Read Online A Business of Ferrets (Bharaghlafi Book 1) by Beth Hilgartner - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Beth Hilgartner
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experience, the ones who made noise didn't die of the drug.
***
Owl was trapped in his dreams. Images surged in his brain like storm wrack: Zhazher crumpled in their hovel, too still. Ferret, arguing heatedly with a tight-lipped Khyzhan. A man he didn't know, slight, dark-haired, with beaky features and fierce, speedwell eyes; he wore a ring with a great, green jewel on his long fingered hand. The Scholar King at the head of a long table, surrounded by the Council of Advice—and familiar faces: Rhydev Azhere, and beside him, Venykhar Ghobhezh-Ykhave. There was something important about this scene, something Owl had missed. He tried to cling to it, but the drug's undertow pulled him away. He fought for air; he was drowning! He thrashed and screamed, but the thundering surf pulled him down, down...
***
"How much did you give him?" Lady Ycevi's voice was deadly.
"Only a little, Lady. I used half an anthitarre —and he only had two bites of the stew, and not half a glass of the wine. It shouldn't affect him like this." Myncerre pinned Owl's shoulders with her hands as another spasm of thrashing took him.
Lady Ycevi looked from her steward to her slave, annoyance marring the arch of her eyebrows. " Haceth is a subtle substance. Keep him alive; if you can get him to drink some coffee, that would be beneficial—but don't drown him with it. Zherekhaf asked to speak with me this evening, and I'd rather not call his attention to the boy; so keep him as quiet as you can and don't come running to me with any news. I'll return once the Prime Minister leaves."
***
Arre sat up with a hiss of indrawn breath. Her hands gripped the edge of the table while her eyes grew wide and unfocused.
"Arre!" The startled edge in Khethyran's voice jarred words from the Seer.
" Piantele Doma ," she whispered, forcing gasping breaths in and out of her lungs. As her eyes regained focus, she leaned her brow against one palm.
"Arre." Kheth grabbed her shoulders, shook her gently. "Arre, what is it?"
" Haceth ."
" Haceth? " Kheth's voice spiraled toward panic. " Someone gave you haceth? "
"Not me. Owl. They gave Owl haceth ." She managed a deep breath. "God, he's strong. I've got to help him."
"Owl?" He shook her a little harder. "Arre, for the love of the gods, make sense!"
She looked into Khethyran's strained face and forced herself to speak clearly. "They gave Owl haceth ."
He took her chin in his hand. "By the gods above and below, who is Owl? "
"A boy; the boy in my visions. He—begged—in the Temple Gate; now he's a Ghytteve slave. He has Sight Gifts, untrained, very strong. And someone gave him haceth ." She shook her head. "God, he's strong. He nearly pulled me in. Kheth, I have to help him."
" Help him?" the Scholar King whispered. "How?"
"I'll lead him out of his nightmares. Otherwise, he'll die—or go mad."
"Lead—? I've spent enough time at the Kellande School to know this sounds suicidal. You've no anchor; you're not in physical contact with the boy; he's untrained and strong."
"Two things you need to understand," she said gently. "One: I've dreamed of him; he's important. I'm not sure, yet, how he fits, Kheth, but he's part of something and we need him. Second: he nearly pulled me under with him, just now. I'm trained; I was neither tranced nor sleeping, but I nearly joined him. If House Ghytteve is determined to addict him to haceth , if they keep dosing him with it, he could take me with him into madness. I can't be on guard all the time; and if I had been tranced, or sleeping—or even overtired , Kheth!—I might not have been able to hold on. I must lead him out, Kheth; at least, I must try."
Khethyran took her face in both hands, studying her as though he would engrave her features on his mind. "Be careful, Arre," he whispered at last. "I couldn't bear to lose you."
***
Down, down... The drug swept Owl into nightmares: the wailing ghost of Zhazher, '...your fault...all your fault...' Kitten, terror on her
***
Owl was trapped in his dreams. Images surged in his brain like storm wrack: Zhazher crumpled in their hovel, too still. Ferret, arguing heatedly with a tight-lipped Khyzhan. A man he didn't know, slight, dark-haired, with beaky features and fierce, speedwell eyes; he wore a ring with a great, green jewel on his long fingered hand. The Scholar King at the head of a long table, surrounded by the Council of Advice—and familiar faces: Rhydev Azhere, and beside him, Venykhar Ghobhezh-Ykhave. There was something important about this scene, something Owl had missed. He tried to cling to it, but the drug's undertow pulled him away. He fought for air; he was drowning! He thrashed and screamed, but the thundering surf pulled him down, down...
***
"How much did you give him?" Lady Ycevi's voice was deadly.
"Only a little, Lady. I used half an anthitarre —and he only had two bites of the stew, and not half a glass of the wine. It shouldn't affect him like this." Myncerre pinned Owl's shoulders with her hands as another spasm of thrashing took him.
Lady Ycevi looked from her steward to her slave, annoyance marring the arch of her eyebrows. " Haceth is a subtle substance. Keep him alive; if you can get him to drink some coffee, that would be beneficial—but don't drown him with it. Zherekhaf asked to speak with me this evening, and I'd rather not call his attention to the boy; so keep him as quiet as you can and don't come running to me with any news. I'll return once the Prime Minister leaves."
***
Arre sat up with a hiss of indrawn breath. Her hands gripped the edge of the table while her eyes grew wide and unfocused.
"Arre!" The startled edge in Khethyran's voice jarred words from the Seer.
" Piantele Doma ," she whispered, forcing gasping breaths in and out of her lungs. As her eyes regained focus, she leaned her brow against one palm.
"Arre." Kheth grabbed her shoulders, shook her gently. "Arre, what is it?"
" Haceth ."
" Haceth? " Kheth's voice spiraled toward panic. " Someone gave you haceth? "
"Not me. Owl. They gave Owl haceth ." She managed a deep breath. "God, he's strong. I've got to help him."
"Owl?" He shook her a little harder. "Arre, for the love of the gods, make sense!"
She looked into Khethyran's strained face and forced herself to speak clearly. "They gave Owl haceth ."
He took her chin in his hand. "By the gods above and below, who is Owl? "
"A boy; the boy in my visions. He—begged—in the Temple Gate; now he's a Ghytteve slave. He has Sight Gifts, untrained, very strong. And someone gave him haceth ." She shook her head. "God, he's strong. He nearly pulled me in. Kheth, I have to help him."
" Help him?" the Scholar King whispered. "How?"
"I'll lead him out of his nightmares. Otherwise, he'll die—or go mad."
"Lead—? I've spent enough time at the Kellande School to know this sounds suicidal. You've no anchor; you're not in physical contact with the boy; he's untrained and strong."
"Two things you need to understand," she said gently. "One: I've dreamed of him; he's important. I'm not sure, yet, how he fits, Kheth, but he's part of something and we need him. Second: he nearly pulled me under with him, just now. I'm trained; I was neither tranced nor sleeping, but I nearly joined him. If House Ghytteve is determined to addict him to haceth , if they keep dosing him with it, he could take me with him into madness. I can't be on guard all the time; and if I had been tranced, or sleeping—or even overtired , Kheth!—I might not have been able to hold on. I must lead him out, Kheth; at least, I must try."
Khethyran took her face in both hands, studying her as though he would engrave her features on his mind. "Be careful, Arre," he whispered at last. "I couldn't bear to lose you."
***
Down, down... The drug swept Owl into nightmares: the wailing ghost of Zhazher, '...your fault...all your fault...' Kitten, terror on her
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