He saw the drakai first.
The young male, Uric, had been pinned to a board by the head, an arrow through the center of one eye. Caelum stared at the creature, shocked by its pale, white body and drooping, leathery, batlike wings. He’d never seen a drakai without its flames. It looked unbearably small, like a skinned squirrel with a human head.
It was unquestionably dead.
One of his father’s goblins, Mikkus, stood next to the board, holding a long knife.
The goblin glanced up, but wouldn’t quite meet Caelum’s gaze.
Behind him, maybe fifteen feet back, Rolf leaned on a stone statue of a wood nymph. He was smoking, his black eyes staring at Caelum with venom.
Between the goblin and Rolf with his hawk-like face, there lay a pile of dead bodies. Some were skinless, some not; each roughly the size of a small dog, or a large house cat. They weren’t all the same size, though, Caelum realized as his eyes roved in horror over the sections of lawn. Some were larger, some closer to the size of a ferret, or a kitten. Some were leaner, some plumper. Some had skinned, ratlike tails, while others still had the full plume of their thick, deep-black brushes. Some still had fur on their longish legs and dog-like paws. Some looked vacant, lifeless, others like they’d been caught in some silent scream.
Mikkus was skinning them, one by one.
One by one, he stretched the skins out to dry.
He pegged each one to the long board where Uric was hung.
“I thought I might make a blanket,” Caelum’s father remarked. “Would you like that, Caelum? Given you’re so fond of rubbing your hands all over the dirty things.”
Caelum felt light-headed.
The pain in his hand was forgotten.
He felt like some part of him disconnected from the rest, like a balloon.
“You are the only hope of Magical civilization,” his father enunciated coldly. “You were born for a single purpose, Caelum… a most glorious and incomparable purpose… one weaker mages would havekilledyou for, had I not intervened. Yet you continue to show me nothing but ingratitude. To ignore even the mostbasiclessons I try to teach you. You thwart me. Disobey me. Outrightrefuseyour responsibility. For what?” His cold, silver eyes settled on Caelum’s face. “To wallow in the mud and filth with lesser creatures?”
Caelum barely heard him.
His eyes had found something else.
On a low table near the row of stretched skins, a pile of items glinted in the afternoon sun. Mostly small, mostly gold-colored metallic objects had been collected there: shiny coins and buttons, thimbles, figurines, gold-painted stone, bolts, rings, a bent fork and knife, small pieces of gilded stone and plaster, gold bracelets, gold keys, a gold pendant and chain.
Caelum’s eyes fell on one object in particular.
A scratched gold pocket watch with an etched hummingbird on the case.
He threw up.
It came up so fast, he had no hope of stopping it.
His father’s cane tapped warningly on the marble, but Caelum couldn’t stop.
His stomach lurched.
He threw up again.
And again.
He could barely breathe by the time he’d finished.
Then, the punishment began for real.
6
Worried
