[page back]
“Still.” Faunos sat down by the hearth, and hugged his arms about himself. “There were no soldiers, Galen. I looked for them, the moment I arrived. I saw only the gypsies, and they made me welcome. I didn’t drink anything. My head was clear, I had my wits about me, I swear it.”
“Have I called you a liar?” Galen asked with rough, disapproving humor.
Faunos closed his eyes. “No. And you’ve no need to call me a halfwit – I’ve done that already! If it were possible for a man to kick his own rump, mine would be black and blue! It was … not the most intelligent thing I’ve ever done.”
“Yet, you are at liberty this morning,” Galen observed. “The danger can’t have been so bad.”
“It was.” Faunos actually shivered. The sore throb from his buttocks was a sharp reminder of the needless hazard. He waited for Galen to speak, but for a long time the old teacher was silent, waiting for him to make the confession. The words were too hard to find. Faunos had helped himself to a cup of broth and shuffled his feet closer to the fire when Galen said,
“Do you want to talk about it?” He looked so tired, sounded so tired.
“No,” Faunos said slowly, thoughtfully, “but I have to.” He looked away. “You didn’t tell me how impossible it would be to control, still. I thought I could …” He swallowed the admission and whispered, “You should have told me.”
“Should I?” The old man sat down beside him, caught Faunos’s left hand and held it between both of his own. His skin was hot and dry, but Faunos was still cold and welcomed the feverish heat. “Would you have listened to me?” Galen wondered.
“Perhaps.” Faunos’s eyes misted with tears, but he blinked them away now. “Perhaps not. I only know what I wanted … thought I wanted.”
“And now?” Galen prompted. “Was it what you wanted, after all?”
“It was …” Faunos hunted for elusive words. “Wonderful, and strange, and then … I couldn’t control the Power. Couldn’t stop it happening, and I almost … he almost knew, Galen.”
“Hush, now.” Galen set one arm across his shoulders. “I know what you’re trying to describe. It’s always been this way for the men of your heritage. The burden on your shoulders has been carried by many before you, even by Diomedas himself. You think what you’re feeling hasn’t been called the Curse of Diomedas?”
Faunos turned dark, haunted eyes on him. “Is there no way to control it? It got away from me, ran like a wild horse. Gods, what a fool I was. He might have seen, known.” He squeezed shut his eyes. “I was with him. Soranchele Izamal-xiu Ulkan.”
He felt the start race through Galen, as if he had physically lashed out, struck him. The old man took a long, harsh breath and coughed, holding his ribs as if they pained him. At last he said softly, “What in Hados was he doing with the water gypsies?”
“Celebrating.” Faunos held his hands to the fire. “Celebrating the night of his coming of age by gathering another trophy. Me. You know what I gave him.”
“Your most precious gift.” Galen stroked the hair back from Fauno’s brow. “Your virginity. And I believe he took it gently … you’re unhurt this morning, merely miserable. Also lucky -- and much wiser than you were last evening.”
“Much wiser.” Faunos worked his neck around to ease the stiffness of cramped muscles. “The thrill of the hunt blinded his eyes, but I did betray myself to him, Galen, to the witchfinder. He just didn't see.”
“And so here you are, innocent and free.” Galen stroked his hair again. “Some angel sat beside you and clouded Soranchele’s senses, covered his eyes and ears, bade him be gentle when he could have ridden you hard indeed, and left catastrophe in his wake.” He leaned over and kissed Faunos’s temple. “Well, the lesson was valuable and you possess the brains to learn from it. It was a lesson I could never teach. I’m not at all sure if you’ve been an idiot or not, because this lesson had to be learned one way or another! But you won’t go back to the gypsy camp any time soon, will you?”
“Never,” Faunos said hoarsely. “Not here, not within a thousand leagues of Vayal. There’s nothing for me here, Galen. We came back to Zeheft for want of somewhere to go, and now?” He stood, hugging himself in the fragile early morning light. The new sun streamed through breaks in the slats in the east wall. “It’s dangerous to stay here. The sooner we’re gone, the better.”
“But, where?” Galen followed him to his feet and tried the goatskins for water. There was enough to fill the copper kettle, and he set it to heat. “Will it be the Keltoi shore, and we’ll take our chances among the savages? Or Jaymaca, and we’ll run the gauntlet of the people of the Jaguar in stranger lands than I’ve ever known.”
The sunlight was white gold, without heat, but by noon it would be a different story. Faunos was thinking of the ruins of Zeheft, where so many lay dead. “I don’t know. So long as we leave, I’ll be happy. It doesn’t matter where.”
For a moment Galen studied him mutely, and then set aside his observations unspoken. “Then we’ll wait for the first ship heading out of the Empire,” he said thoughtfully, leaning against the wall as if he were too tired to stand up straight. He coughed again, holding both arms tight to his ribcage. His voice was hoarse; a sweat sprang out on his brow. “You must fetch the books out of that damned cave today, and when I’m recovered a little, when I can breathe without coughing the lungs out of my chest, I’ll go down to the wharves, see what ships are headed where. You realize we have little money. Passage will be paid for in work.”
Faunos answered only with a nod. “You’re sick, Galen. Don’t think I’m so miserable that I can’t see it – and I still say you should have a physician.”
“Pish posh,” Galen said succinctly. “Leave me be. I’ll be fine.”
“If you’re sure.” For the moment Faunos was too tired, too dispirited, to argue. He dropped his cloak and wrap on their bags and stepped out of the cottage. The rain barrel was full, and the bronze pail beside it leaked only a little. He gasped at the cold as he tipped a bucketful over his head to sluice the smell and salt of the sea from his skin.
And then he faced the rising sun, spread wide his arms and spoke silently to Helios. He could dream, at least. He had been a lover for one night, and it would be enough. It would have to be. He would dream of firelight and music, the spices of the drowned lands, silks strewn on a divan, and a beautiful young man who touched him with tender hands.
“Helios,” he whispered as the sun dazzled him, “I call myself a freeman, but I’m not. I lied to the witchfinder, the same way I lie to myself. I’m as much a bondsman as the slave laboring in the fields above Vayal. My body and soul are owned by the ghosts of my fathers, even by Diomedas himself.” He took a deep breath. “Helios, set me free. Take the Power from me. Strip it from me, the way anything maiden was stripped from me last night. Take it, for I don’t want it, I’ve never wanted it! Take the gift, leave me a common man, free to live, and find love somewhere, with someone who’ll have me as I am.”
But Helios ignored him now as always, and at last Faunos made the sign of the god before his forehead, and stepped back into the house to help Galen.
“Have I called you a liar?” Galen asked with rough, disapproving humor.
Faunos closed his eyes. “No. And you’ve no need to call me a halfwit – I’ve done that already! If it were possible for a man to kick his own rump, mine would be black and blue! It was … not the most intelligent thing I’ve ever done.”
“Yet, you are at liberty this morning,” Galen observed. “The danger can’t have been so bad.”
“It was.” Faunos actually shivered. The sore throb from his buttocks was a sharp reminder of the needless hazard. He waited for Galen to speak, but for a long time the old teacher was silent, waiting for him to make the confession. The words were too hard to find. Faunos had helped himself to a cup of broth and shuffled his feet closer to the fire when Galen said,
“Do you want to talk about it?” He looked so tired, sounded so tired.
“No,” Faunos said slowly, thoughtfully, “but I have to.” He looked away. “You didn’t tell me how impossible it would be to control, still. I thought I could …” He swallowed the admission and whispered, “You should have told me.”
“Should I?” The old man sat down beside him, caught Faunos’s left hand and held it between both of his own. His skin was hot and dry, but Faunos was still cold and welcomed the feverish heat. “Would you have listened to me?” Galen wondered.
“Perhaps.” Faunos’s eyes misted with tears, but he blinked them away now. “Perhaps not. I only know what I wanted … thought I wanted.”
“And now?” Galen prompted. “Was it what you wanted, after all?”
“It was …” Faunos hunted for elusive words. “Wonderful, and strange, and then … I couldn’t control the Power. Couldn’t stop it happening, and I almost … he almost knew, Galen.”
“Hush, now.” Galen set one arm across his shoulders. “I know what you’re trying to describe. It’s always been this way for the men of your heritage. The burden on your shoulders has been carried by many before you, even by Diomedas himself. You think what you’re feeling hasn’t been called the Curse of Diomedas?”
Faunos turned dark, haunted eyes on him. “Is there no way to control it? It got away from me, ran like a wild horse. Gods, what a fool I was. He might have seen, known.” He squeezed shut his eyes. “I was with him. Soranchele Izamal-xiu Ulkan.”
He felt the start race through Galen, as if he had physically lashed out, struck him. The old man took a long, harsh breath and coughed, holding his ribs as if they pained him. At last he said softly, “What in Hados was he doing with the water gypsies?”
“Celebrating.” Faunos held his hands to the fire. “Celebrating the night of his coming of age by gathering another trophy. Me. You know what I gave him.”
“Your most precious gift.” Galen stroked the hair back from Fauno’s brow. “Your virginity. And I believe he took it gently … you’re unhurt this morning, merely miserable. Also lucky -- and much wiser than you were last evening.”
“Much wiser.” Faunos worked his neck around to ease the stiffness of cramped muscles. “The thrill of the hunt blinded his eyes, but I did betray myself to him, Galen, to the witchfinder. He just didn't see.”
“And so here you are, innocent and free.” Galen stroked his hair again. “Some angel sat beside you and clouded Soranchele’s senses, covered his eyes and ears, bade him be gentle when he could have ridden you hard indeed, and left catastrophe in his wake.” He leaned over and kissed Faunos’s temple. “Well, the lesson was valuable and you possess the brains to learn from it. It was a lesson I could never teach. I’m not at all sure if you’ve been an idiot or not, because this lesson had to be learned one way or another! But you won’t go back to the gypsy camp any time soon, will you?”
“Never,” Faunos said hoarsely. “Not here, not within a thousand leagues of Vayal. There’s nothing for me here, Galen. We came back to Zeheft for want of somewhere to go, and now?” He stood, hugging himself in the fragile early morning light. The new sun streamed through breaks in the slats in the east wall. “It’s dangerous to stay here. The sooner we’re gone, the better.”
“But, where?” Galen followed him to his feet and tried the goatskins for water. There was enough to fill the copper kettle, and he set it to heat. “Will it be the Keltoi shore, and we’ll take our chances among the savages? Or Jaymaca, and we’ll run the gauntlet of the people of the Jaguar in stranger lands than I’ve ever known.”
The sunlight was white gold, without heat, but by noon it would be a different story. Faunos was thinking of the ruins of Zeheft, where so many lay dead. “I don’t know. So long as we leave, I’ll be happy. It doesn’t matter where.”
For a moment Galen studied him mutely, and then set aside his observations unspoken. “Then we’ll wait for the first ship heading out of the Empire,” he said thoughtfully, leaning against the wall as if he were too tired to stand up straight. He coughed again, holding both arms tight to his ribcage. His voice was hoarse; a sweat sprang out on his brow. “You must fetch the books out of that damned cave today, and when I’m recovered a little, when I can breathe without coughing the lungs out of my chest, I’ll go down to the wharves, see what ships are headed where. You realize we have little money. Passage will be paid for in work.”
Faunos answered only with a nod. “You’re sick, Galen. Don’t think I’m so miserable that I can’t see it – and I still say you should have a physician.”
“Pish posh,” Galen said succinctly. “Leave me be. I’ll be fine.”
“If you’re sure.” For the moment Faunos was too tired, too dispirited, to argue. He dropped his cloak and wrap on their bags and stepped out of the cottage. The rain barrel was full, and the bronze pail beside it leaked only a little. He gasped at the cold as he tipped a bucketful over his head to sluice the smell and salt of the sea from his skin.
And then he faced the rising sun, spread wide his arms and spoke silently to Helios. He could dream, at least. He had been a lover for one night, and it would be enough. It would have to be. He would dream of firelight and music, the spices of the drowned lands, silks strewn on a divan, and a beautiful young man who touched him with tender hands.
“Helios,” he whispered as the sun dazzled him, “I call myself a freeman, but I’m not. I lied to the witchfinder, the same way I lie to myself. I’m as much a bondsman as the slave laboring in the fields above Vayal. My body and soul are owned by the ghosts of my fathers, even by Diomedas himself.” He took a deep breath. “Helios, set me free. Take the Power from me. Strip it from me, the way anything maiden was stripped from me last night. Take it, for I don’t want it, I’ve never wanted it! Take the gift, leave me a common man, free to live, and find love somewhere, with someone who’ll have me as I am.”
But Helios ignored him now as always, and at last Faunos made the sign of the god before his forehead, and stepped back into the house to help Galen.
Turn page to Chapter Eleven...
Return to Chapter Nine...
