by Lee Abrey
“It’s good to see you,” he said. “This fella’s a beauty.” It was as if I was frozen and suddenly thawed. I smiled. “Hey,” he said, “are you alright?” Azrael looked well. His good looks were maturing and becoming less pretty, the dragon-claw scar on his cheek adding a masculine edge. His blue eyes, like a starfield on a bed of sapphire, were still the same. He was tanned, arms bare, showing the now-white scarring where Aunt Kristen had nearly taken his hand, the day she turned into a dragon and almost killed both of us.
I reached down, touched his shoulder. He seemed to be real. My hand looked like a ghost’s, a badly-bandaged, bloody ghost with bits of twig and leaf stuck all over it. I shook myself.
“Hey,” I said, “I am now. Let me get rid of my baggage here. Oh, and meet Fire, he’s a full brother to Magpie.”
“Gods, Polo, what happened?” I didn’t realise he was looking at me.
“Bad luck,” I said, shrugging, “Blaze put his foot in a rabbit hole and Jansen headed a tree.”
“Not a Sriaman?” said Azrael, sounding almost disappointed. I smiled at the ghost-Azrael.
“He’s not been disembowelled,” I said, “then tied up with wire and his own entrails and roasted alive over a fire. So no.” Azrael recoiled in horror for a moment then pulled himself together.
Suddenly I was struck by the notion that he wasn’t a ghost. Azrael was really here? Gods, I didn’t need this, not now. Civilians. In five weeks I’d be one again. “The morgue’s just over here,” I said, heading that way and relying on routine until I figured out what was going on.
“I meant what happened to you?” Azrael said. “You’re bleeding. From a few places.” I looked at myself. I did seem to have a lot of blood on me.
“Oh,” I said, “aye, nothing major. A Sriaman shot me.” I laughed. “Nowhere near as bad as what your Aunt Kristen did to me.” He grinned.
“Your aunt too, we discussed this.” Through my mother’s family I was related to King Theo, Kristen’s putative father and Azrael’s putative grandfather, so Kristen was possibly more my aunt than his, seeing Crown Prince Azrael Westwych of Sendren wasn’t quite the son of who they thought he was. Not that I had ever mentioned that to Azrael, because his real father had promised to tell him.
Azrael’s black hair was cropped short. A good sign, he wasn’t rebelling and growing it long. I dreaded to think what I looked like. Covered in dust, leaves and blood. When a man’s been scared a lot, it shows in his face. “Idiot,” he said, and I realised I was staring at him, wondering if I would ever be that clean again, “you need to get to the infirmary.”
“Probably,” I said, grinning, “horses first.”
“And dead bodies,” he said.
“Aye. Come to think of it, morgue first, or I have to carry the body. Then armouries.”
Azrael followed me, to the morgue, armoury, and stables. Blaze went to the vets’ there and Fire to his stall, with a word to the grooms to see to his hooves and forelegs in case he’d done damage trying to take that tree down. I remembered to arrange extra carrots and made a quick fuss of the big chestnut, including handing over some mints, which he snaffled happily.
We walked to the admin building, me knowing they’d hate me bleeding in there. Being right-handed and dripping blood on their counter, I was let off writing the report and processed quickly. I explained Jansen’s death while a clerk took notes, then we walked to the infirmary. Thankfully it was quiet and I was seen straightaway. They cleaned the wounds, then I was stitched while Azrael and I made small-talk, me trying not to wince at the pain, which had suddenly come on with a vengeance. I did learn that Azrael did well in the Military Guild final exams but decided not to join the army. My parents sent their love.
“Anyway,” I said, as we walked out together, “I’m unfit, so off for a few days. Are you around for a while?” He nodded. “I’ll need a shower, obviously. Want to meet me in the-” I was about to say non-com’s mess, but there would be muttering. Not so much because he was a prince, but because he was a Military Guild graduate. In their eyes, one of those commissioned officer snobs. “To be honest, not sure where we can socialise.” I grimaced. The base colonel was cousin to us both. I could try getting a pass out. “Can you come to the town?” I said.
“I already checked with the commanding officer here,” he said, “you have leave.” He waved a chit at me. I grabbed it. He wasn’t kidding. A pass for me, signed by the colonel. Twenty-four hours. “I have special permission to drag you into town and take you drinking.”
“How did you wangle that?” I said. Azrael looked smug.
“His mother’s a cousin to Theo and he’s hoping to join my army when the time comes. At a higher rank, thanks to this favour.” I laughed.
“The Westwych connection,” I said, and he grinned.
“Got you a duchy,” he said, and nudged me with an elbow, “it’s not all bad. Pretty deserved, most of it.” He pulled out a pipe. “Want some before we go further?”
“Aye,” I said, “thanks for the stuff you’ve sent, we all appreciated it. I even shared with the officers.” A vaguely-familiar civilian approached us, very slim and effeminate.
“You remember Hiram Westwych,” said Azrael, “from Peterhaven?” I nodded. Another of the cousins, a brilliant artist and very highly-strung. Last I heard he was in the asylum after a breakdown. Although quite likely mad, poor Hiram was so far only dangerous to himself.
“Aye, I do,” I said, “welcome to the north, Hiram.” We shook hands and Hiram nodded and smiled, looking shy.
“So what brings you here?” I said to Azrael.
“This is in the nature of a state visit,” he said, shrugging. “I have a Royal Artist,” he said, nodding to Hiram, “a full complement of bodyguards, including yours, who’ve come up for the visit, and assorted Hangers On who thought it would be fun to visit the front.” I tried to imagine the Peterhaven courtiers swanning about the front lines in their silks and jewels.
“Do you know what’s happened to Indigo?” I said. I only wanted to keep tabs on him. Know where your enemies are, that kind of thing. Azrael laughed. I wondered if I had that kind of laugh in me any more. Just throw my head back and laugh. In about five weeks, if I survived, I thought I could find it.
In the meantime, I was already tired of having to be polite. I wished Azrael hadn’t come. Getting through the last of my time was proving enough trouble. I let a Sriaman walk away. Had I gone mad like poor Hiram did that time?
“I beat Indigo in the guild results!” Azrael said, and I applauded. “He was furious! Although he did do well. You would have beaten him in the physical. His parents wouldn’t let him join the army in the end, married him off to a ladyship up in Panswell.” It all seemed so unimportant and petty. I smiled though, and pretended an interest.
“Married?” I said. “I thought he was gay.”
“So did Indigo,” said Azrael, which did make me laugh a little. Hiram was walking with us.
“Would you mind, Polo,” Hiram said suddenly, “if I sketched you?” I looked at him.
“Me?” I said, “Well, if you want to.” He gestured excitedly.
“It’s a painting I want to do,” he said, “I was there at the gate, you riding up all bloodied.” He framed me with his hands. “The body behind your saddle, the wounded horse.” He sighed happily. “Very evocative. I’d like to sketch the horses too.”
“I’m sure they won’t mind,” I said, “Fire, the big chestnut, he’s a show-off, and Blaze, the bay, he’s lame, so bored.”
“Would it be alright if I did the horses now,” said Hiram, “and meet you two at the tavern?”
“Um, sure,” I said, “or it can wait ‘til tomorrow? I’ve got a day off.”
“Oh,” said Hiram, “we’re only here for tonight, has to be today.” I looked at Azrael.
“Flying state visit,” he said, sounding evasive, “come on, Polo, you need to shower before I’m going anywhere with you. See you at the tavern, Hiram.”
Once I was showered and changed we stepped out into the humid night. Outside the fort Fenric and the bodyguards greeted me, but in the tavern they stayed back, keeping most others away so Azrael and I could talk. We ate first, a simple and filling curried mutton stew with flatbread. It mopped up the ale. We were just finishing when Hiram hurried in, did some sketches, then hurried out again saying his muse was calling him.
I was in shock and couldn’t focus on Azrael. I shouldn’t have come out. I wanted him gone. I’d lost my edge and was going to die. I managed not to say any of that out loud.
“So, what’s up?” I said, once Azrael and I were alone with another ale. He shrugged. “Come on,” I said, “something is. Or you wouldn’t be here.”
“You were always loyal to me first,” he said, drawing a pattern in the condensation on his glass. He looked at me, and those blue eyes with their scattering of stars were intense. I knew the look. It meant he was about to ask me something I might react to in interesting ways, so he was watching my reactions carefully. I steeled myself. “Has that changed?” he said. Oh, was that all? I thought I had sex with one of his lovers or something. I thought about it.
“I’m in the army,” I said, “so I’m loyal to that first or they hang me, but yes I’m still your friend. Or are you talking as a prince to a duke?” He nodded. “I’m a loyal subject of the Crown, Highness,” I said. He laughed.
“Gods, Polo, promise you won’t sire me all the time when I’m king?” I smiled.
“I promise.” Azrael grinned. Alright, so it was good to see him. I might even start to enjoy myself if I only knew what had happened with the Sriaman. Why had I let him go?
“I need you,” Azrael was saying, “as both a friend and loyal duke. I’m assuming that you’ll back me over my half-brother, providing I’m not being disloyal to the Crown?” I nodded, wondering what he was getting at.
“Young Perry tried to kill me,” I said, “well, the little worm didn’t even have the guts, tried to get others to do it for him. At least twice I know of. I’m not going to be his man, Azrael.” I shrugged. “It’s not like he could bribe me. He’s got nothing I need.”
Next to the king, I was the richest man in the kingdom, or would be if I lived to see Sendren again. Azrael was looking as if he had a surprise. I braced myself again.
“I’ve arranged for you to be given an honourable discharge,” he said. I blinked.
“You what?” I said. I was pretty sure I’d imagined him saying he’d arranged to get me out of the army. I smiled and took a mouthful of my ale. I had it bad.
End of a tour, men started going crazy. I was probably imagining this whole visit. He really was ghost-Azrael. Or hallucination-Azrael. Had I left the base without permission, imagining I had a pass?
No, the guards wouldn’t have let me out. Moreover, Azrael would never get permission to come to the front, or to take me away from it. So I had built some imaginary adventure around a legal pass. Maybe I was given one for being wounded. I might even be delirious in the infirmary.
“It’s only a few weeks early,” said imaginary-Azrael, “Sendren needs you. And I need you as my ally as we make a new dragon kingdom.” He seemed real, talking in ideas and emotions exactly like Azrael always did. Why was he speechifying at me?
“Is there something particular you want me to do?”
“Oh,” he said, “help me persuade Lilith to join us.” I laughed.
“Lilith and persuade don’t seem to belong in the same sentence.”
“Encourage,” he said, “call it what you like. Do what diplomats do.”
“Sorry,” I said, blinking again, “I’m a bit behind in this conversation. Did you say dishonourable discharge?” He shook his head.
“Honourable,” he said, and took a mouthful of ale. “Say the word and you’re out. Honourable discharge. Even an army pension.” I laughed and laughed. It felt good.
“Can you even do that?” I said. “Get me out?” He laughed too.
“Well aye,” he said, grinning, “I’ve done it.” He waved another chit. “Though it can be rescinded if you say no. You can finish your time as normal.” I took the paper, read it, and thought it over. I remembered the last time I gave in to Azrael’s pleas to be with him. I was supposed to say aye then he’d dump me in a fit of angst. Any minute now he’d make a pass at me, pouting and biting his bottom lip.
Though I’d said yes to him a few times when we were boys, I really was more into women than men. Even if I was gay, Azrael was a bit needy for my tastes. I didn’t need a prince with issues. Not when there were women with no issues at all to play with. And couples. I put the chit on the table. I looked at my beer, took a sip, and then looked back at him.
“Rescind it,” I said. I waved a hand, shooing imaginary Azrael and the impossible piece of paper away. “I’ll finish my tour. I don’t need you. Or your drama. You’re crazy. It’s bad enough you’re my king. Though I’ll grant you’re better than the opposition. Don’t worry about me there, because your half-brother is definitely more demented. Seriously, Azrael, there is no way I would come with you now.”
“What?” he said. His blue eyes were wide with surprise.
“You heard me,” I said, so angry I couldn’t breathe properly. “You want me round? Big deal. I’m busy.” I stood up. “I’ll see you down in Sendren.” I took a breath. “Haka willing. But after what you did, I don’t come running because you snap your fingers.” He stared at me.
“What I did?” he said, as if he’d forgotten completely. Sure, I thought, shaking my head, be vague over details, but how in the name of Haka could he forget completely? I’d just spent three years of my life surviving the results of the last time Azrael and I spent together. I frowned.
“Don’t you even remember? Well,” I said, and leaned down, “you begged me to be with you then you turned me away. Exactly like my bloody parents did all my bloody life. So no, I’m not going to come running when you call.” I walked out. Fenric and the others looked surprised as they watched me go. I was furious and so proud of myself.
About fifty feet down the street I stopped walking. I was ignoring a legal and safe way out of the army? For pride?
Of all the stupid reasons! Gods, I thought, I really was mad. Was I insane like Azrael? Did I have a death wish? Again or still? I should take up his offer even if I only said aye I’d help then dumped him once safe from army prosecution.
I sat down on a handy stone wall. I was a complete idiot. Still. Possibly always. My mouth felt dry. Had I learned nothing about self-preservation? About life? Was my answer to everything still no more developed than when at sixteen I had thought to run away and join a circus?
The wall was cool and solid under me. I knew I didn’t want to stay in the army. I found my pipe, fumbled some mindweed into it with my bandaged hand, and lit up.
A floozy approached, easy to pick thanks to her sashaying closer where an ordinary woman would keep walking quickly until she was past the cat’s-eyed soldier smoking in the dark.
“It’s a beautiful night,” she said, her voice a practised purr that didn’t hide the boredom, “want someone to share it with?”
“No thanks,” I said, barely seeing her. I was thinking I was an idiot and didn’t want to be disturbed. I relit my pipe.
“Come on, soldier,” she said, “I’ll make it good for you. You’re pretty, I’ll do you cheap.” She came up close and touched my arm. “Aw,” she said, gesturing to my bandaged hand, “you’re hurt.” I looked at her, and she froze. She was pretty herself and I guessed too young for the job.
Was there an age one could whore and not be marked? I’d known women, and men, who said they did it from enjoyment, but they were rare. Nearly all of them did it purely for the coin, and the man who pretended a floozy’s words meant more than a desire for a good tip was a fool, yet I’d met a number of men sure they were good lovers because women they paid for sex assured them they were the best they’d ever had.
“What are you,” I said, “fourteen but look older, especially in the shadows?” She recoiled as if I’d slapped her. “Do you need money?” I dug in my pockets. “Here.” I handed her a pocketful of coin including a gold. It was several weeks’ wages for a normal person, small change for me. I felt guilty at that.
“Go on,” I said, “find a new job. Maybe go south.” She took the money hungrily but sniffed at my advice. I sighed as she tripped off. What had I ever done to get where I was? Now I was getting a chance at life again. With my money and influence I could help kids like the floozy if I chose to, even end the war earlier and stop her town being part of a war zone. I was walking away from that opportunity because of pride?
I heard Azrael coming, bodyguards keeping back again. He sat next to me.
“You waited for me?” he said.
“I stopped to think.” I said honestly. “Decided I might be an idiot.” I passed him the pipe. “Especially when I tried to convert an under-age floozy away from whoring. Me? I was having sex when I was thirteen and loving every minute of it. I feel old and stupid.” I sighed. “Maybe I was a bit hasty in there.”
“I know I hurt you,” he said, and touched my leg briefly. “I’m sorry.” I tried to keep my voice down but let it all spill out.
“Hurt me?” I said, my voice cracking with emotion. “How long have we known each other? How long were you begging me to be with you as a lover? And the one time in over two years I give in to you, you go off on your gay angst bollocks again!” He grimaced. Then smiled.
“Gay angst bollocks.” He chuckled. “I’ve missed you. I messed it up, Polo,” he said, “our friendship. I know.”