Shadows Return

answer, just smoothed the blanket over Alec’s legs.
    “You saw. Tell me!”
    “The color of the water changed. I don’t know what it means,” Khenir replied, not looking at him.
    And Alec knew that Khenir had just lied to him. The realization weighed like a stone in his belly.
    The door was closed; the guards were outside. “What’s to stop him from making more if they’re so important to him? How many times do you think I can go into that cage and come out alive at the end of it?”
    “Don’t talk like that, please!” Khenir begged. “If he has what he wants, then I’ll beg him to make you a house slave, like me. It’s not so bad, really.”
    Alec caught his wrist and pulled him closer. “I am no one’s slave! Have you been here so long you’ve forgotten what it is to be free?”
    “Perhaps I have. But what can we do? Accept your lot and make the best of it, like the rest of us.”
    Alec wanted to tell him about the horn picks hidden in his mattress. He wanted to ask for his help, and somehow find Seregil and offer Khenir his freedom in return, too, but the lie earlier made him hold his tongue and Alec said nothing as Khenir kissed his brow and took his leave.
    Just for now,
he told himself, unwilling to give up yet on the only ally he had.
When the time comes, if I can help him, I will.
    He reached into the hole, needing to touch the picks, his keys to freedom.
    They were gone.
    And his meal tonight had come with no implements.
    Stunned, he kneaded the mattress over, then turned up the edge to peer inside.
    Every piece of horn was gone, the picks and all the broken bits.
    Alec felt cold and sick all over. Anyone might have been in here—the guards, Ahmol, Yhakobin himself. But he knew for a fact that Khenir
had
been.
    What was the old saying?
Smiles conceal knives, talí.
    He curled up in a tight, miserable ball under the covers, wondering what the punishment would be this time.
    For the first time since his capture, he felt like a slave.
             
    The following morning he was summoned to the workshop before breakfast. He expected to find the alchemist ready with the whip, but instead there was a tray of warm apple pastries and another pot of the excellent Aurënen tea. Alec eyed both distrustfully, wondering what new drug they concealed.
    Yhakobin laughed. “Come now, don’t look like that! This is a day of celebration, and these excellent pastries are your reward.”
    “For what?” Alec asked, still wary. Was it possible the man didn’t know about the picks, or was he just playing with him?
    Yhakobin took one and bit into it. “See? They’re very good.”
    Alec sat down slowly on the stool and picked one up, but couldn’t make himself take a bite.
    Yhakobin sighed, then cut his own in half and gave the bitten part to Alec. It oozed juice and spices. He could smell the butter in the crust. Seeing that Yhakobin ate his own portion without hesitation, Alec took a small bite from one corner. It was the best thing he’d tasted in weeks, and it showed no signs of killing the alchemist.
    “I don’t know what’s wrong with you today,” Yhakobin said, cutting another pastry in half and letting Alec choose which part he wanted.
    As Alec wolfed down his second piece, the alchemist rose and went to the strange little painted tent at the far end of the room. He pulled open the front of it, and inside Alec saw an iron cage. The rhekaro was huddled inside, skinny arms wrapped around its thin, sexless body.
    Its hair was paler silver than the last one’s, and had already grown down to its waist. When it looked up and saw Alec, it let out a weird, high-pitched whimper.
    “It’s hungry, too. You must come and feed it.”
    Alec froze, and the pastry went dry in his mouth.
    Yhakobin raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s the second time you’ve shown me disrespect today, Alec.”
    Alec swallowed the mouthful he’d been chewing. “Forgive me, Ilban. I’m just—I don’t know what to make of any of this.”
    “That’s better. It subsists upon your blood. That alone sustains it.” He pulled out his bodkin. “Come here, Alec. It’s only a few drops. Surely you don’t wish the poor thing to suffer?”
    The words struck home. Resigned, he rose and let Yhakobin prick him, then squatted down and held his hand in through the bars, wondering what to expect.
    The rhekaro sniffed sharply, then sprang forward on its knees and clutched Alec’s hand, sucking greedily at his finger. It was