10: His Holy Bones (6 page)

“The kahlirash’im have an infirmary up in their temple,” Kansa said, “but Tanash and I have been setting one up here in our camp as well.”

“Here,” Lafi’shir said in a low whisper. “Near my men.”

“Absolutely,” Arren agreed.

The rest of them started into the camp, but John stood back. Saimura looked at him questioningly.

“Ravishan’s up in the temple,” John said.

“In the infirmary?” Saimura asked.

John nodded.

“Is he—” Saimura began and John could see the pain of Saimura’s own loss surfacing in his expression.

“He’s going to be fine,” John said quickly. “Ji saved him.”

Ji gave an oddly derisive snort.

“I didn’t sit beside him day and night calling him back to life,” Ji told John. “Go on. We’ll see you later.”

“Of course. Take care.” John offered the hand sign of peace to them. Then he rushed up the walkways to the temple.

Inside, sixty or so of the kahlirash’im knelt before the statue of the Rifter, praying. Since he’d arrived John didn’t think there had been more than an hour when at least a dozen of them weren’t praying. Their whispers filled the chamber with a soft hum. Today they were quieter than usual.

Wah’roa glanced up at him as he strode into the central chamber. His expression was oddly expectant. John paused and then he caught sight of the slim figure kneeling at the foot of the Rifter’s statue. Even from behind, John recognized Ravishan. His short, black hair just brushed the nape of his neck as he bowed his head in prayer.

John walked closer.

Ravishan’s clothes were nearly as tattered and ill fitting as John’s own. The leather coat he wore strained across his broad shoulders only to sag around the rest of his lean frame. A dark bloodstain marred the right leg of his pants. His feet were bare and his skin looked blue against the cold stone floor.

Ravishan’s eyes were closed and his expression strained. He moved his lips just slightly as he prayed. His skin still looked pallid and Tanash had been right; he’d lost too much weight.

And yet, just seeing him alive and awake, John felt as if he were looking at the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. His hands shook slightly as he touched Ravishan’s shoulder. Ravishan’s eyes opened. He gazed up at John, a flush slowly spreading across his pale cheeks. John smiled at him.

John expected him to stand and embrace him. Instead Ravishan collapsed down against the floor, prostrating himself
at John’s feet.

“My most holy lord.” Ravishan’s voice sounded raw. “Forgive me.”

“What are you doing?” The sight of Ravishan crouched at his feet like this alarmed John. The gathered kahlirash’im stared at the two of them in silence. Their expressions were serene, as if they found the sight of Ravishan groveling on the floor somehow gratifying.

“I beg you to forgive my offenses against you, most holy lord,” Ravishan whispered. His eyes were clenched closed. His hands were locked together in prayer.

“Ravishan,” John said softly. “Don’t do this.”

“I looked upon you and did not know you,” Ravishan continued as though he hadn’t heard John. “I felt your perfect love but only filled my own heart with lust—”

“Stop it!” John caught hold of Ravishan’s arm and jerked him up to his feet. “Get off the floor…”

Ravishan struggled to get his feet under him. He straightened and then swayed. Slowly he lifted his head and gazed at John.

“I will stand if you wish it, my lord. I am yours to command—”

“No, you aren’t, and I’m not your lord,” John said firmly. Kahlirash’im were staring now with wide eyes and alarmed expressions. Their prayers fell silent.

“You are. I know you are now and I will never forget. You are the divine wrath, my most holy lord.” Ravishan’s dark eyes drifted in their focus. Again, he swayed but didn’t seem aware of it. He shouldn’t have even been out of bed, John realized. He could barely stand.

Ravishan lifted his hand, just brushing the front of John’s coat. Then he stumbled and fell back. John lunged forward. He caught Ravishan and held him against his chest. Ravishan leaned into him. Very slowly, he lifted his hands and touched John’s back.

His stiff hesitance frightened John. Why had he become so cowed and distant?

“Do you still remember me, my lord?” Ravishan asked.

“I’m not your lord,” John whispered to Ravishan. “I’m your lover. And I could never forget you.” John was sure that Wah’roa and many of the other kahlirash’im heard his words carry through the silence of the temple. He didn’t care.

He simply held Ravishan. The tension seemed to melt from Ravishan’s body. He sighed deeply and pressed his face against John’s neck. Relief flooded John’s body. He stood for several moments just holding Ravishan and feeling his embrace returned.

The sensation of stubble prickling John’s skin was strangely pleasant. He bowed his head a little and kissed Ravishan’s hair. He closed his eyes. For the first time in nearly two weeks he felt right and relaxed. Ravishan whispered his name.

“You looked so different when I saw you rising from the valley,” Ravishan whispered. “You seemed so furious and brutal. I couldn’t imagine that you were still the man I knew. I thought I had lost you to the Rifter.”

“No, you haven’t lost me.” John kissed Ravishan’s lips lightly. Ravishan ran his hand down John’s ribs and touched the curve of his hip. He watched John intently, as if searching for some sign of the Rifter in his countenance. John tried to give him a kind and reassuring smile, but his body ached with desire. The gentle weight of Ravishan’s fingers throbbed through him.

“I’m tired and you’re still weak. We should go to bed,” John said.

He led Ravishan back past the infirmary to the small room Wah’roa had given him. The bed was large and carved with images of moons and vines. John pulled back the silk quilts and lowered Ravishan down to the clean white sheets. He quickly pulled off his own filthy clothes. Ravishan watched him for a moment. Then slowly he undressed. John wished that he had water to wash with. Instead John wiped the worst of the sweat and dirt from his body with a towel.

He dropped down into the bed beside Ravishan and pulled the soft blankets up around them both. Ravishan hesitantly ran
a hand over John’s bare chest. A rush of intense arousal pulsed through John’s body. He shifted closer.

Ravishan smiled almost shyly.

“You haven’t changed at all, have you?” Ravishan asked.

“I still love you,” John said. “That won’t ever change.”

Ravishan’s hand drifted teasingly lower over John’s abdomen. John’s breath caught in his throat, but as he pressed against Ravishan’s naked body, John felt Ravishan’s exhaustion and abandoned all carnal thoughts.

“It’s cruel to toy with me when we both know you’re too tired to carry through.” John caught Ravishan’s hand and lifted it to his mouth. He kissed Ravishan’s fingers and palm.

Ravishan rested his head against John’s shoulder. His eyes were shadowed beneath his dark lashes and almost completely closed. A few moments later he was asleep. John kissed him again and then he, too, drifted into dreams.

Hours later, a soft but insistent knocking at the door woke John. Ravishan still lay in his arms sleeping. The air felt bitterly cold and John guessed that it wasn’t much past sunrise.

“Who is it?” John called. He glanced down to see if his voice had disturbed Ravishan’s rest.

Ravishan cracked one red-rimmed eye open.

“Tell them to go away.” Ravishan nestled his face into the pillows.

“It’s Kahlirash Wah’roa, my lord Jath’ibaye,” Wah’roa called from the other side of the door. “The Fai’daum demoness wishes to hold council with you.”

“Council?” John sat up. Ravishan grumbled several obscenities into his pillow. John smiled down at him; he sounded much more like himself this morning.

“Don’t go yet,” Ravishan whispered. His hand snaked through the blankets and curled over John’s groin.

“She wishes to discuss the future organization of the fortress,” Wah’roa continued speaking through the door. John hardly
registered the words as Ravishan continued to stroke him lazily.

“We have agreed that it would be best if you were to oversee the proceedings,” Wah’roa added after John failed to respond.

“Yes, all right,” John managed to reply. He pulled Ravishan to him and kissed him fiercely. Ravishan leaned into him and John ran his hands over Ravishan, caressing his slim body and taking pleasure in Ravishan’s gasps and shudders.

“My lord Jath’ibaye?” Wah’roa asked.

“We’ll be out in a few minutes,” John shouted. If Wah’roa said anything else, John didn’t register it. The taste and feel of Ravishan’s body absorbed him. They moved together in mounting ecstasy until at last Ravishan called out his climax in a deep moan against John’s shoulder. This once John wasn’t so quiet. He felt too much joy, reclaiming this moment between them. Afterwards they lay in the damp bedding. John smiled at Ravishan’s sleepy expression like a giddy idiot.

“Is something the matter, my lord Jath’ibaye?” Wah’roa’s voice broke into the sensual lassitude of John’s thoughts. With horror, he realized that Wah’roa had remained outside the door waiting the entire time.

“No, nothing,” John said. “I’m on my way.”

He sat up and grabbed his clothes. He dressed quickly. Ravishan gathered his own scavenged garments a little more slowly.

“You don’t have to get up,” John said. “You should probably get more rest.”

“I’ve been lying in a bed for…” Ravishan frowned.

“Ten days,” John supplied.

“Ten days? No wonder I want to get up and move around,” Ravishan said. He studied John’s face for a moment. “You must have thought I was never going to get up.”

“I didn’t let myself think that,” John replied. He still felt dread at how close Ravishan had come to death. Ravishan seemed to notice John’s worry.

“But I’m completely recovered now.” He flashed John one of his broad, arrogant smiles. John just shook his head.

“You’re still weak,” John told him. Yesterday he’d hardly been able to stand on his own. Ravishan flexed his arms experimentally. John felt an odd shudder pass through the air. Ravishan flicked his fingers apart and the Gray Space screeched open. An arc of flame burst up along the edges as oxygen ignited. Ravishan winced and instantly snapped the Gray Space closed.

“Maybe I’m a little weak,” Ravishan conceded with a shrug. “But withering away in a bed isn’t going to get me any stronger.” Ravishan pulled on his boots and stood. There was the slightest sway in his stance and he stilled it almost immediately. “Anyway, I want to know about this council.”

“Really?” John asked. “You’ve developed a keen new interest in assigning people to work groups and overseeing sanitation?”

“Wah’roa wouldn’t want you there so badly if that was all it was,” Ravishan replied. “This has to have something to do with you—with who you are.”

John wondered if Ravishan was right. He pulled on his filthy coat.

“Well, we’ll see,” John said at last.

Chapter One Hundred and One

Wah’roa offered them stuffed rolls, cold cuts, and cheese. Ravishan devoured his own food ravenously. John was happy to relinquish half of his own breakfast to Ravishan. It was such a relief to just see him eat.

Afterwards, they followed Wah’roa out of the temple and up a slight incline to the remains of one of the watchtowers. The huge stone structure was largely undamaged, though hundreds of tiny cracks webbed through the outer walls. John ran his hand over the stone, willing the small fissures to knit closed. Several stones healed seamlessly. John’s concentration wandered and suddenly a stone split and blackened beneath his fingers.

Ravishan looked a little alarmed. John pulled his hand back to his side.

“So, Wah’roa,” John said quickly. “The two lower floors of the watchtower look like a barrack.”

Wah’roa glanced back and nodded.

“The men keep vigil in week long shifts, so they often sleep and take their meals in the watchtower. There’s a large common room as well. It’s a good place for a council meeting. I doubt many of the Fai’daum children or animals will come all this way just to barge in on us.”

John guessed that Wah’roa had endured just about as many chaotic familial intrusions as he could stand. With the Fai’daum and other refugees living in Vundomu it was no longer the sleek military machine that it had once been.

They crossed the small courtyard and entered the watchtower. The kahlirash’im standing guard bowed as they passed. Wah’roa led them to the common room on the first floor.

A surprising number of the Fai’daum were already gathered in the chamber. John knew all of them. Saimura, Tanash, and Kansa sat together on a carved wood bench. Kansa and Tanash both watched as Saimura carved deep furrows into the surface of a large knuckle bone.

Ji lay near their feet on an ornately woven carpet. She almost looked like she might be sleeping, but then John noticed the small book lying open between her paws.

Pirr’tu and Tai’yu crouched near the fireplace, feeding wood into the already blazing flames. Across from them, Arren slouched in a battered chair. The firelight lent his dark skin a sick, yellow cast. He watched the flames, his expression both tired and troubled. Giryyn stood beside him, leaning against an empty chair. His head was bowed and his long priests braids cascaded over his shoulders. The group of them formed a loose half-circle around the warmth of the hearth.

All of them looked up as John and Ravishan followed Wah’roa into the room. What conversation they might have been sharing went silent. Wah’roa pulled the door shut and then locked it.

“The fire is a good choice,” Wah’roa said. He strode across the room to the dining table and pulled three chairs out. John helped him move them closer to the fire. Ravishan sank down into the chair nearest the fire. He leaned back in the seat and stretched his legs out. John seated himself next to him.