“Thank you for corning, Lord,” said the Stablemaster in Cybellian. His voice was so thick with an odd Eastern accent, Sham had difficulty understanding him.
“What caused this?” asked Kerim with a frown.
The man frowned in return. “Me, sir. I caught the lad in with your stallion again.”
“After I talked to him last time?” asked the Reeve.
The Stablemaster nodded. “The stallion’s been in a foul temper lately; he kicked his groom yesterday. Scorch has never been an easy horse, and he hasn’t been getting as much work as he’s used to. None of us would see the lad hurt, and I suppose I was harder on him than I should have been.”
Kerim nodded and began moving again. The stableyard wasn’t smooth, and the tires of the chair caught in the rough dirt. Sham moved behind it and added her weight to the struggle. Kerim waited until he was directly below the boy before speaking.
“Unless you can grow wings, Elsic, your seat is a bit too high for my comfort,” commented the Reeve in a casual tone.
The boy started, “Sir?”
“Come down, lad.” Kerim’s voice was soft, but held enough steel that the boy reached down and grabbed a large beam under the roof and somersaulted off the edge.
Someone near Sham swore. She watched with a connoisseur’s appreciation the lithe, comfortable way the boy descended. She’d had enough experience at similar activities to know that he was making it look a lot easier than it was. He swung easily from one horizontal beam to another until he reached a vertical support that he shinnied down.
As he dropped lightly to his feet, Sham noticed for the first time that boy wasn’t the albino he first appeared—his eyes were so dark they appeared almost black. She also revised his age upward. Like the street children that she was familiar with, he was merely small for his years. His odd coloration caused her to frown thoughtfully.
“Come here,” said the Reeve.
Sham slanted him a glance. The boy had come down readily enough, he didn’t need another reminder. It wasn’t until Elsic reached out to touch the Reeve’s chair before crouching down on his heels that Sham realized that Kerim’s words had been directions rather than commands. Like the Old Man, the boy was blind.
“I hear that you have been getting into trouble again,” said Kerim in a reasonable tone.
Elsic’s face looked even sadder then before. “He won’t hurt me. He’s lonely and he likes me.”
The Reeve sat quietly a moment, rubbing his jaw. Finally he said, “Under most circumstances I would agree with you, but since I’ve been stuck in this chair he’s not been worked as he ought to be. The Stablemaster does what he can, but Scorch is a war horse. He kicked his groom yesterday.”
Elsic frowned, hesitated, and then said, “His groom chews beggar’s-blessing when the Stablemaster isn’t looking. Horses don’t like it when people act odd.”
“The groom is lucky Scorch didn’t take off his head if he was on ’blessing,” agreed Kerim. “Did you hear that, Stablemaster?”
The old man grunted. “I caught him at it once. If he’s still doing it, he can do it at someone else’s stables.”
That coloring ... Sham reached out and touched the boy lightly on the shoulder. Her hands almost hurt with the force of his magic.
He straightened and cocked his head. “Who are you?”
Sham glanced around at the crowded stableyard. “I am a friend of the Reeve,” she answered finally, and then in a soft tone that went no further than Elsic and the Reeve she said, “I am a wizard.”
Elsic smiled gravely.
“My lord,” she said, “I think he’s safe enough with your warhorse. I doubt that it will hurt him.”
The Reeve looked at her carefully, frowning, and then turned his gaze to the boy. Slowly he nodded his head. “Be careful, then, boy.”
Elsic grinned widely. “Yes, lord.” He swallowed and then said in a soft voice, “Sometimes it’s good to be with something so arrogant and sure of himself. It makes me feel safe.”
The Reeve sat forward, “Has anyone been bothering you?”
“No one, Lord,” said Elsic quickly. “It’s just ... there’s something wrong here, something very old and evil.” The boy’s face lost all expression as he spoke, and he turned to Sham and met her eyes with uncanny accuracy.
His voice quieted so that Sham was fairly certain that no one but she and the Reeve could hear him. “It knows who you are, mage, and the threat that you represent to its intentions. It wants the Reeve more than it has desired anything in a thousand years. Be very careful.”
“I will,” she agreed, as a chill crept up her spine. She wondered, having heard him speak, how the Reeve could dismiss any warning Elsic chose to give him—but then Easterners were like that.
The boy nodded his head and turned away, disappearing without another word into the enclosed stables. The Reeve looked at Sham for a moment, then he turned his chair around, and she hurriedly moved behind it to help push. Neither spoke until they were alone on the narrow walk.
“I found him, a little more than a year ago, washed up on the sands exposed by the Spirit Tide.” Kerim paused. “He was sitting quietly, humming a little, wearing nothing but a finely woven kilt.”
He fell silent momentarily, stopping his chair and gazing at a mare and her spotted filly. “I suspect that someone left him there to die because he is blind. The people here have an unnatural fear of blindness—they see it as a sign of evil magic.” Kerim smiled without humor. “He didn’t speak for a long time. I don’t think his native language is Cybellian or Southern, but he learned both very quickly. Elsic tells me that he cannot remember anything before he woke up here.
“I kept him with me in the Castle at first, but I was distracted by the business of running Southwood. I didn’t notice some of the nobles were tormenting the boy until Dickon pointed it out to me.” Kerim sighed, and shook his head. “Elsic has a way with animals, and the Stablemaster is a kind man who holds absolute control over his lads, so I gave Elsic into his keeping. I hope that he’s become enough of a fixture around the stables that when ...” The Reeve’s hands tightened involuntarily on the arms of his chair, but he continued calmly enough, “—when I’m no longer here, no one will hurt him for being the way he is.”
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” promised Sham softly. “If there is a problem, there are places that he can be made safe. Wizards are used to strange creatures and would do him no harm.”
“How do you know he’ll be safe with Scorch?” Kerim asked.
Sham shrugged. “Selkies have a way with animals.”
He gave her a narrow glance.
Sham smiled and continued amiably. “Selkies are one of the seafolk. They generally appear in the shape of white seals with dark eyes—a better form for swimming than a man’s body. I imagine. No seaman who wants to live long would dream of spearing a white seal—ask Talbot. They are said to be a race of warriors, as harsh to their own kind as they are to others. When one is too old or wounded, they attack him, driving him away or killing him upon a whim. I would not think they would allow a blind child to live past his first hours unless his mother was very clever.”
He seemed to be taking this calmly enough, so she continued. “His people don’t use human magics. They have access to knowledge I do not. I would take any warning he chooses to give you very seriously.”
Kerim’s lips quirked into a smile and he shook his head, “I don’t think that I should ask this question; if Dickon were here, he’d disown me. What did Elsic mean when he said the demon wanted me?”
“Assuming magic is real?” asked Sham with raised brows.
Kerim sighed theatrically, and nodded.