The Scholomance (61 page)

The bells rang
once. Mara listened without opening her eyes. First-bell. A brand new day. Somewhere
below her, students were flooding into the dining room to fight for mouthfuls
of food. And soon Kazuul would come with a bowl of broth, and that meant him
bearing down on her from above, his mouth wedging hers open, his laughter
rumbling against her chest, because she absolutely refused to drink the stuff
by choice. For now, she drowsed, too tired to sit up. When the hand brushed at
her cheek, she did not respond, laying as one dead across Kazuul’s rumpled
bedding.

Only when the
same fingers trailed down her throat, did she realize the smooth and graceful
touches couldn’t possibly be coming from Kazuul’s rock-rough hands, but she
didn’t have the strength to care. The fingers stroked along her shoulders and
then down, pushing the sweat-damp sheets ahead of them, baring her chest to the
chill air. Someone both sighed and hummed—Horuseps. Identification came as the
prickling of fine hairs at the nape of her neck—and the hand slipped brazenly
around her breast.

“Mind thyself,”
Kazuul growled good-naturedly from somewhere in the room. “Control thy hand,
else I have it off for thee.”

“Brute. Tyrant.”
The demon’s breath puffed warm against her cheek. He’d bent, snuffling at her
maybe, or—

His tongue lit
on her lower lip, moistening her chapped mouth with swift, fluttery, hungry
licks. Mara did not react, although she did feel a faint and exhausted sort of
surprise. Horuseps hummed again, right there into her open mouth, and as
gooseflesh crawled along her limp body, he eased his tongue into her and
swirled it around her mouth. Mara’s throat clicked, convulsively swallowing,
and she gagged a little. Horuseps withdrew, but not far. His fingers at her
breast skimmed across her nipple, stiffening it just before he sucked it into
his mouth. Mara made a sound, her lips twitching in a moue of sleeping disgust.
She tried to roll over and couldn’t, not without waking up all the way.

“I envy you,”
Horuseps said, and gave her breast a last wet pull before taking himself and
his touches away. “There lies a heady wine.”

“Shalt thou have
another reminder to keep thee chaste? I can leave thee a lasting scar if thou
must have one.”

“Forgive, I pray
you. I am easily overcome by helplessness.” His voice receded as he
straightened up, but his hand stayed with her, caressing her in thoughtless,
greedy patterns. “It was my fault, Master. Entirely.”

“Aye?” Kazuul
sounded preoccupied, unconcerned.

“I never thought
they’d band together like that. They never have before. I provoked them.”

“Soonest begun,
swiftest done. T’was bound to happen, and I never doubted she would survive
it.”

“Nor I.” Horuseps’s
slender hand trailed along her belly before coming to rest on her thigh. “She is
recovering nicely, isn’t she?”

Kazuul grunted.

“How
delightfully resilient she is.” Horuseps slipped the back of his hand up
between her breasts, gave her a pat, and moved away, his voice receding. “And
how ferocious. Would you have thought her capable of it already?”

“I think her
capable of anything in this fool’s pursuit of hers.” Kazuul was quiet a moment,
then grunted and added, “I did not foresee the killing so soon.”

“You don’t seem
particularly displeased by it, either,” Horuseps observed and no, Mara thought,
he didn’t. In fact, the satisfaction in Kazuul’s rumbling voice had been rich
enough almost to seem sexual. “Perhaps you give her too much liberty.”

“Perhaps.”

Horuseps waited,
but when nothing more was forthcoming, he let out a peal of his uniquely nasty
laughter. “Well, so long as you’re aware of it, I must be content.”

“Wouldst thou
not indulge so tasty a morsel if it lay under thy jaws? Besides,” Kazuul
growled, leaping heavily down from wherever he’d been perching, “’tis not
forbidden for students to slaughter one another.”

“Nor to assault
one another.”

Now it was
Kazuul’s hand upon her, the heat and harshness of his skin unmistakable as he
pulled the damp sheet back up to her neck. “All was done for cause of her own
defense.”

“Yes. This time.
And when it becomes revenge? Or leverage, to seek out her little playmate?”

Silence, but
Horuseps laughed sharply. Maybe Kazuul had shrugged.

“Oh yes, it is
easy to show lenience when she lies here so pretty and vulnerable, or when she
spreads those winsome thighs, but you had best begin to concern yourself, my
brother. Her power is growing. This time, it slipped from her control. The next
time, it may slip from yours.”

“Thy counsel, as
always, has been heard. Now leave me.”

A short pause,
and then, somewhat stiffly, Horuseps said, “If my words have seemed at all
impertinent—”

Kazuul laughed,
low and indulgent. “I forgive them, naturally, as I have forgiven thee. Every
court needs its jester, free of the lord’s wrath. Go, brother, and go in my
good favor.”

“As you wish, my
lord.”

She didn’t hear
him leave, but there was a faint crackling sound behind her; perhaps he’d
Corresponded. In any case, he had to be gone, because Kazuul came and sat on
the edge of the bed. Looking at her, maybe. Maybe not.

In the quiet,
Mara drowsed again, falling deeper and deeper toward the thick and recuperative
sleep. She had almost reached it when something brought her back. Not a sound,
nor precisely a sense of thought, but just some vague and severe awareness
looming over her. Mara forced her eyes open; Kazuul’s were directly above her,
perhaps two inches away.

She frowned. “This
is restful for my heart, right?” she croaked.

He grunted and
withdrew. “Thou didst not seem to be breathing.”

“I’m fine. In
fact…” She sat up and pulled the bedding back. “It’s time for me to leave.”

“Thou art
unwell.” Kazuul gave ground reluctantly, circling the bed and watching her
efforts to stand through narrowed eyes. “Wounded pride alone stirs thee. Come,
wilt thou follow it from my chambers to thy grave?”

She didn’t
answer, knowing her voice would not be steady. She stood, weathered a surge of
vertigo, and slowly stabilized. One cautious step led to another. She let go of
the bed.

Anger began to
edge into his exasperation, coming and going like the light from dying coals. “Mara,
thou art not the embodiment of thy stubborn will. Lie back. Have I not made a
fitting nurse for thee? Hath not mine hand been gentle?”

Mara made her
way to the foot of the bed without stumbling. Her robe lay in a crumpled heap
on the floor, no doubt unmoved since the moment he’d stripped it off. Mara stooped,
labored as an old woman, and picked it up. It stank. She couldn’t bring herself
to put it on, so she draped it over the side of a broken pillar and wrapped
herself in the smaller piece of a torn curtain instead.

“Dost thou
believe I would not drag thee back?” Kazuul demanded, showing the tips of his
fangs. He made an obvious effort to calm himself and tried again, first
crouching down and then reaching out one empty hand as to assure that he was
very small, very safe, unarmed. “Lie back, my Mara. Thou art yet unwell, and if
thou admit it not, convince me. Let me lie with thee, and I shall let thee go.”

She croaked
laughter and kept walking. The room twisted around her, sapping the strength
from her bones, but not her determination. The curtain weighed a hundred
pounds. The stairs towered before her, each step a chasm.

“How canst thou
be fit to the rigors of study if thou art not to the rigors of my bed?”

“It’s a risk…”
she gasped, struggling upwards. “I’m willing…to take.”

He was waiting
at the top, of course, filling the stairway. His mouth twisted as he watched
her climb. His eyes, dimly glowing, narrowed with grim satisfaction as she
found each shaking step and trembling handhold.

She stopped out
of arm’s reach and found a place on the wall where she could lean and catch her
breath. She didn’t look at him.

“I might easily
prove to be immoveable,” he remarked.

“You don’t want
to turn this into a contest,” Mara said wearily.

“Contest? If
ever t’was such, ‘tis ended. Thou art mine.”

“Your own, your
property, your whatever. I remember, I was there.” She passed a hand over her
eyes and pinched hard at the bridge of her nose until her vision stopped
swimming. “I lie a lot, Kazuul.”

His eyes
sparked. He rose, deliberately towering over her and putting every impressive
bulge of muscle on display. His toe-claws scraped ruts in the stone beneath him.
His bony spikes clacked ominously together as he rolled his shoulders. “I do
not.”

“Oh please.”

“Someday thou
wilt see that I have ever spoken truth to thee.”

“And on that
day, perhaps I’ll listen to you. Doubt it, though. I’m a horrible cynic, even
my own mother thinks so. I’ll probably just focus on what few lies you did tell
and reject you out of spite. I’m better at that than humility.”

His lip curled. It
wasn’t a smile.

“Are you going
to move?” Mara asked. “Or are we going to have it out right here on the stairs?”

“To what effect?”
he asked scornfully.

“I can’t
possibly put up much of a fight yet, so either you’ll have to let me pass or
you’ll end up killing me.”

“Ha! Thou
showest thy true intent too easily. Never would thee abandon thy fool’s quest!”

“I’ve been here twenty
days that I know of, and God alone knows how many more,” said Mara. “I don’t
love anyone anymore. I just want to see you lose. So fuck you, fuck her, and
fuck the whole damned mountain.”

He stared at
her, his frown growing just at the edges of her perception, like a trick shadow
in a painting. His mind touched hers, touched ice and stone, and withdrew,
leaving behind a residue of his uncertainty. “Thou liest,” he said finally.

“Yes,” she said.
“I told you I did that. But I had you going for a while there. Or is this the
lie? Let me go, Kazuul. You know I’ll be back.”

“Do I indeed,
thou fraud?” He took half a step back, though. Not enough to let her by, unless
she physically climbed over him, but half a step all the same. “Tonight?”

“Not a chance. Not
until I’m fit for your ‘rigors,’” she added more gently, and the green fire of
his fury dimmed, mollified. “It could be awhile. Don’t push me.”

So much for
pacifying him. His wrath exploded through the Mindstorm, hitting her in the
Panic Room like a great fist that shook even those long-anchored walls (but
didn’t break them, and she supposed he could if he wanted to). “For when it
ceaseth to fall in thy favor—!” he snarled, vacating the stairway to slash at a
column in the empty classroom. It smashed apart in a heavy cloud of dust and he
stalked away to sulk in the debris.

“This stopped
being fun a long time ago,” Mara said, limping out onto the dais. “I keep
coming back anyway.

He settled
moodily on his haunches, glaring at her as he picked through chunks of stone
for something large enough to crush in his fist.

“There’s just
something about you. Something more than just good sex. I suppose,” she said
with a dry smile, “I’m not as immune as I like to think I am to your
single-minded pursuit of me. It’s irritating as hell, but still flattering.”

He grunted.

As tired as she
was—her health monitor in the Panic Room was already creeping back to a state of
high alert and she wasn’t even out of the theater yet—Mara turned around and
hobbled back to him. She put a hand on his shoulder, gripping the base of his
self-mutilated spine for balance, and kissed him. He flinched away a little,
and then came back hard, disguising his surprise with far more familiar
aggression, catching her wrist and holding it just a little too tight. “Stay,”
he rumbled, doing his best by a smoldering stare which only emphasized his
anger, his frustration, and his sheer size. “Stay with me and be mine one
night. Thou hast given me but bitter sips. Layest thou before me thy feast and
let me revel.”

“I said no.”

He released an
ear-splitting roar into her face and let her hand go like he was throwing it at
her, then stomped away. He crouched down next to the ruined column and scored
at it with his claws, thinking, while she dragged herself up the first of the
ten tall steps that led out of his theater. “Thou art a student here,” he said
at last. “Thou hast no right to refuse an instructor.”

 
“Last I’d heard, you weren’t teaching
anymore,” she pointed out, and climbed another riser.

“Dost thou defy
me?”

A mild question,
incuriously asked, but there was a threat in it that he didn’t bother to hide. Mara
managed a third stair and then sat on it to rest. He was watching her, his eyes
half-lidded, giving every appearance of lazy unconcern even as his claws still
dug furrows in the broken stone of what had been a whole column just minutes
ago.

“Of course not,”
she said. “Give me the order.”

Something
flickered in his eyes. The same something, maybe, that made his thoughts move
briefly close to the unbreachable surface. She could feel them, even if she
couldn’t see them clearly, and she didn’t think he was showing them off on
purpose. On the principle that it really was uncertainty and not anger she was
sensing, Mara pressed the advantage.

“Go on, then. Say
it like an instructor would. You know I can’t refuse you and stay here. You
know I’m not leaving without Connie. So give me an order.”

He continued to
say nothing. His mind was in motion, circling hers like a snake, and she
studied it now in all its dangerous color. In the twisting surface of the
Mindstorm, she read only the muted flash and color of the hundreds of students
moving about here in the mountain; in Kazuul himself, she could see nothing but
the well-built mental walls of an ancient, unpleasant mind. There was something
else underneath, something every bit as real, something that seemed sharp and,
if not quite desperate, at least honed to a terrible intensity, something he
thought was still entirely hidden.