Shadows Return

of treatment, but remained limp and passive.
    “Not bad, for a ’faie. Look at those eyes!”
    “And that mouth,” the other rumbled, scratching suggestively at his crotch. “What do you think? Would he squeal to Khenir?”
    Seregil carefully kept himself in check, not betraying that he understood every word. When one of them began to unlace his breeches, however, the meaning required no words. Neither did Seregil’s answer. He bared his teeth and snapped them together a couple of times, glaring a challenge.
    The other man laughed. “Give it up. He’s not worth the beating, and I do believe he means it. Get that old bitch down here to clean him. She’s been all in a lather over him since they put him down here.”
    They got their petty revenge, taking the bedding and leaving him naked and shivering on the cold floor. He chafed his arms and legs as he waited. He’d have to be careful with them. As much as they might hate Ilar, they clearly enjoyed tormenting Seregil more.
    They returned in short order with Zoriel and several servants. Seregil was glad to see they were carrying a small tub and buckets of water, as well as fresh bedding.
    The water was icy, but any bath was welcome and he endured it happily as Zoriel scolded him.
    “I had you well again, and look at you now, young son! You’re nothing but bones and bruises.”
    “My master isn’t as kind as yours,” Seregil replied with a wry grin, wincing as she scrubbed his back with a rough cloth.
    “You tried to throttle him, I heard.” Leaning close, she whispered, “Some of us had a good laugh over that, and not just the slaves.” She dumped a can of cold water over his head and started on his hair with the soap, saying loudly, “Don’t you know who Khenir is? He’s the master’s favorite, and soon to be a freedman. You’ll belong to him, so you’d best learn some manners.”
    Seregil sniffed and said nothing. He glanced at the guards to make sure they weren’t paying attention, then murmured, “Did you send the Khatme woman to me?”
    “I did. I heard at first that you’d been killed, but she said she saw you being dragged down here. She has the run of the house, more than I do.”
    “She’s your friend?”
    “I suppose you could say that. It takes a Khatme a while to warm up, as they say. Cold as their mountain fai’thast, most of them, and crafty. But she soon learned she’s no better than the rest of us, when
he
came.”
    “Khenir, you mean?”
    “Who else? He’s a sly dog, that one. Smooth as silk with Ilban, and never a word to the rest of us that doesn’t suit his ends.”
    “He was always like that.”
    She paused in her washing and whispered, “He said he knew you in the past, but I didn’t believe him at first. So he’s dragged you into slavery with him, has he?”
    “To get himself out. It’s not me your Ilban wanted, but my friend. Have you seen him?”
    “The yellow-haired boy? Only a glimpse now and then when they’d take him through the house to the workshop, but not since they started keeping him there.”
    “And you’ve heard nothing more of him since?”
    She hesitated, then shook her head and helped him from the tub and into a large towel. He locked eyes with her. “You
have
heard something. Please, tell me!”
    “Well, a few nights ago the most pitiful sounds came from the master’s shop.”
    Seregil gripped her wrist as she tried to dry his hair. “What kind of sounds?”
    “Cries,” she whispered. “Like someone was being murdered. It could have been an animal, but it sounded like…” She pursed her lips and blinked. “It sounded like a child! But no slave that young’s been brought in, or any animal of late. Not that I know of, and I don’t miss much that happens in the house. Rhania hadn’t heard of any, either.”
    Seregil sank slowly to the floor and pulled the towel around him. “A few nights? When I was brought back here?”
    “Yes.”
    “Bilairy’s Balls. Is that why he laughed at me?”
    “What’s that?”
    “Nothing. Thank you, old mother. I’m grateful for all your care.”
    She shook her head, then bent and kissed him on the top of the head as if he were a child. “No one’s called me that but you, young one. Come and sit up so I can comb out that mess of hair of yours.”
    Seregil allowed himself to relax as she worked through the tangles and helped him into a clean woolen robe. As she tucked him into bed, he even caught himself wondering fleetingly how he