Chapter 54. Master Bei

any Tyrian schools do not enforce the discipline of contemplation,” Zhou said quietly, his footfalls barely audible as she strode over the thick ornamental carpet that hugged the floor of the small study, “Perhaps that is why you do not see the value in following instructions, Pendaran.”

He blushed, feeling like a child again having freshly entered his training amid seemingly harsh teachers.  Looking back, he realized his parents had spoiled him horribly and the slightest reprimand had seemed harsh.  His teachers had in fact been very kind but strict.  It was a necessary thing for those seeking the power of the mind and spirit.  Obediently he breathed slowly, hooding his eyes but not closing them as he faced the wall.  It was long boring work and he was tired and hungry.

Yet Zhou would not release him and he sat there on the hard pillow, hands folded, back straight, growing straighter when Zhou tapped him lightly with his cane.  He resisted the urge to complain because he knew Zhou would only reward him with another turn of the hour glass.

“How long are you going to resist or did no one teach you how to clear your mind?”

“I was taught.  I’m just out of practice.”

“It is a wonder you have survived this long,” Zhou murmured, flipping the hour glass over.  Pendaran fumed.  Three hours and he was so tired and hungry.  He needed to lie down.

“What you need to do is focus, Pendaran.”

“I can’t,” he snapped, finally losing his temper even though he had the good sense to fear Zhou.  He had training enough to know a superior mesmer when he encountered one.

“Truly?  But I thought you were trained.”

“I was asked to leave the academy before my training was completed.”

“You may rise now,” Zhou replied softly, putting the hour glass back on the shelf beside his books.  Pendaran staggered awkwardly to his feet, bracing himself against the wall.  He felt giddy with exhaustion.

“You lied to me,” Zhou observed coldly.

Pendaran swallowed, blushing as the man strode slowly toward him, his narrow brows drawing downward in anger.

“Do not lie to me again,” he snapped, “I am offering you this training as a kindness.  Your poor attempts to mislead me are an insult.”

“I’m sorry,” Pendaran replied, his face burning with embarrassment and shame.

“As well you should be.  You will take your meal with me downstairs and when you are done, you will come back here and contemplate the way lies have damaged you.  Do you see that parchment there on the desk?”

Pendaran nodded.

“Fill it with a list of your lies and their consequences.  I expect to read it in the morning.  You are not to leave this room until you have finished it.”

“I’m tired,” Pendaran murmured, “I need to rest.”

“You’ve had a week in bed.  If you must lie down, then do so on the floor.”

Anger colored Pendaran’s cheeks.  How dare he treat him like this.  The instant the thought rose into his mind, however, he regretted it.  Magenta shimmered over Zhou’s form and just as suddenly Pendaran was pressed against the wall and unable to move.

“Do you like being helpless?” Zhou spoke into his mind as Pendaran tried unsuccessfully to shrug free of the hex.  What little energy was left to him poured out of his body and his knees wobbled until he slid down the wall and lay there panting, “If you were a true mesmer, I could not have done that to you, but because you are an undisciplined charlatan I can use you quite easily.”

Pendaran swallowed, fear singing in his veins as Zhou strode slowly away.

“Think on that,” the man said coldly, “and then tell me you are too tired.”

The door closed and Pendaran sat there quivering with anger and weariness.  Several long moments passed until he realized no one was going to come for him, not even the servants.  He wobbled to his feet and staggered toward the door, his body twanging with the aftershock of Zhou’s attack.  Damn the Canthan maggot and his meddling.

“But he’s right,” Pendaran thought, “You were kicked out of the academy because of your willfulness.  It worked when you had a home and wealthy family.  Where are you going to run when you meet someone like Zhou who doesn’t have your best interests in mind?”

Pendaran sighed and shuffled slowly toward the door, resigned to the path he must take.  He reached the landing outside the study and grasped the banister, each step of the stairs jarring him painfully as he made his way slowly to the small dining room that overlooked one of the compound’s many gardens.  To his surprise, the long mahogany table was set with a full service for three.  Teleri sat on Zhou’s right, chattering animatedly, pausing when she saw Pendaran wobbling toward the table.  She began to rise to come to his aid but Zhou motioned her down.

“After the meal, I would like you to take Pendaran for a walk around the garden, Teleri.”

“But he looks so pale,” she stammered.

“He is young and healthy,” Zhou replied calmly as Pendaran sat down slowly at his left, aware that he was sweating and feeling nauseous.  He needed to lie down badly but knew better than to protest.  Thankfully, a bowl of soup was placed before him and his hunger returned.  Zhou nodded and he devoured everything that was put before him as Teleri looked on in amazement.

“Nandao said he should be eating the special mixture for at least two more…”

“And Nandao is not here,” Zhou cut her off gently, “Pendaran no longer needs coddling if he has strength enough to cast his food at the walls.  And you will, of course, see to it he has a walk.”

Teleri looked incredulously at Zhou but said nothing.  When all was said and done, she was a guest and Zhou was the master of the house.  She nodded gracefully and Pendaran kept his eyes down, mildly annoyed by her worrying.  It embarrassed him.  A servant came to his shoulder and offered him a plate of steamed rice mixed with bland pieces of meat.  He noticed that he was being given different fare and was comforted by that.  At least Zhou made some concession for his condition.

When the meal was over, Zhou rose and offered them a shallow bow.

“After your walk, return to the study to do the task I assigned to you,” Zhou reminded him, “and then you will stay in my wing of the compound.  I have had your things moved to a permanent room.”

Pendaran blanched at being made to stay in such close proximity to his new teacher.  He also knew why.  No more knives and no more self-pity.  Teleri cleared her throat awkwardly as she rose.

“The rose garden is particularly nice right now,” she hinted and Pendaran pushed away from the table and wobbled to his feet.  She offered him her arm even though she was much more slightly built than he.  Instead he moved past her and took a black cane from the umbrella stand beside the door and leaned on it.   Teleri smiled and went to his side as they strode into the late afternoon sunshine.  In the center of the vast compound it was difficult to imagine they were within the crowded walls of the great city.  Birds fluttered through the blossoming branches, showering them with pale petals.  He drew a deep breath of the perfumed air and savored its scent.

“May I hold your hand?” she asked and Pendaran realized he had never truly looked at her before.  She glowed in the sunshine, her hair the color of ripening wheat and her face dimpled and sweet, the hint of a child in her features.  Her emerald green gown emphasized the swell of her breasts and the alluring roundness of her rump.  He held out his hand to her, remarking how much smaller and delicate her fingers were, but also how oddly calloused by years of wielding a bow.

“You seem much calmer,” she observed, “Zhou isn’t abusing you, I hope?”

“No more than I deserve and no more than I can handle.”

“It was nice of him to offer to train you.”

“Indeed.”

Pendaran watched her carelessly pluck a red rose from the arbor as they strode under it.  She sniffed it thoughtfully, enjoying the feel of the velvety petals against her cheek.

“Smell this,” she said then, bringing it up to his nose so that its perfume washed over his heightened senses, “My husband loved roses.  He always talked about having a garden.  He would have liked this place.”

“Clarissa loved them, too,” he replied, and when Teleri shot him a questioning look he added, “My wife.”

“Do you miss her?”

“All the time.  What about your husband?”

“Rhys,” she said to his arched brow, “Yes, I miss him, especially at night.”

Pendaran grinned and she giggled in embarrassment.

“Not just for that reason,” she replied, “It’s just that when I’m alone and I have time think, I remember him more.  I can’t crowd him out of my head so easily as I can during the day.”

“The small hours of the morning are like that for me.  Clarissa liked to rise with the sun,” he said, “Like a bird.  And she liked to tease me for enjoying the comforts of my bed a little too much.”

“I used to tickle Rhys until he got out of bed,” Teleri confided, giggling despite the shadow that crossed her visage at the memory.

“You loved him very much.”

“Probably as much as you loved Clarissa,” Teleri said kindly, “Your eyes light up when you say her name.  Was she pretty?”

“Of course.  She was a little taller than you.  A dancer and a poet.  Her hair was so pale it was almost white.  And her eyes were the color of cornflowers.  Your turn now.  What was Rhys like?”

“He was a mesmer so of course he was incredibly handsome like you,” Teleri paused to laugh as Pendaran blushed, “But his hair was the luster of raven wings and his eyes were like pieces of sky, so big and gentle.”

She paused for a moment, overcome with emotion.  Pendaran felt the slightest tug of pain emanating from her, a connection he had not felt with another human being since before the Searing.  Grief had dulled his senses, shutting down his ability to sense the feelings or thoughts of others. 

“He was a singer and a musician.  And our son looks just like him.”

“You never mentioned that you had a son.”

“You never asked.  But since you know,” she grinned, “His name is Mabane.  He is ten summers old and he has his father’s talent.  I miss him so much.”

Teleri grew quiet for a moment, hesitating to speak, then gathering her courage she pushed on.

“You have a nice smile when you actually use it.”

“Thank you.  I shall have to use it more often.”

“Oh look, honeysuckle,” she said forcing him to stop as she plucked the pale bells of flowers from a vine and urged one delicately toward his mouth.  He let its sweetness pour over his tongue, recalling summers and kisses from long ago.  He remembered the arbor sweet with honeysuckle at the Caradec estate and Clarissa giggling as she gathered blossoms.

And now Teleri chattered happily beside him, her eyes bright as she delicately drank the heady nectar of the flowers.  So pretty and alive.  He squeezed her hand fondly, unconsciously, the sound of her voice like music to him.  What door had Zhou opened in him that the world seemed transformed?  He was falling in love with her – had been falling in love with her from the moment he had awakened to the sound of her sweet voice.  Pendaran chided himself for being so dense.

“Pendaran,” said Zhou’s voice, cutting through his reverie.  He had not been paying attention and their circuit around the garden had brought them once more to the door where his teacher awaited him.

“Yes, Master?”

“Finish your studies now and go straight to bed.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Pen,” Teleri said, pressing the last of the honeysuckle blossoms into his hand, “Sleep well.”

He watched her move gracefully up the steps to the door and vanish within.  Zhou, however, was not amused.

“You will not have carnal relationships with anyone while you are my student.  Do I make myself clear?”

Pendaran blinked, blushing as Zhou stood stiffly before him.  He felt transparent before the man and he wished he could hide his feelings from him.

“Now you have motivation,” Zhou replied pointedly, “Go finish your work.”