weeping." Sarehl paused. "She was distraught, but my father seemed changed and unable to help her. He just sat and stared at her and at us, his children. Bene, he, too, was a scholar, but a most venerable one that everyone liked, came back two days after the man left and it was he who helped my mam recover - he couldn't save my father who died the same day. Bene stayed with us until Myme Chlo was born, then, one day he was gone, too." Again there was desolate forlornness to Sarehl's voice.
"You cared for this Bene?" suggested Kaleb. "When did he come into your life? What did he look like?"
"Tall and very thin, with white hair. He was there, I think, from the time I was very small because I don't remember him not being there. I adored him. He was part of my life," said Sarehl bluntly. "That was when Scholar came," he added, as an afterthought.
"When?" prompted Ensore intrigued.
"The day Bene left, Scholar came."
"Coincidences bother me," mumbled Ensore.
"So," said Kaleb reflectively, "on the day your little sister was born, one scholar went and another came in his place?" Sarehl nodded, his expression bewildered.
"That's so."
In a lighter voice, Ensore teasingly suggested, "Your Mam was perhaps attracted to the friend your father brought home, Sarehl? It's not unknown." His grey eyes danced with laughter to such an extent that Sarehl had to smile appreciatively before shaking his head.
"No," he said deliberately. "Mam didn't weep with regret - she wept with pain and deep fear. Even a child could understand that." As he spoke a coldness gripped Sarehl, making him sit quite rigid, his smile fading and his colour paling.
"What is it, my friend?" Kaleb's eyes mirrored Ensore's concern. It was the healer who spoke. Sarehl bent his head in his hands, prompting the healer to cross to him.
His voice barely articulate, Sarehl whispered, "Whose child is Myme Chlo?" He gave a gasp. "Is she my father's, Bene's or Elbe's? Gods alone know."
"Who," asked Ensore gently, "is Elbe?"
"The man my father brought home," responded Sarehl, lifting his head. He looked stunned, his eyes going from Kaleb to Ensore and back again as if he thought in them he might find answers.
"Can you tell us more of this Elbe?" prompted Kaleb, dropping a hand to Sarehl's shoulder and gripping it hard before he turned away and sat again. Sarehl gnawed his lower lip.
"He was as tall as Scholar and Bene," he recalled, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Both were very tall men, taller even than my father or what I've become. Like you, Ensore, he had long curly chestnut, almost auburn, hair and the most unusual amber eyes. He'd once been strongly built but seemed physically weak, as though he'd suffered some sort of fever that left him permanently that way. When he spoke, all the learned men listened. He was recognised as a wise-spoken man."
Being deliberately casual, Kaleb asked, "Anything else about him, Sarehl? Children notice things that adults don't."
"He seemed ageless," Sarehl murmured. "He was neither young nor old and sometimes it was as if he had no eyes at all - there was nothing there when you looked at him, yet, when you blinked and looked again, he was watching you with a half-smile. Sometimes he laughed at me, then sat me on his lap." Sarehl was quiet a moment. "The little ones liked him but I was always a little afraid of him, not that I can tell you why. I just sensed something about the man that made me scared." The two listeners exchanged glances at that, both well aware of Sarehl's abnormal perception, but they let him pause to begin quietly again. "Mam was very white the morning he left. I remember that so clearly now, as if it was yesterday. She looked ill and afraid." A note of anxiety came to the deep voice. "Kaleb, I remember other things, too." When Sarehl stared across at the healer, Kaleb saw the fearful dark eyes he associated with Daxel from only a few cycles before. He responded quickly.
"Sarehl, do you wish to go back? I'll come with you if you wish, though you must remember we've never gone further than the day Ortok was sacked." When Sarehl nodded timidly, their eyes locked. "Speak out, lad, so Ensore can be with us. Take it quietly, Sarehl. I'm with you."
Ensore watched curiously as Sarehl straightened in his chair and began to speak, quietly, but expressionlessly.
"Bene came home. I was so pleased to see him because he meant much to me. I loved him. Mam even said Bene knew who Elbe was, but Bene didn't answer that. He just sat Mam down and began to talk with her about something that happened. I could hear quite clearly because Bene sat me down not far from where they were - he was so kind and gentle, Kaleb, so very kind." The voice stilled then went on. "Mam told Bene that Elbe -."
Sarehl's voice faltered. His mouth closed but his teeth clenched on his lower lip, hard. There was a profound and disturbing silence while Sarehl remained unmoving and Kaleb stayed with him. When eye contact was broken, Ensore noticed two things before he crossed to kneel next to Sarehl. His friend shook as though he was buffeted by a ferocious gale and the healer's expression was one of profound shock, compounded by revulsion and horror. As fast as Ensore saw the look on Kaleb's face and in his eyes it was gone, just anxiety for Sarehl there in its place. Sarehl was unmoving.
"Ens, get wine!" Kaleb urged. Ensore responded with alacrity, a goblet up at Sarehl's mouth very quickly. Ensore tilted it.
"Drink, Sarehl," he said in an encouraging voice. "Drink, my friend." Almost dazed eyes met his. "Come, Sarehl."
Sarehl obliged, but he shook too badly to hold the goblet. Every time the Marshal tilted it, Sarehl drank. Kaleb gently touched the dark head.
"You never knew, lad, did you?" Sarehl shook his head. "How could you? You were only a little boy distressed for his mother."
"Who was he, the man who used Mam so?"
"I'm only glad Bene stopped the discussion when he did," said Kaleb, trying for a neutral tone, but Ensore picked the shaken quality to the voice all the same. He looked at Sarehl and saw such unhappiness there, he spoke carefully.
"Can you tell me what happened to you as a child, my friend?"
"I know now why she grieved, Ens. Mam was raped by Elbe, and not just once either. It was callous and deliberate."
"Ah gods," muttered Ensore, his hands taking Sarehl's in his. "What else can there be that you must face, my friend? Gods, will your pain never end?"
Without conscious thought he flung his arms about Sarehl and held him very hard. Kaleb stood back, his thoughtful gaze on the dark-haired man who sat unmoving. The healer was remembering other things he saw in Sarehl's mind - not the least how beautiful his mother was and how she had an unusual mark on her arm, but what struck him sadly and forcefully was the image of an appealing and pretty boy, cradling a very small baby only a season old and saying to Bene, "To me he is special".
Kaleb knew the baby was Bethel. It made him fully understand, for the first time, why Sarehl was so desolate and inconsolable, because the empathy he experienced in Sarehl's mind was unlike anything the healer had ever experienced. He sensed the young Sarehl's love of his twin brothers and his pride in them, but the bond with the small baby defied explanation. He felt Sarehl's profound love for his parents and for the old scholar called Bene.
Kaleb also recognised, from his meld with Daxel, a touch of the mind that tore Luton apart cycles before and he was profoundly shocked at the thoughts that chased wildly about in his mind. If what he suspected was confirmed then Sarehl's escape was nothing short of miraculous, Bethel's doom was almost inevitable and Myme Chlo was - what? And who was Bene? The healer's mind reeled and he knew he'd need a prolonged session with Leon to regain his equilibrium. He refilled his goblet and downed the contents almost in one gulp before he turned back to Enso
re and Sarehl. Ensore was back in his chair and Sarehl sipped from his goblet.
"You once said to me, Kaleb," said Ensore thoughtfully, "you wondered why Sarehl's family was singled out for such cruelty. Do you remember?" Sarehl's look at the healer was one of surprise.
"I said that to you once, didn't I?"
"Yes," said Kaleb curtly, unwilling to pursue the point.
"Well then," said Ensore reflectively. "We have a child left in Ortok who grows up somewhat unlike those around her." Ensore pursed his lips. "She bore no resemblance to Ortokians?" Kaleb could now have answered that, but he didn't.
"No," murmured Sarehl.
"Nothing that linked her to anyone?"
"Except Bene," said Sarehl without thinking, unaware of Kaleb's sudden frown or Ensore's surprise. He glanced at Ensore, his expression incredulous. "Everyone said how odd it was that a stranger should have eyes that colour. I used to tease Mam about it. She scolded me, but it used to make Bene laugh and hold me very tight. There was a lot of talk but it passed. Anyway, he was too old to be related to Mam." Kaleb's curiously light eyes fairly blazed but Sarehl didn't notice.
"What are you saying, Sarehl?"
"Their eyes, Kaleb, their eyes. Bene had violet eyes and so did Mam. It's a most unusual colour."
"And your little sister, Sarehl?" asked Ensore quietly, his goblet at his lips.
"The same."
"And Bethel has purple, also very unusual."
"Large, velvety and purple," agreed Sarehl on a sigh.
"And Bethel and Myme Chlo were alike in appearance?"
"Aye," acquiesced Sarehl. "Very. They, too, could've been twins in appearance."
"Then," commented Ensore with a smile, "Myme Chlo's the daughter of Alfar, isn't she?" He saw a look of relief touch Sarehl's face and his smile broadened. Kaleb made no comment, only hoping that indeed Ensore was right.
Ensore sat placidly listening to a conversation that twisted and turned, asked pointed questions every so often, made observations, and quietly encouraged Kasan, who'd come in surprised to find the pavilion full of people late in the evening, to arrange for food to be brought.
She went then returned to assist folk carrying and setting out food, advising the three men sternly that she expected them to eat and that she would return soon for rest. She added, pointedly, that she expected the pavilion to be clear by then. Her twinkle at her mate was decidedly provocative. Ensore raised an eyebrow at her departure.
"My friend," he remarked amused. "That sister of mine has a very strong will."
"She's Dahkilan," was her mate's instant reply.
"Can you keep anything from her?"
"Only if I really wanted to."
"Only about mages, I hope," quizzed Kaleb on a chuckle.
"Aye."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ensore applied himself to food, watching lazily as his friends followed suit. He noticed that Sarehl ate very well these days, his servings generous. He saw, too, that Sarehl and Kaleb had begun to talk again, so he let them, his mind mulling over what he was hearing and trying to sort out what had gone before, though he knew there were still huge gaps in their understanding of Ambrosian events.
He worked forward from what they thought they knew of early events. It meant he thought back to what a southern mage had planned many cycles before, including the intended destruction of the Conclave of Reader-Seekers in Yazd, the use of high level readers for his own ends, his manipulation of an innocent man and boy to serve those ends, and his link with a warlord who followed his ambition for the control of a world by conquest.
Ensore had never been entirely sure whether Blach and Lodestok worked in tandem. He suspected they might. Certainly, the warlord had taken actions on the mage's behalf and had undoubtedly been encouraged in his imperial ambitions by an unscrupulous mage, but how far the link extended, Ensore was unsure. There was no doubt the warlord was privy to part of the mage's plan, but the Marshal was fairly sure Lodestok wasn't fully cognisant of the mage's scheme or even who the mage really was.
He guessed the warlord was told and offered enough to make him willing to support such enterprises as the mage suggested, in return for -. Here, Ensore paused. In return for what? His mind grappled with that as he chewed meditatively but he got no answers, sighed inwardly and let his mind move forward.
As part of his conquests, encouraged by the mage, Lodestok took a Samar city-state that was betrayed, but not before he activated the mage's boy, Lian, to bring him a little girl. She was destined to be sent to the mage in company with henchmen sent expressly for her.
One henchman died in the effort to follow and retrieve the girl who escaped, the other survived to become a spy for the southern army and was subsequently executed. These men wouldn't return to their master empty-handed. Ensore thought briefly of Luton and shivered. He assumed the warlord had endeavoured to fill the requests of the mage - Sarehl was set for slaughter, Melas and Bruno for an uneasy death, and the rest of the children, other than the sister, were likewise marked for death. Ensore pondered how things hadn't gone according to plan. Sarehl miraculously survived, Myme Chlo, Daxel and little Brue escaped, Bethel was alive but enslaved and Luton likewise. Ensore was convinced none of this should've happened. But why? And there he was stymied.
The girl was unusual. She was born of Melas who herself was unusual and probably related in some way to an elderly scholar known as Bene. Bene disappeared at the girl's birth, to be instantly replaced by another scholar. Ensore hadn't forgotten Sarehl's comment about Scholar exuding power. What, mused Ensore, was the possibility that both scholars associated with the little girl were actually mages? He gave himself a mental shake as being fanciful, but the feeling wouldn't leave him.
And Elbe - here was a random factor that baffled Ensore. Why, when Bene wasn't with Sarehl's mother, should a man come and stay as a guest of Alfar then rape that friend's mate? Was Elbe more than he appeared to be? Ensore scratched his bearded chin thoughtfully. So Myme Chlo had gifts that were encouraged by Scholar. That suggested a reason for Blach wanting her, but why had he given instructions that her whole family was to be exterminated and in such a cruel way? He didn't know the details of Melas' death but he knew from Kaleb that it was extremely unpleasant and shouldn't be discussed in front of Daxel.
Ensore rose and helped himself to more food and wine, nodded pleasantly at Kaleb and Sarehl who both now sat pensively, each man deep in his own thoughts. The Marshal had a tidy mind and there were far too many loose ends to the story that unfolded itself this day. He felt he still groped vainly in the dark. He ruminated.
Soon he became aware that Sarehl was being encouraged to speak of the very old scholar called Bene. He listened carefully. He learned that the violet-eyed, old man had been in Ortok all Sarehl's young life and this man hadn't left Ortok for more than a day or so, except this once, when a stranger named Elbe appeared on the day, or near it, that Bene left for whatever reason. Again Ensore confronted inconsistencies.
He drank, his eyes fixed to Sarehl's face, expressive, and with eloquent eyes. Ensore thought it possible Bene may have been protecting Melas, but he could think of no reason why that should be necessary, unless it was from a rape he knew would come. Ensore promptly dismissed that. What did bother him was the revelation that Elbe left the morning after he carried out what presumably he'd gone to Ortok to do. And Sarehl said his father had changed, too, all after Elbe left. Was it, surmised Ensore, wild thoughts chasing themselves through his mind, to make Melas pregnant, and if so, who was he and what was his reason?
That brought the Marshal back to Myme Chlo, who was said to closely resemble Bethel. Ensore began to feel decidedly weary. He let his mind drift at random, touching on one piece of information and then another. Though he was baffled he felt the key to unravelling Sarehl's tortuous past merely eluded and frustrated him, so, in typical fashion, he began to listen properly to what Sarehl was saying.
Sarehl was describing how his father changed the m
orning the stranger left, how he seemed suddenly lifeless and scarcely related to his wife or sons, especially his eldest son with whom he was very close. Ensore knew Sarehl adored his mother but he learned now how much Alfar meant to his son. When Sarehl used the word `drained', quite absently, Ensore's eyes locked with Kaleb's briefly, a warning in the Marshal's that was quite clear.
Suddenly realising what he'd said, Sarehl lifted a hand to his mouth in a little boy gesture that privately the Marshal found endearing. The three men were well aware of the implications raised. Ensore and Kaleb were perturbed and no longer philosophical though outwardly they remained determinedly calm. They watched Sarehl rise to stride up and down in agitation.
"Lian," said Sarehl. "Lian said that where there's no will there can be nothing."
"So, Sarehl, your father died young," said Ensore, coolly and prosaically. "When there's terminal illness, will can go, isn't that so, Kaleb?" Kaleb recognised the warning in the deep, composed voice and glanced again at the Marshal.
"Aye, Ensore," he said, on the faintest wisp of a sigh. "An illness can leave someone totally drained and loss of will to live can happen extremely quickly."
Sarehl looked quickly at the healer, but read nothing in Kaleb's face other than reassurance and a quicker glance at Ensore showed only bland affection in the grey eyes regarding him. Sarehl sat, his fingers fidgeting with his goblet.
"Perhaps I'm imagining things," he admitted tiredly.
"Probably," agreed Ensore, with a gentle smile. "It's been a long day and we should think of ending it. And now we know a little more. The news Lian brought of Myme Chlo should hearten you, Sarehl." Ensore noticed the dark eyes brightened immeasurably at that.
"I believed Lian when he said Mam's now an Ice dragon, though it scarcely seems real, does it?"