You understand. You’ve held power yourself. You have ambitions.”
He came up the shadowed, twisted pathways she had blasted through her defenses, through her very self. All silk and seduction, he touched the tender, aching places of her mind, of her body, offering her things she had scarcely imagined before this horrifying moment.
She drew a shuddering breath, closed her eyes, and fought with all her might to throw him out.
Chapter Fourteen
Pavek’s days had assumed a different routine while Akashia was gone. He still went to Telhami’s grove every other day—they scrupulously avoided certain subjects of conversation: zarneeka, Urik, Laq, and Akashia, herself. But on the day between, he carried a hoe into the fields and worked with the farmers. The back-breaking work gave him time to think about the lessons Telhami gave him, and the subjects they did not discuss. Thinking was good for his incipient druidry: he could wring water out of the air now, on demand and without a headache, but as the empty days of Akashia’s absence began outnumber his fingers, his mood darkened.
He hoed his rows in the fields alone and kept to himself the rest of the time, even taking his roll of blankets from the bachelor’s hut to the fields, where he slept under starlight: a remarkable change of habit, he knew, for a man who, at the start of Descending Sun, had been unable to imagine himself beyond walls.
Aside from Telhami, only one person intruded on his enforced solitude: Ruari.
They had not become fast-friends after they returned from the youth’s grove, although Pavek had stood firm, in his brawly templar way, for the half-elf’s right to rejoin the community then and there. Remembering himself at Ruari’s I age, Pavek reckoned that he’d saddled the boy with too great a debt and was content to let him keep his distance. Besides, the half-witted scum was a whiner, and a complainer; and Pavek, veteran of the orphanage and the civil bureau, had no patience for either trait.
He looked up from his hoeing and saw Ruari waiting for him at the end of the row—the row he’d intended as his last row of the day, unless he showed Ruari his back now and kept working until the scum gave up and left. But he’d let Ruari catch his eye, which was all the invitation Ruari required.
“Go away, scum,” he said when a long, lean shadow touched his feet. It was a polite, even friendly, greeting among templars.
“You beat me up bad. I couldn’t fight you off. I want to learn how.”
“Keep your mouth shut.” He offered the advice he’d heard and ignored many times before. “That way you won’t start so many fights you can’t finish.”
“I don’t start fights,” Ruari snapped, giving the lie to his words with the tone of his voice. “They just happen. Maybe if I won once in a while, I wouldn’t have so many.”
A vagrant laugh slipped into Pavek’s mouth. He clamped a hand over his chin to contain it.
“Wind and fire! Why’re you laughing? What’s so funny?”
Ruari took a swing at him, which Pavek blocked with his forearm. The hoe slid off his shoulder and landed in the dirt. The scum was quick; Pavek would grant him that Too quick. Once he was riled, Ruari whipped up the air with his fists, landing blows that were little more than love-taps, and leaving himself vulnerable to the powerful punch of an admittedly slower, far-more-massive opponent. But instead of a punch, Pavek reached through Ruari’s guard, grabbed shirt and skin, and lifted him off the ground.
“You’ve got two arms, scum. Two fists. Keep one of ’em at home for yourself.”
“That’s what Yohan always says.”
“Listen to him.” Pavek let go, and Ruari landed lightly and easily on the balls of his feet. “He’s a good teacher.”
“He’s not here—”
“Just go away, scum.”
“I want to learn from you. Aren’t you impressed? Flattered?” The whine was back in Ruari’s voice; it grated in Pavek’s ears, “I think you’re better than the old dwarf. Me—the half-wit scum who hates all rotted, yellow-robe templars, and tried to poison you—I want you to teach me how to fight.”
There was a fading bruise on Ruari’s chin, another on his arm, and a third, larger, one across his chest, visible through the open neck of his shirt, all souvenirs of their last encounter. Pavek picked up the hoe with a display of hostility that made Ruari dance back a pace or two and hoist his fists again. But he was only teasing,