Shadows Return

in.”
    Khenir tried to pull his hand away, and Alec knew he should probably let him, but he wanted to make it clear that he held no grudge. And even now, he had to admit that the simple clasping of hands was a comfort to him, too.
    It’s just because he’s the only one here who’s been kind to me,
he thought, but he still felt torn.
    Khenir was very quiet for a while as he collected himself, then slowly he told Alec a little about his lost home. His eyes misted again as he haltingly named friends, family, and a lover long missed. In return, Alec found himself telling him of his father and the free life they’d lived in the northlands. That seemed like a safe topic since it had nothing to do with Seregil or their profession.
    “How did you come to Skala?” asked Khenir, calmer now.
    “I went to Rhíminee after my father died, looking for work.” That was close enough to the truth.
    The weight of the chain pulled his thin metal collar uncomfortably against the side of his neck, and he reached absently to shift it. His fingers strayed to the amulet and he traced the marking on it. “Did you ever have to wear these things?”
    “No. It must be part of the special purification.”
    “Because of my impure blood.”
    “Most likely.”
    “Do you see the change in me?”
    “Of course, but I didn’t know if he’d shown you.” Khenir gave him a shy, sidelong look. “You’re very handsome. You were before, but now you look more like a full-blooded ’faie than a…Oh, no. I don’t mean anything by it! I’m not…”
    “It’s all right.” Alec gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and chuckled. “I’ve been called a lot worse.”
    Khenir fell in step beside him again, but the silence that followed felt rather strained. “I saw your name,” Alec told him.
    “You did? Where?”
    “On the door,” Alec whispered.
    Khenir looked honestly perplexed. “What door?”
    “In my cell.” Perhaps it had been another man of that name. Whatever the case, Khenir seemed to have no idea what he was talking about.
    But after a moment Khenir nodded sadly. “Oh yes, down at the bottom. I’d forgotten. That was a dark time.”
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”
    Khenir patted his hand. “You apologize far too often, and for things that are not any fault of yours. It’s enough for me that I have someone I can talk to. You see, I was half-dead when Ilban brought me here, and I wasn’t kept down there very long. As soon as I could speak again, I pledged my life to him. I’ve kept that promise.”
    Alec couldn’t really fault Khenir for that; he had been pretty damn grateful, himself, the night a stranger who’d turned out to be Seregil had gotten him out of that north country dungeon the night before Alec was to be sold to Plenimaran slavers. It was ironic, really. Everything that he’d done and become since then had landed him here anyway, with a collar around his neck.
    “There were more names. What happened to all those people?”
    Khenir shrugged. “Who knows? It’s a very old house and they could have belonged to Ilban’s family.”
    Just then they were interrupted by shrill, childish laughter. A small boy dashed into the garden, clutching a toy horse to his chest and looking back over his shoulder with a challenging grin. Somewhere behind him, another child wailed angrily. Alec didn’t need to understand the language to guess that the boy was teasing his sister.
    A woman called out sharply, and the child stuck out his tongue. He turned and made for the fountain, but halted as he caught sight of Alec and Khenir in the shadow of the portico. The child’s mischievous expression changed to open disdain. He snapped something at them, and Khenir hastily bowed and put on his veil.
    “Cover your face!” he whispered to Alec.
    Alec pulled his up, but not quickly enough to suit the little tyrant. The child stamped his foot and shouted at them.
    Khenir replied with a deeper bow, but that only made the boy angrier. He snatched up a stone from beside the pathway and cocked his arm back, ready to throw. Khenir just stood there, hands at his side.
    Alec stepped between them, glaring at the child to make him stop.
    The boy’s eyes widened and the hand holding the stone lowered a bit. But there was no mistaking the malice in his eyes.
    “
Buko!
” he cried angrily, and it sounded like either a threat or an insult.
    The veiled nursemaid appeared before things could get any worse and hurried to catch the boy.