by Megan Derr
Until disease struck the village, killing many, including the man and his good, sweet wife. Left alone with the bitter wife and her jealous son, the good son spent his days doing all the hard labor around the home and tending to the cattle while his stepmother and half-brother spent their days in idle pleasures.
Now it so happened that one day while he was out tending the herds, watching them graze in a field from the village, he was chanced upon by a handsome stranger. Intrigued, for no strangers ever visited his faraway village, the good son greeted the stranger and offered to share his lunch.
Pleased by his generosity, the stranger shared his own food and together they spent a pleasant afternoon. During their time together, the good son learned the stranger was journeying to gain new wisdom, to see what he might see, learn what he might learn.
As the afternoon turned to evening, the two men realized they were reluctant to part ways. They agreed to meet again the next day, and for many days after they met together in the fields where cattle grazed. It was not long before the two men realized there was a bond between them, and the fast friendship they had forged turned to something else.
Eventually, however, the lover confessed he could no longer put off going home. There were matters there that he must address, and so he must go. But he vowed before leaving that he would return, and take his lover home with him. As a show of his promise, he gave to the good son a golden ring in the image of a snake, a ruby clutched in its jaws. Kissing the good son farewell, the lover departed.
Lonely without his lover, the good son fell into daydreaming and neglected the many chores his stepmother and brother heaped upon him, until they grew impatient and beat him, and he was forced to tell them all about his lover.
His stepmother recognized the ring as being of royal origins, and determined to see that her son was made the prince's lover rather than the stepson she despised. So one night after her stepson fell asleep, she went to see a magician, whom she paid handsomely to curse her stepson.
The magician did as she requested, and cast a curse that caused the good son to be forgotten by the prince he loved. But, the magician cautioned the stepmother, no curse is unbreakable. If the prince should see the ring he bestowed, he would remember everything.
Returning to her home, the stepmother crept to the bedside of her stepson and stealthily removed the ring from his finger while he slept. Taking it outside, she threw the ring into the river. Satisfied with her night's work, she went to bed.
Days passed, and the Nine Day Festival arrived, and the villagers prepared excitedly for they had received word that the crown prince himself would be arriving to celebrate with them on the final day. The good son was very excited, for the entire village was invited to the royal celebration—but at the last, his stepmother forbid him to go, and told him that instead he must watch over the house and the animals, lest they cause trouble while the house was empty.
Bitterly disappointed, the good son waited until he was alone, then crept from the house and snuck off to the celebration anyway. There, he was astonished and jubilant to see the crown prince was none other than the stranger he had fallen in love with.
Going up to the prince, the good son greeted him warmly—and was taken aback when the prince greeted him as though they were strangers. Confused, the good son recounted all that had passed between them, but the prince claimed no recollection and bid him go and take his strange lies with him.
Heartbroken, the good son fled to the fields where he and the prince had first met, weeping bitterly beneath the tree where the prince had given him the ring, wishing he had not been so careless as to lose it.
Down in the village, the festivities continued, and the stepmother pushed her son to flirt with the handsome prince, ply him with fine food and drink. Obedient to his mother, and greedy to be the lover of such a fine and handsome prince, the evil son obeyed. He presented himself to the prince and offered the finest of wines, and a fish he had caught and prepared himself with the most fragrant of herbs.
Pleased by the offerings, the prince invited the evil son to sit with him and share the repast, enjoy the dancing and music by his side. He drank some of the wine, then cut into the excellent fish—and was astonished when he struck something too hard to be a natural part of the fish. Using his knife, the prince pulled something gold from the fish's gut. Cleaning it, he looked in astonishment at his royal ring.
At the sight of it, the curse broke, and all his warm memories of the good son returned. The prince immediately rose, ignoring the cries of everyone, pushing away the evil son and stepmother as they tried to distract him. Taking a horse, he left the village, and rode quickly to the field where he hoped he would find his lover…
Harshal did not think anything could hurt as badly as losing his father and mother; life had not been the same since they had died. He had dreamed a thousand times of leaving the village, but had promised his father not to leave his poor stepmother alone.
And he had never intended to, no matter how miserable she made him—but a promise to his lover was stronger, and when Akash returned for him, Harshal had planned to ensure his stepmother was comfortable and then take his leave.
He could not believe, after all that had transpired between them, that Akash did not remember him. Had everything they said to each other meant so little? If only he had not lost his ring! He did not remember losing it, was certain he had gone to bed with the weight of it on his finger…
Sometimes, he wondered…
But if she had taken it, surely she would have goaded him without actually admitting it. She had said nothing, though, and so he was forced to conclude he had lost it.
Harshal wiped drying tears from his face and decided that promise or no promise, he would not stay another day. If no one would keep the promises they made him, he was under no obligation to keep his own. He would not meet betrayal with loyalty. If his family did not want him, and his lover had forgotten him, he would find someone who truly wanted him.
It made his chest ache to think Akash was not that man. He did not care if his love was prince or pauper—he just wanted Akash to hold him and love him. But Akash had forgotten him, and there was no point in wishing for things that would never happen.
Standing up, he lightly touched the tree where he had spent so many pleasurable hours with his lover. Then he finally made himself turn away. He would go home, and pack his few belongings, and leave the mountains forever.
He stopped short as a horse raced into the clearing, and a familiar figure leapt down from its back and rushed over to him. "Harshal!" Akash exclaimed, and gave him no chance to reply, but swept Harshal up and kissed him deeply.
Harshal pushed him away, and stared at him wide-eyed, torn between his lingering anger and hurt, and fearful hope that perhaps he had not been forgotten after all. "You forgot me."
"I do not think I had a choice," Akash said quietly, and pulled something from his robe.
With a start, Harshal realized it was the lost ring. "Where did you get that?"
"It was in the fish I was offered by a man who, I realize now, looked a lot like you," Akash replied quietly. "I am sorry, my love. When I saw the ring, all my memories of you came rushing back. I think perhaps one of us was cursed. I would never forget you otherwise, please, you must believe me."
Harshal slowly reached out and plucked the ring from Akash's fingers, and slid it onto his own. "Me, I suspect. My stepmother must have done it."
"She will be punished," Akash said promptly. "I love you; I will not tolerate someone causing me to forget that."
"Forget them," Harshal said. "Remember me, and forget all about them. You truly remember me?" he asked, recalling those awful moments when no matter what he said, Akash treated him as a stranger.
Akash reached out and cupped his face as he had so many times before, the touch so fond Harshal's eyes stung, for he had thought never to be touched by Akash again. "I remember you," Akash said, "From your first friendly smile to the first time you kissed me, and
the first time I undressed you beneath this tree and touched every part of you. I arranged to visit here on this last day of the festivities so that I could at last take you home with me. Tell me all is forgiven, and that you will return with me, and stay with me forever."
"In this life, and all others," Harshal vowed, and drew Akash into another kiss.
Play Me a Song
Pretty pied piper, won't you play me a song?
The voice jerked Kaleo from his dreams, and he sighed as he stared up at the dark, dusty ceiling of the room he'd taken for the night. He closed his eyes again, but the effort was futile—he would get no more sleep tonight.
Heaving a louder, longer sigh, Kaleo threw back his thin blankets and sat up. He hummed a quick, coaxing tune, and the candle on the side table flared to life. A few more bars, and the lamp on the table lit as well.
In the orange glow of their flickering light, he gathered his clothes and began to dress. His clothes were unremarkable, much like the rest of him. Simple, drab browns from head to foot; even his skin was brown from all his traveling, though winter snows were heavy upon the ground now. Brown hair, brown eyes, brown tunic, brown breeches, boots, belt, and all the rest—except for his coat.
His coat was made of hundreds of colors, fabrics, shapes, and sizes. A collection of every place he had ever been, each one reminding him of a time, a problem, a spell—a song. It was his pride and joy, his coat, even if everyone told him he looked a proper vagabond in it.
What was he though, save a proper vagabond? One who carried a king's seal, though he seldom had cause or desire to display it, but a vagabond nonetheless.
Settling the coat, he combed his fingers through his hair to smooth out the worst of the tangles, then swiftly braided it, leaving it then to fall between his shoulders blades, stopping just past them.
Yawning, wishing mournfully he could go back to sleep, Kaleo checked his pack, ensured he had all his belongings, left an additional coin upon the table for the innkeeper, and departed.
The night was cold, bitterly so, the snow hard beneath his feet where it had started to melt beneath the sun, then frozen again as the temperature dropped with night. High above, the clouds had moved off to give the moon all the glory of the sky she was due—full and silver, a soft shine against the hard glitter of the stars around her, making the snow seem to glow. He walked in a world of hard white, feeling completely, utterly, and wretchedly alone.
Pretty pied piper, won't you play me a song?
Why must he think of Tihan now? He did not even know where Tihan had been sent, or when he would see him again, or if…if when they met again, Tihan would still find him interesting. They were travelers, vagabonds, it was stupid to hope and pine…
Yet every time that voice invaded Kaleo's dreams, he was pulled from them, convinced that it was his sometime lover calling to him, and he would see Tihan upon waking….and all he ever woke to was an empty bed.
He was tempted to take out his pipe, to play some tune that would ease his mind, drive back the unrelenting silence of the night, but he dare not wake up something best left sleeping. So, instead of the pipe, he hummed softly as he journeyed on, allowing his mind to focus on the reason he was being sent to a small village in the northernmost part of the country.
Rats, the missive had said. The village was overrun by a plague of rats that could only be the result of spell work.
If it was spell work, it was complicated. He admired the skill, if not the method of employment. Controlling one animal was fairly easy, minus a few species which simply resented being controlled in any fashion. It was harder to control several animals at once, but not impossible. But controlling enough that they could be described as a plague?
That was frightening. Impressive, but frightening, especially since rats were one of those species which resented any manner of control.
He wondered what the mage behind it hoped to accomplish, and what manner of spell work he used to cast it. Each method had its own strengths and weaknesses; it would be interesting to see how the mage cast his spells.
Being from a musical family, Kaleo had taken up that method without hesitation. He excelled at it, and loved it, even when that skill was the reason he travelled endlessly and likely would for a long time to come.
The matter of the guilty mage was one which would have to wait, though, ponder it as he might. Typical of missives, those who wrote them included the crime, the location, and precious little else. At least they had not mentioned his needing support—if the Powers That Be thought a mage would be all right without assistant muscle, then it should not be too difficult a problem to resolve.
It was somewhat disappointing, however, since requiring support would have offered a slim chance of seeing Tihan. Selfish, of course, because Kaleo didn't want people to suffer more than they already were…but he was always eager for anything that might bring him Tihan.
Kaleo sighed at himself again, but really, what could he do? Fall out of love? Ha! If that were possible, he might have been able to avoid falling in love in the first place. Unfortunately, he'd had no say in the matter. He was hopelessly, painfully in love with a man who saw him only as a pleasant way to pass the time when their paths crossed. Albeit, an extremely pleasant way to pass the time, and Tihan was closer to him than he was anyone else—or so was Kaleo's hopeful impression.
When he felt like making himself particularly miserable, however, he did wonder with whom else Tihan chose to pass the time.
Grimacing, he ceased humming and swung his pack off his shoulders, quickly pulling out the small packet that held a meal's worth of food. Handy at times like this, when there was no good place to stop. Resettling the pack on his shoulders, he slowly ate the bread, cheese, and jerky that was all too often all he had to eat. He finished them with bits of dried apple and some lemon candies.
When the sky began to turn gray, he at last found a place he could rest for a bit. It was too cold and uncomfortable to sleep, at least while he still had Tihan on his mind, but as he still had a day's worth of travel ahead of him it was a welcome respite.
He watched the sun rise, soothed by the beauty of it, if not entirely settled. There were perks to his vagabond of the king life, and this was one of them. Constant travel was both pleasure and pain, and when he was not gloomy over being woken by a presence that was never there when he wished, it was definitely more of the former.
Reaching into his jacket, he extracted his pipe from its special pocket, and put the enchanted metal to his lips.
He played a song that seemed to fit the cold but pleasant morning. Soft, quiet, cheerfully hopeful. This early in the day, nothing was determined and anything was possible. He encouraged that, added to it without overburdening the feeling.
Around him, those things which were not bothered by the frigid temperatures and difficult snow began to show themselves and explore. Some even ventured closer, caught by the music. He played on, until the sun had well and truly taken over the sky.
When he finally let the music fade away, more than a few creatures had gathered to listen, and they trickled away again only slowly. Kaleo smiled, and tucked his pipe away, wishing everything else in life could be so simple.
It never was, though.
Settling his pack, he walked on.
*~*~*
When he finally reached the village, he immediately saw why he had been set. The rats were black, fat, and bold. Nasty creatures that knew they had strength in numbers, knew there was nothing to fear—and the telltale gleam of bewitchment in their eyes. Like an animal shine, but harder, brighter.
One ran at him and Kaleo lashed out, kicking it hard, sending it into a wall only to fall amidst a pack of his brothers. He was grateful for the growing dark that would make them harder to see. Better to face a visible enemy, but those rats were vile.
His fingers twitched to take out his pipe, to do something about them…but only a foolish mage cast a spell before he knew the whole of the situation. Best to leave we
ll enough alone, even if that meant not getting rid of the rats immediately.
Kicking another one away as it tried to crawl up his boot, he darted into the first pub he saw. Unfortunately, it proved to be filled to the brim. They were probably all here for the very same reason as he: strength in numbers, and though he could see a rat or two amongst the crush, they stood no chance against so many tightly packed humans.
Shoving and elbowing his way to the bar, he all but clung to it for dear life and signaled for an ale. It was just what he needed, when he got it. Not the best he'd ever head, but far from the worst. Gulping it down as quickly as he could, he called for a second, and sipped at it more leisurely.
He sat in the racket and simply enjoyed it. There was no rhythm, no control, nothing but a cacophony, but after his silent days of travel and little sleep of late, it was a welcome chaos. Sighing, allowing himself to forget about everything but food and drink for a bit, he called for a third ale and put in an order for food as well.
The pushing and bumping and shoving was to be expected; he scarcely noticed when someone pressed up against him from behind for more than a second—until a mouth hovered by his ear, and murmured, "Pretty Pied Piper, won't you play me a song?"
Kaleo jerked, ale splashing as he set it down with a thump. Heart hammering hard in his chest, he turned his head to stare in shock and a fierce, white-hot pleasure-pain that could only be caused by one man. "Tihan."
Tihan grinned his boyish lopsided grin. "Kaleo. I think I'm hurt you did not immediately sense or see me."
"Oh, please, in this crush I would not notice the king if he were dancing naked upon the table," Kaleo said with a snort, fighting an urge to reach out and steal a kiss.
Then Tihan leaned forward and brushed a soft kiss across his lips, and Kaleo caught a brief hint of ale and meat, something sweet.
He drew a sharp breath, and looked at Tihan in surprise, wanting to know why Tihan would kiss him so openly and impulsively when normally any sort of public display was simply not Tihan's style. But all that came out was, "I didn't know I'd see you here. Passing through?"