Wing & Nien

by Shytei Corellian

  Wing’s hands were light upon her back as if he were afraid to touch her.

  “I’m sorry,” Carly said. “But I had to tell you.”

  He accepted her words in silence.

  “So,” Carly said, freeing him and hoping to shift to a happier subject, “when do you expect Nien?”

  Mentioning Nien, however, had the exact opposite effect — Wing flinched.

  “He, uh, told mother and fa that he was planning on being back in time for Kive fest.”

  His tone was dispassionate, but the look in his eyes told a very different story.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing.”

  Carly looked up into his eyes. “He’s coming back.”

  The more she said, the more walls she felt rising between them.

  “You don’t know how it was between us when he left.”

  “That’s because,” Carly said carefully, “you never told me what happened.”

  “We said...things.”

  Apparently, he still did not want to explain, but at least her having guessed at the root of his concern kept him from vanishing completely.

  Never mind, Carly told herself and, hoping she would not meet rejection, turned to the saddle-tree and leaned upon the saddle, bouncing a little as if testing its strength. She glanced over her shoulder at Wing, raising an eyebrow.

  Wing knew the look. The corner of his mouth turned up. “I’m pretty sure the tree wasn’t meant to take that much weight.”

  Carly smiled. “One way to find out?”

  Wing glanced up at the house and then back at her. “Seriously?”

  “Where’s Jake?” Carly asked.

  “With Fa. In town.”

  “And Reean?”

  “In the house…”

  “Perfect.” Carly reached out and grabbed his shirt front in her fist, dragging him over. Wing resisted briefly before stumbling into her. Carly pressed her face into him and breathed deeply, reveling in the feel and flavour of him. Pulling free the bottom of his shirt, she slid her hand under. Feeling his ribs beneath her fingers, she pushed her hand up over his right nipple, smoothing her hand up and around the curve of his shoulder.

  As she’d hoped, she felt him shudder under her hand and then exhale, some of the tightness leaving his body.

  Purring into the warmth of his neck, she smiled as he lifted her and set her upon the saddle. The saddle tree creaked. Carly held her breath. Wing checked the tree and came up with a different solution. Parting her thighs with his legs, he leaned against her. Carly wrapped her legs around him as he curled his fingers into the soft furrow of her spine. Grabbing his belt, they heard her horse snort behind them.

  “Seems we are not alone after all,” Wing said.

  Carly laughed. “I’m sure he won’t mind.”

  Chapter 30

  Unexpected

  N ien retired to the small room he’d acquired in the nearby vicinity of the library. He lay across a short wooden cot, only a couple of small pillows adding comfort to the otherwise dismaying bed.

  About the room were many books. There were a few on science and astronomy, one on biology, another on mathematics, as well as a large collection of historical accounts documenting the evolution of nearly every valley on the continent — but none of these were the least bit surprising. These were the subjects he had intended on studying once he got to Quieness. So, what was surprising were the many philosophical and religious books of every possible discipleship that made up the bulk of the room’s untidiness. Upon setting off for Quieness, Nien had imagined religion would be the last subject he would care to research or study. Nevertheless, it seemed these particular books kept popping up, choosing him before he had the chance to convince himself he was uninterested.

  The following night in the library, Nien was pondering the oddity of the occurrence when Necassa came up behind him and rested her head upon his shoulder.

  “Tired?” Nien asked.

  She nodded into his shoulder. “And hungry.”

  Nien placed a few books back in their shelves and took up his coat. “Let’s go then, before I have to carry you to food.”

  Necassa nodded happily, and they walked together out into the gloaming.

  Moving through the streets, now cleared of businessmen and filled with evening diners and shoppers, they stopped into a small, familiar café and sank into hard-meshed chairs. Strings of small candles hung overhead across dark wooden beams, and plant vines grew throughout a thin wall of interwoven fibers creating a bare distinction between inside and outside dining.

  Nien had been enthralled by Quienan nightlife from his and Necassa’s first outing. It was as if when the sun went down a whole new city was born. Tall lamplights turned down the frantic nature of sunlit streets, encouraging people to wander night-limned corners where warm shops and warmer diners shone with a welcoming glow. Café’s that during the day might not be noted at all now held the seduction of an old lover a promise that inside friends were gathering who were willing to buy you a drink.

  “Hello, you two. What will you have tonight?”

  Necassa looked up too see Mshavka, a slender woman from Majg whom she’d come to know by frequenting the café, coming toward them.

  “That’s why we come here — so we don’t have to decide,” Necassa replied through a yawn.

  “You come here no matter what,” Mshavka said as Necassa’s yawn near stretched her face in two. “Hard work getting smart all day, isn’t it? Fit to wear one out, while I wile my life away here — ”

  “Reading minds,” Nien said.

  Having often visited the café with Necassa, he was aware of Mshavka’s special gift. It was more a reading of people than their minds — flashes of their past, of potential, of wishes held close. The first time Necassa had brought Nien to the diner, she’d pressed Mshavka for what she saw in him. She’d silently scolded Necassa with a look, replying with some margin of wit: “I see him in many places, eating delicious food.” But as she’d turned to leave, she’d glanced up quickly at Nien and added words that had caused Nien to shiver, “There with the dead and royals alike.”

  It seemed Mshavka had been just as shocked by the adjunct.

  Nien had thought at the time that it was obvious…He lived in Cao City and he and Necassa had made more than a few visits to SiQQiy’s Palatial City. But the dead? Nien didn’t know what it meant but it made him feel cold. He thought of Wing and his visions.

  Necassa had seemed rather disturbed by the pronouncement and Nien had quickly brushed it off — “I walk with the dead every night when we stagger down here.”

  Though it was clear Necassa had felt there was something else, Mshavka never said anything more, sticking with what most considered a waste of her gift: knowing exactly what meal someone was in the mood for.

  So, at Nien, Mshavka’s eyes narrowed. “You,” she said, tapping her finger on her hip, “something new tonight — a leitta mulana, warmed, and a plate of lefendral, not chilled.”

  Nien chuckled. “Lovely.”

  She turned her gaze to Necassa. “And you. Tonight, the same thing you usually get, but more — something slightly stronger than a leitta, chilled, baked kiedel and two — no, three, carmen eggs.”

  “At least,” Necassa replied. “Thanks. You know, you really should be working in the palace where you’d be given a substantial pay raise and your own private residence.”

  Mshavka cast her eyes about the small café, at the ramshackle structure and dour tapestries. “And miss all this? Never.” She winked at them. “Besides, there’s plenty intrigue here. I don’t need to live in the heart of it.”

  “Intrigue?” Necassa asked.

  “You’ve not heard?” Mshavka said. She shook her head. “Of course you haven’t, you two have your noses in books all day. Makes me so envious.” She sighed. “There are rumours that the Ka’ull have captured the valley of Tou.”

  The world collapsed in on Nien and everything outside of it vanished. The no
ise of the restaurant, Mshavka, Necassa. It was as if there had been a soft scratching at the back door of his mind, an opening through which someone was emptying him of his most prized possessions but it had been happening so quietly that he hadn’t noticed until now, focused on the noise and people and monopoly of life.

  “Nien?”

  Nien flinched and looked up at Mshavka. “It’s just a rumour?”

  Mshavka gave a look. “Well, they’re not going to tell us everything, are they? SiQQiy hasn’t said anything official yet but so far, every rumour we’ve heard here in Cao has, eventually, been verified. Working in the palaces…” She laughed mockingly. “I want my peace as long as I can have it. I’ll get your food.”

  As Mshavka left, Nien’s mind leapt to Rieeve without warning. The longing to be home was so powerful his stomach turned. Had Lant received news? Did he know? Had he told the Council? What was happening? The Council — Yosha, Nien thought. If the rumour was true, what it would bring down on his family, on Wing…

  “Nien?” Necassa asked. “Are you all right?”

  “E’te,” he said automatically.

  “‘E’te’?”

  Nien blinked. “Oh, sorry. It’s a, uh…Never mind.”

  “You just took a walk somewhere else,” Necassa said. Eyeing him, her brow furrowed. “It’s all right, Nien. Quieness has the biggest military on the continent. No one could stand against SiQQiy in this valley. I doubt,” she added, “anyone would even try.”

  Nien tried to look encouraged, but it did not touch his eyes, as he thought, I’m not worried about Quieness, I’m worried about Rieeve. It’s so small. They don’t know. They don’t know what’s happening.

  If the Quienans were worried about the Ka’ull with the size, strength, intelligence, and experience of their military, then the idea that the Cant could do anything was laughable. Ridiculous.

  For the first time, Nien glimpsed the true depth of Lant’s desperation as well as the magnitude of his courage — the Commander knew how entirely ineffectual the Cant would be in defending Rieeve. And yet, still, he tried.

  “Do you want to go?” Necassa asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

  “No,” Nien said, shaking his head. “It’s all right. Let’s eat. You’re starving.”

  Unconvinced, Necassa touched his hand.

  Nien forced a smile he hoped wasn’t entirely fake, and looked for another topic of conversation.

  “How long has she been here?” he asked.

  “Who?” Necassa asked.

  “Mshavka.”

  “Oh. She came from Criye, mmm, about three full cycles ago, I think.”

  “Have you ever talked with her about her home?”

  Conversing in a motley combination of Quienan and Fultershier, Necassa replied, “A little, yes. But she’s never elaborated.”

  “Do many of them have the ability?”

  “I don’t know. As a race, I think they value and, therefore, teach attunement to the subtler senses. But she’s the only person from Criye I know well, so…” Necassa downed the last of her drink. “I’ve told her I want to visit.”

  “Criye?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “To see what their native culture is really like. Most people come to Cao City to start over, to reinvent themselves. That means they’re leaving their traditional teachings, rituals, even the clothing of their home valleys behind. Those who come for other reasons eventually come to dress and act like Quienans, anyway.”

  Lost in thought, it took Nien a moment to realize Necassa was looking at him, a shade of worry in her eyes. “Nien?”

  He blinked. “Sorry.”

  “What is it — you’ve been disappearing a lot tonight.”

  “Nothing, just…thinking,” he started to say, but right then Mshavka returned with their food and the conversation was set aside.

  Wishing Mshavka a pleasant evening, Nien and Necassa left the small café and walked down a long promenade that wound its way toward the residential section near the south-sunsetting corner of Cao City. There was a cold bite in the air, though it was nothing like Ime in Rieeve. Images of home flashed through Nien’ mind: Reean braiding Fey’s hair, Jake helping Joash in the barn, Wing…

  The creak of the stairs leading up to his apartment dropped Nien back to the present and Necassa waited as he unlocked the door to his small room at the top. Nien pushed the door open, stepping carefully as Necassa came in behind him and stopped short. Her eyes widened.

  “‘Jha dez yonglatt, ne tak sol muun,’” she said. “Fine majesty, Nien, no wonder there’s been more room than usual in the library shelves.”

  “Huh?” He looked around. “Oh.”

  The bed, the one dresser, and the floor were covered in books.

  “You know it’s a library, right? Not a bookstore? Other people might actually want to read these.”

  “Well, yes, but not as much as me.” Nien felt himself flush. “Besides, they live here. They have all the time in the world.”

  Necassa’s eyes shot to him. It seemed she was about to say something. When she didn’t, Nien said, “What was that you said, anyway? Jha dez something…”

  Necassa laughed at him. “It’s a Jayakan saying: “Knowledge in the classroom; wisdom in the world”.”

  “Huh.” He paused. “Why is that funny?”

  “Look at this place!” she chuckled. “I just pictured the old sage that coined that phrase having done so while envisioning this room.”

  Nien flashed her his best foolish grin. “So, you’re saying this is like a classroom? Or that I’m filled with wisdom?”

  “I’d say you’d better get these back to the library before I am let go for not doing my job, and that the wisdom would be in avoiding Nien Cawutt’s flat if one wishes not to trip over a book and break their neck.”

  Amused and slightly chagrined, Nien began to make a hasty effort at organizing the small space — at least enough that they get to the only place to sit in the room, his bed. As Nien cleaned, Necassa shrugged her backpack off her shoulder and pulled a wrapped loaf of sweet bread out of her pocket.

  Nien saw it as he thumped four books down on top of each other in a pile beside three more much larger and much more precariously balanced piles.

  “Is that from the café?” he asked.

  “It’s for later — Mshavka thought it might be a long night.”

  Nien stepped to his bed and began to shove the books over, gathering six of them up in his arms and adding them to the pile on the dresser.

  “You and Mshavka assumed I would have nothing here to eat?”

  “Do you?”

  Nien narrowed his eyes at her. “That’s why we went to the café. I forgot that the evening meal for you only starts with dinner.”

  Necassa laughed. “It’s all right. Mshavka understands.”

  “Understands what?”

  “I love a good book as much as you, but I also remember to sleep — and eat.”

  Nien sat down on his bed with a sacrificial sigh. “It’s a good thing I have someone looking after me.”

  Necassa tiptoed over, skirting the few books that remained on the floor, and sat down beside him. With an expression half-exasperation and half-attraction, Necassa touched the front of his shirt with just her fingertips. “Happy to do it,” she said.

  “So, you’re not overly upset with me?”

  Necassa’s mouth turned up softly. “How am I supposed to be mad at you when it’s so utterly sexy?”

  “It?” Nien inquired raising an eyebrow. “The mess?”

  “The books — the many, many books.”

  “Oh,” he said. Necassa was a librarian, and a book worm, and an insatiable philosopher.

  Nien glanced down at Necassa’s fingers as they slowly slid under the top button of his shirt. “How am I supposed to talk with you when you do that?”

  Necassa ran her finger down the hollow of his throat. “Go ahead and talk,” she said.

&
nbsp; “You’ve ruined it now.”

  “No, no, no,” Necassa said, placing her hand dramatically in her lap. “Go ahead. What were you going to say?”

  “Cute.” He met her eyes and this time the playfulness was gone from her. Something sincere and famished burned in her eyes.

  Nien’s brow furrowed in question —

  His confusion lasted about a fraction of a blink.

  Inhaling sharply, Nien shivered as Necassa slid her pale, cold hand beneath his shirt. She ran it up his side as she brushed her lips against his temple. Turning his head, he caught her mouth and kissed her deeply.

  Jolting him with the freezing depth of her other hand, Necassa’s nails creased his back and as rapidly as if his footing had slipped on a rain-slicked roof, Nien found himself on the other side of her shirt, her skirt, the thin short length of cloth she wore beneath them. By the time Necassa had wrangled him out of his shirt the only thing she still had on were her boots. As she fumbled with his pants, her mouth kissing his eyes, face, and neck, Nien hunted her out in return — hands clutching at her hair, shoulders, back. He couldn’t believe how soft she was, how warm. The smell of her skin…

  A night breeze blew in under the shabby window to Nien’s little room, chilling their skin as they lay partly beneath the single thin cover of Nien’s nearly-as-thin cot.

  Necassa’s head lay on Nien’s shoulder. He breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of her hair that was somehow both sweet and stale — like teeana spilled over a dusty book.

  But even as Nien breathed her in, it was strange, he thought, to feel almost burned away.

  What have I done?

  Necassa loved him — that he knew. And he loved her.

  But was it enough?

  Was it enough to give up his life back in Rieeve? Was it enough to make him forget his family? The Cant? The school children? And worse than all of that, the danger from the Ka’ull they might be in.

  Stirring, Necassa raised her head and looked at him.

  The lantern still glowed faintly on the corner table, its pale light falling upon Nien’s face. He tried to smile.