Shadows Return

squatted down to feed the fire again, seeming to forget all about him.
    Alec left it to its task and began searching the shop for anything that might help them escape. There was nothing like a weapon, except for the bodkin, and that wouldn’t be much good against a sword. What knives Yhakobin used were stored away out of sight. Once again, he cursed his lack of Plenimaran. The drawers of the alchemist’s cabinets and cupboards were all carefully labeled in clear but incomprehensible script.
    “Damn! I can’t even find the tea, much less a knife,” he muttered aloud.
    The rhekaro straightened again and went to the tallest of the cabinets, the one with scores of small drawers. Without any hesitation at all it pulled one out and reached in, then came to Alec and held out a pottery jar with a leather top. Surprised, Alec opened the lid and sniffed at the contents.
    It was tea.
    Meanwhile, the rhekaro went to one of the tables and grasped the handle of a drawer there. When it would not open, it just stood there, apparently baffled.
    “Is that where the knives are?” Alec asked, not expecting an answer.
    The rhekaro touched the handle again, then let its hand fall to its side.
    Alec made short work of the simple lock and opened it. Inside was a neatly arranged array of knives that would have made a butcher happy.
    He clapped the rhekaro on the shoulder. “Thank you. Now, you don’t know if he has any dyes, do you?”
    The rhekaro went to another large cupboard and opened it, showing Alec a pile of leather pouches, many of them stained from the contents inside.
    “Brown dye?” Alec tried.
    The rhekaro selected a pouch and carried it to him.
    “Do you know how to mix it?”
    Stymied again, the rhekaro just stood there.
    “That’s all right. You’re a good helper.” It was impossible not to speak to it as if it was an actual child. “Keys?”
    Again there was no response.
    “Food? Bread?”
    Nothing.
    “Flower?”
    Despite the fact that the flower bowl was only a few feet away, the rhekaro paid it no mind.
    “Let’s see. What would be useful? Rope?”
    It went to a closet and returned with several hanks of rope, some of it stained and stiff with what appeared to be blood.
    “Seregil?” Alec tried. As expected, that got him another blank look. It seemed that the rhekaro’s education was very limited. “Well, let’s try this. Alec?”
    The rhekaro immediately came to him, took his hand, and sucked on his finger.
    Alec chuckled and pulled his hand free. “At least you didn’t come at me when I said ‘food.’” He took those cool little hands in his and pressed them to his chest. “Alec. My name is Alec. Alec is me. Do you understand? Name?”
    The rhekaro gazed up at him and he could have sworn he caught a fleeting look of confusion. Perhaps, having no name of its own, such distinctions meant nothing to it. “Alec” was probably the same to it as “chair” or “rope” or “tea”: just another useful item to be found in the workshop.
    There was no question that it was focused on him now, though. As he stole to the outer door to listen, it followed right behind on bare silent feet.
    There were guards somewhere outside. He could hear them talking. No use going out the front door, then.
    It would have been helpful if the place had a window into the smaller garden, but no such luck. The skylights were no more help, either; there were bars across them now. When had that happened? Perhaps it was a night barrier, set in place when the alchemist finished for the day? The rhekaro followed him like a lost pup as Alec hastily searched further, looking for any other way out.
    In the process he found a cupboard containing a few of Yhakobin’s stained work robes. They were a bit large, but had sleeves and were not slave garb. There was a pair of worn shoes, too.
    He paused, keeping one ear attuned to the door, and took stock. So far he had access to clothing, knives, tea, a dye he didn’t know how to use, and a lock pick that worked.
    And no idea where Seregil was.
    He paused by the athanor, watching the contents boil sluggishly. It still looked like mud to him.
    “What is he up to, I wonder?” he murmured.
    Cold fingers closed around Alec’s wrist. Surprised, he looked down to find the rhekaro staring up at the retort as well, and it had a hand pressed to its chest, just as he had when he’d tried to make it understand his name.
    “What? You have a name?”
    As expected, there was no answer