Grey Eagle - Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

He woke to a sharp pain and a sudden, flurried confusion. His eyes opened to daylight and a huge, vulture-like bird dancing away from him. Startled by the sheer size of it, he stared, failing to realize for several moments that it had bitten him.

He sat up, checking his forearm, and the bird took flight. The wound was minor, more bruise than puncture. He looked up at the creature wheeling above him. You want to eat me too, he thought to himself. But it was ignorant and innocent, just an animal. Two more joined the first.

He laughed softly, and winced, realizing only then that he was still alive. Still alive. Now what? Start walking again? Better than waiting for all three to come down.

He rose, dizzied, and steadied. He looked around, then sighed. Coming towards him, already perhaps halfway from the house, was a hovercraft. He glanced crossly at the birds. Thanks a lot.

He started walking towards the craft, then sat. Why bother? They'd get there soon enough on their own. It hadn't been a total waste anyway. Last night had been an unexpected gift in itself. And so he looked out across the golden fields, enjoying the remaining moments, memorizing...

When the craft arrived, he barely seemed to notice, passive and apathetic as Raach grabbed hold of him. He shook him, but Arion barely cringed... Raach growled and shoved him into the back seat. Arion curled up quietly, picking at the seam of his pants.

Back at the house Raach dragged him to the room with the desk and threw him in. He crumpled, kneeling, sitting on his heels. Raach came to him, roughly pulling off his jacket and shirt and Arion held his breath in a futile attempt to brace his rib.

Opening a panel, Raach brought out a simple whip. With the first cut, Arion cried out, his back arching, but he didn't try to escape. Six cuts, and Raach put it away.

Pulling him to his feet, he led him back down the hall to the damats' room. "Stay," he said with vehemence, and shoved him in. Relieved but cowed, he looked at the damats for their reaction to his presence.

Manak eyed him coldly, knowing. The others shunned him. He wondered briefly if it was due to Manak's anger, or if his stripes served double duty as a visual warning to the others. Maybe both. But it didn't really matter.

He moved slowly to his old spot and sat, leaning his shoulder against the wall. He eased his head down into his arms, stretching his back as slowly and as little as he could. He closed his eyes, losing himself in, and detaching himself from, the burning entity of his back.

A stirring, and he raised his head, fearing Manak. Reegat had come, bringing another trayful of food. Arion looked at it, fruits, then at Manak. He wouldn't be allowed. He put his head back in his arms.

A touch on his shoulder, and he flinched, startled. "Here, stupid," said Reegat, but his voice was soft, even sympathetic. He was holding out a fruit. Arion took it eagerly, eating it core and all.

Reegat sat down next to him, crossing his legs, and held out another fruit. He accepted, eating it more slowly, eyeing the third one in Reegat's lap. He held it out, and sat waiting while he ate it.

Reegat stood then and fetched a blanket. He hesitated, clearly wanting to wrap it around him, but reluctant to lay it across the cuts. Finally, he wrapped it around his lap, leaving his back open.

Soft and warm, Arion snuggled his face into it, closing his eyes, tired and grateful. Always he had detested Reegat, obnoxious and hateful, and his sudden kindness was completely unexpected. Reegat left, and he dozed.

He woke with a start, falling, his back flashing with fire at the sudden movement, his rib echoing its familiar, tiresome complaint. He sat up, his confusion settling as he saw Manak walking away with his blanket.

He sighed and stood up, stretching gingerly. He felt better, but he wasn't sure why. Probably the fruit. He went to the bathroom and came back out, looking around the room. They looked at him calmly now, his subjugation an accepted fact.

He looked at Manak, who had just wrapped the blanket around Ky. Their eyes met and Manak glared at him, his hate still strong. Arion dropped his own eyes, accepting the judgment, unable to change it. He wondered if Manak would try to kill him again tonight, and why he couldn't just let him...

Maybe this time he would try to find Reegat and sleep in his room; flattery might be more forgivable. He puzzled, too, over Raach's reaction to him. Though the whipping was easily understood, the hostility had been extreme.

He smiled suddenly, small but genuine, as he wondered if Raach and Reegat had made a wager on how he would turn out. Apparently Reegat had won.

It would have been lunchtime when they came in, Raach, Reegat, and Sharsa. Sharsa came over to him, looking him over. He cupped his hand under his chin, lifting gently to look at his face. Arion was passive, apathetic, refusing eye contact. Sharsa released him and stepped back. "I'll take him, but no payment for two days."

"Pay now or he stays," said Reegat.

"I'll pay when I know he'll live," said Sharsa coolly. "You and your little games, and you don't even know what you're doing. He certainly isn't worth much anymore."

"He is," said Raach calmly, "or you wouldn't be here. Don't try to cheat him."

"Cheat him? I'm the one being cheated if anyone is. I'm curious, sure, but what good is he? He might not even live."

"Well, you don't have to buy him," said Reegat, undaunted. "Maybe I don't even want to sell him. I think it's an improvement."

"Mm. You would. You've always had a soft spot for the underdog. But if he stays, Manak will kill him. You know that."

"He hasn't killed him yet."

"No," said Sharsa with disgust. "And he wears the stripes for his survival. You think I don't know?" He paused. "I would have liked to see your faces this morning though," he continued, the smile audible. "How far did he get?"

"We found him," Reegat answered simply. "Pay now or pay tomorrow. But tomorrow costs extra."

"You're asking too much as it is. And if Manak kills him, you'll get nothing."

"Too much? For anyone else I would ask much more. If it weren't for bringing the humans home, I wouldn't sell him at all."

"Better they think he's dead, right?" He was smiling again. "They would be upset to see what's become of him. So I will take him off your hands for you. But I will pay in two days."

"Oh, no you don't. I don't have to sell him. Pay now or he stays. I happen to like him. They'll get used to him."

Sharsa sighed. "Half then. Half now, and the other half if he lives. I can't afford your price on a gamble."

Reegat laughed, happy. "You can afford plenty when you gamble! But for you, okay. Just see that you take good care of him." He came to Arion, lifting him gently by the arm, leading him out of the room.

Arion followed, docile and fascinated. Outside, Reegat loaded him into Sharsa's craft, then sat on the edge of it, waiting. He was looking at him, and Arion longed to meet his eyes, musing over what he might find. But it was too dangerous, not worth the risk, and he sat, picking at the seam of his pants.

Sharsa came out, carrying his shirt and jacket, and the mythra. "I'll be in touch," he said, climbing in.

"Good," answered Reegat, hopping down. "Just take good care of him. May I come see how he's doing later on?"

"We'll see." He pulled away and brought the craft up to speed. For awhile they rode in silence, and Arion stared out across the plain, awed once again by the immensity of it. There were no roads, the hovercraft not needing any, but now and then they passed a marker.

"So tell me," said Sharsa, startling him, "how far did you get?"

When Arion obviously wasn't going to answer he said, "So you won't talk to me either, huh? ...Why didn't you kill Raach last night? ...That was the first thing I thought of when I saw your back. If you had enough freedom to get outside... Well it doesn't matter."

He was quiet then, and they traveled on until they came to a large house. The trees were much closer now, but the house was still well within the plain, more towards the city than the angle Arion had taken. He realized now that he could never have made it to the trees even if he had walked all night.

Sharsa led him inside, and into the kitchen, fixing a large lunch, then carried it into the next room. Arion followed the food. Pork, plus bread and fruit for Arion. Sharsa handed him a plate and sat down in a large armchair. Arion sat on the floor and began to eat.

Sharsa sighed. He set his plate on the arm, and came over to Arion, who dropped his food and froze. This seemed to startle him, and he hesitated. "Tch tch, Arion. Sit in the chair." He lifted him gently by the arm, guiding him into the chair, and gave him back his plate.

"You know," he said quietly, sitting again, "Reegat believes because he doesn't want to think Kalb is wholly dead. He believes because he wants to believe. ...And maybe because they're still alive," he added with a smile. "But you and I both know better. And you do belong to me now. I bought you. No one can take you away like before, and I can do what I want instead of what I'm told."

Is that supposed to make me feel better? Besides, I'm not all paid for yet, and I might not even live, remember?

"Well, you get calmed down then. I can wait until you feel better. I guess you've had a pretty rough time."

Nah.

"I have a room for you if you want to rest. I have more experience with damats than humans so if you want anything else, just let me know."

Right.

Sharsa was silent then, eating. Arion finished the last of his food, and sat looking at the plate, not sure what to do with it.

"Come on, I'll show you your room," said Sharsa, rising. He waited, but Arion didn't move. He sighed, took the plate and set it on the arm of the chair, then pulled Arion up by the arm.

They went down a hallway to a room, smaller than the one Raach had given him, but no workbench. A real bed, a dresser, a desk, and a chair. "Wait here. I'll go get the mythra."

Very nice. Very tempting. So now we play the flipside of our old game. Will the doorway zap me here too? Do we have cameras in here? He stood without moving.

Sharsa returned quickly with his shirt, jacket, and the mythra. "I have some salve here," he said, holding out a small tube for him to see. "It'll help your cuts heal faster, and they'll feel better while they're at it."

He moved behind him and began gently applying the cream. Arion flinched at the first touch, then stiffened and held still. It burned, and each touch brought a flaming protest. He wondered helplessly if the good intention was a lie, but the fiery ache soon began to go numb. It was, after all, a big improvement.

"These really aren't so bad," said Sharsa conversationally. "I guess they feel like it, but they're really not so bad. They'll heal quickly. Does that feel better now?" He moved around in front of him and paused expectantly.

"Well, I'll just leave you to get settled in on your own... You know, you really don't have to play this game with me... All right then. Get some rest and we'll chat later."

Right. Run along to your little spy room and see what he does when you're not around. He was suddenly exhausted, and the bed looked so inviting... Wistful, he settled himself on the floor for a nap.

He woke sometime later, stiff, uncertain how long he had slept. He sat up and looked about the room.

No windows. They never have windows. Don't they ever like to look out? He sat for awhile, wondering what to do. Nothing. He drew closer to the wall, leaning his shoulder against it, depressed.

Sharsa expected him to talk, but if he did, he would take him back to the marshmallow room to lock him up again, to force him to promise. If he didn't talk, what then?

Wait and see.

He soon felt the need for a bathroom, but this room wasn't equipped. Blast you, Sharsa! His blindness was unpredictable, probably intentional... And so he sat, growing increasingly miserable.

Sharsa appeared at last, looking in on him. "You're awake. Feeling better?"

Worse, at the moment.

"Still not willing to talk? That's okay. Raach probably destroyed every ounce of trust you had. Come with me."

And whoever said I had any to begin with?

Sharsa started to leave, but came back and took his arm. "This is getting tiresome," he chided, smiling as he led him down the hall.

They passed the bathroom and Arion stopped. "What's... Oh." He released his arm and Arion quickly relieved himself. He came back out and Sharsa continued out to the front room, carefully seating Arion in a chair.

He sat in his own chair, leaning forward, arms folded across his knees. "What are you afraid of, Arion? Of me? I'm not Raach. I still want to be friends. I never thought I'd get another chance, but here it is. And I still want to build a peace. Not just for your people, for mine too. Mostly for mine, if you want the truth, but you should want it for yours.

"...I know a lot of my people hate the Gadamis, Raach and Reegat obviously do, but there are plenty of others who would rather live in peace."

Arion glanced at Sharsa, meeting his eyes for the first time. His emotions writhed like snakes and he looked away. It was still there. He liked Sharsa and he didn't want to. In many ways, he seemed worse than Raach. Far gentler, he was somehow crueler, blind to the pain he inflicted.

Blind, perhaps innocent?

Raach had attacked his spirit, but his attacks were up front and, to him, justified. Sharsa had tormented his spirit too, but more subtly. And yet he had, in a sense, rescued him from Raach.

"I couldn't help what Raach did to you. Will you keep hating me just because I'm a venator? Are you like Raach, so full of hate you'd rather kill us all than be willing to see any good in us? Is that fair? Is it fair to your own people, to those of your own kind who, like me, would rather have peace? Do you really hate me that much?"

No. I fear you that much.

"You once said if I let you out, you would trust me, and I said I had to trust you first. Or rather, they said. Well, that didn't work. So now we try it your way. Reegat let you out because he thought your spirit was gone. I don't believe it, but I let you out.

"Raach got his hands on you because of your hate, not mine. I like you. I want to be friends. I let you out. No barriers. No leashes. But I need to be able to trust you...

"I'm scared too," Sharsa added plaintively. "What more do you want?"

I don't know, he thought miserably. As always, Sharsa's words made sense, and as before, he found himself unable to believe him.

He cursed himself for being hateful, and as he looked at his distrust, he tried to release it, to give Sharsa a chance. He meant well, even if he didn't understand...

And his fear yanked him back, cursing him for a gullible fool.

"I don't understand, Arion. All I want you to do is talk to your people for me. I should think you'd jump at the chance. Even if you insist on hating me, at the very least you should be willing to help yourself. What have you got to lose?"

More than I have to save.

Sharsa sighed. "All right. Why don't you come keep me company while I fix us some dinner?"

Nothing.

He sighed again and came to take his arm. Arion followed willingly, uncomfortable and guilty in the face of Sharsa's depression.

Sharsa was silent as he cooked, though he looked at Arion from time to time. He came over finally, frowning slightly.

"Look at me... You don't have to say anything, just look at me."

Nothing.

As before, Sharsa cupped his hand beneath his chin and gently lifted his face. Arion met his eyes briefly, then looked away. Sharsa had never been anything but gentle, but the association of the marshmallow room loomed dark in his mind all the same.

"What did they do to you?" he asked softly, almost whispering. "Was it really enough to break you?"

No. You can't reach me. But the thought came so viciously hard within his mind that it frightened him.

Aviel, is this what You wanted all along? I just don't want to be bait... Oh why do I have to be so dense? I'm sorry... His fear continued to rise, his confusion deepening, until he was sure he would break down completely.

Sharsa released him and finished cooking.

He carried the plates into the front room and Arion meekly followed the food. Again Sharsa sat him in a chair, but they ate in silence. When they had finished, Sharsa lifted him by the arm and began putting salve on the cuts.

"I need to tell you something, even if... Well, so you won't get scared. ...Please understand, and don't be angry, but I drugged your food. It's harmless - just a little something to make you sleep. You won't let me trust you, and I'd like to be able to sleep myself tonight. I'd also like to wake up in the morning. Do you see how it is? Just to make sure you stay asleep."

Arion sat calmly while Sharsa finished with the salve, following quietly as he led him down the hall; a brief pit stop in the bathroom, much appreciated. They continued to the bedroom, and Arion could feel his balance already beginning to tilt. Sharsa hesitated, but left without saying anything more.