The laws were old, made in harsher times. Perhaps it was reasonable, as the old records said, to forbid weak men to sire potentially weak children. But what reason could there be for denying a man access to his chosen one, his first, while permitting him so many others? What reason but to remind him constantly that he was a slave?
Teray drew a ragged breath. No matter why the laws had been made, they were still in effect, being used every day. Now, if Joachim failed him, they would be used against him.
No, he had chosen Joachim as well as been chosen by him. He knew the man. Iray was right. Joachim would not make the trade.
When they had talked for a while longer, Teray assuring Iray, reassuring himself, another mute approached them to say that Joachim had decided to stay the night. They had been assigned a room. If they wished to go there now …
They had dinner in their room that night, served by a young mute girl who knew enough to go about her work without bothering them. The girl was on her way out when, finally, Joachim came to see them. The mute girl smiled at him and continued out of the room. Joachim watched silently until she closed the door behind her. Then he crossed the room to them, still silent. Teray stood up.
Joachim faced him, met his eyes. “I’m sorry, Teray.”
“Sorry?” Teray repeated the word mechanically, then explosively: “Sorry! You mean you did it? You traded me?”
“Yes.”
“Joachim, no!” Iray almost screamed the words. Then she was on her feet too, and beside Teray. “You’ve betrayed us.” She radiated more anger than fear. “After I introduced you to Teray.”
“How could you do it?” Teray demanded. “Why would you do it?”
Joachim turned away, went to stand beside a window. “You heard him. He wanted you. I couldn’t stop him.”
“Then why didn’t you let me try?”
“You can try if you want to.” Joachim shook his head wearily. “You probably will, sooner or later, because he wants you to. He wants to know just how strong you are. And he wants you to know his strength. He wants to put you in your place.”
“You’re so sure that I have no chance against him?”
“No chance at all. In a few years, maybe, when you’ve had more training, more experience, when you learn more control. But now … he’ll humiliate you before the rest of his House, before Iray.” He looked at Iray. “And that will be that.”
“That’s already that as far as you’re concerned,” said Iray.
Joachim said nothing.
“After all, you’ve sold us, and you’ve been paid.” Her voice was harder than Teray had ever heard it. “You’re sorry! What do you want? Our forgiveness?”
Joachim answered softly, “I tried. I did everything I could to make him change his mind.”
“I don’t believe that. Either you wanted the artist and you did what was necessary to get him, or you let Coransee frighten you into making the trade.” She looked at him closely. “You are afraid of him, aren’t you?”
Startled, Teray looked at Joachim. The Housemaster looked tired, looked almost sick. But he did not look frightened.
“I’m afraid for Teray,” said Joachim softly, “and for you.”
“Then help us,” demanded Teray. “We need your help, not your fear!”
“I can’t help you.”
“You mean you won’t help us. No one outsider is worth the trouble you could give him for taking me. You wouldn’t even have to fight.”
“Teray, it doesn’t have to be as bad as you think, being an outsider.” There was desperation in Joachim’s voice. “If you can just accept it, stop fighting Coransee, he can teach you more than I ever could. And he’s not as far from you in the Pattern as you think.”
“And what about me, My Lord?” If there had been any of Iray’s childishness left, it was gone now. “Will it also be ‘not as bad as I think’ with my husband forbidden to me, and his slaver my owner!”
Joachim shook his head, his pain clear in his expression. He reached out to her, but she was closed to him. He took her by the shoulders and held her when she tried to turn away. “If I could help, do you think you would even have to ask me?”
Teray watched him silently for a moment, then, “Tell us why you can’t help, Joachim.” He thought he knew why. Joachim’s anguish was real enough. But he still showed no signs of the fear that Iray had thought she had seen.
Joachim released Iray and turned to look at Teray. “You know, don’t you?” he asked softly. “You’re too good. You see too much. It got you into trouble this afternoon. Finished any hope I might have had of talking Coransee out of the trade. Too good.”
“Tell us why you can’t help,” Teray repeated. He did know now, but he wanted to hear Joachim say it.
“I wonder how long it will take him to make an outsider of you,” Joachim said.
Teray waited.
“All right!” Joachim seemed to have to force himself to go on. “I’m conditioned … controlled! That special horse of mine has more freedom than I have when it comes to dealing with Coransee.”
Iray looked at him with disgust. “Controlled? Like a mute? Like an animal?”
“Iray!” Teray wondered why he bothered to stop her. Did Joachim still have pride to save? Did it matter? He was alone. Joachim was useless. What was he going to do?
“Do you know why I allowed him to plant his controls, Teray?”
Teray did not know. Or care. He said nothing.
“Because I wasn’t as patient as you were. Because I left the school too soon. And I left alone except for my wife. Coransee picked me up, forced me into his House as an outsider.” Joachim hesitated. “So you see, I know what you’re both going through. I had been with him seven years when he offered me a chance for freedom. I had to cooperate with him, let him plant his controls in my mind. It’s delicate work—the planting. Not like just linking with someone. As strong as he is, even he couldn’t have done it if I had resisted. So I didn’t resist. By then, I would have done anything to get free. Anything.”
“You call what you have now freedom?” Teray’s own contempt was coming through.
“Yes!” said Joachim vehemently. “So will you after a few years of captivity.” Then his tone changed, became what it had been earlier—saddened, hopeless. “No. I’ve been ‘free’ for years now and Coransee’s controls have been in place every minute. He doesn’t need my cooperation to hold them. I think I’ll wear them for the rest of my life.” He shrugged. “He doesn’t use them often. But when he does, there’s nothing I can do.”
A contrite Joachim was no more helpful than an angry one. Teray wanted to ask him to leave. But then he would be alone with Iray, and she would ask him the questions that he was already asking himself. He had no answers even for himself. What could he do?
Joachim talked on, but he had changed his tone again. Now he spoke quietly with anger. “Teray, you were wise enough to stay under the protection of the school until you were accepted for apprenticeship. You were careful. You did everything right. Yet through my weakness and Coransee’s dishonesty, you’ve lost your wife and your freedom. All while you were supposed to be under my protection. No matter what hold Coransee has on me, I can’t just go away and forget about you.”
“What will you do?” Teray asked resignedly. He already knew the answer.
“I can’t do anything directly. You know that. But indirectly, I’ll do everything I can, including an appeal to Rayal if necessary.” Joachim was moving toward the door and Teray was relieved to see him going.
Parting words: “Teray, believe me, I’ll get you away from him.”
Teray did not believe him. Nor did he bother to pretend. He went to the door and opened it. “Good-bye, Joachim.”
Joachim looked at him a moment longer as though trying to instill belief in his good intentions. As though he would have reached out to Teray if he had not feared finding Teray closed to him. Then he was gone.
Teray turned to Iray and saw that she
was trembling.
“What are you going to do?” she whispered.
“I don’t know.” He ran a hand over his brow and was not surprised to have it come away wet. “I don’t know. Maybe tomorrow …”
She was shaking her head. “Now, Teray. Don’t you feel it? Coransee is coming now.”
Chapter Two
AS IRAY SPOKE, BOTH she and Teray received Coransee’s wordless announcement of his presence, a mental image of the Housemaster standing outside Teray’s door.
With mechanical politeness, Teray returned an image of Coransee inside the room. Not that he wanted Coransee inside. He was not ready for a confrontation. He had had no time to gather his thoughts, decide what battle strategy might give him the best chance. If he had a chance at all. Joachim had left him all but drained of confidence, of hope. Yet he had to fight.
But did he have to fight now?
As Coransee entered, Teray glanced back to Iray. She was watching him, her expression frightened, questioning, her eyes bright with unshed tears. Yes. He had to fight now. A duel, one to one, unless he wanted to give Coransee an excuse to call in members of his huge Household.
Coransee came into the room and stood near the door, looking from one of them to the other. He gave his head a weary half shake and sighed. “Now, eh, brother?”
Teray glared at him.
“Bad timing,” continued Coransee. “You’re tired and emotionally drained. You should have chosen to wait. I would have let you spend the night here with Iray like a guest, and you could have fought me in the morning when you were rested.”
He spoke as though humoring an irrational person—as though chiding a child. Hot with shame and anger, Teray struck.
He meant to kill as quickly as he could. He knew he had no chance against a man of Coransee’s strength and experience unless he could get through Coransee’s shielding and bludgeon him to death at once. Given time, Coransee could outmaneuver him, kill him with tricks instead of strength.
But Coransee’s mental shielding seemed to absorb the blow without damage. Coransee slammed back with crushing force. Perhaps he too wished to end the fighting quickly. He struck again and again with almost-physical impart. Teray stumbled back against the bed, his shield withstanding the assault but his senses reeling. Blows were openings, were pathways to be traced back to their source. No Patternist could strike a blow through his own solid shield. To strike was to open one’s own shield, however slightly, however briefly, and make oneself vulnerable, it was part of Teray’s strength that he could strike with mind-blurring speed through a pinhole of an opening. It was part of Coransee’s strength and experience that he could strike Teray repeatedly without Teray being able to get a fix on one of his blows and trace it back before Coransee’s shield became solid again.
Teray knew at once that he had met his match. Coransee was at least as fast and as strong as he was. At least.
He hammered at Teray’s shield with a ferocity that left Teray able to do nothing more than maintain that shield and endure.
Still, it was a standoff. Teray was enduring and Coransee was probably wearing himself out. Teray waited, shaken, jolted, but not really hurt—waited for his chance.
But because Coransee was hammering at Teray’s shield so continuously, Teray was only half aware of what was happening to his body. He realized that someone had grasped his wrist but it took him longer to realize that the someone was Coransee.
Contact! Coransee was so occupied with keeping Teray subdued that he wanted physical contact to help him focus a second kind of attack, and do physical harm. The realization came too late. It came after Teray realized that something had happened to his heart.
Teray found himself clutching his chest in pain. He was suddenly not breathing properly, gasping coughing. The pain seemed to spread and worsen. Teray tore his wrist away from Coransee, but the Housemaster had already done his work. The pain continued, grew. He could have stopped it, but if he gave his attention to his body, Coransee would be free to break down the defenses of his mind.
But his heart. He was dying.
Somehow, he began again to strike at Coransee, to throw all his strength into a new attack. If he lived, he could repair his body later. If he died, he meant to take his brother with him.
Suddenly Coransee ceased his own battering attack, and withdrew behind a total shield. Perhaps he was tiring. Desperately, Teray hit harder. But his body hampered him. He was slowing, faltering.
Teray became aware of Coransee tracing a blow back through Teray’s shield. And even aware of him, Teray was too slow to shut him out.
Coransee had his foothold. He slashed at the rest of Teray’s shielding, his mind a machete. Teray felt his shielding being stripped away. He tried to hold it, struggling to remain conscious. Coransee grasped him, held him, blasted him into oblivion.
To Teray’s utter surprise, he regained consciousness on the bed of the guest room, with Iray looking down at him. He had not expected to regain consciousness at all.
He moaned and closed his eyes again. He felt weak but he was in no pain. Apparently, Coransee or Iray had already made whatever repairs his body needed. He felt hungry the way people did after being healed, but it was a bearable hunger. He had only recently eaten part of his dinner. Iray had been sitting up. Now she lay down beside him. He put his arm around her and drew her closer so that her head rested on his shoulder. How to say it? How to tell her he was sorry?
“Iray …”
She put a hand over his mouth. “Didn’t I see? Don’t you think I know what you feel?”
He shook his head silently, his body suddenly trembling with shame and fury. He made a ragged sound of anguish and twisted away from her. He wanted to go down and take Coransee on again—make him finish the job this time. He wanted to kill, or to die. He had lost everything. Everything! Why hadn’t Coransee killed him?
Iray tried to turn his head, make him face her. He caught hold of her hands and looked at her. He had lost her. What was she even doing there?
“I’ll get us out of this,” he said. “I swear …”
“Teray …”
“I won’t stop trying until—”
“Teray, listen! There’s a way out.”
He broke off, staring at her. “What?”
“Listen. Coransee said you were to report to him tomorrow … tomorrow morning. He said he might make you his apprentice. You’re stronger than he thought. He said you’d make a better ally than servant. Teray, he said I might … we might be able to stay together.”
“Might?”
“He wants to talk to you. I don’t know why. And he said he had to find out something from the school. But we have a chance, Teray. At least a chance.”
“Maybe. But what is there to talk about—or find out? Either I’m an apprentice or I’m not.”
“You could learn more from him than from Joachim. Much more. And maybe you’d be able to have your own House sooner.”
Teray shook his head wearily. “Love, don’t put so much of your trust in him. I don’t know what he has in mind, but …”
“Teray, whatever it is, go along with him.” She was leaning over him, looking down into his eyes. “Please. Go along with him. I don’t want to be a thing won in a fight. I want to be your wife. Please.”
He drew a ragged breath. “Do you think I’d miss a chance—any real chance—to get what we both want?”
She seemed to relax. She kissed him and brought him to stronger awareness of her body softly against him. She was what he needed now. He slipped his arms around her. She would always be what he needed.
Early the next morning, as the rest of the House awoke and began the day’s work. Teray announced himself outside Coransee’s private quarters. He stood in the great common room that he had entered the day before with Joachim. He had not realized then how big the room was. The fireplace seemed a long way off at the other end of the room. Right now there were two mutes in it, cleaning it. There were couches, chairs, and low
tables scattered around the room, and the walls were lined with cases of books, learning stones, game boards, small figurines, and more. Yet the room was not cluttered. In fact, at this hour, it seemed far too empty. There were only a few mutes cleaning, and a Patternist who had chosen for some reason to come down the front stairs and walk around to the huge dining room.
Abruptly, Teray received Coransee’s invitation to enter. Teray followed the invitation and found himself not in the Housemaster’s office but in a comfortable-looking carpeted sitting room. There, Coransee, wearing only a black robe of some glossy material, was having breakfast, served to him by a blond mute woman. The woman had set two places.
Coransee glanced at Teray and waved him into the empty chair at the small window table. Just as though they hadn’t been trying to kill each other only hours before, Teray thought. He sat down, was served steak and eggs from the mute’s cart, and, like Coransee, ate silently until the mute left. Then Coransee spoke.
“Have you ever seen our father, Teray?” His tone was surprisingly friendly.
“No.”
“I thought not. You look like him, though—much more than I do. That’s what caught my attention about you yesterday.”
Teray was interested in spite of himself. Rayal did almost no traveling. Probably only a small fraction of the Patternists had actually seen him. He was the Pattern. He was strength, unity, power. Every adult Patternist was linked to him, but the link did not involve tracing out his features. Most Patternists neither knew nor cared what he looked like.
“You and I are full brothers, you know,” said Coransee. Same father and mother. I awakened the Schoolmistress last night to find that out, though I already suspected it.”
Teray shrugged. He knew nothing of his mother. Rayal had many wives.