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pleading look, “I don’t want to talk about having my soul accosted,” Ahnon informed him.
    Theobald ignored him. “How many of the sacrifices were alive when they finally let you stand up?” he asked Ahnon.
    Ahnon just gave him an awkward expression. “What?”
    “How many were left? I saw you the day you graduated from the academy. You were twenty-one, and you actually look younger now.”
    Ahnon shook his head, not understanding. “I was infused—what they call it. I call it degrading my soul, but I should have the two hundred years I was pledged to guard my sire,” Ahnon told him. Seeing Theobald still staring at him, he shouted, “They were all dead!”
    Stumbling back, Theobald hit the door frame. “The Gods,” was all he said.
    “You went through it also, so it should be no surprise,” Ahnon growled.
    “Ahnon, only seven were dead when I finally stood up,” Theobald told him. Ahnon glared at Theobald, then seeing he was telling the truth, Ahnon collapsed on the bed. “The most I’ve ever heard of being infused into one person was nine, and that was one of the three traitor brothers,” Theobald told him.
    “I didn’t have to go through all that!” Ahnon shouted as he covered his face with his hands.
    “No, the council keeps going till they feel your mind is about to break. That explains why you look so young,” Theobald informed him.
    “About to let your mind break?”
    Theobald nodded. “Your mind is not broken. Your heart maybe, but not your mind.”
    Ahnon suddenly looked up at him. “How much did they infuse in me?” he asked.
    Letting out a sigh, Theobald sat on a small dresser. “Each sacrifice gives around fifty years,” he answered.
    All emotion left Ahnon’s face. “You mean those dung eaters put around six hundred years of life in me?”
    “About.”
    “Why are we told less than half that?” Ahnon asked.
    “Because that’s what most can handle,” Theobald replied. “Either you impressed them or really irritated them. They want to get as much in you as they can, so they can keep using us on our task then continue training other sho-ka,” he added.
    “I’m only a servant to one,” Ahnon mumbled then remembered what the Grand Mage told him before the infusion: “I hope you get your freedom one day, Ahnon. I really think you deserve a little happiness in this world.”
    Sighing, “I don’t know if I should thank you or kill you,” Ahnon said to the memory.
    Theobald held up his hands. “Hey, I’m just the messenger,” he said. Ahnon just shook his head, not in the mood to explain. “Ahnon, this is not a sentence of punishment. You can have a life here with your sire,” Theobald said with a smile.
    Dropping his eyes to the floor, “Are you happy with your duty?” Ahnon asked in a subdued voice.
    Theobald slapped his thighs, laughing. “Yes I am. I’ve known Vilarius since the day he was born and see him like I think a father sees a son. I would die for him like a father would, so what is the difference?” he asked.
    Astonished at the reply Ahnon looked up at him. “It can’t be that simple,” he said.
    “Why not? I’ve been with Vilarius for almost two hundred years, and I count them as the best years of my life.” Seeing Ahnon thinking about what he said, Theobald continued. “Sure, there are bad sires, but isn’t that the fault of the sho-ka? We are with them from birth every day of their life, and we can teach them right and wrong,” he said, and Ahnon jerked his head up.
    “’Sho-ka are a wall, not the house,’” Ahnon spat. It was the verse sho-ka were taught from the first day of training. “We are not to influence, only to protect.”
    Theobald laughed. “Ahnon, it’s possible, but why? If you live by that code, you have nothing in life. I’m not saying you change your sire; just be a friend.”
    “What has the magi council of Gratu said about your interaction with Vilarius?” Ahnon asked.
    Theobald grinned. “They hate it,” he