by Ash Stinson
“I’m sure he didn’t mean it…”
“He did mean it.”
“I’m sure he’s going to forgive you, and he’s not going to be mad anymore…”
“What difference will it make? The damage is already done.”
“He didn’t really mean it. Don’t—Raet, please don’t be sad.”
Raettonus sighed and crossed his arms. “I should never have taken Kimohr Raulinn’s offer,” he said sullenly. “I should never have let him bring Sir Slade back to life.”
Brecan’s eyes widened. “Don’t say something like that,” he said. “Raet, you love Slade; why would you say that?”
“I think it would’ve been better for both of us if he’d stayed dead,” Raettonus mumbled. Clouds were beginning to roll in from the south, blotting out the starlight. “I would rather he know me as a pure, innocent young man, the way I was when he died. It’s too bad that that young man died the day he did.”
“Raet…”
Raettonus turned back to Brecan, but wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I really am a monster now,” he said quietly. “It…it’s physically painful to me that Slade sees this. What’s worse is… Well, I don’t think I even want to change, to be a better person. Not even for him.”
Chapter Fourteen
Raettonus was on his way back down to his cell when he came across General Diahsis drunkenly staggering along a little-used hallway. His face lit up as he caught sight of Raettonus. Leaning against a wall for support he called out, “Magician! Well met! Come over here and talk with me awhile.” His words weren’t at all slurred, but his face was red with drink, and his eyes had an unfocused look about them.
“It’s late,” Raettonus told him. “I’d really rather not.”
“Oh, please, Magician?” he begged. “Come here. Let’s talk. We never talk, you and I, and I should like very much to get to know you. Please?”
Raettonus sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said, crossing his arms. “For a bit. I guess.”
“Oh, good!” said Diahsis with a smile. He pushed himself away from the wall and stumbled sideways a few steps before Raettonus caught him. The general laughed and wrapped one arm around Raettonus’ narrow shoulders. “You’re stronger than you look, aren’t you?”
“A lot stronger,” agreed Raettonus. “You really shouldn’t be walking around. You’re going to fall and crack your head open. Not that that wouldn’t be completely hilarious.”
“Right, then,” said Diahsis, looking around. He pointed toward a door a little up the hallway. “Let’s go have a seat in there and talk a bit then.”
Raising an eyebrow, Raettonus looked toward the door Diahsis had indicated. “And what’s in there?” he asked.
“I don’t know!” exclaimed Diahsis. He laughed again. “We’ll find out when we get there. It’s like an adventure!”
Raettonus sighed and started toward the room, helping Diahsis along. “You are very drunk,” he said. “How many glasses of wine did you have?”
“I don’t know. It’s not as though I were counting. Oh, hold on.”
He broke away from Raettonus and staggered backward a few steps before turning, doubling over, and promptly retching on the floor. Straightening up, he wiped the vomit from his lips with the back of his hand.
“Lovely,” muttered Raettonus.
“I feel much better now,” Diahsis said, walking unevenly back toward Raettonus. He laid his arm again on the magician’s shoulders. “What were we talking about?”
Raettonus shook his head and helped the general to the door. “Nothing at all,” he said, turning the knob and flinging it open. The room was small, containing only a low table. Dust hung heavy on the tabletop and the floor, and the torches sat in their sconces unburnt. Raettonus ran his fingers across the tops of the torches, and flames sprang to life upon them. He eased the general carefully down onto the table and took a seat beside him.
“This is good,” said Diahsis, looking around. “This is a good room. I like it.”
“You like it?” asked Raettonus incredulously. “There’s nothing in here. What could you possibly like about it?”
“It’s a good room,” said Diahsis. “It’s just…good. It’s good.”
“That’s not a reason,” Raettonus said.
With a chuckle and a dashing smile, Diahsis leaned his head against Raettonus’ shoulder and looked up at him. “You’re very handsome, Magician,” he said. “You’re a handsome magician. Could you show me a magic trick?”
“I’m not a trained monkey,” Raettonus replied, scowling. “I don’t do tricks on command.”
“Oh, please, Magician?” he asked. He rested one hand on Raettonus’ thigh. “Pretty please? I’d love to see you do some magic for me.”
Raettonus sighed. “You’re just going to keep asking if I say no again, aren’t you?”
Diahsis nodded. “I’m very persistent, Magician,” he said. “It’s really my best quality. Ha, well, persistence and handsomeness. My two best qualities. My third best quality is being charming. So will you do a trick for me, Magician?”
“Fine,” said Raettonus. “I suppose I’ll show you some magic.”
“Really? Oh, good!” said Diahsis, clasping his hands together against his chest. “Oh, I’m excited! What are you going to do?”
“God, you just chatter like a parakeet, don’t you?” Raettonus muttered. “Just be quiet and watch, could you?”
“Quiet and watch—I can do that. I’m good at watching, do it all the time.”
“That may be, but you are clearly not very good at quiet.” Raettonus let out a frustrated sigh and shook his head. He stretched out one arm and reached into that holding space between worlds. His fingers ran across a little leather journal and he closed them around it. When he withdrew his hand from the space the journal came with him, and he showed it to Diahsis.
“Oh, what’s that?” asked Diahsis, plucking it out of Raettonus’ grasp.
“A journal,” Raettonus answered, reaching for it. Diahsis merely pulled the journal farther away. “The magic trick was making it appear. The journal isn’t important. May I have it back?”
Diahsis flipped through the pages. “Whose is it? I can’t read this writing. You have terrible penmanship.”
Raettonus managed to grab hold of the journal and jerk it away. “You can’t read it because it’s French, you idiot,” he said.
“Ah. Well, here I was thinking I might be drunker than I thought,” said Diahsis with a laugh. “French. That’s good to know. Is it your journal, Magician?”
“No, it isn’t,” Raettonus said, replacing the little leather-bound book in the place between worlds. “It’s Sir Slade’s.”
“Ah! The man with the glowing eyes, right?” said Diahsis. “He’s a handsome fellow, isn’t he?”
“Mm. I suppose so.”
“He has a nose almost just the same as my late lover,” Diahsis said with a sigh. “Rysah—that was my lover’s name. He died.”
“Fascinating,” said Raettonus flatly. “Actually, I don’t really care about your lover or his nose.”
“He was handsome,” Diahsis said, paying Raettonus no mind. “And he was smart too. So smart. He had all these books, and he spoke all these languages… He was enormous, too—just massive. Six and half foot, or maybe a little taller. He’s dead now.”
“So you said.”
“Did I? Oh… Well, he’s dead,” said Diahsis. “I burned his body in Virsah. There’s this big statue of Cykkus at the temple there, and that’s where we did it.”
“Entrancing,” said Raettonus, rolling his eyes. “Really, now, are we done with this?”
Diahsis shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know,” he said. “I guess so. We can talk of something else, I guess. Oh, like dragons! I almost killed a dragon… Almost. Next time, I will kill it. I’ll land the finishing blow. I’ll be magnificent. You should be there, Magician. You should see me.”
“I’m not interested in hunting dragon
s,” Raettonus told him bluntly.
“But, dragons, Magician!” said Diahsis, leaning his face into Raettonus’ shoulder. The cloth of the magician’s tunic muffled his words. “Dragons. They’re enormous, and they have these claws that just—that crush stone, and they do not feel fear.”
“And what is your point?” Raettonus asked. “Those are bad reasons to hunt dragons. There really aren’t any good reasons, since it’s so much more trouble than it’s worth.”
“Worth? Ha!” Diahsis sighed contently. “Magician, I can’t really tell you the worth of killing a dragon if you don’t already understand it. But… But it’s… Have you faced down a dragon? It gets your whole body going—all the blood and the sweat and the heat, just moving around your body. It’s like being on fire.”
“I’ve been on fire, actually. Pretty regularly in fact. I was on fire earlier today, come to think,” Raettonus said. “I can tell you, you probably couldn’t imagine what being on fire is like. You should go talk to my servant Rhodes. He could tell you.”
Diahsis frowned for a moment. “Rhodes?” he asked. “Ah, never mind it. Tell me, Magician, why won’t you come work for me? Help me take Zylekkha?”
“I’ve already told you,” Raettonus said tiredly. “I have no interest in your war.”
“That’s why we’d pay you—pay you to take an interest in it,” said Diahsis. “Come, now, Magician, be a little reasonable.”
“I’m being perfectly reasonable,” Raettonus told him flatly. “You tell me, General. Just why should I care who rules Zylekkha? I mean, whether it’s the Zylekkhan king sitting the throne here or the Tahlehson king, it has nothing to do with me. King Shalrish, King Saemohr—I’m going to outlive the both of them, you know, and probably their whole goddamn dynasties. Why should I care about this skirmish?”
“It’s more than a skirmish,” scoffed Diahsis. “This is a war bards will sing of for ages to come. They’ll tell stories about it, Magician. Stories. I’m going to be in those stories too. I’m going to be a hero. They’re going to sing about me like they sing about Daebrish. They’re going to paint me and hang my portraits up on walls.”
“Sounds fantastic,” Raettonus replied flatly. “A good thing you’ve got going, certainly. Just a shame that’s not actually going to happen.”
“Of course it’ll happen. I’ll make it happen,” Diahsis said, an easy smile on his full lips. “I’m going to be so absolutely breathtaking that they’ll have to be crazy not to sing my praises. I’m going to make the world shake, Magician. I’m going to make the sky rain blood. I’m going to make myself a god in mortal flesh. Just you wait, Magician. You’re going to see me reborn as a deity. Everywhere they’ll hear my name and—and they’ll put up little shrines for me in their houses so they can worship me every morning and night.”
Raettonus cocked one eyebrow. “You have some pretty powerful delusions.”
With a laugh, Diahsis closed his eyes and resettled his face against Raettonus’ shoulder so his lips brushed against the blond man’s neck. “They aren’t delusions, Magician,” he said softly. “I met a fortune teller once in Nuntah, out on the swamps. She threw salt into a fire and read the flames. She read the flames for me, and the flames told her I was bound for greatness beyond measure. Kaeriaht himself told her I would be great—he told her with the flames. Do you want to doubt those flames, Magician? Doubt Kaeriaht? I’m not going to.”
“Kaeriaht,” scoffed Raettonus. “Honestly, I’m not convinced your fire god exists. I’m not convinced any of your gods exist, really…except Kimohr Raulinn. That one I will concede.”
“Ha, I’m not sure they exist either,” said Diahsis, smiling broadly. “Still, the fire told the fortune teller I was going to be great. Fire doesn’t lie, Magician.”
“Fortune tellers lie,” Raettonus said flatly. “In fact, they pretty much always lie. Hate to be the one to break it to you, General, but she was only telling you what you wanted to hear.”
With a soft laugh and another winning smile, Diahsis said, “Oh, Magician, you’re really very cynical, aren’t you? You don’t think it’s at all that she was telling me the truth? That the truth just happens to also be what I wanted to hear?”
“Is that what you think? Really?”
“Of course,” said Diahsis. He let out a little sigh of contentment. “You’re very warm, Magician. Like a blanket that’s been slept in. Very warm.”
“I’m full of fire.”
“Mm, it’s nice,” said Diahsis. He pressed himself closer against Raettonus and half opened his eyes. “Will you show me more magic?”
“No,” Raettonus said. “You didn’t appreciate the last trick. I’m not doing any more of them.”
“I did! I did appreciate it—I did,” Diahsis insisted. He nudged Raettonus’ ribs softly. “Come on, Magician. Do another trick for me. Oh, please? I never get to meet powerful, handsome magicians like you. Just one more trick? Please?”
Raettonus sighed and looked down at the half-elf general leaned against him. “What is your obsession with magic tricks? I mean, really?” he said. “You know who asks to see magic tricks when they find out I’m a magician? Children. Children do that. Grown men do not.”
“I like magic. What’s wrong with that? It’s so…out of the ordinary,” Diahsis said with a lethargic shrug of one toned shoulder. “Please, Magician? Just show me some magic. Just once more, and I won’t bother you again about it the rest of the night.”
“Or I could just go ahead and leave and not have to hear any more from you or act like it’s my responsibility to be your own personal entertainer. Honestly, leaving is by far the more tempting choice.”
Diahsis frowned and wrapped his arm around Raettonus’. “No, never mind then,” he said quickly. “Don’t leave. I…I’ll be quiet about that. We’ll just go back to talking…”
“I don’t know. Leaving still sounds preferable.”
“No, no—sit, stay some more,” Diahsis said. He held Raettonus’ arm tightly. “Please stay some more. I promise not to ask for any more magic tricks.”
“All right. Fine,” said Raettonus reluctantly. “I guess I’ll stay awhile longer.”
Diahsis smiled. “Wonderful,” he said, loosening his grip on Raettonus’ arm. The general’s hand found its way back down to the magician’s thigh. “That’s good. Good. I…I wouldn’t want you to leave, Magician. I want to talk to you. I…” He frowned and furrowed his brow. “There aren’t really any other people here I can really talk to—not as equals. They’re all below me, you know. Soldiers don’t want to hold a chat with their superiors, you know.”
“Don’t want to talk to you? Couldn’t imagine why,” Raettonus said dryly.
The general ignored the comment, though whether purposefully or merely because he had been too wrapped up in his own thoughts to hear it, Raettonus couldn’t tell. “It’s a lot lonelier than you’d think it’d be, being a general,” said Diahsis. He stared vacantly at one of the torches on the wall. “You’d think it wouldn’t be. A general is a powerful man, after all. Certainly everyone loves a powerful man. People flock to him, certainly. They do flock to him—but it’s just birds flocking to a statue. They don’t come to the statue to admire the art of it. They just want to stand up on its shoulders for a while. People don’t flock to a general except to stand on his shoulders.”
“What did you expect?” asked Raettonus. “That everyone would like you because you’re the top dog? That’s not how hierarchy works. No one at the bottom of the pyramid hangs around the people at the top because they like them. They hang around to look good.”
“I’m so tired of being all alone, Magician,” Diahsis said, and his voice was barely a whisper. “Everyone around me is just waiting to use me up and toss me away. Gods above—I try my best to be amiable to these people, and all they do is plot to use me as a stepping-stone. I just want to make friends. I…” Suddenly, he let out a cold, joyless laugh. “I don’t have any friends, Magician. Isn’t that someth
ing? I try my hardest to be likeable, and yet have no friends. Gods, I haven’t had friends since I joined the army, really. Before that, even. Isn’t that something?”
Raettonus frowned at looked down at Diahsis, still nestled against his neck. “What were you expecting?” he asked. “An elf like you joining up with centaurs? You’re a blood traitor. No wonder no one wants to be your friend. The centaurs are always going to look down on you, you know, for being an elf. No matter how high you rise, they’re going to look down their noses at you. Any idiot could see that.”
With a wistful sigh, Diahsis raised his gaze to meet Raettonus’ eyes. “I know it seems very silly of me to even try to earn their respect,” he said. “Still, I can’t help but think… Well, at some point, they’re going to see how amazing I am. They’re going to have to. When this war is done, I fully expect King Saemohr to put me on the Zylekkhan throne, Magician. Unlike all the others, he understands that I am clever and strong and loyal. I am devoted to my king—utterly devoted—and he understands that. He’s going to put me on the throne here. He’s going to see how hard I’ve worked for him, and he’s going to reward me for it.”
“You can’t be serious,” said Raettonus, shaking his head. “God—you just lie to yourself until you believe it, don’t you?”
“I don’t lie to myself,” said Diahsis. “King Saemohr is going to reward me for all the sweat and blood I’ve given him. He will. I’m going to be king in Zylekkha and then…”
“And then what?” asked Raettonus. “What problems do you think it’ll solve, having a crown and a title? That’s all it will be, you know—just a title. So do you think being king is going to be any less lonely for you than being general?”
“I think—”
“It’s not going to be, and you’re a fool if you’re deluding yourself otherwise,” Raettonus said.
Diahsis closed his mouth and was silent for a long time. Finally, he said in a quiet voice that was more like the voice of a scared child than of a soldier, “I really have to try. I need to see. Maybe…maybe if I just get a little higher up, things are going to get better.”