Текст книги "The Darkling Child"

Автор книги: Terry Brooks

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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

“There is something, but I can’t tell what it is. Or even where it is. Complex magic of an unfamiliar form—very sophisticated. But it doesn’t seem threatening. I don’t detect any edges or teeth to it.”

Lariana stepped forward. “We’re wasting time. If he’s here, he’ll be just ahead.” She pointed. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

She started across the room before either Paxon or Avelene could prevent it, her determined stride carrying her quickly beyond their reach. When she was perhaps fifteen feet ahead, still illuminated by the glow of the werelight, she turned.

“You should have listened to me,” she called over her shoulder. “Now you have to trust me, like it or not.”

Then abruptly the floor opened up beneath her, and she disappeared.

In a building deep in the heart of the city, Arcannen sat hunched over a small table, writing on a piece of paper. A smokeless lamp burned away the shadows that threatened to close in on him, the edges of its light reaching to where Reyn Frosch sat watching from across the room.

They had arrived in Sterne earlier that evening, and Arcannen had brought him straight here. But then the sorcerer had gone out again, explaining as he left that he had important preparations to make for Lariana’s arrival. On his return, several hours later, he had gone right to work on the invitation. It appeared to Reyn that they were inside a complex of living spaces, but it was hard to be certain because no one else seemed to be around. Their new quarters were spare, but adequate—a central living space, a room with two beds, and a few pieces of furniture.

“What are you doing?” the boy asked finally.

“Extending an invitation,” the other answered. He didn’t look up. “Are you hungry?”

Already impatient and agitated over what was happening—even without knowing for certain what that was—Reyn had become increasingly unhappy as the minutes dragged by.

“I don’t need to eat,” he snapped. “I need to know what’s going on. I need to know what’s happened to Lariana. Are you going to tell me any of this?”

“Soon. Why don’t you get some sleep? This might take a while.”

“What might take a while? What are we doing?”

Arcannen looked up now. “Waiting on Lariana. Didn’t I already tell you that? Didn’t I say she would be coming to join us later? Well, later isn’t here yet. Try exercising a modicum of patience. You’re tired and you’re not thinking straight. Get some sleep.”

Reyn slouched in his chair. “I’m not tired.”

“Just unhappy. A condition entirely of your own making. My regrets.” The sorcerer went back to writing. “Do what you choose. But stop complaining.”

The boy waited a few minutes, then he rose and walked over to the small pantry area and looked in the cold box. It contained cheese, bread, and a handful of dates that still looked edible, along with a container of ale. He found a plate and a glass in the cupboard. He still wasn’t hungry, but it was something to do. Carrying his meal with him, he returned to his chair, sat down again, and began to eat.

More than once he had considered trying to leave. Escape, he corrected himself, since by now he considered himself as much a prisoner as anything else. Arcannen was determined to avenge himself against Usurient and the Red Slash, and use Reyn to help him. Nothing the boy said to prevent his involvement seemed to help. The sorcerer’s plan, whatever it was, remained a mystery—and his own role equally so. Even Lariana’s purpose was shrouded in hints and suggestions of deceit and trickery. He could not shake his suspicion that she was leading him on. He could not help thinking her commitment was not to him, no matter what she said; it was to Arcannen. He even wondered if they were lovers, and that possibility cut at him with a knife’s edge. The idea of it was unimaginable, but it nagged at him nevertheless. Their relationship was clearly more than what either was telling him, and his relationship with both was clearly something less.

Across the room, the sorcerer had written out and thrown away three drafts of his mysterious invitation, dissatisfied with each effort. Too many words, the boy had heard him mumble earlier. Now he was at work on a fourth draft, his head bent to the task. Reyn wondered again what he was doing. It seemed to absorb him, his attention given over to it completely. Perhaps now was the time to work his way over to the door and simply slip out.

But that sort of thinking was not just foolish; it was dangerous. Lariana had warned him about going against Arcannen in even the smallest way, and while he might be questioning much of what she had told him, he was pretty sure of this.

Finally, the sorcerer finished a draft that satisfied him, and he lifted his head, leaned back in his chair, and stretched. “There. That will do. Now let’s get some sleep. We might have a few hours.”

Reyn grimaced, feeling petulant. “I’m not sleepy.”

“You weren’t hungry, either. But suit yourself. Just don’t try to leave the room.”

The sorcerer rose, walked into the bedroom, and lay down on one of the beds. Reyn watched him roll over until his back was turned and then listened as his snores began. He was asleep. This was the boy’s chance. Just get up, walk over to the door, and leave. No hesitation, no sounds.

You could do it, he told himself. You know you could.

Yet something told him he couldn’t. Arcannen wouldn’t have left anything to chance. There would be wards or warnings that any such attempt would trip. As tempting as the opportunity might be, he knew he should pass it up.

He slouched in the chair, his mind working, his doubts and fears roiling in dark waves, and wished he had never started any of this. He should have found another way, back when he was still in Portlow and there was a chance. Now he was trapped, not only by the sorcerer’s expectations and demands, but also by his attraction to Lariana. Even knowing she might not feel toward him as he had hoped, even believing it was all a game.

He was still worrying it like a dog would a bone when he fell asleep.

And found it waiting for him when a hand rested on his shoulder and shook him awake. “Reyn.”

Lariana.

He opened his eyes to find her bending over him, her smile heartbreaking, the sound of his name on her lips so welcome it brought tears to his eyes.

She started to kiss him, but then Arcannen appeared, his dark shadow sliding into the light as he came up behind her to rest his hands on her shoulders, causing all the boy’s doubts and fears to return in a rush so that he shied away from her touch.

“What word?” the sorcerer asked, eyes only for her.

“It went as expected,” she answered, glancing back at Reyn, sensing his reluctance, her expression suddenly uncertain. “They wanted me to lead them to you, so I let them think I was. I followed your instructions, disappeared when the magic allowed it, and left them to find their way out. What happens now?”

“You go out again.” He walked over to the table. Picking up the invitation he had taken such pains to compose, he brought it over, folded it twice, and gave it to her. “Take it to the Command Center at the Red Slash compound and present it. Don’t linger, don’t give them a chance to detain you. Now, go.”

And with a final look at Reyn, her expression unreadable, she was out the door and gone.

Dallen Usurient was sitting alone in his office, trying to make sense of what had happened earlier on the coast of the Tiderace, attempting to put all the seemingly disconnected pieces together in a recognizable form. He had thought to sleep long ago, his escape from the ruins of Arbrox and flight back to Sterne having worn down what remained of his strength. His hands had finally stopped shaking, and the images he had carried back with him of the fates of his companions—the ones that had twisted and torn at his sanity for hours—had finally subsided.

But he was hardly whole. Nothing had turned out as expected save for one thing—Arcannen was dead. He knew the sorcerer was dead because he had killed him, had shot him to pieces with a handheld flash rip when he had finally appeared out of hiding and exposed himself long enough to allow it to happen. But the deaths of Mallich and Hammer were terrible nightmares that would haunt him forever, and he could assume that Bael Etris had met a similar fate—though he would not take it for granted, not for a second.

But the boy and the girl—who were they? What sort of power did the boy possess that he could turn those animals against their handlers so effortlessly? Where had he come from? And the Druids! How had they found their way to Arbrox? Had they been tracking him all along, somehow alerted to where he was going and what he intended? Or had they learned of Arcannen’s whereabouts through another source? Had they seen and recognized him before he had managed to get clear of them?

He stood up and paced the room for a few moments, trying to still the thoughts that roiled through his brain, sharp daggers that pricked and cut at his confidence. What did he do now? He had to deal with matters as they were, and he wasn’t at all sure how to do that.

But Arcannen—Arcannen was dead. He clung to that as he would a lifeline, drawing on what comfort it offered him. The worst was past with the sorcerer dead. Whatever else threatened, that much at least was behind him.

He sat down again at his worktable and began considering choices for how he would handle his affairs from now on. Deny all involvement in whatever was discovered at Arbrox. After all, those who knew the truth were dead. Arrange to have the bodies discovered and file a report with the Federation Army High Command that did not implicate him. Track down Bael Etris, if he was still alive, and quietly put an end to him. Pretend that he knew nothing …

A knock sounded at his door. It caused him to jump, and he was instantly enraged. “What is it?” he screamed.

His aide entered, his face terrified, holding a folded sheet of paper. “A street boy just delivered this. I was told you would want to see it right away. Said it was a matter of life and death.”

Usurient rose. “Give it to me.” He snatched the paper away and motioned his aide out of the room. When the man was gone and his door closed again, he opened the paper slowly and read:

ARBROX IS HERE

Sunrise

Horn of Honor

That was all. But that was enough. Usurient read it again and again, trying to make it mean something other than what it clearly did. No amount of twisting or turning of its words could change the essential truth of it.

Arcannen was alive.

And Arcannen was summoning him.

He looked down and found his hands were shaking once more.

TWENTY-FOUR

REYN FROSCH WAS STILL STRUGGLING WITH THE MIX OF EMOtions generated by Lariana’s abrupt reappearance and even more abrupt departure; everything had happened so quickly, there was no time to sort it out. Then Arcannen said, “How would you like to have the answers to all those questions you’ve been asking?”

It caught the boy by surprise; he hadn’t expected any answers at all until the girl returned and wouldn’t have been surprised if Arcannen had continued to put it off even then.

But Arcannen led him over to the table on which he had composed his mysterious invitation and sat him down. Taking a seat across from him, the sorcerer leaned forward. “We are done with games, boy. We are done with practice. What happens next is a real test of your abilities. Can you stretch your magic in a way you haven’t tried and master it in the process? We’re going to find out tonight.”

Reyn felt his throat tighten. Tonight? “What do you mean? What’s going to happen?”

The sorcerer cocked his head slightly. “You’ve done well enough with images, but your magic has so much more potential. Let me tell you a little about its history. Once you understand what is possible, you might be better able to accept what I intend for you to do.”

He leaned back again, his gaze drifting off into the shadows of the room. “Lariana’s worked so hard with you. Tell me. Do you like her? It appears that you do. A great deal, in fact. Isn’t that so, Reyn?”

“I like her a lot,” the boy answered. There was no point in pretending otherwise. Surely Arcannen knew as much. “But you already know that, don’t you.”

He made it a statement of fact rather than a question. Arcannen laughed. “I do. And I’m happy for you. But let’s leave that subject for later discussion. The wishsong, then. The wishsong appeared centuries ago, an aberration created by Wil Ohmsford’s wrongful use of the Elfstones. It first manifested itself in his children. We’ve discussed this. What matters is that the sister, Brin, could make use of his gift in almost any way she chose. With it, she could change the world around her, altering the look and feel and behavior of other living things. She could literally bring a seedling to bloom or cause that very same bloom to wither.”

Arcannen paused. “Do you see what I am saying? She had the power of life and death at her command. What she could do to flowers, she could also do to humans and animals. There were no limits to her abilities. I think it likely there are no limits to yours, either.”

Reyn shook his head. “I don’t want that kind of power.”

“But you already have it! You’ve already exercised it, willingly or not. You’ve shown you can impact people by using your magic. You’ve caused people to die! Even if you didn’t intend it, you can’t deny the fact. You command power enough to cause people to explode at the sound of your voice. If you chose to, you could cause them to wither like flowers. You need to accept this, and then you need to find a way to control it. Because sooner or later, it’s going to break free again. If you recognize how it works, you have a better chance of being able to manage it. And not through manipulating images, but through contact with actual people, working through your difficulties by discovering how they can be managed.”

The boy just stared at him for a moment, trying to take in what he was saying. “You’re talking about experimenting on people? Testing my magic on them?”

“That’s it exactly. That’s how you learn. Fortunately, we have the right subjects for you to test yourself against. Men and women who believe in testing themselves against others, although mostly against those who can’t fight back. Imagine their surprise when they come up against you.”

“The Red Slash.” He shook his head vehemently. “I won’t do it.”

“Oh, I think you will.”

“You promised me I wouldn’t have to kill anyone! You gave me your word!” Reyn felt a surge of desperation wash through him. “Did you lie to me about everything?”

Arcannen looked offended. “I lied to you about nothing. I’ve tried to help you. I’ve tried to teach you what having your magic requires of you. I’m still trying. We just need to advance your methods beyond make-believe.”

“But you promised! You said I wouldn’t have to kill anyone!”

“Did I say anything about you killing anyone? Are you listening to me or not? What I said was that you learn how to manage your magic through contact with real people, not through projecting images. I’m not asking you to hurt anyone.”

Reyn shook his head. “That was what you said the last time. Look what happened there! These are trained soldiers; they’ll have experience I don’t! They won’t let me do anything to them. They’ll get behind me or slip past me, and then they’ll kill me or I’ll have to kill them! They’ll come for me and you won’t be there!”

He was practically hysterical. He could feel his control over himself slipping; he was on the verge of crying, already shouting in dismay. He was beginning to shake. But Arcannen reached out, took him firmly by the shoulders, and held him fast.

“You won’t have to kill anyone—and I won’t let anyone harm you. I will be right there with you, standing at your side the whole time. We won’t be fighting our way through mist and darkness. We won’t have to deal with rabid beasts and wild-eyed predators of the sorts we encountered before. The Red Slash and Dallen Usurient are soldiers. They’ll come at us like soldiers, and we will treat them as such. But they must be made to face the consequences of their willful and egregious transgressions, Reyn. They can’t be allowed to get away with murdering an entire village of innocent people. We’re agreed on this, aren’t we?”

The boy nodded reluctantly. “We’re not agreed on how it should happen, though.”

“Listen to me.” He held a finger in front of Reyn’s nose. “You won’t have to hurt anyone. I promise you. I told you I wouldn’t ask that of you. What happened in Arbrox was unavoidable—an accident, an unfortunate turn of events. But that won’t be the case here. I will make sure of it. You just have to do what you’re told. Just this one last time. Then, maybe you’ll want to apprentice with me when this is finished—you and Lariana! Why not? I can teach you both about magic. I can train you.”

There was nothing at this point that Reyn Frosch wanted less, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

Arcannen seemed to sense the boy’s reluctance. His mood turned dark again. “Don’t mistake the reality of our situation, boy. Don’t think your troubles will be over even after you’ve mastered your magic. The Druids will still be looking for you. The Federation will still try to hunt you down. You’ll always be a danger in their eyes, no matter how you change what happens with your gift. You frighten them. You are an aberration, and they want you gone. They’ve never stopped hunting me, so don’t expect that it will be any different with you.”

Reyn nodded slowly, mostly to show he understood, because he wasn’t at all convinced his situation was the same as Arcannen’s.

“Will you do as I tell you, then?” the other asked.

“You haven’t told me what it is you want me to do yet.”

“No, I haven’t, have I?” He gave a weary sigh. “But, really, I shouldn’t have to tell you. Not after what I’ve done for you. Not after all the help I’ve given you. It should be enough that I simply ask the favor.” He paused, his gaze hard and fixed. “So why don’t you just tell me you will do what I ask, and then I will tell you what it is.”

Reyn stared, confused. “Just tell you I’ll do it? Without knowing what it is?”

Arcannen nodded. “Yes, that’s it exactly. Demonstrate a little gratitude for once. Show a little faith. Go on.”

And if I don’t? he almost said. But something in the other’s look stopped him. “All right. I will do what you tell me.”

“Now, that wasn’t so painful, was it?” The sorcerer gave him a look. “You make everything so hard, even when things should be easy.”

He shook his head in a remonstrative gesture. “Lean forward.”

Reyn did so, stretching out over the table to meet the sorcerer halfway. As he did so, Arcannen placed an arm across his shoulders as he might have a child’s. And as if someone else might hear, he began whispering in the boy’s ear, revealing in detail exactly what was going to happen and what part Reyn was to play. As the whispered words filled his ears, the boy felt his horror grow by leaps and bounds, and he shuddered inwardly, fighting not to pull away in repulsion.

When Arcannen had finished, his smile was much wider and so frightening that the boy flinched at the sight of it. “Appalled, are we?” the other asked softly. “Hesitant, now that we’ve heard what’s intended?”

Reyn couldn’t make himself answer. He just stared at the sorcerer wordlessly.

“That’s why obedience is so important. That’s why I asked for your commitment first. That’s why I insisted you give it. So you wouldn’t be tempted to refuse me later.” He paused. “You’re not thinking of refusing me now, are you?”

Reyn shook his head, aware that any other answer would be a mistake. “No, I’m not refusing.”

Arcannen nodded. “That’s good. That’s very good. But if you should be tempted at any point to change your mind, think carefully before you do. You wouldn’t like what would happen if you crossed me.”

He rose, came around the table, and gave Reyn a clap on the back. “I have to go, make some preparations. I want you to rest and be ready for when its time. Dawn approaches. Think about what you need to do and how you will do it. Think about whatever mental preparations you should make. I need you to be strong for me when it’s time. I need you to be able to make your magic work.”

He crossed to the door and stopped, looking back. Reyn was still staring straight ahead and did not turn. “One last thing. About what I just said? If you change your mind on me, I will gut Lariana from neck to navel right in front of you.”

Then he was out the door and gone.

Deep within the abandoned Federation army barracks, Paxon and Avelene were examining the floor through which Lariana had disappeared. They kept crisscrossing the stonework, searching for the bolt-hole they knew must be there, but try as they might they could not find a trapdoor or even a hint of whatever magic had served to provide her with an escape.

Finally, after long minutes had passed and nothing had been gained, Avelene called a halt. “That’s enough. We’re not going to find anything. Lariana’s gone. Whatever magic was used to aid her, it’s sophisticated beyond anything I’ve seen. This has to be the sorcerer’s work.”

“So the girl was lying to us all along,” Paxon observed bitterly. “She’s Arcannen’s creature.”

Avelene was looking around, distracted. “I think we can retrace our steps out of here if we can remember all the twists and turns. We should get started.” She turned away, moving toward the door through which they had entered. “I don’t think you should jump to conclusions about Lariana.”

Paxon hurried to catch up, his anger hot and roiling within him. “What do you mean?”

“I’m just not sure what game she’s playing yet. Maybe she’s Arcannen’s cat’s-paw, but maybe she’s got something else in mind. It’s in the way she acts and talks, going back and forth, always straddling the fence. I can’t quite make up my mind.”

Paxon snorted. “Well, I can. Her loyalties lie in one place and one place only. With her own best interests. She’d turn on anyone if the opportunity presented itself.”

“Maybe” was all Avelene said.

They left the room and passed down the corridor that had brought them in and then down several more before finally reaching the doors that would allow them to exit the building.

Doors that this time around were firmly barred.

Paxon slammed the palm of his hand against the metal in frustration. “We should have known. The plan was to delay us any way they could.”

“But not try to kill us,” Avelene observed. “Interesting. That doesn’t seem like Arcannen.”

Paxon stopped pounding and stared at the doors. “No, it doesn’t. What do you think?”

The lavender eyes fixed on him. “I think it is the same as before. He wants us to try to break free.”

“Another trap.”

“I would not want to chance it.”

The Highlander exhaled sharply. What do we do?”

The Druid shook her head. “Find another way out.”

“One of the other doors?”

She gave him a look. “I don’t think so. I wouldn’t trust them, either.”

Paxon found himself wondering what the point of all this was. Why had Lariana gone to the trouble of leading them into this complex? Couldn’t she have found a way to lose them in the city without going through all this? She was quick and smart; she could have gotten free at some point. Why pretend she was leading them to Arcannen? It just further convinced him that she was firmly allied with the sorcerer and using Reyn for her own purposes.

Which would be Arcannen’s purposes. Which would mean killing Dallen Usurient. But she had insisted she was trying to help Reyn and prevent him having to kill anyone else. Was she lying or was something else going on?

“We’re missing something,” he said suddenly.

Avelene gave him a look. “I’m listening.”

“Why does Arcannen need the boy to help him kill Usurient? Why can’t he just do it by himself?”

“Maybe he has some special form of retribution in mind that requires the boy’s help. Nothing too ordinary would suffice for someone like him.”

“He still wouldn’t need Reyn Frosch for that. What if we’ve been looking at this the wrong way? What if you’re right about that special form of retribution but wrong about its target?”

The young woman stared at him. “What does that mean?”

“Well, think of it like this. If Arcannen doesn’t need him to kill Usurient, maybe he needs him for something more complicated. What if Arcannen intends to kill not only Usurient but all the soldiers of the Red Slash? After all, the entire company carried out the massacre at Arbrox. Wouldn’t Arcannen see them as equally responsible for what happened? Would he really confine his revenge to just Usurient?”

“So you think he needs the boy to help him because he’s going after more than just one man? But how much help can he be, even with the aid of the wishsong’s magic?”

“I don’t know. I just have a feeling about this. He has to need Reyn or he wouldn’t bother keeping him close. He found him and took him along and trained him. He’s used Lariana to help him with all this. I think whatever he’s got planned involves destroying the Red Slash entirely.”

She thought about it for a moment. “Sounds to me like you’re whistling in the dark. But on the off chance you might be right, we’ll need to act quickly. He knows we’ll find a way out of here soon enough, and he won’t want us interfering with his plans.”

“Will we? Find a way out of here?”

“Come with me. I have a thought or two myself. We’re going back inside that room.”

They retraced their steps through the complex to the chamber where Lariana had disappeared—Avelene in the lead, guiding them with use of her werelight—making their way back to the place they had last seen the girl. The werelight glimmered brightly against the shadows as the Druid held it up and peered around the room.

“We were looking at this wrong, too,” she said suddenly. “Over here.”

She led Paxon to a corner of the chamber where a section of wall had cracked open just enough to reveal it was a hidden door. “Ah,” he said.

“We were fixated on what we thought we saw, which was Lariana dropping through a floor. But that was an illusion created out of magic. Arcannen left it in place here, and Lariana triggered it and then slipped out this door while we were distracted.”

“So she knew it was there. She had to.”

Avelene nodded. “She knew.”

They eased through the doorway into a narrow tunnel that wound through several twists and turns before ending at a section of wall that Avelene quickly determined was there to provide concealment for a hidden door. She tested the portal for traps using Druid magic, found none, and, bracing herself, pushed on it until it opened outward into the night.

Paxon breathed in the fresh air, looking up at a clouded sky. “Very smart of you.”

She pulled a face. “It took me entirely too long to see the obvious. You’re the one who’s sharp. I think you’re right about what Arcannen intends. But I also think you’re wrong about Lariana.”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“Call it instinct. There’s something more complex at work in that girl than what we’re seeing.”

He shook his head. “What do we do now?”

She gave him a shove away from the building. “Haven’t you learned anything, Paxon? Wherever we find the Red Slash, that’s where we find the sorcerer. Let’s hurry.”

When the door to their quarters opened again, Reyn was expecting Arcannen’s return. But it was Lariana who entered, and instantly Arcannen’s final words came back to him with razor-edged clarity.

I will gut Lariana from neck to navel right in front of you.

But was that threat real or another ploy to gain his compliance? He stiffened as she turned to him, still suspicious in spite of his fears for her, still wary of the truth behind her role in what was happening to him. She saw the expression on his face and glanced around.

“Where is he?”

“He went out. He didn’t tell me where he was going.”

She gave him a hard look. “What’s wrong? And don’t try to tell me it’s nothing. I know you well enough by now.”

“Maybe I don’t know you quite as well.”

She folded her arms. “Maybe you should tell me what you mean by that.”

When he looked at her, even now when he knew what she might be, he was so unnerved that he had to look away again quickly. “I’m finding out some things I didn’t know about you. Arcannen told me on the trip back. He said you and he …”

He stopped, unable to finish, not even really sure where he was going. What he wanted to say and what he was afraid might be true were getting all mixed up, and everything was coming out wrong.

She pursed her lips. “He and I what? Better finish that sentence, Reyn. Let’s hear all of it.”

With an effort, the boy pulled himself and his thoughts together. “It wasn’t so much what he said as what he hinted at. That you and he … might be more than teacher and student. That your relationship might be something else. But it’s not really that, either. It’s how you seem to know so much that I don’t. He tells you more than he tells me. You had a plan for finding us after we left you with the Druids. You and he had worked it out ahead of time. No one told me. I was worried sick about leaving you. I know he’s told you other things, too. About his plans for Usurient. About what he intends for me.”

She waited on him, saying nothing.

“It just feels like you’re closer to him than you are to me, and I can’t stand it! I was so certain about us in the beginning. I thought you and I would be … would have a chance at …” He trailed off. “You kissed me like it meant something! Like I meant something. I’ve stayed because of that, even when I thought I ought to go. I couldn’t bear leaving you!”

He took a deep breath. “Just tell me if I’m wrong about all of this. Tell me if I’m being foolish.”

She nodded slowly. “Well, you are definitely being foolish. But not in a bad way.” She came over and sat next to him. “You liked it when we kissed, didn’t you?”

“You know I did.”

“Then you should know I did, too. That was real. That meant something to me, too.”

Her perfect features crinkled momentarily, as if disrupted by an unpleasant thought. “In the beginning, when Arcannen came to Rare Flowers, I would have done anything to persuade him to take me away. It was important to me that I leave before I was thrown out. Before I was back on the streets. Before I was forced to do things I didn’t want to do. I would have given myself to him, if he asked. I offered, in fact. But he wasn’t interested. He isn’t interested now. Arcannen sees people as pieces on a chessboard to be moved about as he thinks fit. He uses them to accomplish his ends. He doesn’t bond with them. He doesn’t feel love or desire or even friendship. People are there to serve his purposes. That’s all. It’s true of everyone, including you and me. So you can stop worrying about the nature of my relationship with him. It’s not all that different from yours.”