Shadows Return

head. “No clan. I’m ya’shel, from—” He paused, catching himself. He wanted to trust this man, but he couldn’t let himself forget that he was just a slave, owned by the same man, and possibly loyal to him. Alec had made enough stupid blunders already. “From Skala.”
    Khenir pointed at Alec’s left earlobe. “You didn’t get that dragon bite in Skala.”
    “I’ve been to Aurënen,” Alec admitted. “But my father was Tír.”
    “Ah. Drink some more. You need it,” Khenir urged, placing the cup of broth in his hands. “I’ve never known Ilban to purchase a half-breed before. He’s usually so particular.”
    “Why’s that?” Alec asked, between sips of broth. His belly growled, hungry for more substantial fare.
    “The high-ranking men of Plenimar prefer pure blood in their slaves, just as they do with their horses and hunting dogs,” Khenir whispered, more resigned than bitter. “The ya’shel usually go to merchants’ households, or the brothels, or get sold off to the countryside as farm labor. You’re very lucky.”
    That was a matter of opinion. “Are there others in the house? I saw a veiled woman.”
    “A few. That’s Rhania, the children’s nurse.” He took the empty cup from Alec and gave him one filled with water. “You’re to drink this, and this.” He held up a wooden pitcher. “Ilban means you no harm, but his purifications can be a bit hard on the body.”
    “Is that really all this is?” Alec fingered the amulet at his throat. Khenir’s collar was unadorned.
    “Don’t worry. Ilban would never harm you.”
    “Oh, really? Have a look at my feet.”
    “That was just a beating. We’ve all had those. But Ilban is very kind, as masters go. Now let me tend your brands.”
    Alec held out his arm and Khenir untied the bandage. The burn was healing clean, and quickly. There was hardly any redness around the scab. “I’m starving. Doesn’t Yhakobin ever give his slaves meat?”
    Khenir gave him a warning look. “Even between the two of us, you must refer to Ilban by his title. What if someone were to overhear? As for meat?” Khenir shook his head. “You’re a slave, Alec, so you’d have to please Ilban a great deal to get any of that. I can’t think the last time I tasted any. They think it keeps us docile.”
    Alec didn’t feel docile yet, just resentful and hungry.
    Khenir dabbed an aromatic salve on the burn. “They have many ways of taming us, little brother. They’ve made an art of it. I hear it’s worst for those with manifested powers.”
    “I’m safe, then. That slop pail has more magic to it than I do. I suppose I should be glad. A slave on the ship showed me the scars where he’d been whipped. And gelded. At least they didn’t do that to me.”
    Khenir carefully worked the bandage away from Alec’s leg. This one had seeped and the wrappings had stuck to the scab. “Not yet,” he murmured.
    “What do you mean, ‘not yet’? He told me he wouldn’t!”
    Khenir shrugged. “Perhaps Ilban means to breed you, then, or sell you when he’s through with you. Intact young slaves often fetch a better price.”
    Alec pondered that uneasily. “He said it’s my blood he wants.”
    “Well, Ilban is an alchemist, after all. It must be something to do with that.”
    He leaned forward to work at the soiled leg bandage and his tunic pulled back from one shoulder, revealing the faded white stripes of lash marks, just like the ones Alec had seen on the ’faie aboard the slaver ship.
    “Did he do that to you?” asked Alec.
    “Oh, no! Ilban is not my first master.”
    “You fought back, too, didn’t you?”
    “For all the good it did.”
    “And did they—?” Still rocked by what Khenir had implied, he glanced down at the other man’s lap before he could help himself.
    Khenir looked up sharply. “You
never
ask a slave that! Do you understand? Never!”
    “I’m sorry. I spoke without thinking.”
    Khenir sighed and went back to work. “You’re new to all this. Sometimes I forget what that’s like. I’ve been here a very long time, you see.”
    “I’m sorry,” Alec said again, feeling miserable. Khenir’s reaction was answer enough.
    “Drink your water.”
    Neither spoke as Khenir finished with the bandaging and gathered up the soiled linen strips and empty cups.
    “I didn’t mean to offend you,” Alec ventured, as Khenir stood and fastened the lace-trimmed veil across his face. “Do you have to go?”
    The man leaned down and