by Lia Black
Barlan waited until he heard them going down the stairs before returning his attention to Crow. A million different questions came into his mind at once, but they ranged between the ridiculous and the mundane. Finally he blurted one out, then immediately felt foolish. "So, is that one of your gods over there?" Barlan nodded towards the altar. He tried to maintain a neutral expression but inside he was kicking himself so hard that he was starting to feel nauseous.
Crow lifted his head and blinked at Barlan, then turned his face to look at the altar. After contemplating it for a few silent seconds, he looked at Barlan once more.
"That is a wooden disk seated on an altar." Crow's delivery was very matter-of-fact, and delivered so impassively that Barlan didn't believe he was making fun of his foolish question.
"I…I mean does it represent one of your gods?" He gritted his teeth, wondering why he hadn't just had the good sense to nod his head and shut up. This was ridiculous—he was a bear—he never needed to feel uncomfortable or insecure about anything!
"Yes. The god of the heartwood—T'ival ut Andullune. Why do you ask, Lucania Barlan?"
Why indeed? "I was just interested in getting to know more about you—your people—uh, you." Barlan waffled.
Again, those dark eyes flickered briefly with Crow's slow, even blink. "Why would you want to do that?"
Barlan felt his cheeks heat and his heart began to fight its way into his stomach. Crow was showing no interest in speaking with him—as far as he could tell—but he couldn't let it go. He felt like he was swimming upstream against a raging current, and if he wasn't able to grasp even one small twig, he'd be sucked into the lonely river to drown; so he kept paddling.
"I haven't ever met anyone like you, little scout—I mean, I have met elves, but none that are like you. Interesting, I mean."
A little tic curved up the corner of Crow's mouth so briefly, Barlan would have missed it if he'd blinked. Was that a smile?
"You find me interesting, Lucania Barlan?"
Crow was finally extending him a branch.
"Yes, I do. Uh, and you can just call me Barlan."
Crow cocked his head, "May I just call you Lucania?"
The name didn't sound so bad coming from Crow's mouth, and something about Crow's insistence pleased him. Barlan nodded. "Yes, you may."
Crow offered a quick nod, then rose to his feet in one fluid motion. Barlan watched him go to the altar as he had the first night, but preface his worship by offering one of the antlers from the deer he'd killed that morning. Again, he covered his face with his hands before pressing his forehead to the floor, then he rose slowly and turned back to Barlan with a deep sigh.
Barlan had seen humans worship their gods in temples where they brought sometimes extravagant gifts of money and gems, and they venerated their gods boisterously as they begged them for favors. This display of penance and shame was confounding, but perhaps what this particular god required.
"Why do you cover your face before your god?" Barlan asked Crow as the elf began to putter around the cottage.
Crow stopped, his features briefly flashing surprise before returning to stone. "T'ival ut Andullune is the one god who has not forsaken me, though I am not worthy of his acceptance. It is the god of the heartwood who reminds us—reminds me—that it is what is inside, beneath the bark, that matters."
Barlan frowned. "I mean no disrespect, but isn't covering your face like adding another layer of bark?"
Crow stopped moving around but didn't turn. "Yes. I suppose it is. I hadn't thought of it that way."
Barlan got to his feet and began helping Crow clean up from breakfast. He seemed surprised when Barlan met him near the cupboard.
"Thank you." Crow said hesitantly, dropping his gaze.
Barlan's fingers grazed lightly over the back of Crow's hand as he gave him the plates he'd gathered up. He saw Crow's body stiffen with a sharp intake of breath, but he hadn't jerked away. Barlan decided to act as if he hadn't noticed.
"Why do you think the other gods have forsaken you?" He asked Crow softly.
Crow's eyes remained downcast. "As I have mentioned, I am no longer recognized among the Northern Wind Court. I have been banished by my kinsmen—my queen, who speaks on behalf of the gods."
"What was the reason? Did you kill someone?" Barlan had only known of two crimes worthy of banishment from his own kind and those were killing a sibling or challenging the sleuth's Ursa. Since he'd never been part of such a grouping, Barlan hadn't needed to worry about either.
Crow shook his head slowly, raising his eyes briefly to Barlan's face, then he looked quickly away.
Barlan could feel the tension rolling off of the little elf so he did what he hoped would comfort him. He reached out and cupped Crow's cheek. For a moment it seemed to have worked, Crow leaned his face into Barlan's palm, then he abruptly paled and turned away—putting distance between them.
"Forgive me. I hope that I haven't offended you," Barlan apologized, "I don't want you to feel...threatened by me."
"I am not threatened. I am... confused." Crow said, his back still to Barlan as he stood near the door. "Ever since I learned of my self, of my sickness I believed that I was the only one...and then Kaidos told me…"
Barlan sniffed the air. He didn't smell any sort of disease coming from Crow, although he wasn't that familiar with what a healthy elf should smell like. "What sort of sickness?"
"You would not know of it to look at me. It is a disease of the mind." Crow shook his head.
"Like the little mage I met…" Barlan thought back to Aegeus peculiar behavior when he'd met him. He had been standing right before him and the mage counted the stones at the back wall of Barlan's cell as if he wasn't there before paying him any mind. "No, not like him. You don't seem odd to me at all."
Crow looked over his shoulder, "I…thank you. I can assure you, I am sick. I had hoped that I might heal by now by being alone. It has been twenty-four seasons, yet I experience no change in my thoughts."
Barlan huffed softly. He wanted to help Crow, but he couldn't do anything unless he knew what afflicted him. It seemed that if it was worthy of banishment, Crow might be too embarrassed to speak of it.
"Whatever it is, " Barlan said, "it matters not to me. I have concern for your well-being, but I won't add to your discomfort by forcing you to speak of it."
He turned back and went to add some logs to the fire, hoping that he would no longer be perceived as a threat. Barlan could see Crow watching him, his long fingers twisting up one of the leather laces on his shirt. The shirt was made with scraps of leather dyed in various shades of brown and reminded Barlan of fall leaves. Some of the pieces matched Crow's hair, which Barlan wanted to bury his face in and snuffle. He fought back a smile, imagining that, should he do so, Crow might just stand there as expressionless as always, despite what he was feeling.
"So," Barlan said, trying to keep some form of conversation going, "You were saying something about Kaidos? Something he said to you?" He watched Crow's expression from the corner of his eye, but Crow didn't flinch. Barlan took that as a good sign.
"He told me about his prince," Crow said quietly.
"Oh?" Barlan sat down, leaning back on his hands as he tried to appear more relaxed than he was actually feeling. He could smell the little elf even from across the room and he just wanted to find a nice spot to lie down upon and inhale him.
"You know of him?" Crow had wrapped his finger so tightly with the lace that the tip was deep purple.
"That they are lovers you mean? Yeah."
"That does not bother you?"
Barlan shook his head, "Don't see why it should. As long as they love each other, then I have no problems. I am certainly curious about seeing him—the prince, I mean. Half-elf…must be beautiful considering the way Kaidos describes him. Then again, love might make him more beautiful or something right?" Barlan knew he really should just shut up, but he kept babbling like a fool. "I mean…elves are beautiful in general,
but maybe he's not so beautiful as say—a full blood elf…not to say that I don't mean handsome. Elves can be handsome too…boy elves, I mean…"
Again Barlan saw that little twitch of Crow's lips—another almost smile—and decided that making Crow smile for real would be one of his goals in life.
"And which am I, Lucania?" Crow asked, his voice giving nothing away. "Beautiful or handsome?"
"Er…uh…um…both?" Barlan cursed under his breath as his face burned from his blush. There—was that a smile? Crow gave him a tiny smirk before he unwound his finger from its sinew trap and his body became noticeably less tense.
He came to the other side of the fire, crossing his ankles and bending his knees until he settled gracefully on his bottom. He picked up a straight stick from a small pile near the corner of the fire-pit and took out a small carving knife. Skillfully he began smoothing out the ridges of the stick as he spoke.
"Our gods created us so that we might continue to create life to protect and worship in their names. I...fell short on this. No matter how much I respect our gods, I was unable to mate with a female. I do not find them repulsive, but my body will not respond." Crow's eyes remained fixed on his task as he spoke. "Kaidos says he thinks our gods are unfair."
Barlan shrugged "I don't know about that. I believe the gods make us how we are supposed to be. If the gods had expected you to be otherwise, they wouldn't have made it so difficult for you. I just think that everybody tries to interpret what the gods say in order to justify what they believe. But really, gods are so far beyond mortal understanding, it's likely that we often get it wrong."
"So how can you be certain that you are doing the right thing?" Crow asked, he'd stopped whittling and his eyebrows drew downward, but his eyes remained focused on his hands.
Barlan scooted around sitting closer to Crow, and patted him on the back. "We can't. All we can do is the best we can do and figure that the gods will let us know." Everything was going along fine until Barlan made the mistake of looking into the smaller man's eyes.
"You have eyes like the night sky..." Barlan murmured before he'd realized he'd said the words aloud. As soon as he saw Crow look away, he understood what he had done and he sat back, removing his hand.
"Sorry. I'm sorry. I..."
Crow swallowed hard and stood up. "I must go to see the queen."
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
Tea Time
Last night, the prince had again attempted to kill himself. He'd been unshackled for his bath and an inattentive guard hadn't noticed that he'd submerged, but had not resurfaced in the tub. They'd been able to revive him, and after he'd stopped choking and gasping, he pretended to be unconscious, just so he could try to throw himself out the window when their backs were again turned. He hadn't made it of course, but Rheton demanded that something had to be done, and somehow the nature of that "something" fell upon the elf woman and to a lesser extent, Aegeus himself.
Aegeus paced the hallway outside of the prince's bedroom, maintaining a constant rhythm: six steps forward, pivot, six steps back, touch the third stone to the left of the door-frame, and repeat. He'd done sixty steps—sixty pivots and thirty touches when the man he'd been waiting for finally arrived. Perfect timing.
A servant came down the hall, bringing a pot of specially brewed tea that Aegeus had ordered for Veyl. Aegeus stopped him briefly and lifted the lid of the teapot, sniffing to see if he could detect any aroma that might raise suspicion.
"Good. Make certain he drinks it." Aegeus said to the man and as an afterthought, dropped a few silver coins into his hand to buy his complicity. He slipped away around the corner as the servant rapped at the prince's chamber door.
Although the elf-woman was watching Veyl night and day, it was obvious that the prince had no desire to remain part of the world. The pretty young man was again shackled to the bed, his eyes like empty mirrors as he stared out at nothing. Aegeus had considered telling him that his lover was likely not dead, but he didn't want to unnecessarily raise he prince's fragile hope. Hope could cause a swell in Veyl's power, and Aegeus already had enough to deal with.
He felt the best insurance against further injury was to keep the prince sedated, which would also allow Aegeus to construct a spell of binding without having to worry about Veyl's consciousness getting in the way.
Once Aegeus was certain that the servant was inside Veyl's room with the tea, he began heading back down to his own room in the castle cellar. He hated the way the guards followed him with their eyes, and spoke in hushed whispers that they thought he couldn't hear. They called him the same names he'd heard since childhood, questioning whether or not there was a heart beating below his winter-pale skin. Aegeus had learned long ago that he could never garner respect, so he settled instead on accepting fear.
The mage had never known love before he met Finn, and his body was not equipped to handle lust. Perhaps it was the magick that sapped this from him; he didn't really know or care. But still he wondered what would become of him when Finn left him—it was, of course, inevitable. His mind was so full of this worry that Aegeus nearly stepped on the crack in the eighth step that he felt compelled to avoid. He caught himself just in time and planted his foot safely to the side at the last moment. He would have hated to have been forced to return to the prince's door just to undo his misstep.
Aegeus frowned at his young charge as he entered their room. "Finn, didn't I tell you to take a bath?"
The boy was sitting on the stool where Aegeus had left him since he'd called him inside for the evening. Currently, the redhead was pouting, his hair still full of straw, mud, and whatever other unmentionables he'd managed to cake upon himself. "I don't want a bath. Why did you make me come inside? Where did Melina go?"
"Too many questions." Aegeus muttered, not wanting to answer any of them. "Who is Melina?"
"The elf woman who tends the prince," Finn said with a sigh.
Aegeus expected that he had heard her name before but he couldn't be bothered to remember it. She was the elf woman just as the prince was the prince and the chamberlain was that arrogant swine. "Why do you care where she is?" Aegeus asked the boy.
"She was teaching me about some of the flowers in the garden, then she got called away. Did you know that you could substitute Hen's Daisies for Silver Bell-Phlox in healing potions?"
"No— I mean yes, I knew that." Aegeus was getting distracted as he tried to imagine how he was going to get Finn from the stool to the bath without him shedding too much filth on the way.
A knock sounded on the large wooden door, distracting Aegeus even more. "Get into the bath--it's getting cold." He shooed Finn and went to see who it was.
The servant who had delivered the tea to Veyl's chambers was there, rocking nervously on his heels.
"He drank it?" Aegeus asked quietly.
The man glanced over the mage's shoulder at the young boy who was scowling while he undressed to get into the bath, "He did. He took to his bed soon after."
"Good."
The man continued to look over Aegeus' shoulder and it was making the back of Aegeus neck prickle uncomfortably. "What?" he snapped.
"That boy, sir...he's a beauty."
Aegeus scowled, fighting back the urge to smack the man. "He is a child. Be gone with you." He slammed the door in the man's face.
"Who was that?" Finn asked, shivering as he climbed into the tub.
"He's no one." Aegeus knew that others did not understand his relationship with Finn. Aegeus' only passions lay with the study and science of magick, not within his frail body or his worthless, black heart.
"Can I go and visit the prince tomorrow?" Finn asked, chasing the bar of soap through the water.
"Hold still. Let me wash your hair." Aegeus grumbled and went around behind the boy, picking out the solid bits of filth and trying to pull the knots out of his unruly red hair with his fingers. A boy with hair the color of summer blossoms in a city of the dead. These were his first images of the child he'd na
med Finn. It had taken Finn well over two years to begin to talk when he'd first brought him home; Aegeus reminded himself of this each time he craved silence--he'd never want to lose the charming high voice that had taken so long to emerge.
Aegeus parted Finns hair, looking at the strange markings on his scalp. The symbols were archaic, darkening the flesh like a tattoo and causing a disturbance among any who saw them. That was the reason Aegeus kept Finn's hair longer. Some claimed the boy bore the mark of a demon. Be that as it may, he was Aegeus' responsibility and the closest thing he'd ever come to understanding love. Finn knew nothing of his master's suffering, and Aegeus would not have the boy look upon him with the same fascinated pity he showed the prince.
"Do you remember your chants?" Aegeus worked his spidery fingers to raise a lather into Finn's hair.
"Yeesai dulu chey...um...harikay...mo...um, molo...molo..."
"Molodinay."
"Molodinay..." Finn yawned, the remainder of his words becoming mumbles.
"Good enough, Finn," Aegeus said. He placed his claw-like hand over Finn's eyes as he rinsed the dirty lather from his hair. "Finish up. I'll get you a towel and a nightshirt."
"Can I sleep in your bed tonight? With you?" Finn asked, standing up in the tub and shivering as goose bumps covered his sun-kissed skin.
"You don't like your bed?" Aegeus brought over a towel, draping it over Finn's narrow shoulders. Standing in the tub he was the same height as Aegeus and it struck the sorcerer how much taller the boy had grown in such a short span of time.
Finn shrugged, pulling the towel around himself. "It's all right, I guess, but I don't like it here. It's...not home."
Home. Indeed, where Finn should be now safe and warm and far away from the danger this situation presented. If only Aegeus had been more careful. If only he'd checked the carriage completely before they'd left, Finn would be there now. And Aegeus would miss him.
"All right then, you can sleep with me." This space in the cellar was their working and living space. The dark stone walls and floor had been scrubbed clean, as Aegeus had insisted, but their only light was provided by candles and lanterns, and the room remained quite cold.