The Crowded Shadows (41 page)

The hunted look on his face brought her to a halt a few yards from him. He glanced at her, then away, for all the world like someone waiting for a stone to be flung at him. The Wolf’s horrible words fell between them like a dark wall, and for a moment Wynter faltered. Then she lowered her chin and did the only thing she could think of.

“Christopher!” She shot forward and grabbed his arm, startling him. “Razi has thrown us under Úlfnaor’s protection! I told him not to! I told him that they would kill him, and he did it anyway! Úlfnaor has taken his weapons, Chris. Razi has told him that he works for the King! What are we to do?”

Christopher stared blankly at her, and Wynter shook his arm. desperate. “Chris! Help me! What do we do?”

He looked around him for a moment, utterly lost. Then he closed his eyes and twisted his arm from her grip. “Get Sól,” he whispered.

“
What?
”

“Sól.” He pushed her gently away.

“Chris
…”
she staggered back a few steps, panic rising in an uncontrollable tide. “Chris,” she lifted her hands. “What…?”

“Get
Sól!
” His unexpected shriek made her leap and cry out. “
I want Sól
.” He howled this last word, and Wynter skittered back even further. Christopher moaned and staggered out into the shallow water, his fists clenched at his temples.

A long shadow fell across them, and Wynter spun with a cry. Ashkr was standing on the edge of the sunlight, staring at Christopher. Wynter instinctively put herself between them, her sword half drawn.
Get back!
Ashkr stepped forward, his eyes locked with hers. Gently he closed his hand over Wynter’s and pushed down until her sword was once again sheathed in its scabbard. Then he strode past her, wading out into the shallows to stand by Christopher.

“Coinín,” he said.

Christopher gasped out another long, desolate moan and bent almost double.

Wynter took three or four splashing steps towards them, and he cried out, twisting away. “No,” he moaned. “Not her. Tell her to
go
. Get me Sól, Ashkr, I want Sól.”

Wynter came to a wounded halt, staring.

Gradually, without any force, Ashkr pulled Christopher up and around so that the young man’s bowed head was resting against his chest. Christopher pressed in, and Ashkr’s eyes met Wynter’s across the top of his head. Wynter stood with her hands pressed to her mouth, tears rolling down her face. She didn’t know what to do. Ashkr, his face unreadable, slowly tightened his arms and pulled Christopher close.

T
hey took Wynter’s sword and her dagger and brought her to Embla’s tent. Razi was already inside, and he surged to his feet as she ducked in the doorway, his fists up, ready to fight.

“It’s me!” she hissed, holding her hands out.

He strode forward and grabbed her shoulders, looking behind her. “Where is Christopher?”

Angrily, she shrugged free of his grip. “They took him! He would not see me! He would only see Ashkr and Sólmundr, and they took him!”

Razi covered his face with his hand and groaned. He spun away and stalked to the opposite end of the
puballmór
where he stood in the shadows, his head in his hands.

“You should have told me!” she hissed, and Razi shook his head. “How
dare
you not tell me?”

The tent flap was lifted and a tall, dark shape filled the door. Razi leapt forward, grabbing Wynter and pulling her back. Then the door fell back into place and they saw that it was Ashkr, grave and staring, his eyes moving between the two of them.

“Tabiyb,” he said. “Coinín say you always know this about him, but you never will to talk.”

Colour flared to Razi’s cheeks and he averted his eyes.

Ashkr looked him up and down. “So Coinín tell truth,” he said softly. “You shamed of him.”

“No,” cried Razi. No, of course not
…”

“
Yes
,” insisted Ashkr. “
Yes!
You
shamed
, Tabiyb You hide Coinín’s nature. You make him hide even from his
croí-eile
.”

“No,” cried Razi desperately. That was Christopher’s choice. He has always suppressed this part of himself! He has never wanted—”

Ashkr stepped forward, his face close to Razi’s. “Come now, then,” he demanded. You come talk. You let Coinín know he good.”

Razi’s arms dropped to his sides, and Wynter saw guilt and helplessness rise up in his dark face. He spread his hands and whispered, “I do not know what to say. I… I have never known what to say.”

Ashkr softened instantly. He put his hand on Razi’s neck. “You just be his friend, Tabiyb. That all Coinín need from you, to know you his friend.” He smiled and pushed Razi’s hair back from his face in a strangely paternal gesture. “It be good,” he said, then he turned to Wynter. “Iseult,” he said. “I will talk with you.”

Razi gripped Ashkr’s arm, panicked. “No!” he said. “Christopher would not want us to—”

Ashkr gently removed Razi’s hand from his arm. He turned again to Wynter and she glared at him, her anger at Christopher and at Razi suffusing everything. Unfazed, Ashkr held up his wrist and tapped the plaited copper and silver bangle he wore there. “You know what this mean?”

“It is a token of fidelity,” she answered tightly. “It means you have pledged yourself, heart and body, to Sólmundr.”

He nodded. “From time I know what it is to love, I know I love Sól, and he, too, always feel this way for me. For long time I try to pretend I not feel this—because of who I is and
what
I is…
Caora Beo
. But, true in my heart, Iseult, Sól the only person I ever feel this way for. He make me happy. I like think I make him happy too. So
…”
Ashkr trailed to silence and closed his fingers around his bracelet.

Suddenly his face drew down, and Wynter knew he was remembering something terrible. Something that brought him great anger and pain. Against her wishes, she felt her anger subside.

“Then those pirate come,” whispered Ashkr, “and my Sól, he is gone. I eighteen when this happen, and I understand with perfect clearness that I have lost only good thing in my
thóin caca
of life. Three long year he gone, and my heart it bleed every day… then here he is! I not believe it! My Sól! Walking from out the trees! It like dream. I look at the scars on his body. I see his poor neck and—”

Ashkr gritted his teeth and bit down on his emotions. He took Wynter’s hands in his own, looking down at the tokens they both wore on their wrists. “This what I need tell you,” he said. “I sorry I go on and on. This really what I need you to know
…”
He seemed uncertain suddenly, as if not sure he should be saying this. Wynter squeezed his hands. She nodded encouragingly.

Ashkr’s voice lowered. “Sól, he go through many thing when he slave,” he said darkly. “He suffer many hurts. He… he made feel shame, Iseult. You understand?”

Wynter swallowed, her eyes full. She nodded.

“Sól, he think that if he tells to me this things, then that be all I will ever see. He think I will look at him and not see him no more, but only what it is was done to him. He think it better to keep all this things inside him. Not said.” Ashkr leaned in close to Wynter, willing her to understand. “Shame make Sól not speak. This thing that keep him silent to me. This thing that keep Coinín silent to you. It shame. They fear the truth will make us turn away, Iseult. This why they hide from us this very important things. You understand?”

Wynter nodded again, and Ashkr searched her glittering eyes.

“Good,” he whispered. “That good. Now!” He abruptly dropped her hands and turned to Razi. “Now, Tabiyb. Come tend this wounds on Coinín’s back. Give to him reason to tell you what he feels.”

Razi remained pressed against the wall, his face frozen, and Ashkr dipped his chin. “It all right, Tabiyb,” he said gently. “Be strong now, like good man you are, and go be friend to Coinín.”

For a very brief moment Wynter thought Razi was going to refuse. Then he lurched for the back of the tent, plucked his doctor’s bag from the shadows and ducked through the door. She went to dash after him, but Ashkr stopped her.

“Your chance come next,
lucha
. We take our time getting there,
tá go maith
?”

Wynter nodded. “All right,” she said.

The sound of Christopher weeping brought her to an uncertain halt by Ashkr’s tent. It was a muffled, keening sound, underlaid with the deep murmur of Razi’s voice. Wynter rested her hand on the wall of the tent and listened.

“But I can
feel
it!” said Christopher, his voice rising in panic. “I’ve let it out, Razi. After all these years—after everything that’s happened me—
now
I let it out! And I can’t control it! Any bit of anger at all! Any bit of desire, and it leaps up in me! I’m bad, Razi! I’m
dangerous!
”

Wynter bowed her head. She glanced back at Ashkr and Sólmundr, sitting in the shade of the trees, watching her tensely. Sólmundr gestured her to go inside.

Razi mumbled something, and Christopher interrupted him sharply. “
You know I will! You’ve seen what I’m like!
”

“Christopher,” said Razi, his tone very clear and measured, “that was years ago, and you were out of your mind. You were crazed with fever.”

“I could have
killed
you! You could have
died
.” Christopher broke into sobs again, and Wynter could take no more. She stumbled her way around the side of the tent and pushed through the door.

The two men jumped at her abrupt entrance, and Christopher wailed in horror.

“No!” he cried. “No! Iseult! No!”

The sight of him almost drove Wynter from the tent in fear. His swollen, blotchy face, his frantic desperation.
He is a Wolf
, she thought.
A Wolf
. At her expression, Christopher hid his face, and Wynter cringed with shame.
Oh, you fool
, she thought,
he is Christopher. That is all. That is everything
. Clenching her hands against her own cowardice, Wynter stepped in and let the door drop behind her.

Razi had been kneeling by Ashkr’s bed, holding Christopher in his arms, but at her approach Christopher snatched himself away and retreated to the middle of the pallet, his head in his hands, his knees drawn up. He was barefoot and bare-chested, dressed only in his trousers, and Wynter figured that he had finally allowed Razi tend to the cuts on his back.

“Christopher,” she said softly. He moaned and shook his head. Wynter moved closer to the bed. At her approach, Christopher pressed his face harder into his knees.

Razi shifted uncomfortably. “Sis,” he whispered, his face pleading.
Don’t. Please. Don’t say anything
.

Wynter hesitated. Then she stooped and, without thinking, removed her boots. She took off her tunic. Then she crawled across the furs of Ashkr’s bed and knelt beside Christopher. She put her hand on his back. Razi took a shaky breath, staring at her. She leant close and whispered in Christopher’s ear.

“Those Wolves. They would have hurt me.”

Christopher dragged a sob through his nose, his face hidden. “Nuh
…”
he said. “Sh… shhhhhh.”

“You would not let them,” she said softly. “They would have hurt me, and you would not let them.” She put her arms around him and, without hesitation, he turned into her embrace. “I will always remember that,” she whispered, holding him tight. “I will always,
always
remember that, Christopher. That you saved me from them.” She felt his arms creep around her waist and his fists knot in the fabric of her undershirt.

“You are not like them,” she whispered.

For a brief moment Christopher wept with frightening intensity, his entire body shuddering, his face pressed hard against Wynter’s shoulder, then he clenched his arms around her and held his breath until he was able to stop. She felt him swallow hard. He drew a deep breath and released it. Wynter put her hand on the back of his head, clutching the fine wool scarf that still bound his hair in place.

“I will not let you go,” she whispered, her lips pressed to his ear. Christopher pulled her closer, turning his forehead to rest against her neck. “Will you promise me the same, Christopher? Will you promise? Not to let me go?” After a moment she felt him nod, and she closed her eyes in relief and rested her cheek against his hair.

Razi got quietly to his feet. She glanced up at him and he held a finger to his lips. “I will just go see that Sólmundr is all right,” he said. “He should not be out of bed.”

Wynter nodded, smiling. Then the sudden alarm in her face stopped Razi cold, and he dropped back down by her side. “What?” he said.

Christopher had become a dead weight in her arms. As she stared at Razi, Christopher’s fists abruptly relaxed their grip on her shirt and slithered down her back. He was completely unconscious. Razi frowned and dug his fingers into his friend’s neck, checking for a pulse. Then he relaxed, his eyes closing in relief. “He’s asleep, darling, that’s all. Here, let me… that’s it.” Between the two of them, they laid Christopher back onto the furs of Ashkr’s bed. He opened his eyes briefly, gazed at them, then curled onto his side, tucked his hand under his cheek and fell back asleep.