Songweaver's Awakening

Chapter 31 - Rajheem

He was in his room again.  Rajheem let his fingers fall idly against the strings of his lute, debating whether or not he would be able to take it with him.  The lute twanged in protest, the discordant sound swelling into each corner.  He'd spent a frantic night gathering an assortment of odd items, now laid out on the crooked table by his bedside—a leather sack, a clay jug, a loaf of day-old bread, and a small bundle of clothes, neatly folded.  The documents he'd taken from Haman he kept tucked into the waistband of his pants, next to his skin.  No Lladwen had yet come for him, no Helen, and he counted himself lucky.  He knew he had to go, and soon, but every time he began to stuff the leather sack, the itch in the back of his mind stopped him.

How long could he endure if he were far away from Vaeluras?  He'd been able to manage in the afternoons with Haman and Eris, though his concentration had always worn thin near the end of their sessions.  The itch was stronger now, more insistent.  Would he go mad?  Try to dig out his brain with his own hands just to scratch that itch?  He shuddered at the thought.

Rajheem let the lute slide out of his lap.  I've left it for too long.  I should have tried to take her head when Antuk first warned me.  He looked down at his brown, slender hands.  They didn't look like a killer's hands.  Yet he'd killed once already.  If he got a knife from the kitchen, found the Fair Folk Queen asleep, and closed his eyes...  Yes, he might manage then.  He'd have to do it now.  Vaeluras had been able to find him easily enough by the connection she'd forged between him.  He didn't see why it couldn't work both ways.  What then, though?  If he managed to kill her, he could flee.  But to where?  Talia?

He buried his head in his hands.  The more he thought about it, the more hopeless it all seemed.

Rajheem lifted his head.  There was a faint hum in the air, something he couldn't recognize.  He rose from his bed and placed the lute carefully back on its stand.  He stood in the middle of his room for a moment, trying to place the sound.

A shout pierced the air, then another, and another.  They came from the hallway and from outside the window.  His heart thumping like a hare warning of danger, Rajheem stepped toward the window and threw the thin curtain back.  A gust of wind struck his face, carrying with it tiny drops of moisture.  He could hear the shouts more clearly now, shouts of joy and surprise.

            It didn't register at first, the drops of water falling onto his sandstone windowsill.  He could only stand, dumbfounded, until the muscles in his calves began to twinge.  A thousand thoughts began to bombard him at once.  He should go outside.  He should get pots and vases and urns and put them out in the rain.  How long would it rain for?  Was it really raining?  He should put his hand out, just to be sure.

Rajheem stretched a tentative hand out into the storm.  The droplets were cold and very, very real.  A flash lit the sky, followed by a rumble so loud it set Rajheem's bones rattling.  He pulled his hand back inside his room and drew the curtain shut.  The rain blew the curtain inwards and spread its moisture across his floor.  This would form the perfect distraction, the perfect chance to slip away.  He would have to go down to the kitchens, get a knife, find Vaeluras, take her head, and leave.  If nothing else, he had to try.

He stuffed the sack, leaned against the door, and waited through the shouts and laughter of the other servants as they discovered the rain.  His gaze, idle, swept over the room he'd called his home and settled on the lute.  Ah, the lute.  Much as he wanted to take it with him, he knew he couldn't afford to.  It would only slow him down.  Rajheem reached out, brushed his fingers against the wood.  He'd find a way to get a lute again, someday.  He'd work his fingers to the bone if he had to.  The sound of doors opening and shutting came from the hall.  At last, when he could hear no more footsteps, he pulled open the door.  It was empty and quiet.  A couple doors down the hall were left ajar, their former occupants too excited to close them properly.