by Kirby Crow
6.
T’aishka
“Liall, did I hear you say this was good for us?”
“Quite good. First rule of travel: make friends with your new climate.”
“I don’t think it wants to be f-friends,” Scarlet stuttered, his teeth chattering.
They were getting very close to Rshan. The Ostre Sul had passed through the Circle—the invisible line drawn on maps that terminated the normal spans of day and night—twelve days ago. The farther north they drew, the less light they saw, and all was shrouded in a gray nothingness in which there was no sun and no stars. There was nothing to steer by this far into the cold seas, no landmark or constellation in the bland sky, only the compass needle by the helm that arrowed the ship dead north for weeks. Liall watched Scarlet observe this change in the sky and saw how it frightened him, but when the pedlar began speaking of disasters and portents, Liall demonstrated the celestial mechanics of the event with a lighted candle and a ball of wax, showing Scarlet how the light could only shine on certain parts of the ball during the year. After that, Scarlet relaxed and ceased viewing the sky with trepidation, though he did wonder often and aloud how they managed to keep their feet on the ground if the world was spinning as Liall claimed. He also wanted to know what the stars were, and if they had worlds that circled their warming light as Nemerl did, and what manner of people lived there, but to these questions Liall had no answers.
It was freezing on deck, the air biting as fangs, and Scarlet shivered even under the heavy coat he was bundled into. His hands were gloved with thick, fur-lined leather and his arms were wrapped around his body, and still his slight frame rattled with shivers. Each new gale stole his breath away and clawed tears from his eyes. Scarlet bore it all without complaint, grinning at Liall over the high neckline as he blew his warm breath down into the coat’s shell, conserving as much heat as possible.
“I am not trying to be cruel,” Liall said over the sound of the wind. “I am exposing your blood to the temperature. It is far colder than this in Rshan during the winter months, and I do not know how long we will be there. The same is done with children.”
“I’m not your child,” Scarlet said immediately, with faint annoyance.
But Liall was afraid. Scarlet was already dangerously weakened by the voyage and his earlier sickness, not to mention the beating he had taken. Liall feared that if some measure was not taken to strengthen him, he would fall prey to the first illness that came along.
An extended gust blew over them, pushing chunks of slushy ice against the hull, and Scarlet began to shiver uncontrollably. Liall reached inside his coat and produced a silver flask that he had kept warm near his skin. Tipping off the cap, he took a swallow before handing it to Scarlet. Scarlet stared at it and seemed about to refuse, but Liall pushed it into his hands with a stern look.
Scarlet sighed and lifted the flask from Liall’s fingers. He took one small sip and tried to give it back, his eyes widening at the sharp burn of strong liquor, but Liall nudged his hand.
“Again. For true this time, you drink like a little girl.” Liall knew that would goad his pride, and true to form, Scarlet tipped the flask up and took a mouthful too large even for a Northman.
Scarlet’s eyes went very wide as he forcibly swallowed it down and then gasped for air. He swore in Falx and shook his head like his brains had been rattled.
Liall knew Scarlet’s tongue must feel like cinders. That was the beauty of Rshani liquors: they were all made from the strongest spices or herbs and were very potent. Liall patted Scarlet’s back helpfully as the young man gasped for breath, trying not to feel too sorry for him.
When Scarlet could breathe, he thrust the flask back at Liall. “There, happy now? Did I pass your damn test?”
Liall laughed and shook his head. “One more.” Scarlet looked doubtful and angry at the same time. “It will warm you,” Liall promised.
“Oh, warm,” Scarlet answered glibly. “I remember being warm.”
“And I remember you used to smile,” Liall teased, pressing him to take one more drink.
In a few days they would arrive in Rshan. So far, the voyage had been one protracted song of disaster, danger, petty arguments and boredom. In the time since Oleksei and his fellows had attacked Scarlet, the pedlar had grown distant. When he slept beside Liall in the bunk, he was as close to the bulkhead as he could get without being on the other side, his back turned. Although the crew had begun to treat Scarlet with some respect since the pirate attack, his smiles had become rarer than the sun and he no longer laughed or joked with Liall at all.
Scarlet took another drink, a judiciously smaller one this time, turning the sharp taste over in his mouth before swallowing. “Is it cinnamon?” he asked.
“Something very like, fermented with honey over several years.”
“Years?” He regarded the flask with suspicion. “Must be expensive.”
“It was, so enjoy it.”
Scarlet drank again and shook the wind-blown hair out of his eyes.
“I have a surprise for you,” Liall said. Scarlet’s eyebrows crept up. “Shall we go see?” Scarlet shrugged and took a last sip from the flask. Liall capped it and slipped it back inside his shirt.
Once they were in the cabin, Liall closed the door and locked it before stripping off his gloves.
Scarlet looked pointedly at the lock, but said nothing. When he saw what Liall had commanded the crew to bring in while they were gone, he laughed out loud.
“A bath?” Scarlet gave a startled laugh. “That can’t be fresh water.”
“It is,” Liall said. “Well, not really. It is melted ice from the floes. It has some salt in it, but not much. It is perfectly fine for bathing, though I would not drink it if I were you.” He threw a few more coals onto the small brazier and opened the vents up a little.
They all froze on the voyage, but he knew Scarlet felt it more than any other. Rshani mariners were accustomed to such weather and thought nothing of it. Liall had overheard the crude comments that floated around the ship regarding the Hilurin’s constant need for warmth as well as his habit of washing, which the rough mariners thought faintly womanish, but Liall did not have to share a cabin with the mariners. If Scarlet intended to smell sweet throughout the voyage, he would get no argument from Liall.
Scarlet trailed his fingers through the steaming water in the copper tub. It was an oval tub without feet, and had a thick wooden rim. There was a crescent moon sliver of hard, brown soap resting on the floor near the tub. “I haven’t had a real bath since we left Volkovoi.”
“I know.”
“Very funny. You’re no rose, yourself.”
“I am so. I bathed earlier in the captain’s quarters.” Liall sat on the bunk and leaned back on his elbows. “Well?”
Scarlet ducked his head. Liall thought it was so that the blush that rose to the pedlar’s cheeks would be hidden from him, but Scarlet met his eyes boldly a moment later.
“You must think I’m very silly. Isn’t that what your Kasiri say about my people?” Scarlet tilted his head and delivered a fair imitation of Peysho’s coarse speech: “Puffed-up little Hilurin prigs, all of ‘em. Nowt the brains to come in out th’ rain.”
Liall smiled. “I confess. At first, I thought of you as a prim little Hilurin with too much pride and not enough sense, but I have not had that thought in a long time. I have nothing but respect for you, Scarlet. You are more of a man than many warriors.”
Scarlet seemed to consider for a moment, then nodded as if he had made up his mind. Holding Liall’s gaze steadily, he unbuckled the overcoat and tossed it to the bunk. The red leather jacket was next, and then he tugged the hem of the rough linen shirt from the waistband of his breeches and pulled it over his head. He stopped then and looked at Liall with a strange sort of intensity, as if wondering who he was.
Liall stared. By the Shining Ones, but he was lovely! Scarlet’s ivory skin was like fresh cream, unmarked and hairless except for a fine
dusting that arrowed down from his indented navel and vanished into his breeches. His chest and upper arms were finely-sculpted—not brawny but certainly no weakling—and his narrow waist was flat and hard. He found himself staring at Scarlet’s slender collarbones, fascinated by the shadings of delicate color in their hollows, pearl and pale rose on white, and fascinated also by the small peaks of his nipples below, pale and pink as a blush.
Scarlet crossed his arms over his chest. “Am I...” he trailed off. His black hair had grown shaggy in the past month, and the cut under his right eye had closed to a thick red line that would leave a permanent scar. He brushed the hair out of his eyes and tried again, shyly: “Do I please you?”
Liall shook his head. For a moment, a crestfallen look stole over Scarlet’s features.
“Scarlet,” Liall said. His own voice sounded very odd to him, tight and hoarse as it was. He judged it a sign of nerves. “You are most pleasing. How can you not know how you look?”
The light was back in Scarlet’s eyes. He shrugged. “I’m all right, I guess. Never had any complaints.” That last bit might have sounded like boasting, and Scarlet cleared his throat and looked embarrassed. “Not that there’s been anyone who’d have a right to.” He sat on the bunk to strip off his boots, and then quickly unbuckled his belt and began to slide his breeches off his hips as he sat. He blushed and his hands faltered as the high color again flooded his cheeks.
“Please continue,” Liall said. He was fast becoming enamored of that blush; the way it spread across Scarlet’s face and chin and even the bridge of his nose when he was the least embarrassed or frightened or angry. It was such a charming trait, so without artifice or pretense, and even though Liall knew it only happened when Scarlet was distressed, he could not make himself fall out of love with it. Rshani did not blush very easily, if at all. Apart from anything else, they did not have the color for it.
Liall thought Scarlet might demur after all and back out of whatever he had been considering, but with a long, searching look, Scarlet skinned the breeches down his legs and kicked them off.
Liall inhaled shakily: uncomplicated as ever, Scarlet wore nothing underneath. Below his hips, the line of fine hairs that plunged down from his navel briefly spread out into a soft-looking triangle of dark hair. There was very little hair near his sex, and between his thighs there seemed to be none. Liall wondered for a moment if Scarlet shaved there, then remembered his few experiences with Hilurin girls, and how their pubic hairs had been like sea foam and nearly invisible, and how they seemed to have no other hair at all on their bodies.
Red-faced, Scarlet moved to get into the short tub. “Wait,” Liall begged.
Scarlet hesitated, and Liall saw a brief flash of fear in his eyes.
Liall longed to gather Scarlet in his arms and soothe those cares, but he was afraid to move and break whatever fragile spell was holding them in place.
“Turn around,” Liall asked. “Please.”
Scarlet inhaled and seemed to be wrestling with some inner demon, but he turned slowly on his heel, giving Liall an unspoiled view of his back. Liall saw with a flash of relief that Scarlet’s shoulders and lower back were no longer mottled with bruises. His eyes lingered on the legs and the round, full curves above before Scarlet turned to face him again.
Liall’s gaze dropped, and he saw that Scarlet was not totally unmoved.
The water rippled and splashed onto the floor as Scarlet climbed into the tub quickly. Scarlet took up the sliver of hard soap and began to lather it in his hands, spreading the slick stuff over his arms and shoulders and throat, as Liall fought for control. The soap exuded a smell rather like cloves, the scent filling the cabin.
By the gods, Liall thought suddenly, it is a good thing he has no inkling of the power he holds over me!
They will see it in Rshan, the dark half of his mind whispered to him. He will be a liability there. They will use him, and through him, you.
Well, they could try. He had been used before and knew what it felt like. Vigilance would be his armor. He would just have to guard Scarlet closely and persuade the young man to follow his lead.
That will work splendidly, he thought, seeing as how obedient Scarlet had been up until now. Liall snorted. Scarlet glanced at him.
“Something wrong?”
“Only thinking.”
“Oh.” Scarlet continued to work the soap into his skin, paying close attention to his hands and the dirt ground under his fingernails. Then he ducked his head under the water and scrubbed soap through his hair, washing away the inevitable grime of shipboard life. Last, he did his feet, folding his knees up awkwardly, one by one, and bracing them on the iron lip as he scrubbed the lather vigorously between his toes.
“You have nice feet,” Liall observed. He did, white and pink and narrow, with a high arch and round little toenails, neatly trimmed. Scarlet grinned at the odd compliment. Water sloshed over the side as he moved the soap over his chest, rubbing lower across his belly. Again, Liall’s throat grew tight.
Liall got up and knelt beside the tub, not caring that he was getting the knees of his breeches wet. “Shall I scrub your back?”
Scarlet handed over the soap with a trembling hand. He leaned forward in the water, averting his eyes and clasping his hands together under the water. Liall stroked the slippery crescent across Scarlet’s back, his dark fingers kneading into white skin, easing the knots he found there. Scarlet’s head tipped back instinctively and he gave a little purring noise of enjoyment.
Liall felt himself beginning to grow taut and hard between his legs. Laced through his excitement was a tendril of fear. He could almost deal more easily with the fear. This was dangerous, for he had already had it proven to him, in the plainest of terms, that he was quite susceptible to being overwhelmed by sensation when it came to Scarlet. He had committed more unwise acts in the past two months than he had in the ten years previous. Scarlet clouded his senses, tainted everything with an aura of eroticism, just by being near him. Liall wanted him desperately, wanted to lie with him, be inside of him, taste Scarlet’s mouth and skin as Scarlet came helplessly for him, crying out his name.
The soap slipped from Liall’s grasp and vanished in the water. Too late, Liall realized that his hands had roamed to Scarlet’s chest, and that he was caressing more than he was washing.
Scarlet turned his head.
Liall gazed into Scarlet’s incredibly dark eyes. They were wide and black, and his lips were parted in fear or passion. They were both slightly out of breath, Liall still frozen, Scarlet trembling on the verge of action.
“Liall?”
Liall moved his hand to the back of Scarlet’s neck, and he moved his fingers through the wet strands there, the sensation grounding him into the present. But Scarlet seemed to need him to say something, to give some sign.
“What is it?”
Scarlet searched Liall’s pale eyes, and then slowly scanned the lines of Liall’s face, taking in the shapes of the man as if he could learn Liall like a lesson to heart. Finally, his gaze returned to Liall’s eyes, and he gave a thin, sad smile. The water rippled as Scarlet lifted his shoulders in a small shrug.
“I love you, Liall.”
The confession caught Liall completely unprepared. He had never had those particular words handed to him in such a self-deprecating way, as if Scarlet was offering him a poor gift and had to apologize for the lack. Liall licked his lips before speaking.
“Since I came to the Southern Continent I have only had whores, mercenary soldiers, and bhoros boys. I do not know how to behave with someone like you.”
“Like me?”
“A man with honor.”
Scarlet’s expression flickered. His smile grew warmer, and he lifted his hand out of the water and cupped Liall’s face. “I won’t be offended if you touch me, you stupid Kasiri bastard. I want you to.”
Liall’s breath caught and he gave a weak sounding moan and pulled Scarlet to him, covering that beautiful mouth
with his own, framing Scarlet’s face between his wet hands and kissing the younger man hungrily. His tongue sought entrance between Scarlet’s lips and he moaned again and stroked inside the pedlar's mouth sweetly. He needed Scarlet to understand, and words were such a barrier. Liall tried to communicate what he felt, striving to transfer to Scarlet, by touch of tongue and teeth and lips, how much his love was returned.
They were both shaking when Liall drew back. “T’aishka,” Liall gasped, daring to take another kiss, to suck the wet, lush, lower lip gently into his mouth. He moaned and flicked his tongue against Scarlet’s, driving into the heat of that lovely mouth. Liall wanted to pull Scarlet out of the water and throw him onto the bunk, cover his naked body with kisses and drown in him, but he was afraid to. So very afraid. They were both too shadowed, too full of fear and distrust and echoes of things neither of them would name.
Whose fear? Liall asked himself. Is it really Scarlet you are trying to protect?
Scarlet’s hands touched Liall’s face, learning every curve and ridge. “Teach me how to say that.”
Liall shook his head, but he said it anyway. “T’aishka.”
Scarlet tried, mangling it. Liall smothered the word under another kiss and his hands went under Scarlet’s arms, lifting. Scarlet stood up, dripping and dazed, and—Liall saw plainly—very much affected by the kiss. Liall grabbed an Rshani-sized towel from the bunk and wrapped Scarlet into it. It engulfed his small frame like a blanket.
Liall steered him toward the bunk. “Get under the covers quickly,” he advised. The cabin was still very chilly.
Scarlet scrubbed his wet hair with the towel and climbed into the bunk. Liall rubbed a shaky hand over his face and glanced to the door. He seriously considered fleeing.
Scarlet moved part of the thick covers aside and looked up at Liall. “I’d be warmer with you beside me.”
He is so beautiful, Liall thought, unspoiled and almost painfully young, flushed with drink and clean desire, and wanting me. He does want me.
His last reserve of resistance crumbled, and he climbed carefully into the bunk.