THE CHAINED GIFT XIV: Weaving shadows

Upon his arrival to Arestinias, Caradhar was showing the effects of exhaustion. He crawled to the baths and dropped himself into a bathtub full of hot water (his first real bath since his departure to Ummankor). Sleep overtook him; he was slipping, little by little, into the arms of unconsciousness, when the steward usually sent by the Maeda appeared in front of him, clearing his throat to call his attention.

'Wake up, sir. Lady Neskahal summons you before her. Please finish freshening up and get dressed; I will bring you clothes.'

The young elf closed his eyes, resigning himself. He wondered how he would pull off this task of pleasing the Maeda, in his current condition.

Contrary to the past occasions, this time he was guided to a different set of rooms, in the wing where the Maeda's chambers were. They walked between several couples of Her Excellence's Personal Guard, through luxurious rooms contrasting with the nude simplicity of the place he was used to. In the end they stopped in an overelaborate hall, in front of two doors watched over by a single guard. The steward was about to knock to announce their arrival, but the guard approached him and whispered to his ear; the servant slightly raised his eyebrows and turned to the young elf.

'Wait here, please. My Lady will receive you soon.'

Next he left the room, followed by the guard. Caradhar had a look around, at the intricate tapestries, tables and armchairs carved in fanciful shapes, lamps whose dozens of twisted arms, from which hundreds of glass beads hung, held green wax candles. The doors themselves, fitting a golden frame, decorated with wooden volutes and encrusted with semi-precious gems, gave an idea of their owner's character. Caradhar had never been to a high-class brothel (or any other category), but he had no doubt that was the appearance they surely had.

The elf wondered if those doors led to the Maeda's private chambers, and why the wait. He thought he could hear some voices coming from inside the room. He looked around; sticking his ear to the wood, he used his acute hearing to listen.

Two voices seemed to discuss angrily: a female one, Lady Neskahal's, and a familiar male one he couldn't quite identify.

'...But this... How do you dare? I should have you flogged. I should flog you myself!' was saying the female elf.

'My Lady... Forgive me...' begged her companion, contrite and anxious. 'But, isn't it enough, having to give in to your noble lovers? Knowing you are going to marry Lord Demeviall? And now, having to give in as well to an insignificant kid, a foreign commoner?'

'If you ever try again to dispose of anyone I go to bed with, I'll skin you alive; and about my marriage, I doubt Demeviall will keep his part of the deal if I don't keep mine, and that will only happen if you do your job. Or shall I also need a new Grand Alchemist? I want results, and I want them now! I can't wait any longer!'

'I... I assure you I'll please you soon enough... We already obtained the most evasive component... Very soon...'

'You better do. And now, get out!'

Caradhar ran to stand besides the entrance of the antechamber. The wooden double doors opened suddenly, and a Grand Alchemist whose face revealed his uneasiness quickly walked through them; when he looked up, he met right the person he desired to find the least. He clenched his teeth and fists, while the young apprentice bowed his head in respect. Controlling himself, the alchemist left the room.

As for the gifted, he walked towards the chamber that definitely was the Maeda's bedroom. If the antechamber brought to mind the idea of a luxurious brothel, the bedchamber itself went beyond all expectation: there was such abundance of brocade, velvet, satin, chiffon, crystals, coloured-glass lamps that cast soft lights, and works of art with an unequivocal erotic style, that one would almost expect a parade of courtesans, with a madam praising the amatory virtues of each of them.

Nevertheless, there was only one. Lady Neskahal, her cheeks still flushed, signalled to the newcomer to close the doors. Right away, she sat on the bed and crossed her legs; the elf, with his usual calm face, bowed the knee and the head in front of her, as his hand automatically reached to fondle the well-formed calf swinging before his eyes.

'I heard you were attacked by an abomination,' she said, still tense. 'Take off your shirt and let me check if it's true you're unharmed.'

Caradhar dropped the garment to the floor, displaying his naked chest. The Maeda playfully slid her toes along his skin.

'Perfect and smooth... Such a disappointment... I cherished the idea of seeing you back with some proud war injury.'

'Sorry for the annoyance, My Lady. Would you, perhaps, prefer me to be mutilated before I appear again in front of you?'

'Bah! Some scars can make elves interesting...' She made him stand up and wrapped her legs around his. 'But never mind. I've also heard you did other things... Why don't you tell me? Later, maybe.'

The young elf suppressed a sigh. That time, indeed, he would need to resort to his more vivid memories if he wanted to make the grade.

Later, that night, Caradhar sank into unconsciousness as soon as he lay down on his bed.

The next day, Raisven almost pounced on him, demanding news about the work in Ummankor. The gifted related a superficial version of the events, before one of the master alchemists came and sent him to the warehouse, to carry boxes. The female elf, surprised, complained, but without success: she couldn't know that the Grand Alchemist, even if he had had to put up with sparing the apprentice's life, wasn't going to make it easier.

Several days passed that way, and his restlessness for the lack of news was increasing; until one morning in which he discovered a small note, slipped inside the waist of his trousers; the only words written on the paper were 'Rats' nest'. The gifted's eyes lit up, as much from the message as from the place where he had found it.

It was getting dark, and rain was coming down in torrents. Caradhar found himself in front of the hidden access to the 'rats' nest' and waited. After a while, he went through the entrance; once inside, with the door closed behind them, he got rid of the overcoat that protected him from the rain and cornered his host against the wall, placing his forearms at both sides of his face. Pushing his tongue between the spy's parted lips, he checked, pleased, how it was received with equal desire by his partner's one, whose gloved hands entwined around his neck. Caradhar, aroused, rubbed his pelvis against Sül's, intensely and sensually; slipped his hands along his sides, to his waist, surrounding it towards his back; then pulled gently, making him arch it, and finally went down to his buttocks, grasping them firmly and squeezing them, the contact between his hips becoming even more intimate. The gifted's chest rested over Sül's; the spy's moan echoed inside the mouth that was caressing him; a moan clearly of pain, more than excitement.

Caradhar stopped half way in his kiss and searched for the eyes that Sül was keeping down. His hands released his prey and lifted instead his partner's chin, who obstinately avoided his gaze; the younger elf, without a word, unfastened the Shadow's clothes.

As he feared, a bandage with some dark stains compressed his stomach. He started to untie it, without hearing a single word of protest; over the skin, already scarred, new wounds appeared, but so terrible that made the elf blessed with the Gift clench his teeth: three perfect parallel lines across his abdomen, no doubt branded with a hot iron. Caradhar felt his cheeks burning.

'Your master?' he simply asked.

'He wasn't pleased 'cause I followed you to Ummankor. One has to pay for lack of discipline; still I'd do it again...'

Caradhar took his dagger out of the sheath and placed it against his palm; to his surprise, Sül grabbed his wrist.

'No: you can't do that.'

'What?'

The Shadow looked at the ceiling and sighed. After licking his lips, he spoke.

'When they entrusted me the mission of sticking to you, my neidokesh ordered me not to... take matters to a personal level.' His own euphemism made him smile. 'If you heal them, I don't think I can explain what were you doing that required to remove my shirt... You think this is striking? Just you wait and see what he'll do to me if he discovers I disobeyed that other order...'

Caradhar looked at the burns again, then up to his companion's face, keeping his cool.

'Do you know what they say about gifted elves? I heard it sometimes: they say they are able of smelling blood from a distance. Of course, I never could; but we are trained from childhood to develop the conditioned response of healing wounds. Let me speak to your master: I'll tell him I bled dry over you, if necessary; but don't ask me to leave your body like that, because it is impossible for me.'

'It doesn't smell of blood, anyway...' Caradhar looked at him blankly. 'The wound: it doesn't smell of blood; rather, of roasted pork...' joked the Shadow, half-heartedly.

The gifted, as usual, didn't smile. He guided Sül to the bed and made him lay down; cut the palm of his hand open, pressed, and let a trickle of blood pour along the burns, curing them. The spy felt his burning pain turning into that warm and tingling ease. He closed his eyes; he was then conscious of his current position, and the tingling travelled to nether regions of his body... Opening his eyes again, he gazed at his now restored stomach, and at his benefactor, moving his hand across the healed skin.

'Now, perhaps I should thank you for your invaluable help in the cavern,' said Caradhar, with soft voice.

'Oh, really? Will you let me top?' And when he saw his serious expression, he added: 'Just kidding...'

Sül sat up and took his time undressing his partner, covering with kisses and caresses every part of skin he uncovered. When he unfastened his breeches, his tongue couldn't resist the desire to taste the nectar flowing from the white and rosy flesh. Caradhar's hands sank into the Shadow's hair, untying the band that held it, and pulling gently to move him away, before he could push him to the limit. He also released him from the rest of his black clothes and buried his face between his thighs, to continue the pleasantry that Sül had started to offer up unto him; he could hear his agitated breath, as his head bobbed...

'Get away...' gasped Sül. 'I'm... Aaaah...!'

He didn't move; instead, he received into his mouth the tribute of his ecstasy, and Sül felt, for a moment, delight taking his breath away. He lay down on the bed, still panting, and stretched his arm to stroke Caradhar's wet lips, who was now leaning over him.

'So you want to thank me for the other day?' asked the spy, smiling. 'I want to have a close look of your face when you come...'

The gifted didn't answer; he prepared his companion with moist fingers so that he could receive him; slightly raised his hips, separated his legs and gently entered him.

Sül bit his lower lip, although it wasn't as painful as the first time; he concentrated on gazing at the face that rocked on top of him, eyes closed.

For a moment, the Shadow wondered who was that dark-haired stranger moving like that, with hidden eyes, parted lips, a shy expression of self-giving on his beautifully chiselled features... Then the stranger opened his eyes again and, under the disguise, Caradhar appeared one more time, through the red of those bright irides. Releasing Sül's legs, he placed his hands instead at both sides of his face; he lay on him, their eyes fixed on each other, and kept moving faster and faster until he was overcome by pleasure.

Sül didn't miss a thing of the sensuality and abandon with which he had helped to endow that face, usually inexpressive. He drew the red-haired elf towards himself and kissed him.

'I swear when this is over I'll pay you the best bed in the steepest inn in town,' said Sül upon falling, knackered, on the narrow and uncomfortable folding bed.

'If you had come to my room, it would have been a bit better.'

'No fucking way. No dice. Arestinias isn't safe; in fact, as I can't take care of this on my own, my neidokesh is now in charge; from now on I'm just support.' His voice revealed that the spy was feeling miserable.

'I can't see why; you're very skilled.'

'How sweet. No, seriously: that Darshi'nai who chased us... My neidokesh found out who he is: his name's Kusrala and he's one of the best; he made perfectly clear I'd never stand a chance if I faced him. What a bitch...' he mumbled, referring to the Maeda. 'I bet she's shagging him too...'

'Why did you disappear after the collapse in the caverns?' asked Caradhar, changing the subject.

'Ah, that... So sorry... Truth is I breathed in too much gas... I wasn't in my best moment.' Sül smiled bitterly. 'Then my neidokesh appeared: he managed to find me and drag me away. Al least you're back in one piece...'

'About that, somebody had ordered to have me killed. They tried; they didn't count on dealing with a gifted, of course.'

'Wha...?' The alarmed Shadow jumped. 'Who the blazes...?'

Caradhar recounted everything he knew, including the conversation behind the door he had heard. The spy sat on the bed, restless.

'I'm not at ease... What if that stuck-up bastard of Grand Alchemist tries again? You work under him, for the gods' sake...'

'But I don't think he will dare to disobey Lady Neskahal's orders.'

'What if that whimsical whore gets bored and changes her mind? Don't misunderstand me: I'd never want to have you out of my bed, but... You say she's planning to get married, huh? There you are, a possible motive...'

'Stop thinking about that. Who's that Lord Demeviall? The Maede of another First Circle House, right?'

'Uh-huh. Also the Prince's relative, though their relationship isn't the best; widow; one adult son... It's very strange: I hadn't got a clue they had arranged a marriage, and those news run like quicksilver...'

'It looks like a deal to me: she has to do something, for which she needs Elore'il's secret formula, and in exchange, an alliance is formed between the two Houses. What does she pretend to do with the formula? Delivering it to the Maede? Using it with him?'

'Using it like that? Naaah... It may force your will, but it doesn't brainwash you... Must be something more subtle... Do you know how did Lord Killien manage to keep the Prince's favour through the years, despite possessing such a threatening power? 'Cause he took good care of keeping the distance and never dreamt of using it against the throne. No... Nobles are fucking meticulous... I bet somewhere in Arestinias there's a document about that special agreement among the two Maedai. If we could put our hands on it...'

The Shadow hopped out of the bed and started to get dressed. Caradhar watched his back, and felt how his desire was reborn. He sat up as well, leaning against the wall, his right leg indolently flexed, his left one stretched and separated.

'What's the hurry?' he asked Sül with a soft voice.

The latter turned around; his eyes were irresistibly drawn to the younger elf's crotch, again at its peak... He looked down, with a smile almost of defeat; then knelt down in front of his companion and said, holding him by his cheeks:

'Listen, Adhar: Even if a session with you is so intense that I won't be able to sit comfortably for two days, there's nothing and no one that drives me crazier than you do. But just for now, there's a thing that I need even more: and it's getting you out of that House as soon as possible. So don't tempt me and cover it up, before I've got to bite it off, for our own good, and pray for a new one to grow.'

Caradhar raised his eyebrows with scepticism; but the image that came to his mind probably upset him, because he quickly grabbed his clothes and got dressed.

The contact with Sül inside the House stopped almost completely, reduced to some sporadic notes. Caradhar maintained his senses alert, trying to discover anything useful, but without success. Sül had warned him not to try any search on his own, because the other Shadow could always be lurking around. Wait made him unease; until he received another note asking him to go to the Ditch.

After he walked past the entrance, when he was about to greet the Shadow in a way he had wanted for days, the older elf moved away, nervous, putting a finger to his lips. A puzzled Caradhar followed him down the stairs; comfortably sitting on the folding bed there was another Shadow. The spy rushed to explain.

'Caradhar... This is my... master. You met once... He was wounded in the leg and we wondered if you...'

'I say, Sül: you spoiled my fun. I wanted to verify if gifted elves can really smell blood.'

The stranger's voice was deep and husky, yet not unpleasant. He removed his hood and showed a harmonious face, with dark eyes and chestnut-brown hair; he wasn't young, but still kept the vigour of youth, and his muscles were noticeable through his black clothes. The elf smiled, although the optimism of his curved lips was called into question by his gaze, inquisitive and calculating. He slightly bowed his head, as a way of greeting.

'Right, this is very humiliating for me; in my opinion, a failed Darshi'nai is better off dead. But I suppose time is short and, to be honest, I also managed to taste his blood.'

'My master engaged the other Darshi'nai...'

'We were just playing a game of cat and mouse, and it's proverbial in these cases that you lose the notion of who's who... Then, boy, will I be able to try that magical elixir on which your kind prides itself?'

Caradhar's response was kneeling in front of the spy. One of his boots was virtually cut in two; Sül rushed to help, removing the leather and the blood-soaked fabric. Both young elves watched the extent of the wound and were astonished, not just at the fact that the Shadow had been able to escape the fight, but also at his ability to stand the pain with a smile. The ankle seemed partially cut off; the bone was visible, and the cut had almost hamstrung the spy.

'I guess the options are either healing it or giving me the coup de grâce, aren't they, my dear lad?' He rested a hand on his pupil's shoulder, who swallowed hard and looked down, without answering.

Caradhar took out a knife and performed his ritual, bathing the injury with his blood. A large amount was required, and when he was done, a red pool was left on the floor. In the end no signs of the cut remained, and the gifted's own wound closed.

'Live to see...' The Shadow moved his ankle in circles and up and down, unable to hide his amazement. 'We must bow our heads, Sül: humble Darshi'nai like us, receiving the favour of the Gift, is something we couldn't even dream of...'

'It was the least I could do,' interrupted Caradhar, 'considering you saved my neck once.'

'Literally. Therefore, you are that kind of elf who's fond of repaying his debts. Praiseworthy indeed... As for me, I've had to swallow my pride, but at least I'm fit again to move to my secondary plan. If we can't deal with Kusrala one way, we will try another...'

'My neidokesh, am I allowed to inform Caradhar about your idea?' asked Sül, in such a submissive tone that caused the gifted to raise his eyebrows.

'Normally, I would punish you with severity just for daring to ask that: only Darshi'nai and those binding them with a blood contract have the right to know about us. Although, since our young friend is... Well, what can we say about our relationship with him, but that it's practically a blood contract? Enlighten him if you wish, lad.'

The Shadow put on the remains of his boot and fastened them; after that he stood up and leaned against a corner, watching the young elves.

'We're trying to gain access to any document that shows Lady Neskahal's marriage plans; so far, my neidokesh and me couldn't trespass the Darshi'nai's defences in House Arestinias, specially Kusrala's. That whoreson had a contract...'

'Mind that tongue...' jokingly remarked the master, at his back. 'It's true I picked you up among the scum of the Ditch but, would it be so hard to try to talk as if you weren't stuck there?'

'... A contract' continued Sül, ashamed, 'with another House. We Darshi'nai don't like to break contracts and swap patrons, let alone Houses. It means either you don't do your job or that you're sold to the best bidder. My neidokesh was very surprised when he found out Kusrala wasn't bound to his former patron any longer.'

'And that Shadow, does he know who you are?'

'Very improbable; and it can't happen, 'cause then he'd know which House's sticking its... prying around Arestinias. In short, the only way to deal with the problem's eliminating him: Lady Neskahal wouldn't have the means to replace him fast enough. But as you can see... It's difficult to face Kusrala, much less in his own ground. If my neidokesh failed, the rest of us don't stand a chance.'

'If you can't kill him, what else can be done?'

'Well... There are other ways of neutralising a... Shadow. One of them is making him lose his patron's favour; that'd be a long and fu... a task with no guaranteed success, as you can imagine. Another one's making him lose Darshi'nai's favour.'

'A Shadow obeys his patron with no discussion; but there's an even higher authority, the community were he's been raised, and it has the last word about its members' fates. If Darshi'nai considers that you, Shadow, broke the community rules, It'll call Darshi'Kaiell, 'Shadow's devoured (by Shadow)', over you, and every Shadow will be forced to hunt you down. No one can survive that.'

'My neidokesh has enough influence among veteran members to call an Inner Circle vote; and Kusrala already raised suspicions when he changed his loyalty without the community's advice.'

'How many requests are necessary for the call?'

'Seven. We'll have results soon, won't we, my...?'

Both elves turned around, but the Shadow wasn't there anymore. Sül sighed, ashamed of having skipped his departure.

'Is he gone?' asked Caradhar.

'Who knows? He may be hidden somewhere, waiting to test me.'

The gifted frowned: that meant he'd have to leave without touching Sül...

'Tell me,' he asked later, 'what's a blood contract?'

'The way in which your patron secures your loyalty.'

'How?'

'I promise I'll tell you someday. But now we better go back.'

Caradhar had to wait; and after three days he received a little note with a single word written: 'Two'. He didn't understand its meaning until three days later, upon receiving a second one with the word 'Four'. And this one became 'Five'; finally, he received a few lines: 'Darshi'Kaiell called. Shadows will cover all. Keep yourself in the light.'

 

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