Shadows Return

was in now. He was glad that they hadn’t thought to put him back in the first cell under the main house, at least not yet. All he had to do was get the cell and workshop doors open some night when the workshop was empty, slip out here, and over the wall. Of course, he’d have to find a way to carry the rhekaro when he went…
    That last thought brought him to a sudden halt by the fountain. He kept his gaze on the fish swimming lazily after Khenir’s crumbs, but his mind was racing. There was no telling what the alchemist would do to the pale little creature, now that it, too, was proving unsuitable to his needs.
    Hell, with me gone and no one else’s blood good enough to feed it, it will die anyway. I can’t just leave it—can I?
    His heart already had the answer. It was a child, born of no woman.
    His child.
    So that’s settled. Maybe that will finally make Seregil shut up about me finding a girl, too.
    Khenir looked up and chuckled. “It’s good to see you smile.”
    “I like the fish. Can I have some of that bread to give them?”
    Khenir passed him the crust he’d brought and they sat together on the rim of the fountain, watching as the fish thrust their blunt heads and gaping, whiskered mouths up out of the water to beg like puppies.
    Khenir still had charge of his chain, but Alec had room enough to move away a little, and as he bent to look more closely at a yellow snail crawling along the bottom of the pool, he caught sight of something lying in the shadow under the wide basin.
    It was a child’s bronze hairpin.
    Without any change of expression, he knelt and rested one arm on the edge of the basin, trailing his fingers in the water for the fish to nibble at, while letting the other fall. It only took an instant to palm the pin.
    He had no sleeve or belt to hide it in, so he pinched it in the folds of one curled palm and prayed to Illior he didn’t have cause to use his left hand until his got back to his room.
    Khenir rested a hand casually on Alec’s shoulder. “I’m glad you like the fish so much. You look like a child, kneeling there.”
    Alec grinned up at him. “They’re very pretty. The whole garden is. It’s good to get out of that room. And…” He glanced away shyly. “And to see you, too. There’s no one else I can talk to here. I’ve really come to understand what you said about being lonely. It’s awful, isn’t it?”
    “It is.” Khenir’s hand moved from Alec’s shoulder to his hair, and he combed his fingers through the loose strands around Alec’s face. The tips of his finger were cool and soft as they brushed his cheek, and Alec was once again torn between sympathy and distrust. He turned his face away from that touch.
    “Still pining for that lost love of yours?” Khenir asked sadly.
    “Yes. But it’s good to have you here.”
    Khenir leaned closer and whispered, “Would you really take me with you, if you got out?”
    “Yes, I would.”
    “And do you think you could really get away? How would you do that?”
    Alec looked back at the fish. Did he trust Khenir or not? His head told him one thing, but gut instinct made him hold back. It was a bad feeling, especially if he was wrong and Khenir really was his friend.
    Caution won out, all the same. He shrugged. “I don’t know. Get on a ship headed west, I suppose.”
    Khenir laughed outright at that. “That’s your whole plan, is it? Find a ship? Hmm, I think maybe I’ll take my chances and stay here, then. You’ll be chained in the market without a foot before the next full moon.”
    Alec shrugged. “You’re probably right.”
    He kept the pin hidden in his palm until he was alone in his cell again. He waited until the lock ground into place, then sat down and examined his find.
    It was a child’s hair stick, just less than three inches long, with a carved ivory finial.
Illior must have heard me, after all,
he thought, for the pin was made of bronze, rather than soft gold or silver. However, his horn splinters had been longer.
    He knew that Khenir’s evaluation of his so-called plan was apt. Even if he did get out of this room, and the villa, he wouldn’t get very far without some way to disguise himself, and the rhekaro, too. He glanced up at the ceiling, wondered if there was any sort of dye in the workshop.
    And, of course, he’d have to find Seregil, too.
             
    He had little appetite that night but ate his turnip stew and bread anyway to avoid any undue attention. Ahmol took