Shadows Return

could take her with him when he got out. That was ridiculous, of course, but he did feel a bit guilty at the thought of deserting her.
    Alec wouldn’t leave her.
    Zoriel retrieved the tray that had been brought earlier and set it across his legs. It was nothing more than the same old lentil soup, bread, and a sliver of hard cheese, but he was so famished it looked like a feast to him. He ate the meal one item at a time, expecting to end up drugged sooner or later. By the time he finished, though, he was still awake and clearheaded.
    Zoriel carried the tray out, and the servants cleared away the bath things and took the lantern with them.
    Seregil listened to the bar fall into place, then turned on his side. The new pallet and blankets were warmer than the last, but smelled only of fresh air and herbs, with no trace of Alec. They’d left him his pillow, and he pressed his face into it, seeking the lingering traces of Alec’s scent.
    The cries Zoriel had reported had sounded like a child or an animal, she’d said. He clutched the pillow closer and prayed it had been the latter.
             
    The following day he was moved back to his upstairs room, with the view of the garden. No one came to beat or drug him, but he knew better than to get his hopes up yet.
    At Ilar’s command, Seregil sat by the window that afternoon and saw him walking in the garden with Alec, arm in arm as before. Ilar was holding the chain attached to a collar around Alec’s neck, as usual, but Alec seemed completely at ease with him. Every smile Alec gave the bastard was a knife in Seregil’s heart, but at least it was proof that he was still alive and well.
    And he looked very well, indeed. It was difficult to tell at this distance, and it was probably only the longing of his own heart, but Alec seemed to have a certain glow about him. Seregil had always found him handsome, but he looked even more so now—a far cry from the filthy wreck Alec had been in that cage only a few days earlier. Now and then, though, Seregil saw his hand steal to his chest, where the tap had been, and the smile disappeared.
    As he watched, overcome with yearning, Ilar suddenly turned to the window and waved up at him, instructing Alec to do the same.
    Seregil caught his breath and waved back. Alec waved again, then turned away, unconcerned.
    Seregil’s heart broke a little at that, and at the way Alec suffered it when Ilar slipped an arm about his shoulders and led him to the fish basin. He sank back in his chair, for the first time wondering if Ilar was seducing Alec, as he had Seregil so long ago. He pushed the unworthy thought away as soon as it arose, but he couldn’t shake off a sense of foreboding.
    It hurt his pride to call it jealousy, so he didn’t.
             
    “Who is that?” asked Alec, waving up at the indistinct figure behind the thickly glazed window.
    “I think it must be Rhania,” Khenir replied. “That is her room.”
    “Oh.” Alec waved again and thought he saw her wave back. Khenir took his arm and they resumed their walk. “You know,” said Alec, keeping his voice low. “I can hear what goes on in the workshop from my room.”
    “I don’t doubt it. It’s right over your head.” Khenir patted his arm. “It must have been very hard for you, hearing the rhekaro cry out.”
    “It was horrible!” He walked on a little further, gathering his courage, and wondering how much he could really say to this man, friend or not. “I wish there was some way to get free, before he can make another. Wouldn’t you…”
    Khenir clasped Alec’s forearm, and ran his thumb over the shiny pink skin of the brand. “This is all you are now, or ever will be, Alec. Accept that, and save your worry for yourself. That’s what the rest of us do.”
    “You wouldn’t even try to get away?”
    “I told you before, Ilban is a good master. He takes good care of all of us, as long as we know our place.” He looked down ruefully at his own brand. “It’s not like I have anywhere else to go.”
    “Not even back to your clan?”
    Ilar went very quiet, then said very softly, “I’d die first.”

CHAPTER 27
    The Pale Child

    ALEC BIDED HIS time over the next few days, looking for a chance to get free. But Yhakobin was in the workroom constantly, and others with him. Alec could hear the sound of them moving about every hour of the day and night. The alchemist even brought his tinctures to him down here. When Alec was alone again he