For the first time ever, Eridan approved of Tethru’s intervention. What Master Zaid was suggesting was gross, even by the dubious standards of the Order. It was true that high-level telepaths could brute-force pretty much anything that telepaths with particular talents could do, but it would be crude work, clumsy and extremely painful.
“I agree, Grandmaster,” Castien said. “While I could do it if I were so inclined, I have little time for that. In any case, that is not necessary. There is a wiper whose services we can use.”
Silence fell over the room.
“If you mean Master Sylas, he is no longer part of the Order,” Tethru said, his discomfort obvious. “He left.”
Castien raised his eyebrows. “You know as well as I do that one does not leave the Order.”
Nobody spoke; an eerie unease filled the room.
Eridan shivered, no longer wondering if his Master had noticed the treacherous thoughts some Masters had been entertaining. Of course Castien had noticed. He rarely missed anything.
Tethru cleared his throat. “Nevertheless, my point remains: Master Sylas might be part of the Order technically, but he has long stopped coming here and ceased all communications with us. He has made it clear that he does not want to be part of this organization anymore.”
“Sylas owes me a favor,” Castien said. “He will do it.”
Eridan wondered about it while the Masters discussed the technicalities of the plan. He had never met Master Sylas. He had left the Chapter—and the Order—before Eridan became Castien’s apprentice. He had heard of him, though, and each rumor was wilder than the last. He wondered what kind of a favor Sylas owed Castien. It must have been something huge, because Master Sylas had moved to another planet and effectively cut all his ties to the Order—or so everyone had thought.
When the meeting finally ended, Eridan followed Castien out of the room, deep in thought. At times like this, it became painfully obvious how little he actually knew about his Master’s past.
“Are you not pleased?” Castien said when they returned home.
Eridan scoffed. “What should I be pleased about? Brainwashing someone is hardly better than killing.”
“Brainwashing can be fixed. Death cannot be. Therefore, stop sulking, Eridan. You got what you wanted.”
Eridan laughed. “Please, Master. You hardly intervened for my sake.”
Castien’s eyes smiled. “I am proud you are no longer as naive as you used to be.”
Eridan grinned at him. “Well, you were bound to rub off on me at some point, Master.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Castien said, looking away.
Eridan simply gazed at his stern, handsome profile for a moment before murmuring, “Why did you take me with you to the Chapter meeting? You almost never do. And please, don’t feed me that bullshit about it being a learning experience, Master.”
“It was Master Amara’s idea, actually,” Castien said. “She called me this morning and told me that certain people have raised concerns about your conduct, questioning my suitability as a Master to you.”
Eridan frowned, bewildered. “My conduct isn’t much worse than that of most apprentices.”
Castien heaved a sigh, a wrinkle forming between his brows. “That is almost certainly Tethru’s work. The problem is, other Masters see you only when you misbehave, Eridan, so they form a rather biased opinion. Master Amara advised me to stop coddling you and take you with me to more meetings.”
“You don’t coddle me,” Eridan said with a snort.
“From a certain point of view, it might seem like that,” Castien said, taking a seat in the armchair by the fireplace, his thoughtful gaze fixed on the flames.
He looked worried. Tired.
It was a strange thought. Eridan had always thought of his Master as someone so powerful he seemed indestructible; it was easy to believe that when Castien was both physically and telepathically powerful.
But at that moment, he seemed just like any person.
Eridan watched him in silence. Castien’s broad shoulders seemed so tense beneath his black robe. Something was bothering his Master; Eridan could feel it despite Castien’s shields.
Quietly, he walked toward Castien and sank down to the plush carpet at his feet. “My thaal is starting to get loose, Master,” he murmured, pressing his cheek against Castien’s knee. “Fix it?”
Castien simply looked at him for a long moment before giving a clipped nod and gesturing for Eridan to turn around.
Eridan did, leaning back against the armchair and closing his eyes as he felt his Master’s strong hands carefully work on removing the thaal from his hair before starting to re-braid it.
This activity was one of his favorite things in the world. It always soothed Eridan, grounded him, and made their bond fill with comfort and quiet pleasure. He didn’t know what effect this had on Castien, if any, but at least he didn’t seem to mind it.
Except after last night, his mind was still extremely attuned to his Master’s, and their bond became hypersensitive, making Eridan desperate for a deeper connection, crave it. He reached out into the bond—