by CJ Brightley
“That sounds like valuable work.” Larine picked up one of the scattered books. “Can I help?”
He grimaced. “It’s pretty dry reading. There’s no need for both of us to spend our evening on such a tedious task.”
Larine reached for paper and a pen. “With doubled effort we can finish in half the time. Then you can do something more enjoyable later.”
He smiled crookedly and looked away. “Perhaps.”
Larine suspected she knew what he wouldn’t say. Hanion found little enjoyable these days. Since his divorce from Semira, he’d either gone to his room early or spent the evenings staring blankly into the distance. On the rare occasions he joined the other wizards in games or conversation, his efforts were half-hearted. His bleakness hurt Larine’s heart, but she’d forced herself to wait so he would have time to fully grieve his marriage and hopefully start to heal. Now it was finally time to begin her campaign to win him.
She flipped the book open. “What am I looking for?”
Hanion related what he’d learned so far and explained in more depth what Dabiel wanted. Larine plied him with questions, surprised and intrigued by the complexity of the subject. Hanion’s face and voice grew more animated as her interest continued. Soon they were both deep into the work. Long stretches of quiet, pens busily scratching, were broken by puzzled questions and eagerly shared discoveries.
Larine only realized how much time had passed when the music she’d quit paying attention to stopped. A few soft voices murmured thanks. She looked up from her page of notes to see Kalvanen putting his harp into its leather case. The dining hall was nearly deserted. The handful of wizards left were packing up their cards and dice and bidding each other good-night.
She flushed. She’d meant to drag Hanion over to listen to the music with her. Instead she’d wasted the evening and her money. Hanion wouldn’t have noticed if Kalvanen had played and sung every one of Semira’s favorites.
Hanion yawned and stretched. He surveyed the sheaf of notes they’d produced. “You’ve been a great help. It would have taken me all week to get so much done alone.”
Larine raised a shoulder and dropped it. She nudged Daisy, who was sprawled at her feet, with her toe. “It was nothing. I enjoyed it.”
“So did I.” For an instant Hanion’s gaze met hers. He ducked his head and began gathering the books into a stack.
Larine passed him volumes. “You’ll let me help you again tomorrow, won’t you? I’m much too involved to abandon the project now. If I’d known it could be this interesting, I’d have asked Dabiel to assign me research long ago.”
“Please.” Hanion started to say something else, but broke off before Larine heard enough to guess what it might have been. He set their notes and the case holding the pens and ink on top of the books and scooped up the whole stack. “I need to go. Thunder says he was about to leave me down here and head up to our room by himself. I plan to get back to work right after the evening meal tomorrow.”
“That sounds perfect. I’ll meet you back here then, ready to delve further into the mysteries of selective breeding.” She kept her voice free of any entendre.
He smiled, but she couldn’t tell if he’d noticed the potential for double meaning in the words. “Dabiel’s going to be pleased with the results of this project, I can tell. Good-night.”
“Good-night,” she echoed. She watched him stride across the hall. Thunder left the net of hay on the wall and came to meet him. Hanion leaned against his familiar for a moment, dropping his forehead to press against the horse’s neck, before they continued out the door.
Larine released her breath in a long sigh. Even if the evening hadn’t gone exactly the way she’d planned, she wasn’t sorry. It was a start.
Daisy pressed against Larine’s calf, gazing intently at the tightly packed bunch of sheep trotting across the pasture toward them. Larine could feel the dog’s longing as acutely in her taut muscles as in her thoughts. She grinned and tousled her familiar’s ears. I wish I could let you chase them, but I don’t think our host would be pleased.
I could herd them just as well as those dogs are doing. I know I could. She yearned toward the two black-and-white spotted dogs who slunk behind the sheep. The herder whistled, and the dogs turned the group of sheep and drove them right in front of the two wizards. They were so well-trained they never even glanced at the strange dog visiting their ranch.
I’m sure you could, but they couldn’t help me do what we came here for.
Daisy wagged her tail apologetically and sent a golden burst of the Mother’s power to envelop the sheep. Larine closed her eyes so she could concentrate on the sensations that poured into her mind. But as hard as she tried, she couldn’t distinguish any difference between the individual animals. They were all the same grass-scented, milk-flavored, rumbling swirls of fuzzy green light.
She opened her eyes to see Hanion scowling at the sheep. “Nothing for you, too?” she asked.
He shook his head, staring at the sheep as the dogs steered them back to their pen. “I don’t think there’s any way to sense what we need. They haven’t been exposed to the disease, so their bodies aren’t doing anything we can perceive.”
Larine grimaced. “We need a herd that’s right at the beginning of an outbreak. The point where the most susceptible animals are starting to succumb, while the more resistant ones are still healthy.”
Hanion rubbed the back of his neck. “We can put word out through the Herders’ Guild, I suppose. They can notify us the minute they start to see the effects on their ranch. Ditel says there are always outbreaks this time of year.”
“Unless they’re within a few hours of Elathir, we won’t get there until it’s too late to tell the difference.”
Scowling, Hanion swiveled to survey the surrounding countryside. Most of the land they’d ridden past on their way to the ranch had been blanketed with the green-and-brown striped rectangles of growing crops. “Too bad we’re not in Korisan. There are a lot more sheep in that area. We’d have a much better chance of reaching a herd at the right stage.”
“We could send a message to the Mother’s Hall there, explaining our project and asking for help.”
Hanion shook his head and returned his attention to the sheep. “By the time we sent enough messages back and forth answering questions and clarifying what to look for, we’d have missed our chance for the year.” He didn’t look at Larine. “It would be better if the two of us traveled there. It shouldn’t take more than a couple of weeks to find what we need.”
Larine’s heart leaped. Traveling with Hanion would be a pleasure. And the long hours on the road would be the perfect opportunity to talk. Surely he couldn’t keep the conversation focused on sheep diseases for the whole trip, the way he’d done whenever they were together since she joined him on this project. He’d proposed the idea. Maybe that meant he was ready to explore the possibility of becoming more than colleagues and old friends.
She kept her voice carefully neutral. “Dabiel would probably agree to let us go. Things have been fairly quiet at the Hall lately. And she tells me the wizards in Korisan are always asking her to send more help.”
He snorted. “They don’t know how easy they have it. Dabiel should require every one of their journeymen to spend a few seasons in Elathir. Then maybe they’d realize how little their town is in comparison.”
“Is it really that small? I thought it was the second-largest city in Tevenar.”
“Yes, but that’s not saying much. They’ve got less than a third of the population of Elathir.” He finally turned to her, his brow creased. “You’ve never been? I thought everyone made the Korisan circuit a few times.”
Larine ducked her head, her cheeks hot. “I’ve never actually made a circuit except to Gemgeda. First Shiar didn’t want me to, and then I was responsible for Ozor. Since he apprenticed, Dabiel’s been depending on me too much.”
“Well, we’ll just have to correct that. Dabiel can learn to get along w
ithout you. There’s a lot more to Tevenar than Gemgeda and Elathir, and you deserve the chance to see it.”
The warmth in Hanion’s voice made Larine’s heart stutter. Dared she hope it signified deeper feelings than he’d yet revealed? She fought to keep her words moderate, but despite her efforts longing infused them. “I’ve wanted to travel for years. Dabiel even invited me to make the long circuit with her when she was doing her masterwork. I hated having to refuse. I would love to go to Korisan.” She pressed her lips closed before the unspoken “with you” could escape.
Hanion’s eyes met hers. Larine couldn’t breathe. The emotions they held were too complex for her to interpret fully, but surely desire was among them.
He turned resolutely back to the sheep. “All right. Let’s spend a few more hours here observing the animals so we know exactly what a healthy one feels like. We’ll arrange our trip as soon as we get back to the Hall.”
Larine put the hood of her cloak back and shook out her damp hair, letting the welcome sunlight play across her face. “Dear Mother, I hope that’s the end of the rain.”
Ahead, Thunder raised his head and spread his nostrils wide. Hanion sighed in relief. “He says it should be. We’ve left most of the clouds behind.”
“Thank the Mother.” Larine reached behind her and ruffled Daisy’s head. Her familiar was riding on a pallet on her horse’s rump. The whole lower half of the dog’s body was caked with mud. Want to get down and walk for a while?
Still too many puddles. Daisy laid her head on her front paws with a sigh. She much preferred loping alongside Larine’s mount to riding, but after nearly two days of frequent showers, the road had become such a morass she’d reluctantly abandoned it. Tell me when it’s dry enough.
Larine scanned the road ahead. As far as she could see, sparkling pools dotted the ruts and filled the low spots. I’m afraid that will be a while. Her sigh echoed Daisy’s.
So far the trip to Korisan had fallen short of her hopes. She and Hanion had talked a little during the intermittent breaks in the rain, but far too much of the ride had been spent with their hoods up and heads down as the horses slogged through the muck. They’d spent the night at a farmhouse that regularly provided hospitality to traveling wizards. She’d been grateful for the roof overhead and the opportunity to warm and dry herself by their fire, but the big family had been eager to hear all the latest news and relate the local gossip. She and Hanion had been whisked off to share the girls’ and boys’ bedrooms respectively. Larine didn’t mind when the toddler she’d displaced from her bed crawled under the covers and snuggled with her in the middle of the night, but she couldn’t help but wish she was cuddling with Hanion instead.
Now they were nearly to Korisan. The Mother’s Hall wouldn’t afford much chance to be alone together, either. She doubted they’d get another opportunity for an extended private conversation until they were on their way home.
She urged her mare alongside Thunder. As the two horses blew at each other, Hanion regarded her with a rueful grin. “If I’d known the weather would be this wet, I wouldn’t have suggested you come.”
Larine shrugged. “I don’t mind. Much.”
He laughed. “At least the farmers will be happy. This should start to make up for the long dry spell.”
“Farmers are never happy. You watch. They’ll go directly from worrying about too little rain to grumbling about too much.”
He conceded her point with a chuckle. They rode without speaking for a while, the only sounds the squelching of the horses’ hooves, splatters when gusts of wind shook water from leaves, and the calls of birds emerging from shelter. Larine thought about how to begin. Several times she opened her mouth, but the words stuck in her throat and she had to close it again. Thankfully, Hanion was gazing straight ahead and didn’t seem to notice.
Finally she just blurted it out. “Hanion, I want to talk. About—about us.”
He stiffened. Without turning to look at her, he said, “I guess we should.”
Was that a good response or a bad one? Larine couldn’t tell. And besides, it was too late to stop. “We’re both free now. I waited to say anything until you’d had plenty of time to deal with your divorce. I know it’s not something you ever really get over—the Mother knows I haven’t—but eventually it’s time to move on. I’ve been ready for a long time. What about you?”
Hanion didn’t reply immediately. As the seconds stretched longer and longer, Larine closed her eyes and berated herself. It was too soon. She should have been more patient. Now she’d probably ruined her chance forever.
Finally he said, choosing each word carefully, “I’m past the pain of losing Semira. Our bond was broken long before the divorce. I want to move on.” He took a deep breath. “But it’s not that simple.”
“Why not?” Dread pooled in the pit of Larine’s stomach. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “I care about you, Larine. I don’t want to hurt you. Please, can we drop this? Because if we don’t, I’m going to have to say things you don’t want to hear. I’m pretty sure I know what you want, and believe me, I want it, too. But I don’t think it’s possible.”
“Nothing’s impossible,” Larine said fiercely. His cryptic warning chilled her, but that was buried beneath the hot rush of joy at his admission. He wanted her. Whatever he thought stood in the way, she refused to let it.
“I wish I could believe that.” He shifted in his saddle, turning to face her. She caught her breath at the aching sadness in his eyes. “Go on. Say it. Everything I know you’ve been wanting to tell me. I want to hear it, before…”
“Before what?”
“Before I tell you the thing that’s going to change the way you feel about me.”
“Nothing could do that.”
“This will.” He closed his eyes. “Please?”
Larine clenched her fists. She had one chance to convince him that her feelings for him ran deep and true. That they wouldn’t waver, no matter what he revealed. “I fell in love with you the very first time I saw you.”
His eyes opened and his brow creased. “What?”
She grinned at his confusion. “When I first came to the Hall, when I was thirteen and you were sixteen. You were the most handsome boy I’d ever seen. I would have died if you’d so much as smiled at me. Of course, to you I was only a child. Every time you started seeing another girl, I cried. Every time you ended it, I hoped. Until the next time.”
He reached for her hand. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
Larine could laugh, now, at the girl she’d been. “I forgive you. It would never have worked then, anyway. Later—” She shrugged. “I was going to tell you, after I made journeyman. Shiar had proposed to me, but I wouldn’t answer him until I talked to you. But you and Semira had already decided to stand up together.”
He grimaced. “Smash it.”
“I know. Maybe we could have saved each other a lot of pain.” She reflected for a moment what it would have been like if the two of them had been together all those years. Eventually she shook her head hard. “Or maybe not. Anyway, now you know. My whole life I’ve been waiting for the day I could tell you how I feel.”
He squeezed her hand. She loved the way his hand felt in hers, warm and strong. “I wish I hadn’t been such a blind idiot. I only started to notice you after your divorce from Shiar. Things had been sour between me and Semira for a long time. You’d always been such a good friend. When you presented your masterwork to the guild, you were so proud and happy, you were almost glowing. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
Larine drank in his words. His expression was soft and adoring. His eyes traveled her face and body with the appreciation she’d always craved.
He didn’t look away as he continued. “I knew it was wrong, so I tried to ignore it. I swear I did my best to make our marriage work, long after Semira stopped trying. But you were always there in the background, kind and strong and honest, everything Semira wasn’t. When we had our
worst argument and she left me, right before Dabiel became Guildmaster, I decided that was it. I’d break it off with her and see if you had any interest in pursuing a relationship. But then—”
His expression darkened. Larine shivered. He was right; she didn’t want to hear what he was going to say. But she had to. They might not have a chance if they were honest with each other, but they surely didn’t if they weren’t. “Go on. Tell me.”
He turned to face forward, his gaze directed between Thunder’s ears. His voice was flat and cold. “Then we caught Ozor stealing.”
Larine’s belly clenched. She hadn’t anticipated what he was going to say, but now it seemed inevitable. “You were such a big help that night. I don’t know what I would have done without you and Dabiel.”
“Let him get away with it, I expect. The way you let him get away with a thousand smaller transgressions over his childhood. I’m sorry, Larine. As long as we were just friends it was none of my business, but if you want us to be more, I can’t remain silent. I’ve always thought you were too soft with him. When he bit people, all you did was give him a mild reprimand. When he threw food, you cleaned it up for him without a word. When he spoke to you rudely, you ignored it. You let him wander the Hall unsupervised, interrupting our work and getting into trouble. None of us wanted to say anything, because we knew how hard it was for you with Shiar gone so often, and not doing much even when he was in port. But now I wished I’d stepped in, even if you resented me for it. Maybe if I’d helped discipline him, he wouldn’t have become a criminal.”
Hanion’s words beat against Larine like hailstones, blow after blow slamming into her head and chest and gut. Every time she thought he couldn’t hurt her more, another accusation struck. She struggled for breath. She wanted to pour out furious denials of everything he said, but all she could force past her tight throat and thick tongue was a feeble contradiction. “Ozor’s not a criminal.”