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Chapter 62. Secrets |
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idnight in Kaineng faded before the sultry blare of Krytan noon when Zhou arrived home. In the turmoil of attending to the wounded, he was able to slip away unnoticed; his guild members satisfied that they had delivered him home. No doubt they would beseech him to explain what they had witnessed that day but for now they honored his desire to withdraw. He had no answers. Zhou silently lamented that an entire lifetime was not enough to understand the intricacies of magic, reality and the mists. Marga’s portal had certainly broken the rules, enough to allow the demon its freedom, but not enough to bring a dead man back from the mists with enough substance to strike the creature down. It was simply not possible and yet he had seen it happen with his own eyes. They all had. Once in his private rooms, he slipped inside and listened for Shikai, relieved to discover he was alone. He went to his bedroom and peeled off the sodden attire that reeked of sweat and blood. There was fresh lavender water in the ewer by the washstand and he tried unsuccessfully to scrub the dank putrid odor of the demon’s ichor from his skin. He needed immersion in sea water followed by a long bath in cleansing herbs. Gods, he needed to understand what was going on. He had given Pendaran up for dead at Shikai’s insistence. She had never been wrong before, he had no reason to doubt her. He pressed the towel to his face as he sat back on the edge of the bed facing the window. He sensed her arrival moments before the door to the neighboring sitting room opened. He tossed the towel onto the pile of reeking clothes in the farthest corner of the room. “Husband?” she asked tentatively outside of the bedroom door, no doubt sensing his need for sanctuary. “I am here.” “Do you wish me to depart?” “I wish for you to speak plainly,” he replied, his voice barely more than a whisper as a sudden knot of emotion tightened in his throat. He did not want to know the truth, he realized. It was too painful, not after everything he had been through. Yet he had to know. “Plainly, my love?” “I want the truth. Is Pendaran dead?” He felt the lurch of her mind closing, alien and unintelligible. An impenetrable barrier of coldness fell between them. “He is not on this plane.” “Is he dead? Answer me.” “You must abandon him,” Shikai said firmly, indicating the discussion was at an end as she moved away from the bedroom door. “No doubt you have overhead what happened. How do you explain it?” “I cannot explain it.” “Cannot or will not?” he demanded, “Please, do not mislead me. I cannot bear it.” “I cannot intervene,” Shikai replied quietly, “Do not ask me to.” The hurt smoldering within him became the full fury of rage. How long had he allowed her to manipulate him like this? “I’m not asking, I’m demanding an answer. Are you telling me that it was alright for you to teach me the secrets of the planes, but you cannot tell me what has befallen my friend and adept?” She was standing in the doorway now, her face betraying fear and sadness as she gazed down at him sitting alone on the edge of their bed. Even in the heat of rage he could not gaze upon her and forget her beauty. He looked away, clinging to his anger, afraid she would convince him once more to abandon Pendaran. “My love, I would not lie to you,” she began softly, her voice reminiscent of the name he had chosen for her, beautiful song. Gods, how could she do this to him? He loved her but in that moment he was furious. “No, you do not lie, you deceive.” “My love…” “The truth, Shikai, or be silent and go from me.” “A change is coming,” she whispered, “I want to save you. I love you. Please, do not intervene.” Tears gleamed upon her delicate face, tears that made her human and made him regret his harshness. “It is not a kindness to deny me the ability to make my own choices,” he said, the anger replaced by grief. She was human in that moment, one of the many masks she wore. “I will go if you wish it,” she wept. “I forgive you. I do not wish it.” “I wish I could help you understand,” she said. Zhou rose and moved slowly toward her as if approaching a frightened creature. She was delicate and beautiful in that moment and he held her gently for a long time, neither of them speaking as their grief became one. “I am going to find Pendaran,” he said after a while, “Will you seek to prevent it?” “I will not,” she replied sleepily, “but if you choose that path, there is no turning back.” “That has always been the way of things.” “Then I will follow.” |
