Chapter 36. Betrayed

hou waited on the dock as the night wind pierced them to the bone and the stars wheeled slowly overhead for a bitter hour. No one complained but he could see the fear and dismay upon their faces. He had failed Pendaran. The great demon slayer was impotent to save his apprentice and had condemned him to a grueling geas. His throat was taut with grief as he watched the black horizon of the sea and silently uttered a prayer for Pendaran’s well being.

When he reached out to Pendaran with his mind there was only a deathly void. For a seeming eternity he knelt amid the chalked out circle with his retinue stamping and chafing themselves against the cold. Zhou realized he should have known the demon’s healing would come with a price. He should have grilled Pendaran and demanded to know what she had required in return. Torn between wanting to help him and wanting to keep him safe, he knew now that he had erred too far on the side of safety. If he did not find release for his friend, he would go mad. There was only so much he could endure.

The slow lapping of the water against the pier was interrupted by something thrashing clumsily in the water. He jumped to his feet and rushed to the edge, horrified to see the vile demon had let her spell lapse while Pendaran was still in the water. He thrashed to stay afloat, the water stealing away his energy as he struggled toward the pier, his limbs going dead with cold. So unnecessarily cruel. Zhou called the warriors over with a rope, fearing Pendaran would be insensible after what he had gone through. He tossed a loop of thick cord down to him. He felt his friend’s mind once more, dull with horror and pain.

“Please, Pen, just a few more minutes and we’ll be going home. Loop it around your chest.”

To his immense relief, Pendaran fumbled the rope in place and they quickly drew him out of the water. He was barely breathing, and as they drew blankets around him, he lay unresisting in their midst, his mind numb. That settled it. Tomorrow he would send him to the island where it was warm and safe. At least the monthly plunge into the sea would not be so harsh.

“Let’s get him back to the compound. Bao Li, please run ahead and have the servants prepare hot water bottles for his bed.”

The ranger nodded obediently and sped away while the rest of them put Pendaran’s still form on the litter and wrapped him up against the cold. They moved as quickly as the dark icy streets allowed and Zhou breathed a sigh of relief when the gate to the compound finally snapped closed behind them and was locked in place. Fbody drew the blanket swathed mesmer from the litter as Xiang Yi wrapped an enchantment around his silent form. By the time they reached the little bedroom on the second floor the servants already had a fire roaring in the little grate and had stashed the stone bottles amid the newly made bed.

Zhou tried to stifle a yawn as he drew up a chair to keep vigil. He felt Pendaran’s mind stirring on the edge of consciousness, so sad and lost.

“He’ll be alright now,” Xiang Yi said gently, “You should get some sleep.”

Zhou glanced at Pendaran and nodded. Xiang Yi had administered a sleeping draught and now his friend was at peace. There was no need to stay and he was exhausted. The preparations to move his guild members to their new home was taxing him. To reduce suspicion they were traveling in small groups in the dark hours of the early morning. So many loose ends to tie up and so little time. They needed tools and craftspeople to fix up the existing buildings, not to mention basic supplies. That day had been particularly wearisome rounding up the necessary resources to get the orphanage moved. There was precious little shelter where they were going but the children had seemed delighted with the warmth and open spaces of their new destination.

He waited until the servants were gone and bid Xiang Yi good night, taking one of the sconces that had been left behind for them. The monk yawned cavernously as they closed the door to Pendaran’s room and went their separate ways. Zhou padded back to his rooms, annoyed with himself for not locking his door in his haste to help his friend. He locked the door behind him, and walked toward his bedroom, setting the candle on the little table beside his bed. He had gotten dressed in haste and now shucked off his boots and loose trousers, wondering what Shikai would have thought of his sloppy pile of clothes as he crawled into bed.

Curling onto his side, he reached over to pinch out the candle flame, drawing back as something sharp nicked his outstretched arm. A painful coldness erupted there and he fought to get up, his heart thundering in panic as he heard movement and the shadows cast by the flickering candlelight stirred.

“Who is there?” he cried, his vision blurring and his body growing sluggish. He focused his mind. seeking the tell tale brightness of a human intellect but finding nothing. In an instant he was pushed back on the bed, wrestling blindly with a weight upon his breast as a hand clapped over his mouth.

“I’m sorry, Master Bei,” said the familiar voice of Keisha Lhan. In his shock he could only stare up at her in blank horror, betrayed in the end by an act of kindness. He could feel nothing now and the shadows gathered around the edge of his vision. He was dying and in the end there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“Oh gods,” he pleaded silently, “have mercy upon me.”