Lord Protector (17 page)

"I cannot." The assassin frowned, his mouth a grim line, and the Idol studied him with deep despair.

"You are indeed akin to a statue of a saint, Conash. Kerrion once described you thus. A face of purity and innocence, with granite eyes and a frozen heart. Your defences against this cruel world that has hurt you so much are indeed formidable, unassailable, and unfortunate. Rivan will shun you."

"Is that a prediction?"

"If you remain as you are, yes." Shamsara pointed across the clearing. "Go. He approaches yonder."

Blade hesitated, uncertain and afraid. "I cannot change what I am."

"You did not try."

"I do not know how."

"Why did you send Lilu to your estate?"

Blade shrugged. "I tired of her carping... and she begged me. I owed her."

"For saving your life, which you hate?"

"She did not know that."

"What did you feel?"

The assassin shook his head, frowning. "Nothing."

"A lie. You pitied her. You remembered your sister begging for mercy from the Cotti."

Blade's frown deepened, and he glared at the Idol. "I will thank you to stay out of my mind."

Shamsara sighed. "We will get nowhere if you persist in denying it."

Blade shrugged. "All right, perhaps I pitied her a little."

"Good, so you are capable of compassion." Shamsara glanced across the clearing, stroking his beard. "But this will take far too long if I have to drag each admission so reluctantly from you. Do you remember what you felt for your mother and father?"

"That was before -"

"Do you remember what you felt for Rivan?"

"Yes."

"Then you must make that memory a reality once more, and soon." Shamsara gazed across the clearing. "He is there. Go to him."

"How long has he been watching me?"

"He has never seen you." At Blade's despairing look, Shamsara added, "He is barely more than a cub. He still lives with his mother in the cave beyond those trees. He is learning to hunt, and this is the first time he has been away from his siblings. At the moment, he is trying to catch a mouse, without much success."

Blade nodded, still uncertain, then turned and headed across the clearing. He remembered how long it had taken him to make contact with the shy wood cat when he had been a child, and wondered if it would be the same this time. With every step, his nerves tightened and his stomach grew more knotted as the tension within him built. The clearing seemed huge, and the prospect of being reunited with his long-dead familiar became increasingly daunting. His steps slowed and his heart hammered. So many years had passed since he had lost Rivan that he could hardly remember what it had been like to have a familiar, and to be known so intimately. Affection was something he had learnt to avoid, and there was no relationship quite as intimate as that of a familiar.

As he neared the trees, he stretched out his senses in the almost forgotten way in which he had once touched his familiar's mind, seeking the young wood cat's presence. A few strides from the trees he stopped, his nerves twanging like over-tight harp strings, his stomach twisted with trepidation. The presence was there; warm, small and innocent, oblivious to his approach.

His breath caught as his mind filled with wonder and an old, half-forgotten yearning. For thirty years, he had not felt his familiar's warm presence, and to sense it again was almost overwhelming. He fell to his knees, forcing the shield of ice and hate to drop as he reached out with his mind, seeking the touch he had not thought to feel again. It came like a flash of fire, a sensitive, questioning mind filled with the scent of humus and mouse, mixed with faint pangs of hunger.

Blade sensed the cat's awareness of him, curiosity mixed with fear and a strange, confused recognition. Rivan forgot about the mouse and moved towards the clearing, seeking the source of the mental touch that drew him. Blade waited, as tense as a coiled spring, his eyes hunting the first glimpse of his reborn familiar.

Rivan emerged from behind a tree and lifted his head, locking eyes with Blade. He was a shadow against the leaves, his ears and paws too big, his tail too long, huge golden eyes dominating his immature face. For an instant a tenuous link was forged, filling Blade's mind with a wonderful warmth and a brief glimpse of himself, then the cat fled. Blade jumped up with a despairing shout.

"Wait! Rivan!"

Blade took two strides towards the trees and stopped, realising that chasing the elusive wood cat was the worst thing he could do. First contact had been made, and Rivan would return, drawn by the tenuous link that had formed between them. Bonding with a familiar always took several days, sometimes longer, depending on the beast. Clearly Rivan did not remember him, so for him it would be like the first time all over again.

Blade turned and walked back to the boulder where Shamsara sat, finding the stone and the Idol gone. He unpacked his bags, hoping he had enough provisions to last until the bonding was complete. What he had seen through Rivan's eyes bothered him. It gave him a glimpse of himself as another perceived him, unlike an image in a mirror. The last time he had seen himself through Rivan's eyes, he had been a laughing boy with warm eyes that danced with joy. Now he saw a sad, gaunt man with bitter eyes in a face as hard and impassive as a statue's, just as Shamsara had described him.

The next day he did not see Rivan, but sensed that he was being watched from afar. He cooked a meal, brushed his horse and had a cold bath in a nearby stream. For the rest of the day, he searched within himself for some vestige of warmth, some lingering spark of humanity, pity or compassion. He thought of Lilu and Chiana, trying to analyse the emotions they evoked, but found little he could understand.

Blade recalled Jayon's smiling, boyish face with its truant lock of hair, but nothing stirred within him. Only when he plumbed the memories beyond the veil of ice and pain did he experience the pangs of sorrow and loss he had felt at his family's death. Now he was dead and cold inside, devoid of emotions other than rage and hate.

The following day, he became aware of Rivan's presence shortly after he woke, and tried to glimpse the cub amongst the trees without success. Instead of indulging in the harrowing soul searching that only left him hating himself more, he spent several time-glasses exercising until the sweat ran down him. The joy of dancing lifted his spirits. His pride in his skill was the only form of happiness he knew. After another chilly bath, he did some target practice, which made him quite cheerful. Thinking about it afterwards, he realised that the only things that gave him joy were the skills that made him an excellent killer, and self-loathing clamped down once more.

The third day dawned cold and bitter, much like his mood, and he spent most of it staring into his campfire. In the afternoon, a gentle tug at his mind made him look up. Rivan sat twenty paces away at the edge of the forest, watching him. Blade held his breath, his insides freezing with hope and trepidation. The sight of the cat brought a surge of a nameless emotion that caught his throat and squeezed it. Before he could gather his thoughts, the cat turned and vanished back into the woods.

Two more days passed in a similar fashion. Blade exercised, cooked and bathed, washed his undergarments in the stream and hung them up in the sun to dry. Rivan watched him from the forest, not showing himself. Blade whittled a piece of wood to while away the time, blunted a dagger and sharpened it again. The carving became a cat's face, changed into a woman who looked vaguely like Chiana, then degenerated into a shapeless lump of wood, which he threw away. In the afternoon, he spotted an adult wood cat at the edge of the forest, who gazed at him with open hostility before retreating. Rivan's mother.

That night, he dreamt that he was back in the palace, racing towards the window as Chiana leapt from the balcony, and he grabbed her wrist as she went over the rail. This time, however, his grip slipped, and he watched her fall, her eyes locked with his, her gown fluttering in the wind. She hit the stone with a sickening thud, and a red pool spread from under her head. He stared down at her, his throat tight, his heart a frozen lump, incapable of pain. He jerked awake and sat up shivering, his heart pounding.

He glared at the stars. "Stay out of my damned head, Shamsara!"

The next day, he went into the woods to gather nuts and berries to supplement his dwindling supplies, aware of the black shadow that dogged his tracks. Returning to his camp laden with nuts, he set about cracking them with two stones. The nuts proved to be tough, and shot off into the grass when he struck them, forcing him to hold them with one hand. He cracked two before his thumb got in the way, and he jumped up with a curse, wringing his hand. A wave of amusement washed over him, and he chuckled, then glanced around. Rivan sat at the edge of the forest, watching him with mischievous eyes.

Blade smiled. "Laugh at me, why don't you?"

The cat turned and vanished into the undergrowth, and Blade sat down, stunned by what had just happened. Rivan had broadcast his amusement into Blade's mind, as familiars often did, but which Blade had thought he would never share again. The bond was strengthening.

That night, Blade's internal alarms jerked him awake, and he sat up, reaching for his daggers. He could perceive no danger, his senses detected nothing in the darkness around him, no hint of movement or breath, no sense of presence. The woodland was silent and still, bathed in moonlight and clasped in night's chill hush. Throwing off his blanket, he pulled on his boots and jacket, strapping on his daggers. His alarms were never wrong.

A wood cat's scream ripped through the crisp air, a sound of terror and pain that made Blade leap up and run towards it. It was not his danger that had awakened him, but Rivan's. He blundered through the forest, bounced off trees and stumbled over roots. Branches scratched his face and snagged his legs, making him reel drunkenly, waving his arms. The scream came again, an agonised wail that ended abruptly, making Blade's blood run cold.

"Rivan!"

His shout caused a flurry of movement ahead, and several hairy shapes fled his approach. He stumbled into a clearing, halting at the sight of a black body sprawled at the mouth of a den. Blood seeped from a wound in the cat's flank, and her head was twisted at an odd angle. Rivan's mother was dead, savaged by the pack of wolves he had frightened away, but where was Rivan? He fell to his knees and thrust his hand into the lair, not caring if the frightened cubs within bit him.

It was empty, but still warm from their presence. Jumping up, he glanced around at the trees, hoping to glimpse black shapes clinging to their branches. The trees did not bear cat-shaped appendages, and his anxiety redoubled. The wolves had trapped the mother cat, and she had taken on the pack to give her cubs time to escape, since she could not flee. The den must have a back exit through which the cubs had fled, but he had frightened the wolves off, and now they might find the cubs before they could hide. He had no hope of finding Rivan in the darkness.

Blade glanced around at the dark, silent forest. "Rivan!"

A faint tug at his mind made him turn, and he ran towards it, letting the mental touch guide him. A root sent him sprawling, bruising his cheek on a stone, and he picked himself up with a curse, blundering on. He sensed movement ahead, then Rivan burst into view, a black streak that shot between his legs and clawed his way up the tree behind Blade with a tick-tack of claws. Two panting wolves followed, dived aside when they found Blade standing in their way and vanished into the undergrowth. He gazed after them, then glanced up at the cub, now ensconced in the tree's topmost branches.

"Rivan. It's okay, you're safe now."

The cat had withdrawn his mental touch, and only his soft panting reached Blade. He gazed up at the cub until his neck grew stiff, then lowered his eyes. A sense of accomplishment filled him, mixed with relief that Rivan was safe. After a while, he sat down with his back to the tree, occasionally glancing up at the frightened cat. Rivan remained motionless, and Blade knew he would not come down until he was sure it was safe. A wood cat's distant scream made Blade frown. The wolves had found one of Rivan's siblings. He wondered if any would survive the night, and if they did, how they would survive without their mother.

As dawn approached, Blade dozed, and when he woke, Rivan was gone. He stood up and stretched, then limped to his camp to light a fire and make tea. That day, he did not sense the cat watching him, and knew that Rivan searched for his family. The assassin walked back to the den and buried the she-cat, then returned to his camp to wait.

As the setting sun's slanted rays dappled the clearing with tree shadows, he sensed Rivan's approach. He looked up as a shadow detached itself from the forest and walked towards him. The cat paused as their eyes met, then continued to approach. Blade held his breath, his throat tight with wonder and his eyes locked on the cub. Five paces away, Rivan stopped and sat down, his ears twitching.

Blade rose and walked towards him, stopped two paces away and sat down. The cat studied him, tilting his head, his eyes intent. Blade stretched forth his mind and made contact in a soft explosion of curiosity, fear and sorrow mingled with recognition and expectation. The assassin held out his hand, inviting the cat to make the last, definitive step. Rivan rose and walked closer, until at last Blade's fingers sank into the soft black fur of his neck.

Blade gasped as a tide of warmth swept outwards from the lump of ice that had been his heart for so long. He closed his eyes, afraid that Rivan would turn away and shun him, for this was the moment when it would happen. A tremor went through him as he sensed the cat glance within him, stripping away the layers of hatred and rage to plumb the depths beneath the ice, where even Blade dared not look.

Rivan moved closer and rubbed his cheek against Blade's sleeve, starting a soft, rattling purr. Blade opened his eyes, and a surge of elation filled him as he stroked Rivan's fur, bringing with it an emotion he had not thought to feel again. His eyes overflowed as his familiar's love filled his heart, soothed away some of the pain and healed the wounds inflicted when he had lost Rivan thirty years before.