THE CHAINED GIFT XXI: When temptation is too strong

Darial was starting another working day with the Misselan prisoner in the laboratory of Elore'il. After weeks of fruitless attempts to find a substance that proved to be effective on the elf, his mood has changed from the rage of the first sessions to a state of curious acceptation and comfortable dailiness.

It was difficult to get angry with such an exemplary prisoner: polite, correct and pacific. He seemed to appreciate the Grand Alchemist's changes of mood and never said anything that could go against him. He was intelligent and cultured and never lost his composure, even under the effects of specially potent drugs. As he didn't possess the Gift, Darial couldn't understand that surprising endurance. But his only option until further notice was to persevere; the prestige of Elore'il and his laboratory was at stake and that pushed him to continue. Yet deep down inside he was convinced that drugs wouldn't work, unless the Misselan decided to talk on his own initiative.

Initially Darial used to take his assistant or another alchemist with him so that they helped him with the tasks of calculating the dose or monitoring the time. But since he noticed that the elf was even less talkative in the presence of other people, he decided to take care of everything on his own. Besides, the conversations were relaxing for him; it was a paradox, but his supposed enemy treated him more friendly than any other member of the House.

'You are awfully quiet today, sir,' observed the prisoner.

'Mmm? Oh, I have a lot in my mind' But that wasn't completely true; only one thing was really upsetting him.

'Of course, nobody would consider offering news to a spy about certain matters but, is war what worries you, by any chance?'

'Mmm...' absently mumbled Darial,

'Yours is a difficult position, with a great burden of responsibility. The laboratory of this House is reputed to be one of the best of all the principalities. I must confess I am flattered since the Grand Alchemist of Elore'il is taking care of someone like me. Yet I can't help but feel surprised... Right, I don't wish to offend you, but I don't think you receive the treatment that someone with your position and skills deserves.'

The blond elf's eyes turned into two suspicious slots under his knit eyebrows. The gaze that pierced the Misselan was anything but kind.

'Are you trying to compliment me or insult me? Besides, since when is that your business?'

'Let's suppose... And to make things clear, this is only a harmless supposition; let's suppose you are an agent from another principality. And still remaining in the field of hypothesis, let's consider you watched many prominent characters, humans and also elves, for a long time; and of all of them there is one you got to admire, whose abilities you wouldn't hesitate to recruit for your cause, no matter the price nor the conditions...'

'Sadly, and this is the most delicate question of my supposition, this character in question is loyal to his people, and his behaviour never made him stray from the path of righteousness. Ah, but you, the agent, can't give up your purpose, and must try every mean at your disposal. Tell me,' the prisoner's voice became very soft, 'if you really were that agent, how would you try to make your target side with you?'

Darial tilted his head with deep distrust.

'So you confess you're a spy?' he asked finally.

'Please... I just undertook an exercise of speculations.'

'Are you trying to make fun of me?' Darial started to lose his patience.

'You know I'm not; and I hope I proved, through all these days, my deep respect towards you. I'm not joking.'

'Neither am I; and at this stage, let me inform you that the time of potions may be gone and it's convenient to use another kind of methods. More forceful and less civilised methods.'

The prisoner sighed and looked at his jailer gravely.

'I trust your judgement, and I know that you won't ignore my words without a minute of consideration, at least. I beg of you a simple answer: do you think a possibility of dialogue with that agent would be possible? A small possibility?'

'You said yourself that... character in question was loyal to his people, didn't you?' asked Darial after a long, awkward silence.

'Otherwise his qualities would look diminished.'

'Then there you are, your answer.' The alchemist stood up, with a harsh look. 'I'll be back tomorrow. I might be back with company: iron had always been a convincing interrogator.'

As he was leaving, the prisoner didn't take his eyes off him. They were serene, imperturbable, impossible to read; certainly not an unsatisfied person's kind of look.

***

'Good evening, Caradhar. It's been... a while since the last time you watched over me. I missed you.'

In the Maede's chambers, the young elf greeted the gifted with a shy, hopeful smile. He was alone, for a change, as his lady-in-waiting wasn't there to receive the gifted on duty. The newcomer squinted.

'I don't think this is a good idea, My L...'

'If you ever call me that again in private I swear I'll...' The young elf covered his face with his palm and sighed. 'Please, I beg you... I just want things to be the way they were before. I won't do anything unappropriated; I won't say anything I shouldn't; I just wish... that at least when we are alone you call me Navhares. I know you always addressed Mother as Corail. I won't ask for more. Please...?'

There was such plea in his eyes that Caradhar walked towards his bed and started to remove his boots, without saying a word. The Maede jumped inside his own one, like a kid that got the promise of a tale before sleep. Resting his cheek on his hand he watched, as a show, his companion while he prepared to sleep. When the gifted released his tresses down his back, he had to avert his eyes, because the temptation of stroking them was too strong... Then he lay on his back, desperately trying to distract his mind with something else.

'Mother told me some things about the Misselan prisoner. Isn't it unbelievable that he's immune to potions? Even the... Do you think he was the one who killed... Lord Killien?'

Caradhar didn't answer: what could he say? He also lay on the bed, his back slightly turned to his companion. Weeks has passed since the last time he had been there, and he was experiencing a certain discomfort. Besides, he had got used to Sül's arms, surrounding his sides every night, the contact of that chest against his back, the warmth of his breath; and those mornings when the Shadow would hold on in bed with him, upon opening his eyes he would feel his lips nibbling on his neck, and the familiar bulge of his morning wood, pressing against his buttocks...

Better not to keep thinking about it, before his own groin reacted... He turned to his bedroom partner who, gaze fixed on the ceiling, kept talking about the details confided to him by Dame Corail. The Maede was a fine-looking elf indeed. In other circumstances, Caradhar would have been more than happy to join him in bed and take good care of stopping him from talking at all; but in his eyes, trained to see beyond the effects of alchemy, the young elf was still that boy he had shared room with in Therendanar. Would he still have scruples in twenty, thirty years? Did that really matter?

Navhares' intense gaze, and his fingers gently fiddling with his locks, brought him back to reality.

'The princess is giving birth very soon. I'm going to be a father too. Isn't that strange?'

'...I guess so.'

'I'll have to go back to the palace. Will you come with me, even if just for a while? You can... you can bring your bodyguard with you, if you want...'

Now it was Caradhar's turn to look at the ceiling.

'As long as you don't force me to share your room when you're with your wife.'

'No! I won't... I won't do that anymore. I couldn't...'

'Why the change?'

'Because of the same reason I wouldn't be able to look when... when you and Sül are together: it hurts too much.'

***

Sül had woken up at dawn, and as he knew Caradhar would be keeping the Maede's company, he had taken advantage to do some training. Seelvyan had pulled his leg about his irregular habits, saying he would grow the belly of a human merchant soon if he didn't look after himself. He was grateful since the elf hadn't taken his rejection to heart. Truth be told, he kept glaring at him in a perverted way, claiming that since he couldn't sink his teeth into the food they served at the nobles' table, there was nothing wrong with having a good look.

Once he had finished, the Shadow had allowed himself to use the gifted's private bathroom, as usual. Wrapping a white linen cloth around his waist, he had approached the table where he had left his gear; a little wooden box with several phials rested besides the rest of his belongings. Thoughtful, he had taken one out, and was watching it before opening it. Then he had smiled, because he could hear the sound of steps entering the room; steps he could recognise anywhere.

'Good morning,' greeted Sül, turning his face to the entrance of the bathroom and emptying the phial down his throat. Caradhar stared at him, leaning on the jamb. 'I hope you slept soundly; in fact, I hope you didn't do anything else...'

The gifted didn't answer. He walked towards his companion and reached for the wooden box, taking one of the phials and examining it with slight disgust.

'A new provision of antidotes?'

'Uh-huh.'

'It's been days since the last time you left the House. How do you get them?'

'... I wish I could tell you how those things work, but it isn't allowed.' He smiled apologetically. 'I'm not risking your neck by making you know too much...'

The redhead's expression didn't change; however his voice became a tiny bit deeper.

'I don't like to know there are things I ignore about you. Of all the people, you're the only one that can't keep secrets, Sül.' Caradhar's hands surrounded the dark haired elf's waist and loosened the cloth covering it, letting it slip down to the floor. The Shadow felt his cheeks burning, even more with the pleasure those words caused him than with excitement; he had never told him such a thing.

'You knew I was a Darshi'nai; that's the only thing... Ah...' Those hands devoted themselves to wake up the young elf's asleep sex. His body, still wet after the bath, reacted searching for the heat of the one holding his back. 'The only thing... not within my power to give you... All the rest is... Gods... Not so fast... I'm...'

'I slept alone,' continued the younger elf, softly, while his hands pressed the stiff member up and down and stroked the sensible skin around it, 'and the person that should have slept with me is keeping secrets. I'm doubly frustrated, Sül.' The Shadow panted when his index finger slipped along the moist crack, exposing the opening that kept oozing that crystalline liquor. 'And I need to hear you screaming. Do you remember our first day in the new refuge?' His lips came even closer to the Shadow's ear, who swallowed. 'That's what I want.'

'No... Not here... Please... Wait... Oh, fuck... Let's go to the refu...'

'I can't wait.'

Sül couldn't remember very clearly how he made it to the bed; he simply found himself lying on his back, and upon looking down he had a vivid sight of Caradhar's lips spreading both halves of the blushed flesh that crowned his sex, and his tongue sinking inside the slippery hole. The sight didn't last long, as soon all that hard flesh disappeared into his mouth, down to the base. at the Shadow gasped, and much to his regret, his hips started to trust unconsciously inside the warm, wet cavern. He reached without much conviction, trying to move the red-haired devil that so quickly was pushing him to the extreme away, but it was too late: his pleasure gushed inside those narrow walls.

While his member still quivered, the echo of his orgasm resounding along its length and from head to toes of his stiff body, the gifted's mouth released its prey with a slight pop. Sül felt, in a matter of seconds, his partner's long fingers venturing inside the closed passage that awaited in the opposite side to the one he had been paying attention to. The Shadow's body lacked of the gifted's resilience; such a sudden invasion in search of his sweet spot, when the pleasure of his climax hadn't abandoned him yet, would have been as torturing for him as for any male... except that it wasn't at all.

An enervating tingle spread from his tight inner walls to the base of his shaft, that didn't have the chance to lose its stiffness, and along his groin, stomach and chest. It flowed into his throat, that released a cry, muffled by the lips he was trying to keep closed. The tingle didn't stop waving, as if those magic fingers were casting a spell. Sül's hands writhed almost in pain, scratching the sheets...

The magic fingers withdrew, but not the spell. Caradhar pulled Sül's wrists hard and forced him to sit up and straddle him. His ram penetrated in one go, carving its shape inside his lover with a single, well-aimed blow. The Shadow moaned louder. His mind wanted to shout pain, but his body craved for more... The gifted's hands gripped his hips and guided him up and down at full speed, to make the brush of his crown against his secret spot continuous and intoxicating. They only moved away for a little moment, to make his lover part his lips and give a voice to his ecstasy.

The dark-haired young elf arched his back and leant on his mount's thighs to get up speed in his frenzied ride. His moist skin, his wet hair stuck to his face, his shiny muscles convulsed with pleasure, the screams escaping from his wide open mouth... It was a show too exciting not to affect his partner, who noticed his own climax near. He clenched his teeth and slipped his middle finger, oozing more of that crimson elixir, inside his companion's already full channel...

Sül's invocation to the gods, as he bathed the redhead for the second time with his essence, far crossed the barrier of blasphemy.

'Don't lie on top of me... You're hardly a lightweight.'

'Ah... It's your own fault for being... such a bastard...'

'I'm a bastard; that is a fact.'

'Not that kind... of bastard...'

Sül snuggled up against the gifted's body, on top of which he had collapsed, panting, after his extreme session of intimacy. If Caradhar expected him to move aside he would have to push him himself... His eyes wandered across the surface of the mattress at their feet, and peeped at some dark red drops here and there; at one side there was the knife used by his companion to let his blessed blood flow, the blood that had given him... Gods, as if he had words to describe such sensation...

'Lucky me I knew what I was getting into... after the other time in the Ditch... Where the blazes... did you learn to do that?'

Caradhar thought of Navhares's pleased expression every time he tasted his blood. And yet it was nothing compared to what he had just seen. His hand dived gently into the Shadow's black hair.

'If I told you, you wouldn't believe me.' Sül looked up at him. Under his knit eyebrows the shadow of a suspicion shone. 'It isn't what you're thinking: I didn't go to bed with anyone to test it.'

The Shadow's brow relaxed, but the hand stroking his hair also moved away. The young elf buried his face in his neck.

'Would you get mad if I tell you... that even if it's amazing... I prefer normal sex? Don't get me wrong! I'm crazy about everything you do to me, and by the gods that I want you to continue, but... I like to keep a tad of sense to enjoy your face when you come.' As the gifted didn't answer, Sül cuddled up to him even more and added: 'Are you really annoyed? About me not being able to share what Darshi'nai is, I mean...'

Caradhar remained silent for a while before he said:

'You know everything about me.'

'If only my bollocks were at stake I wouldn't hesitate to...'

The gifted interrupted him with a look, pressing his lips with his fingertips and stopping them.

'Of all the people I've known you're the only one left that can disappoint me. I'll accept there's a part of you that's out of my reach; but I couldn't accept that you disappointed me. Not you.'

'I would never dis...'

'Besides,' the redhead interrupted him again with a hint of a smile, playing with his lips, 'I found a good way to make you pay every time I'm not satisfied with your explanations: you will sing for me. I'm fascinated by that expression of yours when you move, screaming, on my lap.'

The smile displayed by Sül was wide and lewd instead. He rubbed his naked body against his lover's, trapped under him, and asked with a suggestive voice:

'And you... when will you let me have you on top of me? 'Cause I get a hard-on just imagining you riding me...'

Caradhar stopped smiling and turned his head. Sül bit his tongue. Releasing the gifted, he allowed him to roll onto his side and hugged his back, whispering in his ear:

'Forgive me: I won't insist anymore. As if you needed to do something special to give me a hard-on...'

He delicately kissed the neck under his lips and slid the palm of his hand along his chest, down to Caradhar's smooth stomach, following the outlines of his muscles. The hand came to a halt right under his waist but pressed more firmly, making his embrace more intense. Sül's beating speeded up.

'Can I...?'

The redhead experienced another more intimate type of pressure against his rear entrance.

'Yes...'

Darial had escaped from his duties that day, because he could no longer resist the impulse to go to meet him. He wished to see him close up, to touch that perfect skin again. He wished... He was drowning so much in desire that he couldn't concentrate anymore. He would give him another chance to explain himself; if he accepted to come back to him, he'd even forgive him for what he had done.

The way to Caradhar's room seemed to be clear for once. He was defying the Maede's orders, but couldn't care less: how could one take that brat seriously? Besides, Dame Corail hadn't even mentioned the subject. He was sure it didn't mean anything to her, and she was still the one in charge, wasn't she? He wasn't breaking any order worth of consideration. Everything was fine, no doubt.

The same door he had spy on previous occasions appeared in front of his eyes. He had to be inside; soon his hands would rest on...

He stopped to breath deeply, since he didn't want to be seen so agitated. After all, he was willing to have a civilised conversation. His approach so far had been simply wrong: the gifted was an adult already, submitting without further explanations had to be difficult for him. They'd talk; he'd prove him that he was his best option; that he wasn't a temporary fancy; that he'd always treasure him; that he...

But if everything else failed... Darial looked down at his had rummaging through the folds of his robe: it held a phial full with golden liquid.

And then he heard them. It would have been impossible not to for anyone walking along that corridor. Those screams came from inside the room, the unmistakeable sound of a couple engaged in bed in the most brutal, passionate way. The alchemist froze. The knuckles squeezing the phial turned white with the tension...

How was that possible? The times he had been under him, the gifted had barely said a word. Darial had never been able to get a pinch of passion out of him. And there, right in that moment, and surely with that bodyguard of the worst class... How dare he to allow someone else to touch him? How dare he to do that to him?

The phial shattered under his hand's pressure. The blond elf was just vaguely aware of the dampness spreading along his skin. When he looked down he saw the palm of his hand, with the yellow liquid mixed with his blood dripping from it, and the fragments of glass piercing his flesh... It was like something alien to him.

'Darial.'

The alchemist turned around. His eyes crossed the Maede's: those two dark wine coloured orbs stared at him with anger...

Lord Navhares had chosen that same moment to escape from his escorts and come to the room. He was hearing the screams as well and had understood their meaning. As if those hadn't been enough to make him get a tight knot in his stomach, finding that tall and slim figure standing in front of the door had been the last straw. Approaching the more mature elf he pushed him and pinned him against the wall by his shoulders. The alchemist was unable to resist.

'Grand Alchemist, I told you not to go anywhere near my gifted.' The Maede had to control himself to make his words intelligible. 'I've been inquiring, because I was curious about the kind of relationship you had with him. They told me that at House Llia'res, you... when he was just a kid...' Navhares pressed harder and the alchemist stifled a groan. 'It's so revolting that the thought alone makes my stomach turn... If I ever see you around him... If I ever find out you do as much as calling his name...'

'I'm the Maede of this House and the Prince's son-in-law. Do you think you can dare to defy me? Try again: I'll have your head delivered to me.'

The young elf released his prey. Darial couldn't react immediately; he stood there looking at the boy, who finally spit a 'Get out!' that of course was instantly obeyed.

Then he stayed in the corridor, reluctant to leave as well. He didn't want to hear what was happening at the other side of the door, but at the same time it was impossible for him to command his feet to start walking. Was that masochism? Maybe; the Maede didn't even know that word. He only knew one thing: that was the sound of Caradhar sharing with someone else what he desired but couldn't have. He noticed something stirring under his waist.

Navhares clenched his fists; he hated himself; he felt the urge to cry.

His feet reacted in the end and took him out of there in a rush.

***

'May I dare to ask what's that commotion one can feel in the air?' asked the Misselan prisoner when Darial entered, after several days of absence. 'Even while I am locked up here I realise everybody is gossiping. I can't help but feel curiosity.'

Darial remained silent, as if he hadn't understood the question. Then he lifted his head and vaguely said:

'The princess has just given birth to a son. Since the succession has been secured, the Prince departed North. The northern armies are stationed along the border and they captured the cities of Aiksenn and Varemethe. Therendanar and Argailias will try to retake them before they can make their way further South.'

The prisoner didn't move a muscle. It was the first information on the outside world that he received since his capture in the neighbouring principality, and Darial had offered it as if nothing happened. He looked at the alchemist carefully.

'What's your opinion about all this, sir? What do you expect to happen?'

The blond elf seemed to be completely lost in his thoughts.

'And you?' he finally asked, his face showing an expression that the Misselan had never seen before. 'You tell me: what's your people's major asset to win? What gave them the confidence to embark on this war?'

Both held each other's gazes for a time that would have been uncomfortable for anyone. After spending months holding his breath, the prisoner finally breathed again. The path was ready: the time to obtain results had arrived.

'For too long Therendanar and Argailias have held supremacy in the alchemical field, mainly due to their proximity to Ummankor.. They created a great tradition, but now they are stagnated. Hey merely produce the same formulas again and again to secure their continuity in power, but they don't dare to take risks and innovate. They don't want to share their dominance over the valley, even knowing the benefits that the new ideas could bring to the progress of science. You must be aware; you must know that feeling of frustration when everything that is expected from you is doing the same job, day after day, without acknowledgement. Without anything to feel proud about. That kind of mentality doesn't deserve to possess the only known access to the greatest source of alchemical raw matter that exists in our days.'

'Do you want to know what's my people major asset to win? I will tell you, Darial: me. I am a sample of what northern laboratories can do. And with access to the secrets of Ummankor and capable alchemists, artisans that are more than a cane for the noble elves to lean on and keep their dusty traditions and undeserved privileges... can you imagine what we could achieve?'

The Misselan shut up. He knew perfectly what was happening inside the alchemist's head. He simply had to give him some time to meditate.

'Do you remember,' asked Darial with a cold, determined voice, 'that agent you told me about? The one interested in recruiting a certain... character?' The prisoner nodded softly. 'If you don't mind, now I'd like to join the game; you know, the game of suppositions.'

'Let's suppose this character decides to consider the agent's offer. If he asked him for a guarantee of his word and a proof that his safety and privileges are going to be respected, what do you think that agent would answer?'

'I am sure he's an elf of his word. And with regard to this character's safety,' he said calmly, 'I believe he is more than able to procure his own... considering all the alchemical formulas he masters and can use without any setbacks.'

'Yes, but... if that agent proved to possess some... special abilities that make him immune to those formulas and decides to turn against the other one, there is no way of being completely sure, isn't there?'

Darial's look pierced the elf. He knew very well what his answer to the previous question was going to be; he wondered though how he would react to this one. The prisoner stared back calmly.

'That agent would be stupid if he ever considered to put at risk the elf whose collaboration he has been chasing for months, don't you think?'

'Maybe his only aim was to find the means to leave his prison.'

The elf's answer was freeing himself from his chains in front of Darial's astonished eyes. He quickly raised his hands as a gesture of goodwill.

'If I had wanted to harm you, I would have done it already. And you can be sure I would have been able to leave any moment I wanted. But Darial, that wouldn't have been of any use to me; not without your abilities. Not without you.'

The alchemist swallowed hard. He looked around, scared of the possibility of being observed...

'I will need...' he finally said, licking his dry lips, 'I will need you to tell me your plan to get out of here down to the smallest detail... I want to know it all! Besides, I have a condition: there's... something I wish to take with me.'

***

It was a very unusual night. Caradhar and Sül were spending it peacefully with Dame Corail and Lord Navhares. The news of the heir's birth had been received with great satisfaction indeed, but also tarnished with the Prince's departure. The Maede had paid his formal visit to his wife and son, and now he had to leave for the palace again and stay there for a long period of time. Caradhar would go with him, along with Sül.

The meeting was slightly tense. Sül couldn't help but feel uncomfortable in the presence of the Maedai. Besides, there was that strange sensation, that uneasiness he had been experiencing the whole night. He glanced at the door. Nothing. And yet...

The door swung open. A couple of armed figures that nobody had expected to find there crossed it: Darial... and the prisoner from Misselas.

The occupants of the room froze, except Sül, who reached for his belt. But his hands stopped obeying him when the alchemist gave the order 'Stand still and silent!'

Everyone there was aware of what happened when several user of the commanding voice met in the same place: they couldn't give each other orders, but couldn't attack each other either. Darial had dared to consume the potion and release the prisoner: a prisoner that had proved to be partially immune to its effects...

'How you dare...?' furiously asked the Maeda, glaring at the alchemist.

'Save yourself the talk, Dame Corail. I'm not staying in a House that calls a spoiled brat Maede. But I don't have time for chatting, I just came for one thing: Caradhar, come here.'

'No!' shouted Lord Navhares. 'Caradhar... don't move...'

'Caradhar, come here or I myself will pierce your dear bodyguard's throat. The gods know all too well how much I would enjoy that. Here... now!'

'No... Don't do it...' insisted the Maede, turning pale.

The Misselan cast a nervous glance at the door and whispered something to his companion. Darial seemed to ignore it and called the gifted once more.

'Right now or...'

Caradhar gave Sül a look that pretended to be reassuring. Then he turned his face to his mother and nodded almost imperceptibly while he walked towards the Grand Alchemist. The Maeda held her heir, who was about to complain; as for the anxious Sül, his powerless eyes followed his companion while he crossed the room in the direction of the exit, unable to do anything to avoid it...

When he arrived within Darial's reach, the alchemist grabbed his wrist and aimed his dagger at his neck.

'Now... As much as I appreciate this head, I'm afraid I won't hesitate to separate it from his body if we don't have a clear way to leave the House...'

The three elves left the room. Sül needed time to react, but once he could, he drew his weapons and rushed towards the door clenching his jaw.

'Stop!' commanded the Maeda. 'You heard him; and he possesses the commanding voice. What do you think you can do?'

'Mother... are we going to sit and do nothing?' asked Navhared, enraged. Corail ignored him.

'Sül, you know him. I'll send every Darshi'nai I can recruit after them; this is way too serious. But for now, we have to wait. Trust him.'

Sül was desperate. He couldn't move, he couldn't go after Caradhar, he couldn't think clearly... He just wanted to shout.

***

'Dainhaya, I have to go after them. Now. I don't care if you think the time hasn't come. I should have paid more attention to that Misselan guy. May the gods confound me... and confound themselves!'

Ulmeh gasped at the blasphemy. Dainhaya just sighed.

'I'm afraid we have no option. But tell me, Vira, how will you combat an alchemist with that potion, and his powerful ally?'

'We'll think of something. We have the boy by our side, right?'

'That's true.' She sighed again. 'He awaits for a chance against him, but I am scared. What if they hurt him?'

'He's smart. And that alchemist is a lustful dog. They took him out of the House at great risk instead of running away in the middle of the night; obviously he won't harm him unless he has no other option. I'm not waiting any longer, I'm leaving.'

Vira walked away without further ado. As for Dainhaya she closed her eyes and shook her head. She begged the gods to protect her people, but also raised a silent grateful prayer to thank them. That could be the best chance they could ever have to make contact.

***

Sül was trying to stay calm, although he was going crazy. He had decided not to wait for the rest of the Darshi'nai and start the search on his own, even if he knew the task far exceed his capacities. But he couldn't simply wait and do nothing. Damn Corail! How could she keep her nerve while they were taking her own son away? How could she risk his neck that way? If she had intervened... If they could have bought some time...

One thing was certain: if that guy was a northern spy, no doubt his logical course of action would be trying to get to one of the occupied cities. Varemethe seemed his most promising option, given its proximity. But how did they pretend to slip past the patrols along the roads? Did they have allies, or acted alone? Did they have a plan, or were they improvising?

He had almost reached the city walls and dawn wasn't far away. And suddenly, a slight sound caught his attention, as if someone was following him. He unsheathed and quickly turned around but didn't see anyone. Then he continued, more cautiously; and again that unmistakable sound...

'Who the fuck is there?' he asked in anger. 'I've got no time and no desire for little games... Get out, if you have the balls!'

Silence. The Shadow waited while looking around, but all was calm.

Before he crossed the wall he found a very neatly folded paper on the floor. Grimacing, he searched his surroundings thoroughly one more time. Then he bent down and picked the note. The letters were strange, but the following sentence could be read;

'Road to Therendanar; use paths along the right edge; avoid patrols until further notice.'

And below the unknown hand had written hastily:

'And take my word for it, I do have the balls.'

 

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