by Kirby Crow
Scarlet’s glance was mischievous. “This is hardly fair. You’re still wearing all your clothes.”
“Not for long,” Liall said roughly. He tugged his shirt up over his head and tossed it aside.
Now he could feel Scarlet’s skin against his own, and he moaned at the shock that raced through his body, like static in the air on a cold, dry day. Shifting his knees onto the bed, Liall prowled over Scarlet’s body. He kept them apart, over him but not touching him, supporting himself on his arms, his entire body drawn tight with tension, his nerves flitting like a hummingbird. He thought he saw a shadow of fear in Scarlet’s face for a moment.
“Only touching,” Liall promised.
Scarlet tried not to look relieved, but Liall was watching him too closely. He saw it in the way Scarlet’s shoulders lost that squared set and his back settled against the mattress, the way his knees moved apart willingly as Liall carefully settled down to lie upon him. Liall supported some of his weight on his elbows and was careful not to let his belt buckle scratch Scarlet’s skin.
Scarlet shivered a little, either from cold or excitement.
“Are you cold again?” Liall whispered, brushing Scarlet’s lips with his own. “I shall warm you.” That lavish mouth the color of rose petals, so sinful a mouth, yet he tasted like innocence and clean water. Liall kissed him deeply, sealing their mouths together as the waves sighed and rolled. Scarlet melted into it, his arms winding around Liall’s neck, holding on as Liall kissed him long and thoroughly. When they finally drew apart, Scarlet was shaking.
“Is this...?” Liall could not finish the thought.
Scarlet nodded, quick and breathless, and sought Liall’s mouth again. Scarlet’s lips were parted and eager, and Liall pressed forward with his tongue, luxuriating in the feel of being close at last. Scarlet was here with him, and there was no anger or insults between them, no fear or shying away from the truth. Liall slipped his hand between their bodies and grasped stretched, silken flesh.
Scarlet gasped. His hips pushed up to meet Liall’s hand, and he began to make small noises in his throat, sucking eagerly on Liall’s tongue.
Liall very gently eased his hand away and began to undo his belt and the line of buttons at the front of his breeches. Scarlet tried to pull back a little to see what he was doing.
“Only touching,” Liall reassured in a whisper as he flicked aside the last button and freed his cock, which was already hard and aching. Scarlet could surely feel him, even if he could not see, and the pedlar gave a low, shuddering moan as Liall wrapped his hand around both of their members, stretching his fingers to fit, and began to stroke them off together.
Something was expanding in Liall’s chest, a hollow space that was being filled with the scent of sun-warmed skin and shining black hair, eyes dark as jet yet never cold: a red-hooded pedlar with the pride and fire of a king, a boy with the courage of a man.
“I love you,” Liall gasped in Scarlet’s ear, his mouth to Scarlet’s cheek. “Oh, gods, I love you!”
Scarlet’s hands gripped Liall’s shoulders hard just before the younger man shuddered violently and came hotly over Liall’s fingers with a startled shout, his release spilling over and slicking Liall’s hand. Scarlet’s seed eased the way for Liall and he moved his hand faster, harder. For the first time in years, Liall spent in less than a minute, crying out loudly as his hips jerked and he striped Scarlet’s belly with his release.
After a while, the world righted itself again, and Liall looked down to see Scarlet staring at him with wide, astonished eyes.
“What?” Liall whispered. He reached up and traced wet fingers over Scarlet’s mouth. He felt as tender now as he had fierce a moment earlier. This one had his heart, no doubting it. He wondered if Scarlet truly knew how much that frightened him, how much the warm ache in his chest made him want to run from Scarlet as if the young man were a demon after his soul.
“I didn’t...” Scarlet’s throat moved as he swallowed and blinked. “I didn’t know it would be like this.”
For a moment, Liall was terrified. He began to lift himself up.
“No,” Scarlet said quickly, his arms going around Liall’s back. “Stay. I just...” he took a deep breath. “I don’t have the words, Liall. I don’t know how to say what you make me feel.”
Liall kissed him softly, touched but fearful yet. “But I pleased you?”
Scarlet’s grin was genuine and a little sheepish. “Oh, yes. A lot. You?”
“You may as well ask me if I like to breathe air.”
Scarlet’s brows drew together, puzzling that out for a moment. Liall poked him in the ribs. “Don’t be a ninny,” he said, borrowing one of Scarlet’s phrases. “I loved it. I love you.” His head was still swimming. Dangerous. Oh, it was dangerous. “I love you. Right now, I love just about everything.”
They laughed and they kissed, and later Liall pleasured Scarlet again with his hand and showed him what more there was to loving, touching his tongue to Scarlet’s nipples as the young man strained and thrust up into his fist. Scarlet insisted on undressing Liall fully and doing the same for him, more slowly this time. Scarlet’s young face was very serious and intent as he studied Liall’s reactions and stroked and learned the golden-hued, powerful body, pressing kisses to Liall’s mouth and throat until Liall was lost in the sweetness of it, still frightened of the warm feeling in his chest. They fell asleep wrapped around each other, the creaking of timbers and the flutter of the candle flame lulling worry to rest and their minds to sleep.
Liall woke in the night and listened to the sea and the sounds of the ship. Scarlet was warm against him, and he remembered what had happened between them, the things that were said and the promise that their bodies had made.
What was I thinking of?
You were thinking of a life before this one, he told himself. Of two lives, actually: one where you lived in Rshan as an honorable man, and another where you were a lawless Kasiri bandit in Byzantur. Neither life was particularly worth living. This new life —this new beginning—will be with Scarlet, and this time, you will not fail. You will not be arriving in Rshan the same numbed and shattered man who left those shores. You will not be Liall the Wolf, either.
Who will I be?
He drowsed with that question circling his mind like a shark in dangerous waters.
Nine days later, sailing on a fair sea through a blue, frozen dawn, the quartermaster sighted land. They had arrived in Rshan na Ostre.
7.
The Land of Night
The day they sailed into port was a twilight day, as the last few weeks had been, and snowing heavily. Scarlet hardly noticed, he was so amazed by the city.
It’s like something out of the ancient tales, he thought.
It was a city coiled like a white dragon on the edges of the harbor, woven of magic and blue flame, with scales of snow and fangs of ice, narrow streets winding like a serpent’s tail, and tall, carved buildings thrusting up like horns, with towers and misty spires in the distance. A sapphire-blue glow seemed to hover over both the harbor and the city beyond.
Scarlet stood beside Liall and stared, his jaw hanging open. “Is it real?” he asked stupidly.
“Too real for me,” Liall said. His fingers brushed down Scarlet’s arm.
Scarlet leaned into him, liking the touch, but Liall sounded sad. “What’s this place called?”
“Nau Karmun,” Liall said. His tone was strange.
“Is this your home?” Scarlet ventured further.
“Yes. And no,” Liall answered. “It has not been my home for many years. This is the realm of Kalas Nauhin, the South Kingdom, which holds the great and elegant cities of Uzna, Sul, and Nau Karmun, as well as the court of Camira Druz. To the northeast is Fanorl Nauhin, and much further north—beyond the Greatrift—is a barren place where there are only wild tribes and savage places without name.”
Scarlet was astonished. Not one but two Rshani peoples. “Are they your enemies?” he asked, his
interest greatly piqued.
Liall shifted a glance to Qixa, who stood nearby. “Again; yes and no. There has been war between us, and we have killed one another, yet we are bound together. There is much between us that cannot be set aside.”
The ship dropped anchor and a number of skiffs left the wharf and began moving across the water toward them. Liall watched silently for a while before looking down at Scarlet.
“Do you see the great stone gate there, just beyond that line of buildings? That is the entrance to the city proper. That is where we will go.” His hand tightened on Scarlet’s arm. “It is where I will, again, pledge my word for you.”
“Oh,” Scarlet said, but he thought: Now what?
Liall discerned his anxiety. “No, t’aishka. This time you will be treated with respect. I swear it.”
Scarlet wondered if that were possible. He bit his lip and leaned into the gunwale until the first of the skiffs reached the ship. Liall took some minutes to bid farewell to Captain Qixa. They spoke back and forth in Sinha, and Liall’s voice was low and soft. He took off his glove and clasped arms with Qixa, and the bald captain beamed and bowed, very gratified. They parted and Qixa even spared a pleasant nod for Scarlet.
He’s probably just glad to see me go, Scarlet thought. The quartermaster’s eye caught his, and Scarlet nodded shortly.
“You made it, lenilyn!” the man called out, his bellowing laugh echoing over the deck.
Scarlet realized that he had sailed with the man for four months and never gotten his name. “What’s so funny?”
The quartermaster shook his head. “You were good luck for me, Byzan child. I made many coins betting on you. No one thought you would reach our shores alive!”
Scarlet shook his head and laughed with him. “Let that be a lesson to you, then!”
The quartermaster gave a cocky salute as Liall descended the rope ladder into the skiff, and then it was Scarlet’s turn. Climbing down was tricky stuff. The rope ladder swayed sickeningly with the motion of the brigantine, and the skiff seemed to be much further away now that he was over the side. He stopped and held on for a moment, his arms shaking with strain, before resuming his descent. Liall took hold of him when he was near the bottom, steadying him as he stepped off into the skiff.
Liall winked. “You’re almost a proper mariner now, little Byzan,” he said lowly.
“I’m not—”
“Little,” Liall finished. “I know.”
Scarlet decided Liall was patronizing him, and he gave the man a cross look as he sat on the wooden seat of the skiff, holding on grimly. Although he had long ago lost any trace of his former seasickness, he would never really feel at home on the water. To Scarlet, water travel was something that just had to be endured in order to get from one place to another. He would never love it as Liall did.
Liall patted Scarlet’s knee before falling silent, and the skiff began to scull away from the hull of the brigantine, the oarsmen pulling with strong strokes and chanting in time.
Scarlet reached out and touched the smooth, cold wood of the Ostre Sul, giving a silent thanks to the vessel for carrying him so far from home and bringing him safe to shore. He also spared a prayer for Deva, which he had forgotten to do for days now, and as he was looking up to the sky, he caught a last glimpse of Oleksei’s stony face before the water bore them away. Shivering in the cold, Scarlet added a prayer that he would never see that particular Rshani ever again.
The wind off the water was bitter, even with the woolen cap and the heavy coat Liall had given him to wear over his red jacket. The dark-faced oarsmen chanted in Sinha as they rocked and bumped their way into the harbor. The skiff crew looked at him now and then with curious eyes. No hostility, which was a welcome change.
Liall grew tenser as they neared the wharf, and his arm went around Scarlet and tightened like steel. Scarlet squirmed a little when it became uncomfortable, and Liall started, as if he had forgotten Scarlet was there. Scarlet put his gloved hand in Liall’s, reckoning that the atya was facing old demons here.
“T’aishka,” Liall murmured and tangled his long fingers with Scarlet’s briefly before moving his hand away. Liall did not speak again until after they arrived on solid ground and began walking through the crowded pier.
“Keep close,” Liall murmured with a warning glance. “Do not say a word.”
They navigated the crowds of workers and mariners, their heads down, speaking to no one, but there were stares. A younger mariner clad in fur and leather pointed at Scarlet and said something rather loud. Heads turned. Someone pointed to Scarlet’s dark hair and quite clearly said the word lenilyn, provoking more stares and comments, and then Liall was thrusting Scarlet behind their escort with a curse and pulling his cap down tighter over his black hair.
Scarlet was shivering nonstop when they arrived at a great stone gate, which led into an enormous corridor, lined with guards. Liall paused in front of it, hesitating, then set his jaw and led the way inside.
As they walked along the wide path with its foreign traceries set into the stone, Scarlet found himself wondering what it must be like for Liall, coming home again after so long, being unsure of his welcome or even his safety, and what was so dreadful that Liall would not even speak of it. Scarlet was not sure how long Liall had been away from Rshan, only that Liall was not so very much older than him, so it could not have been more than ten years or so.
There’s so much I don’t know about him, he thought. And not for lack of asking. Why does he guard his past so closely, and what is he afraid of?
Some way into the corridor, they came to a group of soldiers dressed in warm wool with fur ruffs around their collars, much like the one Scarlet had first seen Liall wearing at the Kasiri camp. They were very well-armed.
Liall seemed to grow even taller. He took off his right glove, and Scarlet saw the glimmer of silver in the torchlight. It was a ring made of silver and sapphire, one that Scarlet had not seen Liall wear before. Liall held his right hand out to the hard-faced soldier who approached him, speaking in commanding tones, words that Scarlet did not understand either in sense or intonation. He wondered where the ring had come from and why Liall had kept it hidden. Scarlet watched as the soldier’s stolid expression changed to one of uncertainty and shocked respect. The soldier bowed his head to Liall.
Scaja was right, Scarlet thought in awe, not only well-born, but well-known. Liall’s family name must carry a lot of weight here. That must be what the ring is for.
The astonished soldier stepped back and another, younger man pushed forward. He was not dressed like the soldiers, but wore fine robes of blue accented with silver and a sunburst medallion of office on his shoulder. He had a kind face and handsome features, evident even through his surprise.
“Jochi,” Liall said with perfect calm.
The young man went to one knee and bowed low before speaking rapidly and intently. Liall acknowledged the kneeling man’s words with a single, curt nod of his head.
“Come, Scarlet,” he said in Bizye, his words a cloak of quiet dignity. “Transport awaits us.”
On his feet again, the man Liall had addressed as Jochi gave Scarlet a startled glace and looked like he was going to make trouble. Scarlet heard the word lenilyn again and there was a surge of hostility from the soldiers surrounding them. Liall said something sharp, his voice like the lash of a whip, and got another bow from the soldiers before Jochi led them through the rest of the corridor. They stepped out into the snowy twilight again, but the wind was less. That was a great relief to Scarlet, whose feet and hands were quite numb. The healing scar on his cheek throbbed with the cold.
Their transport was a strange contraption, like a child’s sled, only made larger and with a body like Scarlet had seen on carriages in the capital of Byzantur. This one had real glass in the carriage windows, not shutters, and it was all agleam with polished black wood and bright brass runners.
“What is it?” he asked Liall quietly, thinking how much Scaja woul
d have liked to have seen this thing. Being the son of a wainwright, he was no less awed than Scaja would have been. Scarlet wanted to share this with Liall, but the man was far away, his expression distant.
“It is called a sleigh.”
“Slain?” Scarlet ventured, but Liall shook his head with annoyance.
One of the tall soldiers opened the door to the carriage and bowed. Liall nudged Scarlet’s shoulder, indicating that he should go first, ignoring the surprise on the soldier’s face.
The interior was luxurious with furs and cushions piled high on a sort of bed or couch against the rear housing. The door closed and the sleigh began to move forward. Now that they were alone, Liall drew Scarlet close to his side and began to pull the furs over them both.
“We have a long way to ride,” Liall explained softly. He rubbed Scarlet’s arms, and then took his other glove off to touch Scarlet’s face. “You are so cold.”
“Where are we going?”
Liall ignored the question and rubbed Scarlet’s hands through the gloves. “How do your toes feel?”
“Numb,” Scarlet confessed. “Stop fretting.”
Liall frowned, but obeyed. Between body heat and the furs, Scarlet was soon much warmer. He did not recognize what kind of beast the furs might be taken from, but they were silky soft and obviously costly. Some were black and some were of a bluish gray that he had never seen before, and very large. He could not imagine the animal it had once graced. “Where are we going?” he asked again.
“To my home.”
That was not informative, but again, Scarlet reckoned with Liall’s demons and began to poke around the inside of the carriage. There was a door on either side of the contraption, and he leaned forward and peered through the little window on his side. It looked like they were passing tenements and warehouses, very like to what one would see in the port of Ankar, but sturdier and much cleaner. Huddled figures stood bunched around small fires near the waterline, their hands held out for warmth. Workers, no doubt.