Shadow War (9 page)

Agel turned his
head and gazed about the luxurious room. Compared to a Trau home, the place
looked too full of furniture, too gaudy; it would be considered excessive and
wasteful. Caelan frowned, but it was Agel who spoke next:

“Slavery seems to
have its rewards. You have done well for yourself here.”

Caelan gasped, but
even as memories of floggings, nights spent crouched in filthy straw, long
hours of brutal drills, and the grim realities of arena combat flashed through
his mind, he realized he could not explain anything to Agel. His cousin had
already judged him by these surroundings, and would never believe anything
else.

Pride lifted
Caelan’s chin. “Yes,” he said tightly. “I have done well. I have a master who
rewards me when I please him. I have a roof over my head. I have the security
of knowing I will be fed and clothed. Even my slave chain is made of gold. Isn’t
it pretty?”

“You have the
gifts of healing,” Agel said in a stern voice. “So much talent and potential,
and you wasted it all. Worse, you have put your gifts into the hands of evil.
You use
severance
to kill, do you not?”

The unexpected
attack left Caelan silent.

“To do so is an
abomination,” Agel said. “An abhorrence to all life. The citizens of Imperia
worship you. They throw coins and flowers at you in tribute. “The mighty
warrior Caelan,’ they cry. How greatly would they cheer you if they knew the
truth? That it is not with the sword that you slay your victims, but with your
talent?”

Agel’s unjust
accusations stung Caelan. Years ago, when they were young boys, Agel had been
fair and open-minded, but the teachers at Rieschelhold had obviously erased
those qualities from him. Now he was petty and prejudiced. He had prejudged
Caelan, and his disapproval hurt.

Before Caelan
could say anything, Agel continued in that same soft, relentless voice:

“The deaths of
your many victims is like a dirty cloak over you. When I look at you from
severance,
I see you in shadow, vague and obscured. You are tainted and
foul.” He paused a moment, his lips tight as he assessed Caelan. “You even use
sevaisin,
do you not? I can tell it is entwined about you.”

Repulsion filled
his eyes. “It has always been forbidden. Where did you come by it? Who taught
you such evil? In the memory of your father and all he stood for, how
can
you?”

Caelan sighed. All
his life he had struggled between the two extremes of his unwanted gifts.
Severance,
the cold isolation, and
sevaisin,
the joining of life to
life. No man should be able to do both, yet he could. The struggle to keep them
balanced, the struggle to keep himself from going mad between them at times,
seemed harder and harder. He feared himself, feared what might befall him if he
ever gave way. Which side of him would eventually win? Yet, for now, he had no
means of saving himself except to practice the very principles of balance so
revered in Trau. He often felt like a man walking the crumbling edge of a
precipice, with no solid ground ahead of him.

No one had ever
known his secret, except his father, who had called him a monster. And now Agel
knew also. His condemnation showed plainly in his face.

“Please,” Caelan
said softly. “Try to understand ...”

“Sevaisin
is forbidden!” Agel snapped. “Why did you seek such a thing? Why did you study
it?”

“I didn’t—”

“Was it to
dishonor your father’s memory? Was it to stain his accomplishments, all he
stood for? Has this been your purpose?”

Caelan’s temper
slipped. “You said to let the past lie. My father is dead. Why should I seek to
dishonor a dead man?”

“What other reason
could you have to willingly pursue such a course of study?”

“I didn’t study
sevaisin!”
Caelan shouted. “I was born with it, just as I was born with
severance.”

“No one has both!”

“I do!”

They glared at
each other, both tight-lipped and pale. Agel’s eyes slowly widened. He looked
increasingly alarmed.

At last, Caelan
thought in satisfaction. He had managed to break through his cousin’s icy
reserve. There was nothing like shock to destroy the harmony.

Agel’s gaze
flickered toward the door.

“You can’t run and
tell the elders,” Caelan said. “Traulanders are scarce in this city. There is
no one to
scourge
me because of your accusations. There is no one to
sever
me or to put me out in the wilderness to wander. No one in Imperia cares. Half
the citizens don’t believe in either
sevaisin
or
severance.
The
rest follow observances that truly are abominations. The city is a melting pot
of cultures and beliefs. You will have to get used to that.”

“What is to be
done with you?” Agel said despairingly.

“Nothing. I am
what I am.”

Agel frowned. He
seemed to be trying to regain his composure, although he still looked shaken. “You
are much changed in the years since we last saw each other. You have grown
harsh and cynical. You jest about evil with an air of worldly sophistication.
You commit unspeakable acts, then ask me to accept you. I used to think you
would grow out of your rebelliousness and settle into a useful life. Instead,
you kill for the amusement of others. You are an entertainer of the vilest
kind. I cannot begin to comprehend what you are.”

Now it was Caelan’s
turn to be made of stone. He stared at his cousin and felt only coldness. “It
is time for you to go.”

Agel looked
jolted. “My work is unfinished.”

“I don’t want you.
Go.”

Agel’s expression
smoothed into something tight and unreadable. “It is not a question of your
choice. Your master has requested my services on your behalf. The fact that you
are so difficult to heal is—”

“Tell him I’m too
difficult. You’ve done all you can. Get out.”

“I will not lie.
And I am not finished.”

“You are if I
refuse you,” Caelan said, clenching his fists. His head was throbbing, and he
was beginning to feel faintly nauseous. The pain came seeping back. “Go back to
wherever you came from and stand there looking wise, mysterious, and foreign. I’ll
take my chances with the arena physician.”

His harsh,
sarcastic tone slid off Agel without effect. “I am newly appointed to the
imperial court,” Agel said with a trace of pride. “The emperor gave his
gracious permission that I should attend you. However undeserving, you have
been honored, and I will not shirk my responsibilities no matter what private
opinions I hold.”

Caelan frowned. He
thought Agel had hurt him all that was possible. He realized how wrong he was.
As long as he still cared for his cousin, he would go on being hurt again and
again. “You really hate me, don’t you?”

“Hatred is the
antithesis of balance,” Agel replied.

“All right, then.
You’ve made yourself clear enough. You consider me a monster and an
abomination. Not original, but then you always wanted to imitate my father.
What do you feel, if not hatred?” He leaned forward and glared at Agel. “Fear?”

“Disappointment,”
Agel said without flinching.

Caelan’s frown
deepened. The anger in him deflated, leaving him hollow and tired. As a
reunion, this was a nightmare. Lectures . .. disapproval... disappointment. It
never changed. He’d been a fool to want to return to Trau. He told himself now
he would never go back. As for Agel, there would be no future meetings with him
if Caelan could help it.

Lifting his chin,
Caelan squared himself and faced his cousin. “I, too, am disappointed,” he
said, holding his voice hard to avoid giving away his emotions. “I thought,
despite everything that has befallen us, we could still hold our friendship.”

Agel met his gaze.
“You are the one who turned away from our friendship. We had everything planned
together, but you ran away from Rieschelhold, putting yourself and everyone in
jeopardy that night. You did all that you could to get yourself expelled. You
even broke our bond. I wept for you as you walked through the gates, turning
your back on the greatest calling a man can follow. But I have not wept for you
since. And I will not forgive you now. I see you clearly, Caelan E’non, for
what you represent. I do not like it, and I will not keep friendship with you,
not even for the sake of the blood we share.”

Caelan felt
frozen. Every word was like a blow, and despite his anger and disappointment he
had no defenses with which to shield himself.

“The road of life
has turns we do not always foresee,” he said. “I am glad your road has always
been so simple and straight. Mine has not been, and probably will never be. All
I know is that I must stay true to myself, not to what other people planned for
me. I have only one final statement for you, and then we will be finished with
our candor. We need never speak to each other again.

“After the
bone-breaking labor and the whippings and the insubstantial food ... after the
sweating nightmares and the shakes ... I used to lie awake at night and think
of my loved ones. I would think of Lea and the servants ... and even Father. I
would think of their deaths, my grief burning a hole in me. And I would comfort
myself that you were alive and well. I would tell myself that I wasn’t
completely lost in this nightmare, that someday I would regain my freedom.
Someday I would return to Trau and find you, my remaining kinsman. My family. I
told myself I hadn’t lost quite everything. You were a small, precious part of
my hope.” Caelan managed a twisted grimace of a smile and shrugged. “I never
imagined you would be like this. Still condemning me after all these years
because I rejected what you wanted for yourself. Can’t the jealousy and envy
have an end?”

“I see no reason
for jealousy here.” Appearing unmoved by what Caelan had said, Agel made a
slight gesture at the room. “The things you value have no interest for me.”

“Envy, then,”
Caelan said harshly. “Every time Beva spoke to me, you were green with it.”

“I wanted what he
gave you.”

“You have it,”
Caelan said. “You’re the healer, not me. You wear the white robe. I don’t. You
are good at the art, as good as my father was. You have his skills, his
abilities. You took the court appointment he refused. You have succeeded in
emulating him. You will be even more famous than he. Let the envy go, Agel.
Accept me for what I am. Please.”

“A killer? How can
I accept that?”

Caelan shut his eyes
and gave up. He’d bared his soul to this man and been spurned. It was pointless
to keep trying.

“You are as
foolhardy and reckless as ever,” Agel was saying. “I saw yesterday’s contest—”

Startled, Caelan
opened his eyes wide.
“You?
I don’t believe it.”

“You were too
stubborn yesterday to give up, and you are as stubborn as ever in refusing to
cooperate today in what is good for you.”

“Oh, so you do
remember a few things about me.” Caelan said sarcastically.

Agel did not
flinch. “I remember everything.”

“And you don’t
care, do you? You’re so perfect now, so
severed.
You can remain detached
despite what happened at E’nonhold. Everyone was slaughtered in the raid. My
home was burned to the ground. You used to wish it could be your home too. Now
you don’t care.”

“To grieve for the
hold does not bring it back,” Agel said. “To grieve for Uncle Beva does not
restore him to life. Do you wish me to join the inner confusion you live in?
What purpose would that serve? I have my work, which is to heal. It is enough for
me.”

“You’re just like
Father,” Caelan said bitterly.

“Thank you. That
is high praise.”

“No, it’s insult!”
Caelan screamed at him. “You
fool.
My father and his stupid philosophy
opened the hold to destruction. He let his own servants die. He stood like a
stupid moag and let Thyzarenes slit his throat. It could have all been
prevented, and he would not act!”

“Uncle Beva lived
by his beliefs. If he also died by his beliefs, then he did so with dignity and
honor. I will not debate the principles of harmony and balance with you,” Agel
said sternly.

“Why did you have
to stop being human? Why can’t you be a healer and still care?”

“I care that you
have undone my work,” Agel said. “Has the pain returned?”

Agony throbbed in
Caelan’s side. He frowned, certain he would rather die than let Agel near him
again.

“Lie down,” Agel
told him. “We must begin again.”

Caelan shook his
head. “Please,” he said. “Please be the Agel I once knew.”

“Let the past lie
where it is,” Agel said. “I live in the present. My task is to tend your hurts.”

“I can tend my own
hurts,” Caelan retorted. “I—”

Pain covered him
in a sheet of grayness. He sagged against the bedpost, robbed of breath and
sense for a moment.

When he regained
awareness, he found Agel gripping his elbow and steering him back to bed.
Caelan did not want him, but had nothing left with which to drive his cousin
away. He found himself suddenly spent by his emotions.

Agel was gentle
and ministering, but the icy barrier remained between them. Caelan let Agel
work, but nothing could heal the wound inside. For all his principles regarding
peace and tranquility, Agel had inflicted the harshest blow. No mere stab would
could surpass it.

It was as though
his father had come to life again. If pride had not choked him so, Caelan would
have wept.

At twilight the
summons came, brought by a timid servant who also carried new clothing and
bathing water. Thankful at last for something to do, Caelan put on the finery.
Admiring his reflection in the looking glass, he smoothed the tunic of pale
brown silk. It fit him perfectly. Tirhin's coat of arms was embroidered on the
left sleeve; otherwise, Caelan might have passed for a courtier. He sleeked
back his blond hair into a neat braid and spent a moment fingering his amulet
bag concealed at his throat.