บท 19: An Offering and a Name (1/2)

Rowan left the young man sitting silently at the table and lay on his side in his bed. He watched his ward's profile as pain thundered through his skull.

The headache, worse than the one the night before and accompanied by a nausea that was unrelated to his cooking, had made it impossible for him to stay upright any longer.

His ward had pretty much been a statue for the last hour, and there was no telling when he would emerge from his shadows.

He hadn't meant to nap, but just like the night before, Rowan's eyes slid shut without him even realizing they'd done so. When he woke up, the sun had already begun its evening descent over the garden, and its long rays had slid over his bed in a golden sheet to touch his eyelids.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed in confusion, feeling like he'd forgotten something important. The confusion cleared away in a cold jolt as his calf brushed up against his ward's upper arm.

The young man had left his post at the table while Rowan slept, and he now sat on the floor, his back pressed against the bed and head resting on the mattress. His eyes were closed. He breathed softly through parted lips.

Rowan skirted around the body as he climbed out of bed, careful not to disturb his slumber. Why in the names of the gods had he decided to sleep there of all places. A wave of guilt crashed through Rowan.

He'd touched the man, yet again. If…no, *when* he regained his full awareness, Rowan would have to beg forgiveness.

He'd planned on checking his bridge right after his ward refused to eat his stew. After the brush with the creatures of Disorder, Rowan decided he needed to reinforce the protective magic of the area and inspect for any tears in the Veil that would allow others to slip through from the outside world to the sanctity of his garden.

Now he would have to hurry if he wanted to get it all done by sundown.

Before he was even halfway across the bridge, he sensed the presence of death tainting the woods where the creatures had attacked him.

The sticky, black energy coated the ground where the bodies had fallen before his ward had disintegrated them. It should have dissipated by now without a body to hold it in place, but it clung to the dirt like spilled oil.

Rowan recalled the young man's warning that the creatures were poison, but he had no choice. This type of death could not be allowed to exist so close to his garden.

He drew it in with a song and squeezed his eyes shut against the pain as his body absorbed it. His arm burned when he was done. His freckles had darkened to an angry reddish-brown.

Rowan leaned against the bridge until he could breathe without feeling like his chest was splitting at the seams.

Once he recovered, he inspected the bridge itself, discovering that it had indeed suffered some damage. Several boards at the far end where one of the creatures had tarried had cracked completely through.

For the magic of the bridge to function properly, the construction had to be solid. Luckily it was nothing some fresh wood and nails wouldn't solve.

Rowan decided fixing the bridge took priority over checking the protective magic of the surrounding area, so he hurried back to his shed to retrieve the required number of planks, a hammer, and some nails. He emerged from his shed to discover the young man had once again snuck up on him.

Rowan startled at the figure standing just outside the shed, long black hair almost as disheveled as Rowan's own braid.

"There you are." Rowan tried not to show his surprise.

It seemed this might be the beginning of a pattern, so he might as well get used to it now.

"Are you feeling any better?"

"Where are you going?"

"I have to fix my bridge. Why don't you go rest some more? In the bed, not on the floor. I'm sure you could use it." Rowan nodded toward the open patio door.

Golden topaz eyes bored holes into Rowan's face.

"I think I like you better when you're compliant," Rowan said. "Suit yourself. Just stand here until I get back. If you're still enough, maybe the birds will land on you."

He started toward the bridge, dragging the planks haphazardly with one arm, hammer in his other hand. The swish of grass behind him told him his ward had decided to follow.

Rowan turned on his heel and held out the planks. "Here. If you're going to be so stubborn, then you can at least carry these. My arm hurts."

"I'd say you are the one who can use the rest."

"Perhaps you're right."

He wasn't sure why he was confiding in the strange new person who seemed to vacillate between wanting to be by Rowan's side and wanting to murder him, but it was true.

The young man obligingly took the planks and walked beside him, matching his pace, long strides next to Rowan's shorter ones.

"So how exactly do you decide when to listen to me and when not to?"

"I don't want to be alone. I still can't tell if this is real. I don't recognize this place. I don't know who you are. But I know your voice." The young man spoke quietly, as if the words were only meant for himself.

"This is real. You're in my garden." Rowan responded gently, imagining he was speaking to one of the wrens who drew close to his hand for a seed only to take flight in the span of a heartbeat.

He decided he would say the same things over and over as many times as it took for his ward to actually hear them.

"I'm Rowan, the Caretaker."

"You said you're with the Order." The young man's voice darkened as it had before.

Rowan decided to tell the truth. "I suppose technically, but I'm not really one of them. They don't want me. They only want to keep me close because they hate me."

He clamped his mouth shut before he could say anything else. He had to remember the very real possibility he was speaking to the Order's old enemy in a new shape.

He just wasn't used to having someone not remind him every five seconds how perverted his magic was.

"Why?"

"Because I am an abomination."

The man stopped halfway across the bridge. "Why do you say that?"

Rowan stopped too, watching the clouds pass through his gaze.

"My magic is…not clean. I'm not clean." He tugged at his sleeves without thinking and pulled the cuffs down his forearms and over his freckles.

Rowan gritted his teeth as the material brushed over the skin, which still burned from absorbing the death energy earlier.

The man's eyes followed his movement with interest. "Is that what the Order says?"

Rowan looked away. "It doesn't matter who said it first. It's the truth."

His ward made a derisive sound. "Why didn't you let me die? Is it because you are an abomination?"

"No. Maybe." Rowan lifted his eyes to the man's face, once more struck with the urge to speak the truth. "I just couldn't bear the thought of letting your soul extinguish. It was too beautiful."

The young man stared at Rowan for a few moments, then looked around the woods. "Your magic is torn."

Rowan almost asked him how he could tell, but he just nodded. "And my bridge is cracked."

He began to pull up the damaged boards, ignoring the pain in his arm for as long as possible. Eventually he sat back on his heels and rubbed his elbow.

The young man watched him intently. "You touched something you shouldn't have."

"What makes you say that?"

"I told you they were poison…but I might help you. If you're real and if you aren't a trap." The man's lips curved in a slow smile. "You absorb death and transform souls. That much I can tell. What else does the Caretaker do?"

"Nothing."

One corner of the man's mouth lifted higher. "I really don't need you to tell me. I will figure it out on my own."

Rowan's stomach fluttered at the dark velvet sound of the man's voice. If anyone was figuring anyone out here, it would be Rowan.

"Don't bother. And I'll be fine." He held out the hammer to his ward and pulled a handful of nails from his tunic pocket. "How about you work on the bridge for me so I can fix the tears you mentioned?"