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Alec drifted off to sleep that night feeling less of an outcast. To the Bôkthersans he was family, rather than an unwanted guest. With Seregil beside him and Sebrahn curled at the foot of the bed, he drifted off in a deeper slumber than he had in days.
So it was a nasty shock when someone yanked him off the bed and onto the cold floor and stuffed something into his mouth. The shutters were open and by the faint moonlight he could make out several darkly dressed men, one of whom was holding a struggling Sebrahn. They’d stuffed a rag in the rhekaro’s mouth, which explained why Sebrahn wasn’t singing a killing song. In a way that was a relief, since Alec had no way of knowing if he’d kill only their assailants, or everyone else within earshot, as well.
Seregil, naked and armed with one of the swords they’d brought from Plenimar, was fighting off two more men by the door.
How in Bilairy’s name did they get in without us or anyone else hearing them?
No sooner had Alec taken that in than the two men holding him dragged him to the open window and thrust him out feet first, keeping hold of his hands, and he found himself dangling above the cobbled courtyard. There was no question of pulling free—Bilairy’s balls, he hated heights!
And falling even more so—which he was.
It took Seneth ä Matriel Danata Hâzadriël, Khirnari of the Hâzadriëlfaie people, and her escort several hours steep riding to reach the Retha’noi witch man’s hut, which stood in an ash grove near the edge of his mountain village. Seneth had started after an early breakfast, and now the midday sun was glinting harshly on the distant crags framing Ravensfel Pass.
The hut was a small, round structure made from sticks and withy, and covered in stretched deer hide. There was no sign of Turmay, except for a thin plume of smoke rising from the hole in the center of the roof.
“Stay here,” Seneth ordered the other riders. Going to the low door, she pulled the long fronts of her coat and tunic back from her trousered legs and crawled on hands and knees into the witch’s hut. The change from early morning light reflecting off snow left her nearly blind for an instant, except for the column of light shining through the smoke hole and the glow of the fire beneath.
“Welcome, Khirnari,” the witch greeted her, and now she could make him out, sitting cross-legged on the far side of the fire, wearing nothing but a crude loin cloth.
“Thank you for word of good news, my friend.” It was hot and close, too. She shrugged off her fur-lined coat and sat down on a pile of furs across the fire from the witch. Turmay’s eyes were closed, his stooped body so still that he appeared to not even be breathing. His grey curls hung motionless over his shoulders.
She’d seen the witch marks on his hands and face the night that her friend, Belan ä Talía, had brought him to her after both had seen visions of a tayan’gil— or “white child,” as he put it— far away in the south. Someplace where a tayan’gil had no business being made.
Half-naked as he was, she could see the elaborate witch marks that covered his shoulders and chest. Others marks circled his shins like the patterns on the oo’lu lying silent across his lap. Seneth had known generations of Retha’noi over the course of her long life. Only the male witches used the oo’lu— a long, intricately decorated horn made from a hollowed out sapling. Each horn was unique, except for the ring of beeswax that served as a mouthpiece, and a black handprint somewhere along the smooth polished length. Turmay must have been playing it quite recently; the tingle of Retha’noi magic hung in the air, enveloping her like a scent.
Which was better than the smell of the hovel: sweat and hides, sour milk, pungent smoke dried meat, and a body that would not see a proper bath until spring.
“Did you find the ride difficult, Khirnari?”
Seneth started as Belan ä Talía leaned forward into the circle of firelight. “What have you learned, my friend?” she asked them both. Belan was a seer, a rarity among their kind and probably due to her mixed blood. The rare intermarriage with the Retha’noi had gradually become tolerated, since the hill folk had proven to be staunch allies and kept to the valley as jealously as the ‘faie, if not more so. Breeding with an outsider, though? That was unthinkable, and strictly prohibited.
“The tayan’gil is in Aurënen,” Belan replied. Belan and Turmay had been searching together ever since they’d had their first visions of the tayan’gil.
“Aurënen? Are you telling me that the Aurënfaie would create such a creature?”
“Who can say, Khirnari? We only know that there is one there.”
“Where in Aurënen?”
The witch opened his eyes at last and she saw that they were red rimmed and bloodshot. “I can show you, though I don’t know the name of the place.”
He lifted the wax mouthpiece of the oo’lu and settled his lips inside it. Puffing out his cheeks, he began to play. This horn was almost four feet long and he had to shift to keep the end of it out of the fire.
It was not music, though the strange buzzing, hooting, booming drone produced by the oo’lu was not unpleasant. If one listened attentively, you could hear the sawing song of summer cicadas, the bellow of a bull, the peeping of tiny marsh frogs, and bird calls. The patterns were complex, when played by an expert. It was impossible for those not trained to it to get more than a breathy farting sound out of it.
Turmay played a soft song this time, with the hiss of wind over snow and owl calls mingled with the slow drone.
“Close your eyes and touch the oo’lu,” Belan told her.
Seneth did so, and the horn, so smooth and warmed by the witch’s breath, vibrated against her palm.
Light flared behind her closed lids as if she’d stepped outside again, then she had the dizzying sensation of flying up through the smoke hole.
Confused images tumbled across the surface of her mind—the blurred glimpses of brown steppes, mountains less jagged than those that protected her fai’thast, and the flash of sunlight across great a broad expanse of water.
The Great Lake, near the human town called Wolde. Years ago she’d ventured from the valley as an Ebrados rider and they’d stolen through the sleeping town. She could still remember the reek of the place, and the filth. But that lake! Standing on the shore under a full moon, she’d never seen anything so beautiful.
But Turmay’s magic carried her on, further and further from anything familiar over forests and grasslands, and over a body of water that made the lake seem no more than a puddle.
The sea, the witch whispered in her mind through the droning of the oo’lu. My people once lived all around its shores, until the light skinned people drove us into the mountains. We were fishermen and sailors, and the cries of the gulls are still in our bones. The oo’lu song shifted to a strange, high-pitched call, like that of the white birds she’d seen circling the lake. Beyond, and beyond again lies your true homeland, Seneth, daughter of Matriel.
They passed over a mountainous island, and then over the sea again to a land unlike her own except for the spine of mountains bleak against a dark blue sky.
“Aurënen,” Belan told her, sounding very far away.
The swath of land between the mountains and the sea was pale and dry like a bone. Turmay’s magic carried her to a town on the shore. The tiny houses along the water looked like nubs of white chalk set in sand, with familiar domed roofs.
The white child is here.
Can you show it to me?
I cannot see it, but I feel its presence like a canker in my mind.
____________________________
There was plenty of firewood to roast the rabbits Alec had shot that day, and they’d sleep warm that night, bundled close together around the fire. He was just about to settle down for the night when Sebrahn suddenly jumped to his feet and ran across the clearing, pointing up at something. Micum and Seregil had already drawn their swords, but Alec saw what Sebrahn was excited about and waved them off.
A large white owl sat blinking down at them from a bough.
Sebrahn held his arms up to it and rasped out “Drak-kon!”
“Now why would he think that?” said Micum.
“Owls are as much Aura’s creatures as dragons are,” Seregil explained. “And since there aren’t any dragons—“
Suddenly Sebrahn began to sing, as he had ????? but this song was softer. The bird swiveled its round head to look down at the rhekaro, then opened its wings and shook them, sending a few tufts of fluff drifting down onto Sebrahn’s upturned face. When Sebrahn kept singing, it gave a loud hoot and fluttered down to perch on his shoulder. The bird was too big and ended up clinging to his arm, digging its talons in hard enough to draw white blood.
Sebrahn stroked its snow white breast. The owl hooted again, and a third time before taking wing into the darkness. “Drak-kon!” Sebrahn called after it.
“Look, Alec,” Seregil said quietly, pointing up at the trees. Four other white owls perched there, their big gold coin eyes fixed on Sebrahn.
“They’re solitary hunters,” Micum murmured. “Did he call them here?”
“Maybe,” said Seregil. “I didn’t notice them before.”
Alec knelt by Sebrahn and pointed up at the birds. “Owls. Not dragons. Owls.”
Sebrahn was looking at the perched birds now. “Drak-kon.”
“No. Owls.”
Sebrahn looked confused. “Aaaaals?”
“Yes. Ow-els.”
“Aaaaaals.”
Seregil chuckled. “Close enough.”
“Drak-kon!” Sebrahn pointed up to the birds again.
“Owl!” Alec reminded him.
Sebrahn sounded almost sulky as he whispered, “Aaaaaal.”
- Mood:busy
________________________
Their last afternoon in Gedre he and Micum sat in a cheerful little tavern and watched the trader vessels and little fishing boats skimming across the harbor and people passing by in the colorful sen’gai of half a dozen clans. The barmaids flirted and fussed over him, stroking his long blond braid and offering to brush his hair for him.
“Don’t waste your efforts, girls,” Micum told them. “His heart is in someone else’s pocket already, and that pocket isn’t sewn to a skirt.”
“What a shame!” one of them exclaimed as she pretended to pout.
“He’s too young to be settled!” her friend chided, laughing. “Come on, little brother, don’t make up your mind so soon.”
Alec couldn’t help blushing, and that only made them flirt more, saying a shy young man was too much of a temptation and a rarity around here to let go. It reminded him of his first welcome in Gedre, the day he’d sailed into this harbor with Princess Klia. Young men and women, all bare to the waist, had sailed out in small boats to meet their ship, decked out in nothing but flowers and short kilts. Modesty was a different thing here; he knew these girls were only teasing, but he also wondered what would happened if he’d been interested?
They gave up at last and Micum laughed at him over his mug of turab. “Most fellows your age would be pretty happy with that kind of attention.”
Alec sighed. “Seregil used to say the same thing, until I got him to stop.”
- Mood:productive
The sumptuously decorated ship’s cabin was the best accommodation Alec had seen since they’d left Bôkthersa. Seregil, who had a taste for luxuries of any sort, sprawled across the bed at all hours like a big contented catamount. For the first time in a very long time it was just the two of them. No Sebrahn. No Reiser, who looked askance at them whenever they so much as clasped hands. For the first time in weeks, they could do more than that. Seregil was like a man dying of thirst, and Alec was the spring.
On the third morning out Rhal took one look at them over breakfast and burst out laughing, as did Skywake, who was eating with them in the captain’s cabin.
“What’s so funny?” asked Seregil.
“Look in the mirror. You’ve got matching marks on your necks.
Blushing furiously, Alec pulled the collar of his shirt up, while the others, even Seregil, laughed on. He hated it when things like this happened. Not that he was ashamed of their love for each other—far from it—but his father had taught him modesty and their lonely wandering life had left Alec ill at ease in personal matters around other people. He kept hoping he’d grow out of blushing, but so far he hadn’t been that lucky.
WARNING TO ANYONE WHO HASN'T READ SHADOWS RETURN YET: THIS CONTAINS A MAJOR SPOILER!!
You've been warned.
( From Chapter 1 )''' And please don't inadverdantly give away the spoiler if you respond. Thanks!
Alec bent over him, concerned. "Does it still hurt?"
"No," Seregil gasped, "but that was less fun than I thought it would be."
From Shadows Return:
Alec was always left to himself, the day after a visit to Yhakobin, so he was as much surprised as pleased when Khenir appeared at his door that afternoon.
“Would you like to take another walk?” the slave asked, grinning.
Alec was so glad to get outside again that he hardly minded when one of the waiting guards fastened the chain to his collar.
Once again, four guards were there to watch them. Making a break for it in daylight probably wasn’t going to be an option, Alec decided. That was not a cheering thought, but he couldn’t help enjoying being out of that cell again. It was a bit warmer today and he relished the warmth of the sun on his face as they strolled around the garden, enjoying the splash of the fountain and the cries of the gulls overhead.
After a while Khenir took Alec’s hand in his as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Alec blushed guiltily as the warmth of the other man’s palm against his own sent a rather pleasurable tingle up his arm.
What’s wrong with me? Am I really that lonely?
He tried to pull free without insulting the man, but Khenir gave him such a sad look and said, “Humor me, won’t you, little brother? It’s so lonely here.”
Alec was too kind to refuse him that, and Khenir gave him a grateful look. They walked on like that for a while, then the other man sighed. “Your frown tells me there’s someone you’re faithful to, yes? Is she very pretty?”
Alec gave a noncommittal shrug.
“No?” Khenir smiled knowingly. “Or maybe not a ‘she’?”
“I’d rather not talk about that.”
Khenir seemed to shrink in on himself as he turned away. “Keep your secrets, then,” he said softly. “What am I in your eyes, after all, but filth and spoiled goods?”
“No, that’s not it at all!” Alec laid a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “I appreciate your friendship, Khenir, more than you know!” He paused, wanting to undo the hurt, but knowing better than to give away that kind of information, even to a fellow slave.
Khenir still refused to face him. “No, I shouldn’t have presumed. It’s just—well, as I said, I’ve been lonely here . . . Please, say we’re friends?”
He turned around and held out his hand. There were tears on his cheeks. Alec took his hand again. “Of course we are. It’s just . . . “ What could he possibly say? “It’s just that my heart is broken, losing him, and I can’t think of anyone else. Not yet.”
Khenir touched Alec’s cheek. “I . . . That is . . .” He glanced back at the guards. They seemed to be engrossed in their own conversation. He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “I’m not asking for your heart, Alec. But if we could just find a little comfort together . . .”
And Khenir kissed him.
#
- Mood:
happy
“By the Flame, there must be good money in it,” Micum said, pretending to be impressed. “How’s a man get into that business, anyway?”
Eyes narrowed around the table at that. “You asking, Skala?”
Micum gave them an offended sneer. “I’m a northlander! No queens for me. No sir, I’m a free man, free to do as I please. And . . “ He paused and gave them a knowing wink. “Making money always pleases me. Only I’m wondering, if old Ulan knows the cargo you carry, why does he let your ships anywhere near his fai’thast, eh?”
A Zengati with a scar across the bridge of his nose leaned in and whispered, “That is because of the agreement.”
“What agreement?” Thero asked, speaking up at last.
Notis and the others went silent and suddenly all eyes were on Thero, and not looking too friendly.
“That’s a Skalan you’re with,” Notis growled.
“That one?” Micum jerked a dismissive thumb at Thero. “Don’t mind him. I met him on the ship coming over and he’s been buying the drinks. What do you say, Thorwin? You too proud to earn your living?”
It took Thero only a second to realize that he was Thorwin, and that a great deal rode on the proper response. “Since my father cast me out, I’ve made my own way just fine,” he shot back, trying to match the coarse, off hand way Micum had been speaking. “One country’s silver spends the same as any other’s in my experience.”
The others stared at him a moment then burst out laughing, and Micum with them.
Notis slapped Micum on the shoulder, rocking on the bench. “You got you a fine companion, friend. He talks like a priest, all stiff like a dead fish.” He stood and locked his arms at his sides, shuffling drunkenly from foot to foot, much to the amusement of his friends.
Why am I always compared to fish? Thero wondered, though he was a bit relieved by the reaction.
“I don’t know.”
“What?” Alec growled. “Seregil, why are you even listening to this bastard?”
“Well, at the moment, he’s the only bastard we’ve got. Hold the light over this way, will you?”
- Mood:generous
- Music:My Chemical Romance
“Yes, though why you should want such a wild and dangerous creature as that is beyond me.”
“I look forward to breaking him, Master.”
Seregil bit the inside of his lip, thinking, Oh, I will kill you so slowly!
"Judging by the way the metal dug into his flesh, he was naked yet again. "
- Mood:evil
- Music:"Wait Wait, Don't Tell Me" radio show
- Mood:busy
- Music:Celtic Cowboy, David Wilkie
See: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Flewellin
- Mood: cheerful