by Kasia Bacon
Takano had come around and appeared to be busy groaning and struggling against the guards who had him restrained.
"Well done, men. Take him to the arena. He's got matches to supervise tonight. I'll deal with him later." The patriarch's eyebrows twitched in a manner I had no doubts spelt consequences, motherfucker. Yet his expression cleared the next moment. "Boys will be boys, eh?" he said with a shrug.
Right. And nutjobs will be nutjobs.
Only the four of us remained in the room.
The Furia yawned, revealing a jaw jammed full of white teeth and the entire inside of her throat, besides. Appearing bored and murderous at the same time must have counted as a special skill of hers.
Smoothing a hand over his goatee, the old man studied us for a while. "You two have supporters in high places."
None of us replied.
"It wasn't personal, Yüuzuki. Business always takes precedence. I'm sure you understand," he resumed, undeterred by our reserve. "Since it turns out that your freedom benefits my House more than your death, you're free. Or should I say, as free as the Order will ever let you be." His fleeting smile brought even more lines to the outer corners of his eyes that already mimicked heavily creased paper. "But this matter between you and my grandson ends tonight."
"There is no matter," Yüu drawled, no emotion tinting his voice. "As long as he doesn't pursue it."
"He won't," Old Lyliňg clipped out. A scroll materialised in the air, pulled out from the depths of the white silk. "I'd say this concludes our affairs. Wouldn't you?"
The stiff parchment rustled as Yüu unrolled the document to skim through it. At the bottom of it, I spied the red Imperial seal.
Finally, Yüu's head dipped in agreement.
"Excellent." The old man's focus shifted to me next. "I admit I didn't think you had it in you. And if I'm honest, I'm still not convinced you do. We shall see. Just remember, Ĥaiatto---once you find yourself amongst the hawks, you must screech as they do."
A death, Healer Ekaňa. That's what you'll owe me.
Full of sudden foreboding, I shuddered, recalling my conversation with Feninghan. At the touch of Yüu's warm fingers sealing around mine, the feeling of dread and gloom faded as abruptly as it appeared, ousted by ease and serenity. And if that couldn't be called Magic, I didn't have the foggiest idea what could.
Old Lyliňg's departure passed unnoticed, announced only by the rhythmic sound of his cane receding down the hall.
"All right, hurry up. I don't have all night." The Furia enforced her words by snapping her fingers at us. Her accent, heavy on the tongue-rolling, reminded me vaguely of Master Revendi. "Do you think I volunteered for the holiday shift? Get your shit in order." She sniggered, amused at her quip.
As if awoken from a nightmare, I rushed to retrieve my medical bag, tripping over my feet. I waited for Yüu to join me by the door. "Ready? Do you need to take anything from your dormitory?"
He approached me, his yaʼneshi dangling from his side, the parchment peeking out from the waist of his loincloth.
It took my breath away, the way his amber eyes drilled into mine when he cradled the back of my neck in his steady, gentle hands. Looking at me as if regarding something treasured and wondrous. Feeling solid and comforting against me. Making me complete.
"All I need is right in front of me. Let's go."
Unharmed and together---just like the incorrigible romantic in me had always hoped---we left the compound.
EPILOGUE
The hawk engraved inside the massive letter 'O' stared down at us from the centre of a two-panelled, wrought iron gate. So vividly had the craftsman depicted the image of the mighty raptor that the swoosh of its wing felt almost tangible in the air. I'd never seen a finer example of decorative smithery in my lifetime. The gate itself stood as tall as a small temple and swung open wide enough to allow three horse-drawn carriages to pass side by side.
A faint tremor had set into my extremities a hundred paces before we'd reached the fortifications that encompassed the Black Fortress, and grew ever more persistent with every step I took towards the barrier. The Magic at play originated from an ancient, potent source. It remained beyond my imagination to comprehend the amount of skill and energy required to weave such elaborate protection. No less than two dozen experienced Creators must've had a collective go at it.
Upon crossing the wards, the smooth piece of obsidian I clutched in my hand jolted to life in a series of vibrations. My sense of balance failed me with no warning. I would've fallen if not for Yüu's quick reflexes and the support of his steely arm.
Once inside the cobbled courtyard, the pressure behind my eyeballs relented. Under Yüu's watchful scrutiny I straightened my back and drew in a lungful of air.
A lively crowd milled about the vast space---laughing, drinking and eating. I stopped short, taking in the gleaming lanterns and potted plants of blooming yarogon arrayed around the edges of the square. The food-laden table arranged in the middle would seat a hundred people and that without anyone feeling cramped. I hadn't expected bloodstained walls or barrels brimming with guts in lieu of rainwater as such, but the neat setting that met my eyes didn't vary a great deal from what my father's mansion looked like during the festive season. And fuck me sideways if the concept of assassins dedicating their spare time to gardening and banqueting didn't hit me as plain absurd.
Having delivered us into the Fortress, the grumpy Furia---who'd reluctantly instructed us to call her Eryssa---disappeared from our side, evidently regarding her mission as accomplished. I spotted her making a beeline for a young Nymph dressed in white, as pretty as a porcelain doll. One strangled squeak of delight later, the petite fairhead launched herself at Eryssa, who twirled her around like a child, as if celebrating the end of a long separation.
Busy gawking at my surroundings, I somehow missed the arrival of Grandmaster Feninghan. Yüu's light touch alerted me to the motionless presence in front of me. To my credit, I only twitched once.
"Welcome to the brotherhood, gentlemen." The Grandmaster granted me a nod and initiated a customary fighter's greeting with Yüu. I watched them clasp each other's forearms just below the elbow. "Good to have you."
Yüu must've noticed that I'd misplaced my tongue and had trouble finding it. Guessing the identity of the striking man, he replied with a bow, "Grandmaster, we thank you."
"It never occurred to me sworn brothers observed Lights like ordinary folk," I blurted out, regretting it the very minute I caught the upward movement of Yüu's eyebrow.
"Why not? Assassins are people, too," Feninghan remarked in a dry tone, but a flicker of humour ghosted through a crack in his stony countenance. "Tomorrow we might perish. But tonight we feast."
Just when I reckoned nothing would surprise me anymore, the Grandmaster of the Order went on to cite an obscure Elven soldier-poet, whose work I'd thought unfamiliar to anyone besides a handful of scholars and elderly librarians. I coughed into my fist upon realising I'd been advised to calm my shit down and take each day as a gift. "Blessing and Light, Grandmaster Feninghan," I mumbled, a little embarrassed.
"And to you both. Make yourselves at home." Feninghan restored the unreadable quality to his expression. "But before you join the merriment, a word in private if you will, Yüuzuki."
Phrased like a request it was, in fact, a command. With the confidence of someone used to immediate obedience, the Grandmaster turned away and directed his steps towards the unoccupied corner of the courtyard, where thick ivy clung to the old walls. As he strolled, the crowd parted for him as hair would under the comb of a deft barber.
Yüu followed him after throwing me a reassuring wink.
At first, I chewed on my lip, stealing what I hoped would pass as inconspicuous glances at them. But as far as I could tell, everything seemed to be going fine and dandy over there considering Yüu's relaxed posture and, lo and behold, his occasional smile. Who would've thought Yüu would get on like bacon and eggs with the assassin?
"
Well, well, well. If it isn't Master Healer in dashing green robes?" a rumbling voice came from above my ear. "Mark my words, medic, you'll be kept damn busy. The fuckers here are nothing if not accident-prone."
It rarely happened that I needed to crane my head to meet the eyes of the person I conversed with, but the huge enforcer made that group with ease.
"Too late to run for the hills, eh?" I sighed with some exaggeration. "Why Sashê, you look much better now that---"
"I'm not dying?" A fat grin split his tanned face as he rendered all four of my fingers numb in one brief handshake. "And for that, I've got you to thank, Ĥaiatto, since I didn't have the presence of mind to do so the last time we saw each other."
I returned the smile, discreetly massaging some circulation back into my digits. I could tell right away we'd end up friends. "Last time we saw each other, Master Enforcer, you were a whole lot less witty. Not to mention unconscious. I, on the other hand, was far too preoccupied stuffing your intestines back into your belly to mind your bad manners."
He replied with a deep guffaw and a clap to my back sure to leave a bruise.
Taking their cues from Sashê, several others came over to make my acquaintance. Given the fuzzy state of my mind, though, I barely registered the names and faces of the men and women who greeted me. One person, however, shook my senses alert: a green-eyed Islander dressed in hunting leathers, who spoke with a melodic Trovian accent.
The aura of rich, deep-boned sadness he wore like a second skin tightened my chest in sympathy. At once, I recognised him as a low-level Spark. The fact that he intended to keep it private, judging by the lack of a source stone on him, puzzled me. All Magic-able individuals in the Empire were under the obligation to register their talents with the state through the Guild of Mages, Alchemists and Healers. Withholding magical abilities, no matter how insignificant, constituted a punishable offence and I couldn't imagine why someone would take the risk. Perhaps sworn brothers of the Order didn't need to concern themselves with external law all that much.
One of those who approached me deposited a large pewter tankard filled with mead in my hand. Only upon feeling slightly hot-cheeked and unsteady on my feet did I discover I'd drained its entire contents.
When the group around me receded, I loosened the robes around my neck. Cursing the strength of the damn liquor, I plonked myself onto the bench at the end of the table.
A familiar warm hand rested on my shoulder. "In high spirits already, I see?" Yüu's mouth quirked as he indicated my empty mug. He lowered himself to take the seat next to me.
For a while we sat in silence, letting our thighs and elbows touch lightly. I recognised that moment as the first time we didn't need to hide our relationship from the outside world. It came as an epiphany and I beamed at the thought, feeling more elated by it than such a thing warranted.
"I don't know how you managed it," Yüu said eventually, "but it was good thinking. The Grandmaster is an honourable man. We'll be fine here," he concluded as if that settled the matter.
And for me, it did. Any lingering traces of my earlier anxiety vanished, and I allowed myself a ragged breath of relief. "Thank the gods. I feared you'd see it as swapping one pair of shackles for another."
Yüu shook his head. "Being offered a choice makes all the difference. He was gracious about the terms, too. I accepted them freely."
I couldn't bring myself to ask what choice he'd referred to. Secretly, I'd hoped for Yüu to assume the role of a trainer for the Order and become a Drill Master of sorts, not an active assassin. What could I say? The compulsion to shield him from harm's way had taken deep roots in me. But all in all, I respected the fact that the decision wasn't mine to make. And in contrast to my preferences, I envisioned the assassin's armband tattooed around his biceps very soon.
Yüu remained quiet, observing me through his dark eyelashes. Then he said, "You've saved me yet again."
"Again?" I asked in confusion.
He tilted his chin as if in dismay. "Unbelievable. For such clever clogs, you can act quite obtuse at times, Ĥaiatto."
Even when he felt exasperated with me, Yüu uttered my name in a way that made it sound like an endearment, which took the sting out of his words. I would struggle to describe how much that ability of his tickled my fancy.
"The first time you patched me up three years ago,"---Yüu ran the back of his hand along my jaw---"you did a great deal more than set my bones right or dress my wounds. I felt depleted. Fed up. Things seemed bleak, and my head was muddled. Frankly, without a reason to persevere, I thought more than once about finishing it all there on the sand."
I stopped myself from gasping by pressing my palm against my breastbone, processing this very un-Yüulike disclosure.
Some healer you are, you stupid arse. Never sensed as much as a whiff of melancholy from him back then.
"Along came you. A spark of hope. Way too bright and strong to resist." I couldn't look away from the amber glint his smile invited into his eyes. "You chased away the dimness and gave me a purpose."
Thump, thump, thump. My ears drummed with the racing beat of my heart as he drew me into a tight embrace.
"Silly Ĥaiatto," Yüu whispered in that honeyed, smooth voice that robbed my focus. "Shouldn't you know it by now? I couldn't care less about where we end up. As long as I can love you and hold you every night---everywhere is home."
The End
GLOSSARY
Asirhwӱn (also called the Silver City for the colour of the stone used to build it)---The capital and most populous city of the Elven Country.
Assassin, Single-Banded---The lowest-ranked assassin of the Order. The position is reflected by the single band tattooed on the right upper arm, which displays the assassin's classification.
Assassin, Double-Banded---The middle-ranked assassin of the Order. The position is reflected by the double band tattooed on the right upper arm, which displays the assassin's classification.
Assassin, Triple-Banded---The highest-ranked assassin of the Order. The position is reflected by the triple brand tattooed on the right upper arm, which displays the assassin's classification.
Barbarians---A number of free wild tribes, controlling the vast region south of the Elven Country and the Empire. Organised in independent groups, and bound by ever-changing alliances rather than forming one political entity, the Barbarians observe a variety of customs and speak separate languages. Considered primitive and savage by both Elven and human criteria, the tribes earned the reputation of fierce, physically hardened warriors.
Black Fortress---The Order's stronghold and headquarters, carved into the rocky obsidian cliffs of Něssyr and located on the southern coast of the Empire. The ancient fort is deemed impenetrable due both to its topography and its magical protective barrier.
Calm Sea---A body of water connected to the Emerald Ocean, bordered by the Empire to the north, the South Isles to the east, and the Barbarian Territory and Elven Country to the west. It takes its name from its tranquil waters that make for smooth sailing and easy fishing. The Calm Sea is the biggest sea in the southern hemisphere.
Creator---A Mage of the highest level of talent, able not only to shape strong and long-lasting illusions, but also create actual physical artefacts. Creators reside at the top of the social hierarchy and constitute the most prestigious cast in the Magic-able community.
Crimping---The pirate way to procure unwilling sailors, healers etc., for their ships by means of kidnapping, trickery or coercion.
Elven Country---The biggest country in the world with a capital in Asirhwÿn, inhabited by Elves and ruled by Queen Nae'amh II. Its territory neighbours the Empire in the east, the Barbarians in the south, the Livid Sea in the north, and vast, impenetrable woodland areas in the west. Elven society is defined by the existence of the clan system, mandatory army service and widespread focus on military excellence. The Elven Country's political and military hegemony over the human world was established in the aftermath of the Elven War.
Emperor Xenedor I---The ruler of the Empire, North and South Isles and---since the Empire's loss in the war against the Elven Country---an unwilling liegeman to Queen Nae'amh II. The Supreme Commander of the Imperial Forces, who remain caught up in a drawn-out military conflict with the Barbarians.
Empire---The biggest human state with a capital in Ysêmyr, also inhibited by a percentage of non-humans and ruled by Emperor Xenedor I. Its territory consists of the progressive mainland and more conservative Northern and South Isles. The Empire finds itself in a state of internal unrest and is currently engaged in an endless and financially draining war with the Barbarians.
Enforcer---A position of trust and authority within the Order. Enforcers are carefully appointed from the ranks of triple-banded assassins by the Grand Master, to whom they report exclusively.
Fighting Houses (sometimes also called Fighting Stables)---big guilds dealing in competitive sport, gambling and entertainment that profit through employing ih'mohrôs and organising, promoting and managing fights between them. Every Fighting House owns a large compound, usually built around the city arena, where they accommodate and train their fighters.
Freeday---The fourth day of the week that comes after three regular workdays and before two more, followed by Restday (seventh day of the week). On Freedays, people work shorter hours and dedicate their time to leisure activities.
Furia---Non-human. One of the Elder Races, who possess ancient magic resulting in supernatural speed, strength and endurance. Close relatives of vampires, Furias also require blood as sustenance. Their own life essence serves, under particular circumstances, as a powerful healing potion.
Grand Master of the Order---The Master Assassin and Head of the Assassins' Guild. The office is currently held by Lu Feninghan.
Green Robes---A recognisable emerald green outfit traditionally worn by healers in the Empire. The flattering set is comprised of a loose fitted, long-sleeved tunic, trousers and a decorative sash and is fashioned out of lightweight fabric, most often silk or satin.