The Eye Of God Part 8

"You can't hide behind the furniture forever," Zurach said, laughter lightening the man's tone.

"Why not?" Terin muttered the question, glancing around the arm of the divan. Silver glinted in the Speech-wrought light and cracked gainst the wood above his head. He jerked back, catching a glimpse of his nude opponent across the room.

"You can do better than that, my little slave," Zurach said in a rumbling voice. Terin shuddered.

"What in the darkest, coldest depths of the bloodstained h.e.l.ls do you think you're doing?" Emeric bellowed from the doorway across the room. "I leave you for no more than three hours, and I come back to this? Why are you naked?"

Zurach laughed again. "I was teaching the boy a lesson."

"By scarring him with the visage of your nudity?"

"You're just jealous."

"If you want a pleasure slave, Zurach, I'll send a few of my girls to you tonight. For the love of our mother, at least tell me you didn't ruin the bath," Emeric muttered.

Zurach snorted. "I might have cracked a tile or two. No worries, no worries, I'll fix it."

"I hope you intend on fixing the rest of this mess, too. What in G.o.d's name were you trying to do? Kill him?" Emeric asked.

Zurach sniffed, and Terin dared to peer around the arm of the divan again. A cushion slapped him in the face. With a startled yelp, his heart leapt into his throat. Terin scurried to the middle of his shelter and crouched down. The broken candelabra lay beside him, and the filigree bit at his fingers when he picked it up to test its weight.

"Well?" Emeric asked.

"Well what?"

"How good is he?"

"He's a slippery little runt, I'll give him that much. Got a hit on him oncea"ah, twice, if you count the pillow."

"Really, Zurach? All of this for one hit? Are you serious?"

"I told you, he's really slippery."

Terin heard Emeric sigh. "Did he hit you?"

"Just what do you take me for, Brother?"

"A fool for letting a slave run you in circles for three hours. Bring him out, then."

"Do it yourself, you know where he is," Zurach grumbled.

"I'd hope so, seeing that there is only one piece of furniture left that is large enough to protect him from your stupidity."

A slow clapping of hands answered the Citizen. "Your powers of observation amaze me."

"Come out, slave," Emeric demanded.

Terin hesitated, and the collar burned. Sucking in a breath, he s.n.a.t.c.hed at the back of the divan and stood, his gaze slid over Emeric to fix on Zurach.

Zurach leaned against the doorway and blocked Terin's one route of escape from the room. The man's tanned skin glistened with sweat.

"You're going to decrease his value if that scars," Emeric said.

"Nonsense. We're not selling him, anyway. Little cut like that isn't going to scar. The gash on his side? That'll leave a scar, for certain. I really should've killed that bronzeling instead of just taking his eye," Zurach replied with a shrug.

Terin's brow furrowed and he lifted his hand to his chin. Heat radiated from his swollen jaw, but there wasn't any pain. When he pulled his fingers away, his blood stained them.

"That's not his face, though. Some like their boys scarred up, but not on their faces! Were you taking it easy on him?"

Zurach chuckled. "I wanted to test him, not kill him, Brother."

"So you destroyed an entire wing of my villa instead. Unbelievable."

"You're in quite the mood. What's wrong now?"

Emeric stepped forward, and Terin flinched. The Citizen smiled. "Come here, slave."

A shiver ran through Terin, and he glanced over at Zurach. The man nodded and made a curt gesture for him to obey. The collar warmed and Terin hurried forward before it could punish him further, avoiding as much of the broken ceramics, cracked tiles, and splintered wood as he could.

Terin stopped within arm's reach of the Citizen and stared down at his feet. Blood smeared against the white marble from a gash across the top of his foot. Lines of red streaked between his toes. Like his jaw, the wounds didn't hurt.

"Did you manage to hit my brother, slave?"

Terin trembled at the man's emotionless tone. Before he had a chance to reply, the back of Emeric's hand cracked against his sore jaw. "Answer me."

"Yes, Citizen, sir," he whispered.

Another hit jerked his head to the side and tears flooded his eyes. He blinked until the room refocused.

"How many times did you strike him?"

"Tha""

Zurach's arm curled around him from behind and the man's hand clapped over his mouth and silenced him. With the other hand, Zurach captured his brother's wrist. "That's quite enough. He's my slave, Emeric, and I won't have you damaging him."

"You have no idea what you've brought into my house," Emeric snapped back.

"I don't care what I've brought into your house," Zurach rumbled. The arm wrapped around Terin pulled him out of Emeric's reach. With a low laugh, Zurach shoved Terin away and shifted his grip to take hold of his wrist. "Judging from your oh-so-pleasant expression, this should be good. Do tell me what I've brought your house, Brother," Zurach said.

Emeric jerked free from Zurach and let out a snort. "You'll like this."

"Oh?"

"Not only did you steal a General's slave, you stole from the Emperor's favorite General. It gets better."

Zurach's grip tightened on him and the man grinned. "Oh is that so? How could this get any better?"

"I've brought you a present. Clean this mess up, get dressed, and I'll show you."

Zurach let go of Terin's wrist and shoved him toward the divan. "You heard him, boy. Clean up this mess. When you're done, take a proper bath. Don't even think about trying to escape. Am I understood?"

Swallowing back a sigh, Terin bowed his head. "I understand, Citizen, sir."

"Good. Let's go, brother."

"You're just going to leave him alone?" Emeric asked.

"He'll obey one way or another. Isn't it fortunate for us that he wears a golden collar?"

Emeric chuckled. "You don't even know how fortunate we are for that."

The two men left and their laughter stirred something deep within Terin. It welled up from his stomach and settled in his chest, demanding release. It wasn't until his nails clawed at his palms that he recognized the emotion as rage.

Blaise pinched the bridge of his nose and pretended the carriage didn't sway. He'd lost track of how many times his stomach tried to claw its way up his throat. Using a cough to mask his too-frequent swallowing, he closed his eyes in the futile hope of ignoring the two men staring at him.

"You look terrible," Frolar whispered in his ear.

"It's been a long day," Blaise replied, shrugging. The motion triggered a blast of pain centered behind his eyes.

"It'll be longer still I'm afraid, Bishop Blaise," Ca.s.sius said. "There is one other I must bring with us to the Cathedral, then I'll explain everything."

"Is this about the escaped convict?" Frolar asked in a low enough tone that Blaise let out a relieved sigh that the man's voice didn't add to the pain in his head.

"Yes and no, but I can't tell you any more than that until Leopold is with us."

"Leopold?"

"One of the Emperor's advisers," Ca.s.sius replied. The man let out a sigh. "All things considered, it isn't wise for His Imperial Majesty to make another appearance, at least not yet."

Frolar made a thoughtful sound. Blaise pinched his nose again before lowering his hands to clasp them together on his lap. He opened his eyes and focused his gaze on the other side of the carriage, not meeting the stare of either human.

"Understandable," Frolar said. "It would bring too much notice if the Emperor came to the Cathedral."

Ca.s.sius didn't laugh loud, but there was no humor in it. "That it would. That it would, indeed."

"I don't see what this has to do with us," Blaise said in a soft enough voice that both Frolar and Ca.s.sius c.o.c.ked their heads toward him to catch his words. "The Emperor saw the exact same thing I did. I was right next to him. Why didn't he just tell you to tell the Archbishop?"

"That is where the *no' comes into play," the Colonel replied. The carriage jerked to a halt and Blaise felt the blood drain out of his face from the motion. Ca.s.sius reached out to brush aside the dark curtain. "Ah, good. We're here. I won't be long. Make yourselves comfortable while I fetch Leopold."

Ca.s.sius let himself out of the carriage and hurried toward a gated manor. Frolar reached over Blaise and shut the door.

"I don't like this none at all," the aging human muttered.

"Agreed," Blaise replied. Something had spooked the Emperor's man enough the scent of his fear lingered despite him being gone.

"You look ill," Frolar whispered.

"I'll survive, I promise you. I suspect I'll just wish I wouldn't for a while." Blaise tried to force a smile, but couldn't manage to do more than make the corner of his mouth twitch upward. "You did warn me."

Silence fell between them. Blaise leaned back and closed his eyes.

"Steward Volas returned to G.o.d's Garden during the night. There will be a service in his honor at midnight," Frolar said. "It seems this is an ill-fated day."

"May G.o.d welcome him with open arms and give him the brightest spot in His garden," Blaise said. He should've muttered the prayer for the dead, but the feel of Volas's brow on his lips was too fresh of a memory, and he couldn't force out the words he'd already spoken.

"You don't seem surprised."

Blaise shook his head and winced at the throb the motion caused. "He's been tired these past days," he lied. "He deserves a pleasant rest until He plants his rose among us once more."

Frolar made a displeased, wordless sound and Blaise cracked open an eye to tare at the other bishop. The man was frowning.

"He was smiling."

Blaise's smile came unbidden, and he didn't fight it. "Is that not a good thing, Frolar, that his last moments with us were worth smiling for?"

The scent of anger wafted from the man and Blaise's smile widened. If the steward's joy bothered Frolar, Blaise could live with that.

Had G.o.d held open the Gates for His most loyal steward? Although Blaise's eyes were divine, all he could see of the Gardens was a shimmer and a glimpse of the glory he'd left behind long ago. Frolar couldn't understand.

Mortals never remembered the glory of the Garden in their lives, and Blaise wasn't sure if their lack of memory was a curse or a blessing.

"You know, Blaise, I've never seen him smile before."

Blaise felt his smile fade away, and he struggled not to scowl. "I see. How curious."

"What could make a man like that smile?"

The temptation to reach over and throttle Frolar dulled the throb in his head and his hunger roused until his mouth watered. He flared his nostrils to catch Frolar's scent, but Ca.s.sius's fear was too strong.

Blaise swallowed back his desire to devour the human's soul and shook his head. If the old steward's smile was even a shadow of its true beauty, it was more than many deserved. If Volas hadn't smiled for Frolar, Blaise didn't doubt there had been a good reason for it.

"He had a beautiful smile," he said, and was rewarded with Frolar's puzzled frown.

When Frolar didn't break the silence, Blaise closed his eyes again and focused on keeping his breaths slow and even. The pain settled to a tolerable ache that promised agony if he moved too quickly or pushed himself any harder. He sighed.

Unless He took pity on Blaise, it'd be a long time until he'd be willing and able to give Alphege the slip and escape the confines of the church.

The door opened and Blaise felt the carriage bench shift under someone's weight. It rocked when a second person entered and b.u.mped into Blaise's knee. He opened his eyes to see Ca.s.sius sit in front of him.

A young man sat across from Frolar. If the Emperor didn't wear so many decades, Blaise suspected he would look a lot like Leopold. Blond hair fell over blue eyes and his beak of a nose was best suited for staring down at people with contempt.

"Citizens," Leopold greeted, his tone far more pleasant than his face.

Blaise was surprised.

"Citizen," Frolar echoed. Blaise remained silent and stared at the Imperial Prince with a thoughtful frown.