SanClare Black (The Prince of Sorrows) (15 page)

Grasping
the lifeline Pol represented to him, Michael walked along in a fog of shock and denial.

He decided
against asking the first few people he saw where he could find the Red Boar Inn. They looked strange and scary. And they looked at him as if he were strange, too. It unnerved him.

An old woman stood under a tattered awning, looking not much better than it did,
but when she gave Michael a toothless grin, he decided she’d be safe enough to ask.

“
Excuse me, senna. Would you know where I could find the Red Boar Inn?”

Her eyes widened
, and then she made a coughing noise he thought might be a laugh. “
Yer
lookin’ for the Red Boar, are ye? What’s a lowly kiska like yer want with a flash place like the Red Boar?”

Michael
frowned at that. “I just want to know where it is. If you know, please?”

“
Oh, I know it, I do,” she assured him, as if she didn’t look ten times more lowly than he did.

“
I have a friend who works there.” Michael hoped she wasn’t crazy. “I need to find him.”

She
coughed again but nodded and began a long series of directions that soon baffled the boy. He repeated them to her, and though he knew he’d confused much of what she’d told him, she agreed with his recital. He tried to see in her mind what she was describing to him, but that only made things murkier.

His shoulders sagged, but he started walking again, hoping that at least the first few turn
-heres and go-theres were correct.

Though the state of their clothing varied a good deal, the next three people he begged directions from were equally as perplexing as the old woman had been, both in the way they reacted to his question and in the complicated directions they supplied.

A
fter walking for hours, he heard the temple bell ring far off in the distance for Second Prayer. Almost at that same moment, it had started to rain again in earnest, and—exhausted, terrified, and very hungry—he began to believe he’d never arrive anywhere.

Though he
’d seen a carriage or two pass him by, it had been a long time since he’d seen anyone to give him directions—however useless they’d all turned out to be.
And what if I’ve passed it without knowing? What am I going to do if I can’t find Pol? What am I going to do?

Tears stung his eyes, and he inhaled deeply and held his breath
to try to keep them from falling. He failed.

I didn
’t mean it! I didn’t know! I didn’t mean it to happen!

“
I’m sorry,” he whispered. The words heaved up from deep inside him and came out on the crest of a great sob. More sobs wracked his body, and he sank to the ground, too exhausted to stand for another moment.

He heard the carriage coming but didn
’t try to look for it. His shock had grown more powerful and more debilitating as the night had worn on, and his brain could no longer put the sound of the carriage together with his own collapse in the street and warn him of his danger.

The driver
’s senses and reactions were apparently more acute. The horse stopped with a length to spare, and a man climbed out of the carriage and approached him.

“
Michael? Is that you?” a man’s voice asked him.

“
Magister Vaznel?” Michael whispered. “What are you doing here?”

The man said nothing more but knelt down and picked
Michael up, ignoring his dirty and sopping-wet clothing. He carried the boy back to the carriage and settled him onto the seat beside him. So deep was his shock, however, Michael felt nothing from him at all.

“
Drive on,” the man called as he shrugged out of his coat. Turning to Michael, he said, “Here, put this on. You’re chilled to the bone.”

The obviously fine and elegant coat enveloped him in warmth and
Michael felt a little better. “Thank you,” he breathed.

“
Of course,” the man replied. It
was
Magister Vaznel, though he had to look into the man’s face to confirm it. His wavy, dark hair framed a painfully-sympathetic expression made even more kind by the man’s shy, childlike smile and large, perpetually worried eyes. Michael had not thought to see the man again after Mabbina told him his lessons were cancelled. The man’s blankness of mind had always been a little unsettling but at that moment, it was very welcome. Michael didn’t think he could take one more thought or feeling from anyone.

Michael
couldn’t imagine what series of events had brought the man to find him wandering Fensgate that particular night, but he was very, very glad to see a familiar face.

Magister Vaznel regarded
Michael thoughtfully. Finally, as if to answer the boy’s unspoken wonderings, he said. “Nanna Whiltierna sent word about Abbess Ethene and everything. She asked me to find you. I’m so sorry.”

Michael
’s eyes stung with fresh tears. “You shouldn’t be helping me. Nanna Mabbina was right to throw me out.”

The man reached out and with gentle fingers traced the outline of the bruise marring the boy
’s cheek. Michael flinched, but he felt nothing from the man, still.
I forgot. He’s muted. But he’s even more blank than before.

He wondered why, but Vaznel interrupted his thoughts
. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

He
’s so odd. Is that why Nanna Mabbina doesn’t like artists?
Michael shook his head, and the man returned to what he’d said before.

“‘
Right to throw you out?’” He repeated Michael’s words, plainly surprised. “It seems you were on the worse end of the situation. And I can’t imagine you meaning to do anything wicked. You’re the sweetest child I’ve ever met.”

“
Nanna Mabbina doesn’t think so.” He bit his lip, not wanting to cry in front of his tutor. “She’s probably right. Everything just happened so fast.”

“
But that doesn’t explain how you ended up where I found you. We’re posts away from JhaPel. What were you doing?”

Michael
almost wailed his answer. “I was looking for the Red Boar Inn! I have a friend there, and I thought he might be able to help me. Do you know where it is?”

Vaznel nodded, but
Michael recognized the odd expression on his face. Everyone seemed to react to the Red Boar’s name the same way.
But Pol is there, and he’ll help me!
“Could you please take me there? I looked for it for hours, but I couldn’t find it.”

The man smiled at
Michael and shook his head. “Not right now. It’s too late even for the Red Boar. Come home with me tonight, and we’ll see about finding your friend tomorrow.”

“
I don’t want to be any trouble, Magister—”

“
Call me Robyn. All my friends do.”

Michael
blushed again but managed a grateful smile. “Thank you, sirra.”

“
Robyn. I must insist upon that.”

“
Thank you, Robyn.”

# # #

CHAPTER TEN

Michael didn’t remember falling asleep. The carriage ride had been a long one, though, and the coat had been so soft and warm that he knew he must have nodded off before they’d reached Robyn’s home.

He lay still for a long time after he woke up, keeping his eyes closed in the childish hope that if he didn
’t open them, everything would be all right.

Ultimately, it was hunger that led him to open his eyes and break the fragile bubble of hope he
’d created. The bed he was in was not his own and the room he was in was definitely not his dorm room at JhaPel. Which could only mean that the fragmented, frantic memories he had of the night before really had happened. Abbess Ethene was dead. He had been banished from the only home he’d ever known. And he must now be in Robyn’s house.

He wilted back into the pillows, exhausted and devastated all over again.
He was very thirsty, and his throat ached. His entire body throbbed from the intensity of his headache. His face hurt even at the pillow’s slight pressure. He remembered Nanna Mabbina hitting him and closed his eyes again.

The bed chamber door whispered open, and
Michael peeked through swollen eyelids to see Robyn’s sympathy-filled face. The man carried a tray filled with delicious-smelling food. Michael’s stomach rumbled noisily.

“
And well you should be hungry, dear boy.” Robyn set the tray down on the foot of the bed. “You fell asleep before I could feed you. It must be more than a day since you’ve had anything to eat.”

“
What time is it?” Michael was afraid he knew the answer.

“
It’s well past Seventh Prayer.”

Dismayed,
Michael blurted, “I slept all day! I’m sorry.”

“
Not at all. After what you’ve been through, it is only to be expected. We shall find your friend tomorrow.”

Michael
’s shoulders sagged. He’d hoped Robyn would take him to the Red Boar right away.
Doesn’t he want to be rid of me?
But he’d been brought up by the nannas not to argue, so he said nothing.

“
Eat as much of what’s on that tray as you can. The bathing room is through that door over there.” Robyn pointed to the wall behind and to the right of Michael’s bed where, yes, there was a door. “And I will be down in my study where you may join me in a little while if you wish to. This room is just at the top of the stairs, so you should have no trouble finding me from here, all right?”

Again,
Michael nodded. Robyn had left the room and closed the door behind him before Michael could bring himself to speak. He shook his head once, brusquely, silently scolding himself for nearly bursting into tears again, and reached for the tray.

He ate quite a bit of the food on the tray and then made use of the bathing room, noticing the rather too
-large but very fine night shirt he was wearing for the first time when he saw it in the bathing room’s mirror. He found his own clothes, cleaned and pressed and hanging over the arm of a chair near the window, waiting for him. He squirmed a little, embarrassed by the obvious implication of that fact: He’d been undressed by someone the night before, probably by Robyn. He shook off his discomfort, dressed quickly, and went to join his host.

Michael
had never been in a real house before, and he was surprised to find it so thoroughly deserted. He neither met nor sensed anyone as he made his way down the front staircase, through the foyer, and along the right-hand corridor to Robyn’s study. A second surprise was the electric lights spaced evenly along his way. He’d never seen even one before, but here was an abundance of them, and all were lit in apparent disregard for the cost.

He came to the study door and hesitated, suddenly shy in spite of his erstwhile tutor
’s kindnesses. But Robyn must have been looking for him.

“
Ah, there you are, my dear boy,” he called, and though Michael couldn’t see his face, the smile was evident in his voice. “Come in, and sit down. I know you’ve just eaten, but I had some excellent pastry saved from this afternoon’s tea. Would you like some?”

Michael
was surprised to find that he would. “Yes, please,” he whispered after he’d crossed the room to the fireside. He perched nervously on the edge of a very expensive-looking, cushioned chair as he took in the warm comfortableness of the room and smiled at it. Candles glowed around the room in careless profusion, warming the air and the atmosphere far more than harsh gas or even the new electric lights ever could.

“
You look better already,” Robyn announced. He was busily transferring an enormous pastry from a well-laden platter to a smaller plate. “You’ll want a fork, yes?”

Michael
nodded, his eyes round with surprise. Robyn handed the plate to Michael then poured out two enormous goblets full of some deep red liquid.

“
Oh, wait!” Michael exclaimed, dismayed at how rich and expensive it looked. “Couldn’t I have water or tea instead?”

“
I think you should drink this.” Robyn handed one of the goblets to Michael who then balanced his plate on one knee and was at a loss over how to handle both the wine and the pastry. “It will help you sleep.”

“
But I already slept all day!”

Robyn raised an eyebrow and looked at
Michael, a slight frown drawing a line between his pale eyebrows. After a few tics of this, Michael blushed and looked away.

“
Drink, please,” the man said. “I don’t want you up all night worrying.”

Michael
took a sip and made a face at the unfamiliar, bitter taste, but he obediently drank down some more until he thought Robyn looked satisfied.

And then Robyn
began to talk. He talked a great deal, telling Michael all sorts of things, most of which the boy didn’t really understand. Michael laughed when he thought he was supposed to laugh and frowned when he thought he was supposed to frown. In the midst of his stories, Robyn paused several times, urging Michael to finish his pastry and drink his wine.

Having been raised not to waste anything,
Michael complied with Robyn’s urgings. By the time both the pastry and wine were finally gone, the boy wanted nothing but to sleep again and was very embarrassed by that.

“
I’ve slept all day,” he protested while Robyn led him back to his room. “I shouldn’t have done it. I need to find Pol so I won’t be bothering you anymore.”

“
Nonsense! You’re no bother at all.” They reached Michael’s guest room, and to Michael’s surprise, Robyn came in with him. Michael turned to say goodnight, but Robyn dropped to one knee and began unbuttoning Michael’s shirt.

“
I can do that,” Michael protested. A blush warmed his cheeks, and he wished he hadn’t drunk so much wine. He felt sluggish and so sleepy, and his mind felt even more dulled and stupid than his body did. He knew he didn’t want Robyn to undress him, but he found he was having trouble getting the words out.

“
Of course you can, but I want to help you, my dear boy. You’ve been through so much. You deserve to be pampered.” He reached up and wound a thick strand of Michael’s hair around his finger, looking at it with thoughtful eyes. “They call this color SanClare Black, did you know?”

Michael
stared at the man then shifted his blurry gaze to his hair. He shook his head when it seemed Robyn was waiting for his reply.

“
After the old SanClare kings. It’s a black so deep the highlights are blue. Difficult to match that when I’m mixing my paints.”

Michael
closed his eyes, unable to keep them open a moment longer, and Robyn gave a small laugh. “You’d be very difficult to capture in paint as well, darling.”

He felt the soft caress of his shirt slipping from his shoulders, and he moved his limbs as he was directed, allowing Robyn to finish undressing him.
The man’s hands lingered on his arms, telling him nothing at all through the blur of wine and exhaustion, and when Michael swayed and slumped over, Robyn chuckled, his hands shifting Michael’s body so that his head was snuggled on the pillow. He pulled the covers up over the boy and kissed his cheek. A few moments later, Michael slipped into a deep sleep and knew nothing more.

Michael
dreamed that night in a chaotic profusion of images and voices. Something or someone seemed to be pulling at him, urging him to run away from someone or something else.

“
Leave me alone.” He wanted nothing but to sleep undisturbed. Far away, someone shushed him, and he whimpered, frustrated by the dream’s persistence.

.:
Wake up!
:. the dream-voice insisted. .:
You have to leave right now!
:.

“
Go away!” He tried to push the dream-voice back. “I don’t want to. I just want to sleep.”

Another voice, soothing and calm, pushed away the uncomfortable one until it went silent,
and Michael drifted back into deep, undisturbed sleep.

When he next awoke,
Michael heard the bells ringing one of the Great Prayers. He got up and hurried to the window, but the sky outside told him nothing about which Prayer it might be. As was the case almost every day in Queen’s City, it was overcast and raining. But Michael guessed from what little evidence he could gather in this strange part of the city, it must be one of the middle hours. Midday if he was lucky; Seventh Prayer if he was not.

He went over to the bedroom door and looked out into the hallway.
It was still almost eerily silent in the house, and he retreated to the bathing room. He’d bathe and dress and be ready the moment he could find Robyn. He’d ask to go to Pol right away.

Maybe the man would let him help in the scullery in exchange for a ride
back to Fensgate? He had no idea how much such a thing cost. Perhaps he’d need to promise to come back and do some more work for Robyn.

But as he tied his shoelaces, he wondered if this might be taken an insult to his host.
He’s treated me like a guest. Maybe he’d be upset if I tried to barter his help.
But what was the proper thing to do? He’d been treated so well, but he knew he shouldn’t presume on the man’s hospitality.

Once he finished dressing,
Michael went back down to the first floor, all the while looking for someone to help him find Robyn.

A quarter of an hour later, he finally crossed paths with an annoyed
-looking housekeeper. The woman frowned her disapproval at him.

“
There you are,” she snapped. “The Magister said you’d be up eventually, but I had no idea you’d sleep the day away again. I thought JhaPel raised children to be better behaved.”

“
I’m sorry,” Michael said softly. “I don’t know why I was so tired. Is the Magister here? I’d like to speak to him if I may.”

The woman grunted, only a little mollified by his manners, and shook her head.
“No, you mayn’t speak to him. He’s out, and I don’t know when he’ll be back. He’s a busy man, you know.”

Michael
nodded but felt despair well up inside of him. He’d never find Pol at this rate. But the woman hadn’t finished saying her piece.

“
He said he’d talk to you when he got back and that you was to wait for him in the study. If you want to draw, he said, there’s some good paper and pencils laid out on the desk for you. I’m to bring you tea and more if you’re still hungry after.”

“
Thank you.” Michael’s eyes widened in surprise at this speech, and he felt deeply unworthy of such courtesy. “He’s a very kind man.”

The woman grunted again and gestured down the hallway.
“You know where the study is?” she asked. Michael nodded. “Then go there and I’ll be up with your tea in a bit.” Which answered the bells question. If it was already time for tea, then he must have heard the Sixth Prayer bells.

Michael
did as he was told and as quickly as possible. The woman reminded him of Nanna Mabbina and the sooner he was out of her sight, the better he would feel.

He spent the rest of the afternoon drawing various things in the study while still keeping an eye on the sky darkening outside the study
’s windows. Michael tried to be patient and concentrate on his technique, but when Seventh Prayer bells rang, he couldn’t help feeling almost angry at having to wait. He was impatient to find Pol. He
needed
to find Pol, but as the time slowly passed him by, his hopes for being reunited with his friend that evening faded into disappointment.

The house echoed with its unfamiliar sounds, and the fire the housekeeper had started for him hours earlier
had burned down to mere embers on the grate. He didn’t dare add any more fuel to it just for himself, sure that it must be expensive. He’d found a throw draped over a chair and wrapped himself in it instead.