Bloodkin (Jaseth of Jaelshead) Read online

  It had always seemed like a hideous job to me, boring and a bit pointless – everything in our little corner of the world seemed to run tickety-boo without any interference from the national government. But still, I had never met any Nea’thi before, and to see an assessment would be unarguably cool. I had also overheard that festivities were being organised. It was getting late in the year, the nights were growing longer and colder and people were starting to bunker down in preparation for the winter ahead. But an assessment definitely called for celebration, and there was to be a market with stalls of hardware and the last of the year’s produce, as it was rumoured that Nea’thi were in no short supply of coin.

  All of this I had learned from overhearing the excited chatter of the Manor staff. My parents, on the other hand, had been suspiciously quiet about the whole affair. Surely they would be going in some sort of official capacity, and they always took me along to stand with them, gawky and embarrassed and often bored out of my tree when my father made speeches or presented trophies to the winners of the games that so often accompanied local fairs and religious festivals. But this was different! The selection of a Candidate was a huge honour for a district, and if that Candidate was then elected… Well, that would be awesome! There would be huge prestige for the place that had nurtured the Monarch, and one could expect massive gains in terms of the market price for goods from that district.

  So it had been definitely suspicious that my parents didn’t seem to be readying themselves for the occasion. If I had heard correctly – and I always heard correctly – the fair was to be tomorrow, and my best fair-going outfit hadn’t even been prepared. As I was frequently reprimanded for “eavesdropping” (as if I had a choice, when people talked so loudly), I was loath to bring the matter up with my parents. Surely they would tell me soon enough?

  But as the evening wore on, it had become clear that no such conversation was to be forthcoming. So I went to my father’s study to enquire. I mean, we could see the preparations in Jaelshead from our house. Market stalls had been assembled in the square, streamers and colourful autumn foliage had been strung from lampposts down the main street and as traders arrived I could see their horses being stabled out the back of the inn.

  As I approached the study I heard my parents’ voices and, not wanting to interrupt their conversation, I waited outside the door. To my surprise they were talking about the assessment.

  “I don’t want him meeting any of those bloody elephants—” I heard my mother sigh at the racist slur. “Well I don’t! He’s got enough mad ideas in his head, I don’t want him to start daydreaming about being King or doing magic or any of that crazy elephant Underground stuff!”

  “But darling, if he’s going to be Lord one day—“

  “One day in only four years’ time!”

  “He’s far too young to be selected, and if he’s going to be Lord he has to know how these things work! And maybe…” my mother sighed again “Maybe we could ask one of them about the fires—“

  “The fires!” My father exploded. “He’s a pyromaniac who doesn’t have the guts to own up when he’s done something wrong!” I heard him shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “Oh love,” he went on in quite a different tone of voice. “Where did we go wrong? We’ve given him everything a child could possibly need. He gets to be a Lord one day, something any child would want, and he doesn’t even seem to care…” I could envision my mother patting his arm at such uncharacteristic melancholy. “No, you and I will be present at the assessment, as is only proper, but Jaseth will stay here and have his lessons as usual. He might as well try to do something useful with his day.”

  Recognising in his voice a note of bitter disappointment, I had crept away, unwilling to hear any more.

  I had dashed outside in the dark to sit in the orchard, reeling with the unfairness of it all. Below me, Jaelshead was bright with lamps and I could hear the strains of music floating up from the inn as another group entered to join the festivities. The Nea’thi party would probably be in there right now, no doubt regaling the locals with wonderful tales, enjoying the music and our excellent local wine and no doubt smoking the Underground moss that they were rumoured to enjoy. I didn’t want to be selected, not really. Of course, I was far too young, but it would be nice to be considered special for once. I really just wanted to see one Nea’thi in the flesh, maybe meet one – just to see how different they actually were. Maybe they would do some of their Nea’thi magic, which most people around here didn’t even think was real.

  I shook my head and folded my arms around my knees – evenings were chilly this time of year. I could hear laughter from the inn now, even though the doors were closed against the cold.

  I had just wanted to meet one, and I wasn’t even good enough for that. My parents had given me everything; a wonderful place to live, lovely clothes, excellent food, and the best tutors this side of Lille. My mother was gentle and kind and always encouraging and my father, gruff though he was, always tried to take a loving interest. But all I did was disappoint them. They had given me everything and I was turning into a… a nothing.

  I felt like weeping. Ugh, how pathetic. I was useless and lazy and everyone thought I was an attention-starved pyromaniac. And now I was a pathetic little cry-baby too.

  I couldn’t bear to watch the town any more, as the doors of the inn swung open again to let in more revellers, people whose fathers didn’t deem them unworthy of meeting Nea’thi. Instead I stared at the large pile of fallen leaves raked from under the trees, feeling utterly sorry for myself. I didn’t mean to be so useless, I didn’t mean to be a disappointment. It was just so bloody unfair—

  I had squeaked as a small puff of smoke blew out from the side of the leaf pile and a small flame licked out and up like a snake’s tongue. Oh shit, oh sweet Lilbecz, not again, not now! I couldn’t even bloody move as the whole pile erupted into a blaze. I needed water, but I couldn’t think. Dammit, I needed help! I scrambled to my feet and ran for the gate, yelling to the watchman who called for help and water. The ruckus had roused my parents and all of a sudden they were there in the courtyard. My father looked aggrieved but the dismay on my mother’s face was too much.

  “Jaseth, you didn’t?”

  “No I didn’t!” I yelled at them. “I didn’t bloody do anything!” And I pushed past and ran to my quarters and flung myself down on my bed. I had punched my pillow until I was exhausted then, like the pathetic idiot I was, I curled up and cried and cried.

  “Come on Jaseth, why don’t you give me a tour of your beautiful garden while we let your parents discuss my proposition?”

  Which seemed like a counterproductive thing to do, especially seeing as I had just taken him for such a tour, but Charlie was speaking in that same faux innocent tone that he had used on me earlier, so I guessed he had a plan.

  As soon as the door to the study had been closed behind us, Charlie poked me in the shoulder and whispered hoarsely in my ear. “What’s your hearing like, kiddo?”

  “My hearing? Well, normal I guess,” I whispered back.

  Charlie gave a quiet snort of exasperation. “Normal for you, sure. But can you hear things that others are surprised at?”

  Which I had to pause to think about. I suppose there had been a number of times, many times, countless times even that I had overheard conversations that were certainly not intended to be overheard. I had always assumed that those speaking had been carelessly loud, even when doors had been closed or distance imposed in an attempt at privacy.

  Charlie noticed my pause. “Ah ha, thought so! Feel like having a wee listen to the deliberations of your honourable parents?” His red eyes were gleaming, even in the gloom of the corridor. One of the servants should have come to light the lamps by now, I caught myself thinking. A silly, heir-like thought not befitting a Nea’thi-Blood. Then I heard my father speak, as clear through the heavy door as if we had been in the same room.

  “There is no way in hell my only son is going to a Ca
pitol with one of those red-eyed elephant bastards!”

  My mother sighed. “But darling, he has to! And Charlie said—”

  “Charlie!” The derision was heavy in his voice. “What sort of bloody name is Charlie?” I glanced nervously at Charlie in the corridor who merely shrugged, unoffended.

  “Well I highly doubt you or I could pronounce Khaioschlecza Vvlesscza in a way that would not cause offense.”

  Charlie let out his breath in a little laugh and whispered, “Not bad at all! I find myself rather admiring your dear mother.” He smiled at me in the dark before turning back to the door.

  “Offense! The day I care about causing offense to a dirty, moss-smoking elephant is the day I should be packed off to the Psychosolasts, because I have clearly lost my mind!”

  I could hear my mother cross the room and stroke his arm. “Darling, you are my husband and my Lord and I adore you with every bone in my body, but you are letting racism influence you, and this is more important than what you think about the Nea’thi as a people.”

  “But Jaseth is two years from his joint Lordship! I can’t just let him bugger off to the city, he has to be here!”

  “Look, there’s no reason he won’t complete his studies at the Academy and be back with us in time for that.”

  My father snorted. “You’ve seen him! There’s no way he can complete that training. We’ve got the best tutors for him at the moment and he still struggles with the basics of taxation for Lilbecz’ sake! In a big city, with that creepy grey-skin leading him astray—“

  Charlie attempted to reach out a restraining hand but I was already opening the door and walking back into the study.

  My mother stepped back in surprise. “That was a short walk…” she attempted politely as my father studied a pile of papers on his desk intently.

  “Look, the thing is—” I began, and my father looked up, fury suddenly inscribed on his face.

  “No Jaseth, there is no thing. I simply cannot allow you to go on this… this idiot’s errand! You’re old enough to understand that your duty is here, not with this bloody monster who turns up out of nowhere!” I dropped my eyes from his face in the force of his anger and fixed them on the pile of papers on the desk, willing myself not to yell or throw something, or worse, cry. “You’re already shown how irresponsible you are, allowing a stranger onto the property without proper introductions,” he went on. “And these Nea’thi bastards cannot be trusted, you hear, they simply cannot—” he broke off and looked down at his desk, which was suddenly and inexplicably on fire. “Sweet Lilbecz! Quick! Someone get water! Someone!” he yelled, jumping up.

  Charlie stepped calmly around me from where he had remained in the corridor and drew a small half-circle in the air with his hand and muttered something while staring at the fire on the desk. The flames flickered for a second and then went out, smoke rising briefly before stopping and swirling back down, until it filled what appeared to be a glass dome, placed neatly over the pile of smouldering paper. My father, gaping at his desk, sat down abruptly. The room was suddenly silent.

  Charlie stepped forward and stood before him. “Kind sir, I believe this sort of occurrence has happened before, and it will continue to happen unless Jaseth receives proper training.”

  My father looked up briefly from the dome of smoke. “You put him up to this,” he muttered, but lacking conviction. For the first time, Charlie looked genuinely offended.

  “Lord Jaelshead, we never use our Hầұeӣ for frivolous reasons, and never ever to cause harm. You were wrong before, we Nea’thi are to be trusted. I have spent many years learning how to impart knowledge, and it is a great honour to be selected by the Guild of Education as a Mentor.” He went on, more gently now. “Your son has a wondrous gift, and I will do everything in my powers to ensure it is harnessed and grown to its full potential. And when he has completed his training he can return to rule this fair district from this beautiful Manor with you, his excellent father.” The last bit I thought was unnecessary, but my father let out his breath and shrugged in defeat.

  “So be it. The boy is clearly a danger the way he is.” He looked up at my mother then back down at the dome. “He is… quite precious to his mother and I. Take good care of him.”

  “Oh, I will sir, don’t you worry!” Charlie beamed and stepped forward to shake my father’s hand over the remnants of the fire. The two men gazed at each other for a moment before my father withdrew his hand to point at the dome of smoke, no longer swirling, but still.

  “And what am I supposed to do about this?”

  Charlie grinned again. “How about we open a window and I will let it go.”

  My father stood and unlatched one of the windows behind his desk and Charlie blinked at the dome. Slowly the smoke rose and was carried by the air out the window, out onto a late summer’s day to a sky that was darkening, but still the clearest blue.

  was up and about with the arrival of dawn. This was obscenely early, especially for me, but I had been awake at least half the night, too excited to sleep and now I was keen to get on the road. My parents had insisted that Charlie stay with us at the Manor instead of at the inn in town, and they had sent a servant to go and collect his belongings before we shared a meal together. By the time we had finished eating Charlie had even managed to charm my father with his genuine interest in the running of the estate and they talked at length about the operations of the local vintners.

  After washing briefly and dressing in some old travelling clothes I went downstairs to scrounge some breakfast from the cook. My mother arrived in the kitchen just as I was finishing.

  “Gosh, you’re up early! Couldn’t sleep? Me neither.” She shook her head and smiled at me. “How about you take some breakfast up to Charlie then?”

  She arranged a platter of sliced meats and cheeses with buttered toast and filled a mug of coffee for him. I carried them carefully up to the guest’s suite where he had stayed the night.

  “Oh, hey Jas, come on in!” he called when I knocked. “Breakfast? Brilliant, I’m starving.” He poked his head round the side of the door leading to his bathroom and I couldn’t help but stare at his face. One of his eyes looked normal, the other…

  “Um, Charlie, is there something wrong with your eye?” He ducked back into the bathroom and I heard him laugh at his reflection.

  “This?” He indicated his eye with the pencil in his hand. His eyelashes were long, but so white as to be almost clear and the rim of the eye was pink. “This is normal, I just haven’t put my kohl on yet.”

  “Your what?”

  “My kohl!” He showed me the pencil. “It’s a technique that we discovered after the Leaving, borrowed from some of the Human settlements in Yhull, tweaked with Hầұeӣ of course. We line our eyes like so,” he demonstrated with the pencil, “and then use mascarohl on our lashes and it helps with the glare. Light-sensitive eyes, you know.”

  I had to admit I knew next to nothing about Nea’thi culture except that they lived Underground and smoked moss.

  And wore makeup, apparently.

  I left Charlie to his breakfast and went to pack. He had told us the night before that he had walked up from Fortesta and my father had been outraged.

  “No Mentor of my son should have to walk around the countryside like some commoner! You shall both have horses for the trip to Lille, good ones too!”

  So out in the courtyard Charlie and I loaded our bags onto the horses that had been saddled for us, and most of the household came out to see us off. My father tried to hand Charlie a full purse of coins as payment for my tuition but he waved it away.

  “The Academy provides for the Bloodkin – our students – in all things essential to their studies. But maybe a small personal allowance for Jaseth would be appropriate?”

  My father shrugged and handed me the purse. “Don’t spend it all at once,” he told me gruffly, waggling his finger.

  “I won’t!” I told him, mounting my horse.

  The sun
was just clearing the mountains and promising a long, hot day as we were ready to set off. My father shook my hand gravely and my mother waved, her eyes full of tears as the watchman opened the gate for us.

  At the bottom of the hill I turned back for a final look at the Manor, perched grandly above the town. I could just see my parents still waiting outside and I gave them one last wave as we walked down the main street of Jaelshead.

  When we had cleared the last of the dwellings and were out on the highway that ran between row upon row of grape vines, Charlie kicked his horse into a canter. He glanced back over his shoulder and grinned at me widely.

  “Come on Jas, let’s go to Lille!”

  On the third day of travelling we reached a small wayside coach house just as dusk was falling. The stable boy, just a wee tacker, rushed over to grab our horses’ reins as we dismounted a bit stiffly.

  “Hullo Charlie!” he grinned happily up at the Nea’thi. “So you got him then?” gesturing at me with a thumb.

  “I sure did Sambeth.” One huge hand ruffled the kid’s hair. I went to follow Sambeth to the stables to groom the horses, but he waved me away.

  “Don’t even think about it!” he cried cheerfully. “Myr Rudi would tan my arse if he found his favourite Nea’thi in the stables!” Then his eyes widened in horror. “Excuse my language, Myr Charlie, sir!” he bobbed his head in embarrassment.

  Charlie chuckled. “You’re excused kiddo. Go deal with these horses while I introduce Jaseth to your esteemed Master.”

  The coach house was a long, low building, constructed from the pale stone that was quarried back near Jaelshead, like the Manor, but it was encrusted with wisteria vines – long pods the only evidence of the purple and white flowers that would make this a rather attractive place in spring and early summer.

  The hubbub in the common room quieted as Charlie pushed through the door, pulling me behind him. It was still early in the season, but a large fire roared in a hearth to the left. Comfortable booths lined the walls, mostly full of travelling merchants, some much wealthier than others, judging by their attire. The local farmers and other folk were also distinguishable in their various states of inebriation, perched on stools at the bar that stretched from the entrance all the way round to the back of the inn. I nervously peered around; the merchants were mostly silent and staring at us. At the back of the room, on a small raised podium sat a rather unpleasant-looking girl, her greasy dark hair falling around her face as she strummed a guitar and warbled unconvincingly. To her credit, she didn’t falter as she glared at us for the interruption. Luckily, one of the locals noticed us in the doorway and called out “Oi! Charlie’s back!”