Renegade's Magic (The Soldier Son Trilogy #3)

Renegade's Magic (The Soldier Son Trilogy #3) Page 64

The moment the plan came into my mind, I shuddered away from it. I locked my thoughts tight, praying he had not sensed them. I was already traitor to one folk, showing the Gernians how to drug themselves against the Speck magic to cut down the trees. I would not betray both of them to each other.

I did not think it likely Soldier’s Boy would come up with such a plan. He was more Speck than Gernian. The Speck did not winter near Gettys. It was possible, I hoped, that they did not see constructed shelter in the same way that I did. To discover what he might be planning, I would have to think as he would. I would have to become him. That thought would have made me grin, if I’d had a mouth to call my own. I’d have to become myself to understand myself.

Slowly the truth of that sank into me. Perhaps it was my only strategy. To stop Soldier’s Boy from doing whatever he was planning to do, I’d have to merge with him. I’d have to become him, force him to share my sensibilities, make him see that he could not destroy my people without destroying a part of himself.

The moment I realized the fullness of what I was considering, I rejected it. This scrap of “self” was all that was left of me. If I surrendered it to him, if I lost my self-awareness to become part of him, how could I know if I influenced him or not? I suspected it was an irrevocable act. I feared that in the final analysis, he remained stronger than I was. I’d vanish into him. And I’d never know if I’d saved the people I loved or not.

I determined that I would surrender and become a part of him only if there were no other options. Until then, I would fight to take back the life that was mine.

Likari’s snoring had ceased. He pressed closer to me and spoke very quietly. “I’m cold. And I’m tired of the dark. How long has she been gone? What if something happens to her?” He shivered suddenly and something like a sob shook him. “I’m scared,” he said, even more quietly.

I had not thought he could press closer, but he plastered himself against me. I could feel his heart race and heard his breath quicken as he peopled the darkness around us with every bogey-tale creature that his young imagination could summon. I wondered what night terrors inhabited the dark corners of a Speck’s mind. I could recall, only too well, how I had been able to bring myself to the shaking edge of terror simply by staring up into the darkness of my room and letting my imagination run wild.

When I was very small, I would let the terror progress to the point at which I would shriek from the nursery for my mother or nurse to come running to rescue me from my self-induced panic. The terror was almost worth the coddling and the warmed mug of milk.

By the time my father took over my upbringing I was too big to shriek from my nursery. I would on occasion flee my bed to seek out the nanny I shared with my sisters. But I did that only once after my father had declared himself in charge of me. I was tapping anxiously at the nanny’s bedchamber door when my father caught me. To this day, I do not know what alerted him. He was still dressed in his smoking jacket and trousers. In one hand, he carried a book, his finger trapped to mark his place. He looked down at me severely and demanded, “What are you doing out of your bed?”

“I thought I saw something. In the curtains by my window.”

“You did, did you? Well, what was it?” His tone was brisk and severe.

I stood up a little straighter in my nightshirt, my bare feet cold on the floor. “I don’t know, sir.”

“And why is that, Nevare?”

“I was afraid to look, sir.” I looked down at my bare feet, shamed. I doubted that my father had ever been afraid of anything.

“I see. Well, it is what you will go and do now.”

I glanced hopefully up at him. “Will you come with me?”

“No. Of course not. You are to be a soldier, Nevare. A soldier does not retreat from what he imagines might be an enemy. In an uncertain situation, a soldier gathers information and, if the information is sufficiently important, he reports it to command. Imagine what would happen if a sentry came back to his commander and said, ‘I left my post because I thought I saw something. Would you come back with me and see what it was?’ What would happen, Nevare?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Well, but think. What would you do, were you the commander? Would you leave your post to go see what had frightened your sentry?”

I answered truthfully with a sinking heart. “No, sir. I would tell my sentry to go back and find out what it was. Because that is his task. My task is to command.”

“Exactly. Go back to your room, Nevare. Face your fear. If there is something in your room that requires action from me, come to me and I will help you.”