THE CHAINED GIFT XV: Sül tells a story

'By order of His Highness, the Prince, you are under arrest on suspicion of espionage.'

With these words, a detachment of the Palace of the Forty-nine Moons Guard, seat of Argailias Throne, turned up in the laboratory of House Arestinias and arrested Caradhar. While they were shackling him, his mind started to work fast: did anyone make a fake accusation against him? Could they imprison him for being an infiltrator of another House? The answer, however, was revealed very fast when an indignant Raisven asked the guards on what was the arrest based.

'It is not our duty to answer you, madam; but, since this elf is a foreigner, you can deduce yourself our reason to proceed,' replied the guard with the highest rank.

They quickly left. Caradhar's last vision as he was leaving the laboratory was the Grand Alchemist's open smile, unable to hide his satisfaction.

He was driven through the city in a reinforced wood cart, and thrown without any consideration into a small, windowless stone cell. The place was frozen, and the only light he received came through the tiny opening in the door. It isn't much worse than the hole in the Ditch, and doubtlessly cleaner, the young elf thought, trying to keep calm. He didn't know what to expect of all that, or how long it would be before they discovered he had the Gift; that would raise many questions whose proper answers he didn't know.

Four days he spent in that prison, without food, and barely any water, curled up on a corner; on the fifth day they seemed to remember him and two guards appeared at the door, shackled him again without saying a word, and escorted him up the corridor. As they passed besides the first barred window, one of the guards remarked:

'The shackles are coming loose...'

Alarmed, the other guard leaned to have a look; the first one slid behind him and, grabbing him by his back, broke his neck with a single movement. The crack reached Caradhar's ears, clear and hair-raising; it surprised the young gifted, specially when he noticed that his wrists had been released.

'I need your clothes,' said the homicidal guard, putting his foot on the windowsill and strongly pulling one of the side bars, which had been previously sabotaged. 'Are you deaf?' He unfastened his cloak and dropped it. 'You can use this if you want, or you can jump naked if that suits you: it's the same for me... Now!'

In the end, Caradhar recognised his voice, though not his face: that was Sül's neidokesh. He nodded and undressed as fast as lightning; then wrapped the cloak around his body and observed the Shadow that, in the meanwhile, had made an opening wide enough as to fit through it; taking a thin but resistant rope out of his clothes, he tied it to another bar and ordered:

'Climb down to the first cornice and walk right. Sül awaits.'

The young elf did so; it was difficult to seize that light rope, swinging with the strong wind, his cloak waving behind. Once he stepped on the cornice, he adjusted the fabric around him, for fear that the wind would sweep him, and tried to walk in the indicated direction. He wasn't feeling in his best moment, after the days of captivity. As he was almost reaching the ledge of the next window, he lost his footing; the elf felt in his stomach the vertigo of the impending fall, but an arm appeared from the corner and grabbed him tight, pulling him to safety on the wide stone surface. He found himself into the arms of a hooded figure; familiar lips smiled.

'Learning to fly, Adhar?'

Caradhar was led by his Shadow companion to an unknown hideout in the Ditch; similar to the spy's one, yet more spacious in every sense. Sül explained that it belonged to his master, and provided him with food and drink, although he jokingly refused to give him clothes.

'What for? The view's much better this way,' he said, snickering.

'What did your master pretend to do with my clothes, anyway?' asked the gifted, with his mouth full, wrapping himself up in the cloak to prevent the cold.

'He'll manage to make it look like you became a stiff. I wish we could have released you earlier but... Two days had already passed when we got news of you, and my neidokesh had to arrange everything bloody fast. I see those sons of bitches starved you...'

'Why did they arrest me? Was the Grand Alchemist who did it, in the end?'

'Yes and no. 'Someone' from Arestinias informed the palace of the foreign alchemist they had under their roof. The rest was obvious: it's just been known that diplomatic relations with a coalition of Northern human principalities have been buggered, Misselas among them. So Eitheladhar the apprentice has become a suspect of espionage, which is not without its funny side...'

'The relations..? But, why?' asked Caradhar, amazed.

''Cause of the most precious resource we have in these parts: the filthy hole of Ummankor. Let's drink a toast to the alchemists' sake, those damned fuckers.' He gave Caradhar a wink and handed him a glass of wine. 'There, indulge me and let me see you drunk, so that I can have my way with you...'

'We gifted don't get drunk.'

'My usual bloody luck...' sighed Sül, with a pretended dramatic voice.

'We may start a war and we are celebrating?' asked Caradhar, finishing his drink despite his own words.

'We'll deal with that problem when it's on top of us; now we must celebrate that you're done for good with Arestinias and don't have to go back.' He refilled his glass and sat on the bed, besides him. 'By the gods, if that isn't a reason for celebration, I don't know what else... '

'I think you're forgetting you have things to tell me. I haven't seen you in a long time...' Caradhar was starting to become impatient.

'You're entirely right. I'm euphoric on this day, so I'll tell you a nice story. I spend days elaborating it in my head, specially for you, so you better listen carefully.'

'Once upon a time, there was a Prince living in a big city, close to a valley full of revolting creatures, but which granted him and the humans from the near principality access to the most powerful alchemy ever known. Of course, the Northern principalities pretended to set their paws on their piece of the cake, and from the friendly words they moved to demands, and from there to threats, and... Well, you know the rest.'

'The Prince had no male successor, and knew war was a possibility, so he had to produce one; discreetly requested the Maedai to prepare their virile heirs to provide his charming daughter with a husband.'

'There was a House whose Maeda had no children, but did have a reputation for being a whore: she'd screwed a half of her House, a half of the Maedai of the other Houses, and almost surely the Prince himself. She'd been scared shitless for months, 'cause she was afraid of losing her position in the First Circle, and had decided to reinforce it in any possible way. At first she put her hopes in alchemy: somehow she got the chance to discover another House lab's best kept secret, so she'd no problem to bypass Argailias' human allies to get what she wanted.'

'Maybe in the beginning she had the intention to bribe the Prince with the discoveries of her lab. Who knows? But later, Lord Demeviall, one of the Maedai she'd been doing (who coincidentally had a marriageable son), knowing the relationship between the well-known tart and the Prince, offered her a deal: she'd convince His Highness about who was the most suitable young elf for his daughter, and in exchange, she'd guarantee her position celebrating a marriage with Demeviall; not desired at all, yet not inopportune either. The harlot's generous intentions (if they ever existed) about whatever was being cooked up in her lab, vanished: it'd be much more convenient subtly using it to convince the Prince than giving it away to him.'

'Argailias nobles are distrustful like feral cats, and the Maeda decided to write down the agreement, so that her dear fiancé wouldn't change his mind once he saw his son celebrating his engagement with the little princess. That was a double-edged weapon, in case the document ever saw the light... but the loose slut had one of the most slippery Darshi'nai working for her, and so her secrets were safe. Most probably she was shagging him as well, what the heck...'

'The slag's problem was that she had been stepping on too many toes those last days, so other Houses started to scheme ways of getting rid of her. And oh boy, someone decided her Darshi'nai's head shouldn't remain on top of his shoulders. After eighty-seven hours of hunt, the Darshi'nai, who couldn't or didn't want to bother to run away from the city, fell. Praiseworthy, keeping in mind what he was facing.'

'With her watchdog out of the game, finding the bitch's secrets was much easier: a certain document fell into the wrong hands (wrong from the Maeda's point of view, you know what I mean), and the last detail was picking a colour for the ribbon to decorate the interesting present, before delivering it to the Prince. Of course, in a discreet way: nobody would want to look like an interested party...'

'The only regrettable loss in the whole business was a poor alchemist apprentice, named Eitheladhar, dead in the prime of his life under unknown circumstances. Yes; I think it's time to say our goodbyes to him forever...'

Sül stood up, filled the washbasin with water and placed it, along with a bowl of soap, besides the younger elf. Untying his long mane, he put it into the water and rubbed it with soap to remove the black dye. None of them said a word during the process, as if the intimate gesture of washing his companion's hair was the most natural thing in the world; as if their closeness had reached the point in which uncomfortable silences no longer existed and words were not always necessary. When he finished, he dried his mane with a clean cloth and spread it, bright red again, over Caradhar's shoulders. He fought, but couldn't resist the temptation of sinking his nose into the ruby-coloured cascade, and along the skin of his nape; very slowly, he pulled the cloak wrapping the gifted down, stripped his back, and covered it with soft caresses of his lips and tongue. Getting rid of his own clothes down to his waist, he hugged the redhead from behind, as his hands danced along his sides, chest and stomach. Caradhar stretched his arm, grabbing the dark-haired head by the nape, and turning his own one to kiss those moist lips.

Later, once they were done, Sül sat (with difficulty) on the bed and started to get dressed.

'It's time: I need to join my neidokesh in Llia'res. I still don't have further instructions, so stay here; you'll be safe. I'll be back tonight and we'll continue the celebration; wait for me.'

The Shadow left the room, locking the door behind him. As for Caradhar, exhausted after the events of the last days, fell into a very deep slumber.

'Caradhar, wake up.'

Sül's voice brought the young elf back from the unconscious world. He opened his eyes and sat up on the bed; he had lost track of time and felt his body frozen, because he had slept naked and with wet hair. Under the weak candlelight, burning at the other end of the room, he could make out his hooded companion's figure, sitting besides the bed.

'What news do you bring from Llia'res?' asked the red-haired elf, getting up.

'Put something on, first: you're shivering. Not that I complain about the view, but...'

'Ah, you don't?' He went and stood in front of the spy, spreading the legs, and sat astride his lap, gently pulling off his hood as he leaned towards his lips. 'Or you can warm me up yourself.'

A fraction of a second before kissing him, he noticed something was wrong. But it was already too late to react: the Shadow easily sent him flying, making him crash into the opposite wall. The blow on the back left him momentarily breathless, and he couldn't stand in time before the hooded figure crossed the room with three powerful strides and picked him up by his neck, throwing him once more against another wall. This time he smacked his head, remaining stunned for some seconds; he was just conscious of a small stain of blood on the wall, right where his forehead had hit it. The figure in black lifted him again and pinned him down.

'Bad news: I'm not the one you were expecting, aren't I? Yes; bad news for me as well, so I personally came to inform you about them, along with my thanks.'

Caradhar's daze stopped; he focused on his captor's face and recognised Sül's master, smiling despite the anger oozed by his eyes. And yet, he would have sworn that voice...

'I know what you're thinking: don't suppose I'm one of the best just because I climb walls and pick locks. Not everybody has the talent to become a different person... Do you remember the day Lord Killien's heir was born, when the Chief Surgeon presented him the baby? A great job, if I may say so: I was the Chief Surgeon for three whole days; on the fourth, the real one suffered a dramatic accident, once keeping him alive was of no use any longer. But, of course, by then you had already left the House. Too bad: it would have been better if you had kept rotting among the humans...'

'Where's Sül?' asked the gifted, undaunted by the Shadow.

'My young lad has been found guilty of disobeying his superiors' direct orders, and his patron decided to cancel his blood contract. Within two days at best he'll be dead. Do you know the time I invested on him? I raised him since he was a squirt; I taught him everything... And what for?' The furious spy clenched his teeth and spit the words at the young elf's ear. 'For you to appear and turn him into a slut that spreads his legs for you. He may be better off dead, after all; I had lost track of the times he had disobeyed my orders to go buzzing around you. Although, who knows? I might have been weak; I might have forgiven him, because he's always been like a son to me, the only thing I would have never given up; but our patrons gave us a categorical order, and we have to pluck up courage, haven't we?'

Caradhar didn't answer. He tried to release himself from the arms that held him against the wall, but it was like struggling in steel shackles.

'And what are you, after all? continued the spy. 'You aren't any better than that Arestinias' tart; you'd go to bed with anyone. Tell me, did you sleep with her as well? Is that the reason why she has a soft spot for you?' As the young elf didn't answer, the Shadow smacked him across the face with so much strength that his lip got broken. 'Answer me!'

'Sleep with whom?' asked the gifted, staring at the other elf.

'You know perfectly who I mean: Dame Corail. Did you take her to a private place, in any of those occasions in which I was on a mission for her, and warmed her bed? Is that so?'

The young elf frowned and pursed his lips, grimacing. His captor misinterpreted his silence, because he angrily threw him into the air again, across the room.

'I was the only one to share her secrets, until she started to show interest in you.' This time he didn't care about holding the young elf, but stood in the same place, while Caradhar tried to get up. 'Imagine my surprise when I heard you were familiar with the story of our little Maede of Elore'il; I was the only one who ever knew she couldn't bear children... Dame Corail would have get rid of anyone who knew too much... Congratulations, boy: I don't know how you managed to survive. I can't kill you, and will have to learn to tolerate your existence, at least as long as she doesn't get tired of you... But don't expect me to make it easy: make a single false step and complying with the order of finishing you will be my biggest pleasure.'

The Shadow was ready to leave; Caradhar rushed towards him, trying to stop him, but ended on the floor once more. Still, he raised his head and insisted:

'Where is Sül? I want to talk to him; I want to talk to Dame Corail. Take me to her: I have to ask her to convince his patron not to cancel the contract...

'You don't have a clue, brat: you aren't seeing anyone. You'll stay here, locked up, until everything's over. And about Dame Corail,' the spy grimaced with cruelty, 'you should know it was her who gave the ultimate order to dispose of Sül.'

The elf left the refuge, locking it securely from outside. Caradhar felt his cheeks burning; stood up and charged at the door, trying to get it open by all means, but without success. He looked around; there were no windows, nor any other kind of opening. He didn't find any tools either; then he tried to find any trapdoor or mechanism that would reveal a secret compartment, as he had seen at Sül's refuge, but got no results. Lastly, he threw himself against the door again and again, with all his strength, until he injured his arm; as the bone returned, painfully, to its right position, he sat on the floor, flexing his legs, and sank his head between them.

He had lost the track of the past hours. The lamp was off, and he hadn't even tried to light it up again. And, in the middle of the silence, he heard a sound at the other side of the door, as if someone was trying to open it. Caradhar looked up and jumped like a spring; he tiptoed towards a side of the entrance, hoping he could catch the Shadow unaware and run away from his prison.

The door opened slowly. Nothing moved for some seconds; then, a body collapsed through it, falling flat on his face. The gifted watched it, surprised: his eyes, having grown used to the dark, made out a hooded silhouette. He quickly bent down: it was Sül.

'Sül! It's me, Caradhar!' He held the unconscious elf by his shoulders and tried to make him sit up. 'What happened? Tell me what can I do to help you...'

'Adhar?' finally asked the Shadow, opening his eyes. 'Lucky me... Don't think I could have... gone further. Sorry... give you this final show... But wanted to say goodbye... Water... Please...'

Caradhar felt around for the water jug, filled a cup and offered it to his companion, who finished it off eagerly; lighting the lamp, he filled the cup again for Sül, and again he emptied it. While he was taking the glass to his lips, the gifted could see that the spy's thumbs were at a bizarre angle; they were both broken and twisted, and the swollen flesh showed an unpleasant purplish tone.

'Much better... Water calms it a bit...' said Sül, trying to stand. Caradhar slid an arm along his side and carefully led him towards the bed, where he helped him to sit down.

'What did they do to your thumbs? he asked, gloomy.

'This? I did it myself... I had to get rid of the shackles somehow.' He smiled sadly. 'Imagine, a Darshi'nai without his thumbs... Fucking pathetic... But still I managed to get here... Maybe too easy...'

'Listen:' Caradhar held Sül by his cheeks and forced him to look at him. 'your master put me in the picture. How do you cancel a blood contract? What can we do to avoid that?'

'A blood contract... When a Darshi'nai swears loyalty to his patron, he drinks by his own will a toxic compound... that's periodically renewed. He receives then phials of... antidote, that neutralise the compound for some days at most... Great way of guaranteeing your fidelity, uh? But upon cancelling my contract... They doubled my dose of rat poison and took away my phials. Before... twenty-four hours it starts to be unbearable...' He doubled over with pain, as proof, moving his hands to his stomach.

'Let's go to Elore'il laboratory: I'll manage to use it and find an antidote...'

'How? Paying the Grand Alchemist with your rear? Forget it: I rather kick the bucket... Besides, you silly kid... I may serve House Llia'res but, who do you think... that has the last word?'

'Corail will have to listen to me, and she will...'

A violent cough attack made Sül convulse; his mouth and hands filled with bloody foam. Caradhar ran for more water and made him drink it; that seemed to calm him down a bit, enough to recover his voice.

'Adhar... It's no use... Each toxic's different and... even if you could create an antidote, I already betrayed... my patron's trust... They'd call Darshi'Kaiell over me... One way or another I'm dead and... rather be here...' Sül raised his blood-stained hand with difficulty and stroked the young red-haired elf's face, staring at him; then smiled again, barely arching his lips. 'Adhar... Please stay with me until...'

Caradhar returned the Shadow's intense gaze, with his usual expressionless face. Pursing his lips, he gently placed his hand over the spy's one, resting on his cheek.

'Sül, I need you to tell me this: the poison, do you notice if it attacks your stomach? Is it burning, as if it were full of acid? And the other times, when you drank the antidote, was the heartburn calmed?'

'Yes...' the weakened elf looked at his companion, his eyes reflecting suffering despite his smile. 'You'll be a... damn alchemist 'till the end, uh? You're... you're heartless...'

Caradhar thought fast, and prepared to do something for which he had never received any training. In most of the cases, the Gift was useless against poisons, because it required direct application of blood on the affected areas, and this only remained active outside the gifted's body for some short seconds. Many toxins started to act once they had abandoned the stomach and had spread through the affected person's blood; but that one, as he suspected, remained there and released acid substances, or attacked the walls of that organ and made its own acids to corrode it from the inside. Due as much to his gifted quality as to his alchemist training, Caradhar possessed knowledge of anatomy; he knew his blood, taken orally, would never arrive active to the affected area: it needed to be directly applied.

'I need a thin tube; tell me if there's something I can use among your equipment.'

Sül nodded vaguely; he had been deprived of most of his stuff, but still kept some things. Fishing among them, the redhead found a glass tube; he emptied it, rinsed it with clear water and cut it so that both ends were open. He made his companion to lie down and uncovered his torso.

'This is going to hurt,' he said, taking a knife as well. 'I'll make it last as little as possible.'

Caradhar found the Shadow's stomach area, made a deep incision and quickly plunged the glass tube into it, until it reached the inside of the organ. Immediately part of its contents overflowed through the newly open canal; the gifted waited for some moments, while his patient groaned in pain, fighting not to lose consciousness. Then he cut his wrist open and poured a generous amount of blood into it, to flood the cavity at the other end. Once he considered it was enough, he removed the tube and closed the wound.

Because he didn't know to what extent the corrosion had spread, he repeated the operation in an upper point of the digestive tract and, finally, he gave Sül the red liquid to drink. The Shadow, barely awake, lost consciousness in the end. Caradhar put his ear to the spy's heart and checked, relieved, that it was beating; weak, but regular.

Later he held the wounded elf's hands, cut the parts around the thumbs and treated the injuries with more blood, healing them from inside out. Not even that was enough to make Sül wake up.

Momentarily weakened by the loss of fluids, the gifted sat besides his sleeping patient, keeping vigil. He could only wait.

 

     Previous chapter                                                                                                             Next chapter