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not want to participate in a discussion that included the divinator.
"Later."
Timon watched Haig walk away and started after his father and
Mondarius. He understood Haig's reluctance and wished he did not
have to either. They entered the Great Hall, which was divided into
small alcoves by assemblages of couches, chairs, and tables that were
scattered throughout the huge chamber. To Timon's right was the
backswept double staircase that led up to the second and third floors.
When they reached the third floor landing and started down the
corridor that led to Hoon's suite and his private garden, Zyne came
running, and threw herself into Hoon's arms. She wore a silk band
around her neck to cover the puckered scar on her throat: her mother
had severed her vocal cords with a hot knife. Lord Hoon licked her
neck, shoving his tongue under the edge of the band and she shivered.
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Zyne pushed away from him and signed rapidly. :Is it time yet? :
She wore an emerald dress with the sides of the outer skirt pulled
up and tacked at the waistband to reveal the rose colored underskirt.
Timon's mouth settled into a hard line. It seemed as if Zyne was
always spending more of his father's money on clothes. She always
had something new and it was always of the most expensive cloth and
lace she could find.
"Not yet, my pretty one," Hoon ran his fingers through her hair, the
black locks that had once been green; for Zyne was seiryn before
Hoon made the tiny modifications on her body which were necessary
for her to pass for human.
Ornate double doors in a scrollwork frame opened at the end of the
corridor on Hoon's large suite of rooms. Timon followed the others
into the suite and beyond it to the curtained glass doors that entered on
the garden. On emerging into the garden, Zyne's mouth sought Hoon's
and fastened onto his lips for several breaths.
Timon looked away and kept walking. He enjoyed the garden,
which was filled with fragrant trees, shrubs, flowering bushes, and
vines. Rows of planters formed several alcoves. Hoon had imported
variant soil types and the scent of lilac was almost overpowering
blending with the heathers.
He found himself a chair at the long table in the center of the
garden rather than watch them. Snatching the golden preserving bottle
from the middle of the table, Timon poured himself a goblet of blood
wine. He swirled the first mouthful around his tongue. It was a good
blend: at least fifty percent human. He had never been able to get the
recipes from his father's sanguiner and it was frequently an irritation
to him. He rolled another mouthful across his tongue and made more
guesses as to the blendings.
Zyne hung on Hoon's arm, leaning her head on his shoulder. He
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pulled a chair out for her at the long table and poured her a glass of
blood wine. Zyne smiled up at him as she spread her skirts and
petticoats around her. Hoon drew a chair close to her and sat down
with his knee against hers.
Timon glanced at her from the edge of his eyes, wishing his father
had not included her. He shifted in his chair as Mondarius chose a seat
close to him.
Mondarius smiled faintly, his thick lips spreading across his ugly
face. "You were very fortunate to capture these five sa'necari. I will
have many uses for them."
Timon resisted squirming under Mondarius' eyes. He realized that
Mondarius was watching him from the corner of his own eyes. If
Hoon had not been present, Timon would have handled Mondarius
with a sharp sternness, but with his father there everything was
different.
Hoon tapped an impatient rhythm on his chair arm. "They are
Anksha's. And, she has six."
Mondarius shook his head. "No. She has five and the half-a-mon."
Zyne laughed softly. "I don't believe he has anything between his
legs at all. I call him not-a-mon."
Hoon frowned deeply. "You mean Isranon?"
"Yes." Mondarius looked uneasy as if he had said something
wrong.
"Don't call him that. He's my brother's descendant."
Timon's ears perked up at that, wondering why a descendant of
Waejonan would have named his son Isranon, after a traitor. Perhaps
the sa'necari had hated the child or the mother had named him to
punish his father. Whatever the reason, for a sa'necari, it was an illomened
name. Isranon had always struck him as strange. Perhaps
Anksha would allow his sanguiner to bleed Isranon a bit for the
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bottles.
"I merely want to set him apart from the others," said Mondarius.
Hoon made a dismissive gesture. "Then we will take that as a
given. Now what is this about the other five?"
A scowl passed swiftly across Mondarius' face and vanished. "Only
that they must be kept alive as long as possible. I need to milk them
for information on the prophecies and have their help from time to
time."
Zyne leaned in and whispered something in Hoon's ear. He kissed
her. "No, Zyne. Ask for something else. They belong to Anksha." He
turned to Mondarius. "I can ask Anksha not to kill them until you are
finished with them, however, once they start to wither, there is no cure
for it."
"I understand. Now about Isranon. I would like to take him back
with me to Minnoras."
Hoon's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why?"
Mondarius sniffed a moment. "That should be obvious. I want to
stretch him out across my altar."
"No." Hoon's voice had a flat, emotionless tone.
Zyne tilted her head with a moue. "He isn't any use to anyone.
Except Mondarius. And I hear rumors about him and Anksha."
Hoon threw Zyne a glare and she shrugged it off.
"He is dying anyway." Mondarius tapped the table for emphasis.
"The withering will be on him soon if it isn't already. What does it
matter if he dies a little sooner?"
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