Shadows Return

about someone who seemed so rational, but what other explanation could there be for a man who kept the tears and blood and spendings of another?
             
    Ahmol brought his breakfast at the usual time the following morning, and Alec left it untouched. When the guards came to collect him, he did his best to ignore their knowing smirks.
    “I trust you slept well?” Yhakobin said, pouring Alec a cup of tea.
    Alec gave him a sullen shrug, waiting until Yhakobin poured himself a cup and had taken several sips before he dared taste his own. It was the same good, strong Aurënen brew as before; it cut the bad taste in his mouth and soothed his aching stomach.
    “You’re angry with me, I think.”
    Aware of the whip lying ready on a nearby table, Alec kept his gaze on his tea. “No, Ilban.”
    “Indeed. But perhaps a little shocked, yes? I don’t blame you, but it was the only way. It’s not as if you’d have given up such vital fluids willingly. Really, now, it did you no harm, except perhaps to your pride. You shouldn’t even have awakened.”
    Alec’s fingers tightened around the cup. “Why do such a thing, Ilban?”
    “Each of the body’s vital essences contain valuable elements, no different than metals and minerals, and each has its use.”
    Alec’s eyes widened. “You mean, you make something from…from that?”
    Yhakobin smiled. “Oh yes, something very precious. I’m almost ready to begin. But not quite yet.” He rose and took a flask down from the tincture shelf. “We come to the final draught, at last. Come here. We must change the amulet.”
    Alec shuddered at the touch of the man’s cold fingers as Yhakobin removed the silver amulet. He tossed it into the forge, as always, then held up a heavy lozenge of gold for Alec to see. It had more symbols on it than the others.
    “You are most favored, Alec. I told you that rich men would pay dearly for the Tincture of Lead; they would give more than money for this Tincture of Gold, the highest of the natural elements.” He fixed the pendant in place and patted Alec’s cheek.
    It was only with an effort that Alec kept himself from knocking that hand away.
    Yhakobin saw and cast a meaningful glance in the direction of the whip. “This is a very special day for you. Don’t spoil the moment with one of your pointless tantrums.”
    Alec hastily dropped his gaze again, tensing. Something was going to happen now. He needed his wits about him to take advantage of any opening.
    He swallowed the tincture without a fight. It tasted like pure spring water, and had no immediate effect.
    “What are you going to use me for, Ilban?” he asked, weary, scared, and pleading. It was only halfway an act.
    Yhakobin just patted his shoulder. “You will see soon enough. And don’t worry. It’s not your life I need. Sleep well, with my promise that no more indignities will be visited upon you.”
    Alec held his tongue. Yhakobin’s promises didn’t count for much.

CHAPTER 21
    Distractions

    THERO PUSHED THE ornate scroll aside and rubbed his eyes. It had been a parting gift from Seregil’s sister Adzriel. It was an exciting project, to be sure, but he’d just realized that he’d already translated the same passage at least three times and he still didn’t know what it said.
    The afternoon had slipped by and the workroom was in shadow except for the light of the lamp at his elbow. Thero absently snapped his fingers, lighting others around the room. Leaning back in his chair, he stretched his stiff neck until he was staring up through the leaded glass dome above the workroom, where the last orange and gold of the sunset still lingered.
    There were magical emblems worked into the patterns of the glass up there. Ever since he came to this tower as a boy, he’d tried to discover exactly how many there were. After all these years, he still came up with a different count each time, depending on which way the sunlight or moonlight struck the tower. Nysander had never solved the puzzle, either—though he was of the opinion that his old master, Arkoniel, had intentionally magicked the glazing to confound and amuse his successors. He’d created the mural in the sitting room, too.
    For the past several days Thero hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything as well as he’d have liked. It was Seregil’s fault, of course. The fool had probably forgotten to break the second message stick. He and Alec were no doubt soaking in some luxurious Bôkthersan