by T. A. Miles
Korsten obeyed and watched curiously as the item was deposited into his palm. It felt softer than it should have been and also warm. It quickly abandoned its round shape to spread flat over Korsten’s skin, whereupon it proceeded to seep beneath the flesh and disappear. There was no pain, but Korsten felt a sudden cold sensation and maybe even a lump at the center of his palm.
“Now,” Ceth said. “Touch the new Essence with that which already exists within you. The item you now carry was constructed almost entirely of magical energies, so it should not be difficult to connect with it.”
Korsten closed his eyes for concentration, easily finding the magic inside of him, both old and new. He felt the gap between energies and quickly formed a bridge. He looked at Ceth again, awaiting further instruction.
“Draw the magic outside of yourself, as if casting a spell. One without gesture, only concentration. I think you know what you’re after.”
Somehow, Korsten did. He willed the silvery substance back out from beneath his skin and willed it to take shape. With his mind, he molded a long, slender blade, double-edged and as solid as if it had been forged by hammer and fire, complete with hilt and hand guard. He was given room to test it and did so, finding that it appeared in weight and function to be as fine a weapon as any he’d used before. He found himself pleasantly amazed.
“Put it away now,” Ashwin said, sounding very paternal just then. And, with childlike obedience, Korsten drew the sword back into his hand. The blond continued. “You needn’t carry it at all times. It can be set to rest on a shelf or in a pocket as easily as in your hand, but the method you have just demonstrated should serve as a convenience, not only in travel, but in dealing with individuals of a political nature, who might think to confiscate your weapons. What’s more, so long as it is in that form, you needn’t be concerned with maintenance.”
“Are all mages going to carry their weapons in this fashion?” Korsten asked.
“Perhaps one day,” Ceth answered. “You are one of eight now, who will put the efficiency of this invention to the test.” The man arched one eyebrow. “In the field.”
While Ceth walked away, Merran muttered, “Fashion probably played a factor.”
“Bastard,” Korsten sang under his breath.
“And now, Mage-Adepts Korsten and Merran,” Jeselle said. “You are being assigned to resolve a matter involving the Vadryn at the military keep on the western border, near to the town of Lilende. It is our strong suspicion that a mole has been planted at the outpost by Morenne and that the individual may also be under the influence of a demon, if not possessed by one.”
“Do we know this individual’s identity?” Merran asked, serious now.
“No,” Jeselle answered. “We know only that this individual is present.”
“Well, it shouldn’t be too difficult to sort out,” Korsten put in. “Moles are very often individuals who are highly trusted or easily overlooked. Our man should shine particularly brightly, or not at all, and therefore be made discernible from the rest of the ranks.”
Everyone looked at him. Korsten noticed that of them, Ceth and Ashwin were smiling distinctly with pride. He would not have considered his words much of a demonstration of anything, except willingness to focus on the circumstances and to contribute to a resolution. But perhaps, given everything, willingness to participate in something outside of the shelter he’d made for himself at the Seminary was a confirmation to them that he was ready. He would try to carry their confidence with him.
“Ceth is one of your supporters,” Ashwin said, pouring Korsten a glass of conspicuously red wine. “He would have taken you as his own student, if not for my insistence in the matter.”
Korsten, reclining on the end of a wide, backless bench with plush cushions that occupied the balcony of Ashwin’s very large room, accepted the glass that was offered to him. “Why were you so insistent? Back then, I mean, when you would not have known anything about me except that I was half dead?”
Ashwin arched one pale eyebrow. “Back then? Less than a breath’s span behind me?”
“I apologize,” Korsten said, sipping from his glass. “Time must seem very different to you.”
“I was just thinking that it must seem very different to you,” Ashwin replied. He returned the wine bottle to a table nearby, poured himself a goblet, and walked back to the bench, where he sat down beside Korsten’s feet. “But then, I suppose your impression of it is constantly changing at this point.”
“Yes, it is,” Korsten admitted. “My impression of many things is changing.”
“I won’t take that as an invitation,” Ashwin said, smiling softly after tasting his drink. He let one hand rest lightly upon Korsten’s ankle. “And in answer to your question, I read tremendous potential in you as you lay half dead, covered in the symbols of a particularly powerful Emergence. Such things are usually only brought about through severe trauma. When I saw the mark upon your neck, the seal against a Vadryn’s poison, I knew that to be the case. I wanted to guide you, to witness your potential firsthand, and to shelter you.
“You see, I have a weakness for persons with unique or great needs.” The Mage-Superior sighed, smiling a little broader now, perhaps in amusement at himself. “And I am an incurable romantic. Not surprising that I watched you bloom … and fell in love.”
Korsten stared helplessly for a moment, his heart feeling suddenly thicker in his chest, plodding against his ribcage. The man was as beautiful and as enticing as he ever had been, making matters worse with confessions of romantic love. He had never described what he felt in that way before. He had never put it into so many tormenting words.
“I know that you and Merran have discovered one another,” Ashwin said next and Korsten dropped his gaze immediately to the wine in his glass. “I know also that it is not love, necessarily, that inspires the two of you to share a bed every once in a long while, but merely companionship.”
“Comfort, we call it,” Korsten said, feeling somehow as if he needed to explain or apologize.
“Yes. He can reach your deepest pain and make it seem less.” Ashwin stood and carried himself to the balustrade rimming his balcony. “And I would only be able to share it. Not even as Analee does. It would simply be two people, feeling emotionally as one. It would be a deception.”
“A deception?” Korsten inquired, frowning lightly. He was beginning to feel a little lighter after too many sips of wine.
Ashwin set his gaze on the stars overhead. “For a few precious moments, you would feel all the love that I feel. In those moments, you might even believe that you love me, only to be awakened later to an illusion shattered. Fragments of it would be embedded in you for a time, causing only more pain.”
Silence spanned the minor distance between mentor and student.
At length, Korsten said, “You miss her, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Ashwin said eventually. “I miss them both, but at least I can be comforted in knowing that they have each other. Perhaps this is as it was meant to be.”
“With you alone?” Korsten said, glaring at his goblet, letting the alcohol he’d already drunk from it tell him he was suddenly angry. “Because of me? That’s absurd.”
Without making a sound that Korsten heard or that would have alerted him, Ashwin came back to the bench and sat down on the edge beside him. He set his wine glass on the floor, then reached for Korsten’s, making visual note of the fact that it was almost empty. He set the item aside and leaned over his student, not far enough to touch their brows together like he usually did. There was something different about the way he was hovering and the way he asked, “Am I alone?”
Korsten wasn’t sure that he understood. He understood the searching in the man’s brilliant green eyes, he thought. And he understood the heat of two bodies, attracted to one another in spite of everything, being so close. But the question made no sense.
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Ashwin offered explanation. “You’ve been with me, Korsten, even if only as my student.”
Korsten felt a pang of remorse deep inside of him with those words. He imagined it showed in his expression as the wine tore away his mask of imperturbability. “Only as your student? Have I been so cold to you? We’re friends….” He felt a sudden blush come to his cheeks, and suspected that there was more to it than drunkenness. In spite of the drunk, he believed that his next words were in earnest. “And it hardly seems fair that I can justify intimacy with one friend and not another.”
Ashwin smiled just a little, though he was clearly aching inside, allowing Korsten to torment him. He said softly, “That’s the wine talking, my dear. And I didn’t give it to you for the purpose of listening to it say what I want to hear.”
I can’t believe I’ve been so cruel … and so selfish. I’ve been using Merran for his gift and ignoring Ashwin for his lack of it. No matter how I look at it, I haven’t been faithful to Renmyr … and Ren, damn you, you’ve never been faithful to me. Gods, I know you had reasons, though. And I have none, except for the loneliness I feel without you. I must be the most disgusting and pathetic creature alive.
Korsten rediscovered the irritability the wine had set out for him. “It isn’t the wine,” he grumbled. “I speak for myself.” He slid away from his mentor and off the opposite side of the bench. Standing too fast, he was forced to hold still and give his spinning head a moment to recover. Then he strolled not quite steadily across the room, made it as far as the bed, and fell flat on his face.
In a moment, he heard Ashwin’s amused voice nearby. “Well, if I’d have known it would be this easy to get you into my bed, I’d have tried it straight away.”
“Gods … I’m such an idiot,” Korsten groaned into wondrously soft bedding with a faintly spicy scent.
“Well, you can sleep there, if you like,” Ashwin said. “I’ll….”
“No….” Korsten lifted himself up, ignoring the way his brain went for a second rotation. “I’m not going to put you out of your bed … Ashwin, but since I’ve already put myself into it….” He felt his face reddening once again, from drunk and embarrassment. “Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to stay.”
“Korsten, no,” Ashwin said, showing a sudden and remarkable amount of restraint. “I only brought you here to spend a few moments alone with you before you leave. I probably shouldn’t have said some of what I said.”
“So, now you don’t want me,” Korsten concluded unreasonably. “Now I’m too easy, am I?”
“You’re too drunk,” Ashwin told him. Dropping his hands onto Korsten’s shoulders, he tilted his head forward and closed his green eyes when their brows lightly touched. “I shall never give you that particular wine again. I can see it’s far too potent for one so young as you still happen to be. Now, please, go to sleep.”
He straightened and gave Korsten a light push back. Korsten grabbed hold of the elder’s arms and pulled him down onto the mattress with him. Ashwin caught himself and balanced on hands and knees above his suddenly eager student. Perhaps this wasn’t as romantic as he would have preferred it, but Korsten was determined … and drunk, yes.
Ashwin frowned, seeming either surprised or dismayed by his insistence, perhaps both. “If you’re going to attempt to invoke your gift upon me, I’ll have to neutralize it, and you’re going to wake in the morning with a far worse migraine. I promise you that.”
“You can neutralize someone’s magic?” Korsten asked, easily distracted in his state. He actually forgot what he was up to and thought for an instant that he was simply in his own bed.
“It comes with the rank of Mage-Superior,” Ashwin replied. And then he lifted himself away from Korsten and sat himself on the edge of the bed, sighing somewhat wearily. “Just sleep there, Korsten. I’ll take the….”
Ashwin’s voice tapered into silence shortly after Korsten fell still and closed his eyes in an attempt to clear his thoughts. Apparently his mentor believed he had passed out. Ashwin leaned back as if to check. Korsten remained still and silent, convincing the elder.
“Goodnight, my dearest,” Ashwin whispered fondly.
The room darkened and then fell utterly silent. Wherever Ashwin had gone to—presumably back to the bench on the balcony—he didn’t make a sound. Korsten opened his eyes and lay still for what felt like a very long time. His head didn’t quite clear, but it went from spinning to fogged and a tad achy. He would have a nasty headache later on.
At some point, Korsten rose and walked, with his head feeling like a heavy cloud, to the open balcony doors and outside. He found his mentor lying upon the bench as he suspected, looking even more surreal beneath the starlight. His hair and robes and skin all appeared paler and he himself more beautiful. His eyes were closed. He must have been asleep.
Korsten approached the bench and sat down beside him. The summer air was warm, reaching under his shirt like seductive hands. The alcohol stirred in his blood, mingling with helpless desire as he stared down at his mentor, who had always been too damnably handsome. You’ve had your chance to prove that you’re not going to take advantage of me. And since I’m leaving tomorrow and I’ll probably get both Merran and myself mutilated or killed by one of the Vadryn … what difference does anything make anyway?
He leaned forward, resigning himself to the guilty pleasure that faced him in his lovesick mentor. He was roundly surprised and thoroughly frustrated when Ashwin’s hand blocked him, pressing against his chest. Damn it, who’s chasing who?
The man’s green eyes opened, appearing a deep and lustrous jade in the night’s lack of light. “While I appreciate your sudden generosity, I can’t let this happen.”
“Why not?” Korsten demanded, refusing to leave, wondering how difficult it would be to push Ashwin’s arm away and lower on him anyway.
“Don’t think I’m not tempted,” the glorious elder said softly. “Feeling, even now, the way your heart beats against my hand.”
Those words let Korsten know that Ashwin’s skin was against his own, feeling marvelous. He suddenly wanted more of that touch and shifted slowly, deliberately, so that Ashwin’s slender fingers slid across a sensitive area. He gasped only a little, though he had succeeded in arousing himself a great deal.
Ashwin’s expression was a beautifully played out battle between desire and restraint. His voice remained deceptively steady. “You would give yourself to me this night, but what of nights to follow? How could you expect me to look upon you the same after discovering what it is like to truly be with you? Wondering becomes knowing. Unanswered love becomes neglected longing.”
Korsten was still frowning at him, beginning to want him in a very dire way. “What makes you think I wouldn’t come back to you?”
Ashwin looked genuinely hurt. Hurt by the depth of his own love, that could never be returned. “You wouldn’t, Korsten. We both know it. You’re half drunk and half guilty. You’re not in love and you have no idea what you want right now.”
“That’s not true. I know what I want.” Korsten’s eyes misted and he glared wrongly at Ashwin for it. “I know what I’ve always wanted and what was taken from me … what I’ll never have again, so what difference does it make?”
“I can’t bear your guilt,” Ashwin told him. “I couldn’t, after Sharlotte left us … left me. I tried to distance myself from you, because it was my blame, not yours. I loved you, Korsten … too suddenly, too much.” He moved his hand to the back of Korsten’s neck, and drew him down. “I love you,” he sighed in defeat and delivered a kiss that attacked Korsten’s senses at every known level. In an instant, he felt the love Ashwin spoke of and it made him want to weep with despair as much as it made him want to laugh warmly. It was sunlight and moonlight glistening off a single teardrop caught in a web of emotions that were tangled and inescapable, confined and yet infinite, barren and somehow full of life. It was so
beautiful and at once so terrible…. Korsten couldn’t let it go and at the same time, he couldn’t hold on. He pulled away … or was he pushed? … and stared breathlessly down at Ashwin.
“That is what I feel for you,” his mentor said with tears in his glorious eyes. “And that is what you feel … for someone else.”
Ren…. Korsten felt tears in his own eyes now. Ashwin guided him down again, but only to hold him while he cried like a child onto his shoulder.
“I am going to miss you while you’re away,” Ashwin said very softly, stroking his hand through Korsten’s hair. “Come back to us swiftly. Both of you.”
Korsten didn’t become aware of the sunlight gleaming through his eyelids until someone stepped in front of it … in front of him … and cast shadow over him. He opened his eyes, not to white robes, but a black coat and for a moment, he wasn’t sure where he was.
“Well, I won’t say this is the last place I expected to find you,” Merran said. The other mage … fellow Mage-Adept … crouched beside the article of furniture that was either a narrow bed or a bench, upon which Korsten was lying, and sighed. “Drank a little last night, did we?”
“We didn’t do anything last night,” Korsten murmured grumpily, slowly recalling whose room he’d come to be in and that nothing had happened between him and its excessively attractive resident. “What in Hell’s depths are you doing here anyway … besides not healing my headache?”
“Not that easily,” Merran said. “You should have known better than to drink Elder’s wine before the start of a trip.”
“You bastard,” Korsten groaned, sitting up slowly. “And what do you mean Elder’s?”
“After too many centuries, wine and other things don’t have as much effect on an individual as they used to. More potent agents are required.”