He doesn’t look like much. At least he’s alive. The master will be very pleased.
This was not Master Hadar? Vrell looked to Jax, her brows furrowed.
“That’s Master Hadar’s man, Carlani.”
Carlani inched along as if his legs had been injured in some way. Clearly he did not move like a jackrabbit. Perhaps it was only his age. His tunic looked draped over bones.
“Welcome, young man,” Carlani said in a rasping voice. “The master has been eagerly expecting you.”
Vrell forced a smile and bowed. “It has been a long journey.”
Again Jax’s heavy hand settled on her shoulder. “Good luck to you, Vrell.”
“Thank you, Jax.” How she longed to throw her arms around him and kiss his big, hairy cheek. Instead, she reached out her hand. He took it gently in his huge hand, and they shook.
“I’ll show you to your chamber,” Carlani said. “Mags. Run ahead and prepare the boy’s room.”
Mags, the red-headed servant girl, nodded and scurried up the stairs. Vrell followed Carlani, wiggling her fingers at his infuriatingly slow pace. Carlani hobbled up the first flight of stairs.
“I’m sure you’re tired from your journey,” Carlani rasped, “but the master is anxious to meet you. He greatly opposes the uniform of a stray, so you must change first. I’ve set out your new clothing in your chamber.”
When they reached the third floor, Carlani moved down a long corridor. They passed Mags on the way.
“The room’s ready,” she said.
Thankfully, Vrell’s status as a stray and apprentice would keep her closer to the ground floor. The last time she had stayed at Mahanaim, her chambers had been on the seventh floor. It would have taken Carlani another hour to get there.
Carlani stopped at a room at the very end of the corridor and pushed the door open. “Change as quickly as you can and meet me on the eighth floor. I’ll be waiting for you there.”
As slow as he moved, he would need to start now. Vrell stepped into the dark chamber and closed the door. A single candle flickered on a waist-high sideboard. Once Vrell’s eyes adjusted to the dark, she took in her new home. The room was tiny and narrow, only as wide as the straw mattress at the end. A set of clothes lay folded on the stiff mattress. A basin of water — warm, she hoped — sat on the narrow sideboard.
She knelt on the bed to look out the small arrow loop window. At first she thought the window was false because she could see nothing but blackness. Then a few vague yellow glows came into focus and she shuddered.
Her window overlooked Darkness.
It was the only logical explanation. It had still been light when she and Jax had entered the castle not long ago, so it couldn’t be nighttime already. She turned and sank against the wall, the reality of her location continuing to make her tremble. She had never wanted to set foot in Darkness, ever. Now, without knowing it, she had wandered right into it. May Arman keep her safe.
She sighed deeply and carried the change of clothes to the doorway. Standing with one foot keeping the door shut, she changed into a pale satin tunic and black leggings, thankful to be rid of the hideous orange tunic. Probably no one would enter without knocking, but she would not take that chance. Her padded undergarment was still damp from her swim in the hot springs. She hoped it would not mold in the Mahanaim humidity.
Once she was dressed, she caught up to Carlani on the stairs just past level seven. He smiled, panting, and lifted his foot to tackle another step. At the top of the stairs, he led to the right and knocked twice at the third door.
A muted, “Enter,” drifted through the thick cypress door.
Carlani pushed it open and inched inside a small, stone antechamber. The room was like standing in an oven: dark and very hot. It was empty but for a blazing fireplace straight ahead and a bald man sitting before it in a wicker chair. Two doors led off the room on each side wall.
The bald man rose from the chair. He was draped in a thick, charcoal cloak. His skin was milky and semitransparent, revealing blue veins and liver spots. He had sunken grey eyes in hollow sockets and no eyebrows. It was as if they had been burned off. He rose to his feet and took two steps forward, the hem of his cloak falling around bare ankles. He wore black satin thong slippers revealing long yellowed toenails.
Vrell averted her gaze to the fire and fought back her revulsion. She fortified the walls around her thoughts, just in case.
“Carlani,” the man said.
The valet hobbled forward. Vrell watched in frustration at the feeble man’s slowness. Carlani picked up his master’s chair and turned it.
The bald man settled back down. “You’re the one from Walden’s Watch?” he asked, his voice a monotone hum.
“I am, sir.”
“Very good. You are how old?”
“Fourteen, sir.”
“You will call me Master or Master Hadar. Are you tired?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Then we shall let you rest, after a small test.” Master Hadar glanced at Carlani. “Tell me what Carlani is thinking.”
Vrell’s stomach churned. That was not a very kind thing to do with poor Carlani right here, but the valet did not appear to be paying attention. He was picking hairs and fuzz from his master’s cloak. She sought Carlani’s mind again.
…should have a cloak of silk or satin. Wool does tend to pick up every little thing in this drafty castle. But the wool keeps Master warm. Maybe I should suggest a bonnet. It would keep the heat in…
Vrell pulled back and cocked an eyebrow. “He is concerned with your cloak, Master. Every little thing clings to it. He knows the wool keeps you warm, but he thinks a bonnet might do the trick and maybe a cloak of silk or satin.”
Master Hadar’s sunken eyes bulged. “Good! Very good!” He purred and rubbed his gnarled hands together. “Carlani’s mind is like a child the way it’s so easy to read. Still, you’re more advanced than I expected. Excellent. One more test.”
Master Hadar stared at Vrell, his eyes as grey as his cloak. Her ears itched, so she swallowed and focused on closing her mind. He raised a hand and waved her closer. She took one step forward but he continued to wave. She walked until her knees touched his. He reached up, pressed his wrinkled thumb in the softness under her chin, and his fingers against her temple, cupping her face. His intimate touch startled her, and she glanced into the orange flames to remain calm and focused. Her face burned from her nearness to the crackling fire.
A tiny pinch started in the base of the back of her skull. The sensation grew slowly until it felt like a fist had reached inside and squeezed her brain. She let out a ragged breath and swallowed again. A tear trickled down her cheek, into the place where his thumb touched her chin. Her limbs trembled. She fought to steady them. Her arm twitched involuntarily and slapped his. He did not flinch. He did not release her.
Vrell uttered a small cry, sucked in another breath, and steeled herself against the ferocious pain. Her forehead grew damp with sweat. She glanced down to her master’s storming, enlarged pupils and her knees buckled. She pulled back to catch her balance, and severed his grip.
Master Hadar hummed. “Excellent! Your tolerance is incredible. Had you not met my eyes you’d have lasted longer. I could get nothing from you. Nothing at all.”
Vrell couldn’t stop shivering. She did not want to last longer. She never wanted him to touch her in such a way again. What horrible magic did this man wield?