by Unknown
When morning came, Renulf rose determined not to show his lack of sleep to Ozwyn. While Bazel remained in his room, Renulf returned to the scriptorium and resumed his work as usual. His head felt heavy and his vision seemed a bit blurred, but he pressed on as best he could.
"Our guest seems to be sleeping in." Ozwyn snorted with contempt as he entered to check on Renulf's progress. He moved slowly and spoke quietly, as though his head hurt. "He seems to have confused us with a roadside inn. No doubt he will expect his breakfast delivered to him when he deigns to open his eyes."
"I can take it to him," Renulf answered, realizing only after he'd said it that he had spoken unwisely and sounded too eager.
"Yes, no doubt you could. However, I will not have you waiting on him. Your duty is to me, however exotic and interesting you may find him."
"Yes, Master." Renulf lowered his head. He knew Bazel was most likely not sleeping but reviewing the translations he had prepared.
Ozwyn scowled as though he were turning something over in his mind. "By serving me, you are also serving the sanctuary and the legacy of Xir. Sometimes I wonder if you truly appreciate the importance of your work here." He waved his hand around the scriptorium. "One day, we will have a copy of all these volumes. We will find new acolytes to carry them away and store them in a safe place in another land, where the copying can begin again. Maybe one day, people will seek our wisdom again. Maybe one day they will listen."
"A worthy goal, Master," he said, seeing that Ozwyn was waiting for him to respond. "But how will we get them to listen then, if they will not do so now?"
"That is for later generations to discover. Our role must remain that of conveyers." Ozwyn glanced over his shoulder again as if expecting Bazel to appear in the hall, though he did not. "It's time he moved on," Ozwyn groused. "We don't need him disrupting our important work. You don't agree, do you?" he accused.
"I see no harm in letting him rest here for a few more days." Renulf tried to hide his blush, but it was too late. Ozwyn swooped down on him. Renulf hurried to concoct a reason. "And is it really so bad to have some contact with the larger world now and again? We are very isolated here."
"I suppose you think it's exciting having him here," he exploded in anger. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into! I am still suspicious of his motives. Trust me, Lord Bazel must go."
"You think he is here to harm us? After he saved our lives the first moment he arrived?"
"Did I say that? The outer world can be dangerous in many ways, not all of which are obvious. The earlier followers of Xir found that out long ago. That is why there are only a handful of us left—if that. Now get back to your work. I will tend to our guest myself. You are to have as little contact with him as possible from now on."
"Yes, Master." Renulf was not concerned, since Ozwyn would have no way of stopping their late-night work sessions as long as they were careful and discreet. He looked forward to learning more about Lord Bazel's mysterious scroll, but also to spending time with Bazel himself. He longed to understand the outside world, especially since Ozwyn seemed determined to keep him away from it. How fascinating it must be if Ozwyn considered it so dangerous and potentially corrupting. He bent back to his work, but he soon found himself making more mistakes than usual. Worse, he couldn't bring himself to care.
He counted the hours until dusk. A few times, he saw Bazel strolling around the courtyard and exercising his sword arm. Renulf longed to join him and ask him his opinion of the translations he had done so far. He hoped he would find a chance to whisper the question during the midday meal, but to his disappointment, Ozwyn brought a tray and a goblet of ale to the scriptorium and had him eat in the corner, away from the delicate manuscripts. Several more hours of work followed the hastily consumed meal. Once he resumed his laborious task, he saw no sign of Lord Bazel through the window.
At dinner, it was all he could do to keep his mouth full of food so he would not accidentally speak. He noticed that Ozwyn took much greater care with his wine this time, sipping from his goblet in moderation and refilling it far less often.
"I suppose you will be on your way soon?" Ozwyn asked Lord Bazel pointedly.
"I noticed some dark clouds over the forest," Bazel said casually after downing the last piece of bread. "I expect rain later tonight, and I prefer to wait until the storm passes. It will be at least another day or two … unless you want me to go now for some particular reason." He fixed Ozwyn with a challenging look.
"No, no," Ozwyn said. The portion of his cheeks visible under his hood turned pink. "We are delighted with your presence. We simply don't want to keep you if your mission—whatever it may be—is urgent."
"Have no fear about that," Bazel said. Renulf sensed Ozwyn's frustration at being unable to tease a more detailed answer from him. "It turns out I am much closer to accomplishing my mission than even I realized." He met Renulf's eyes then turned back to his meal with an air of innocence. Renulf worried that perhaps Ozwyn had noticed. If he had, though, he gave no sign.
"We must give thanks to Xir for aiding you in your quest," Ozwyn said.
"Indeed," Bazel agreed, picking up his goblet. "Shall we drink to that?"
*~*~*
Later, as planned, Renulf entered Bazel's room to find him stretched out on the bed. The storm had come soon after they had completed the usual musical interlude in the courtyard, and the air felt damp and clammy as the rain drizzled down outside. Before he had pretended to retire for the night, Bazel had stirred up a modest fire in his chamber's grate. It had grown to a lusty blaze, and Bazel was enjoying the warmth with only a light tunic thrown over his body. From the bed, he watched Renulf work at the translation, though Renulf doubted he could make out any individual words from that distance. When Renulf reached a difficult section and frowned, Bazel got up and peered over his shoulder with interest.
"What is it?"
"I wish I knew that I was reading this correctly. The lines seem to make only minimal sense. Did you not notice when you looked over what I wrote last night?"
"I'm sure you're doing fine. I noticed no problem with what you have done so far."
"But how can such a work as this save your kingdom?" Renulf stabbed his quill into the inkbottle in frustration. "It is little more than gibberish. All this talk of magnificent creatures that once guarded the earth on behalf of the aelfyn and then began to disappear. It is pure fantasy, milord, unless it is meant to be metaphorical. And if so, what do the symbols stand for?"
Smiling with warmth and understanding that comforted Renulf, Bazel returned to the bed and patted the mattress beside him. "Rest your eyes a bit and come here. I want to speak to you."
Renulf hesitated only briefly, and then mostly for propriety's sake. He joined Bazel on the edge of the bed, perching self-consciously. His heart pounded in his chest. "Yes, milord?"
"Tell me more of yourself and your life here. What is your earliest memory?"
"I have almost no memories outside of this place—for I have never known any other life. As I told you, Ozwyn brought me here when I was but a child."
"Where did you come from?"
"I do not know. He said he found me begging on the road near the sanctuary, though I cannot recall that. I was too small to care for myself, so he took me in. Over the years, he had other acolytes who helped raise me. They taught me other languages besides aelfyn, which was all I knew when I first arrived. However, I still remember my native tongue, as you well know."
Bazel frowned. "Do you think his story is true? I mean, the aelfyn are a rare and hidden race. How could you simply appear here? Who gave birth to you? And where?"
"Do you think Ozwyn lied to me?" Renulf was shocked. The possibility had never occurred to him before. Ozwyn himself had told him how few aelfyn existed in the world. Where had he come from? "Perhaps my aelfyn parents died while traveling or deliberately abandoned me. Ozwyn forbade me ever to speak of my aelfyn blood. You are the only one who has ever guessed it."
/> "I confess it was not entirely chance that led me here. Legends have long identified this place as the former site of an aelfyn court. I suspect this sanctuary was built by those same aelfyn and only later taken over by the followers of Xir. Perhaps a few secluded communities still exist in the forest—or at least some did at the time of your birth."
"I suppose that could be true. I have never encountered any others like me, though." Renulf shook his head in frustration. "I still don't see how this scroll—or I—can help your kingdom and your people fight the Garwigs. Aelfyn are scholars, not warriors."
Bazel shrugged. "There are things you may not know yet about your own people."
"No doubt there are many things I need to learn about all people. I know very little of the world in general."
"Indeed." As Renulf had hoped he would, Bazel lifted a hand to Renulf's cheek and stroked it gently. "I can see that—and I confess, I would love to be the one to teach you."
Slowly, Bazel's hand moved down his front, caressing Renulf's chest through his nightshirt. Then Bazel moved closer and gave him another of those skin-searing kisses. They grew steadily more excited as their tongues met and wrestled playfully. Bazel's hand groped the front of Renulf's body, just below the rope belt that gathered his nightshirt at his waist. At first, he thought Bazel might take it off him, and he almost fainted at the exciting idea. The heat from the fireplace made him slightly dizzy, as though he were drunk on the wild sensations blazing through his veins. Ozwyn, the scriptorium, and even the scroll he had worked on all night seemed very far away and unimportant.
"We must stop," Bazel said at last, pulling back. "We must not get distracted from the translation tonight. How long do you think it will take you to finish?"
Though devastated by Bazel's change of heart, Renulf forced himself to clear his mind. As Bazel had told him, lives depended on it. "I believe I can finish it tomorrow night." He lowered his gaze. "I suppose you will leave then?"
"Don't worry about that just yet. Let us continue what we have started." Bazel got off the bed and returned to the table on which the manuscripts lay. He scanned the one containing Renulf's incomplete translation with intense interest. "Like you, I am at a loss to comprehend exactly what these lines might mean. Great creatures, masters of the earth, the last of them tamed by the early aelfyn kings and used to maintain peace in the kingdom. Could this be the message the aelfyn scholar meant to pass on to my liege's great-grandfather?"
"Could the descriptions of the great beasts refer to airships of some kind?" Renulf asked. "I have encountered fantastical tales of similar things in the scriptorium. In such ships, men could fly like birds above the trees and even the oceans. Surely the Garwigs would retreat quickly from an army employing these weapons."
"I suppose anything is possible," Bazel conceded. "If you are correct, let us hope the end of the scroll includes instructions for building an airship … and directs us to where we might find materials we can use. Otherwise I cannot see what good this story will do us."
"I am of the same mind, milord. However, I will press on."
And Renulf did. As before, he worked until a few hours before dawn, when Bazel directed him back to his room and gathered the night's translations to study. As he walked down the short corridor, Renulf hardly dared to breathe for fear of making noise. Luckily, he slipped inside his own door without incident. He had not brought a candle, so the only illumination in the room came from the moon outside the window. At least the rain had slowed, and a sliver of white showed through the fading clouds.
Just as he started toward his bed, his mind still tormented with the memory of Bazel's kisses, Ozwyn himself burst from the shadows. Even in the near-darkness, Renulf could see the fury etched on the lower half of his face.
Stepping forward, Ozwyn knocked Renulf to the floor with a single angry blow. He reared back as if he were about to kick him senseless. Then, to Renulf's surprise and relief, he gained control of his temper. He reached out a hand to steady himself against the wall. When he found his voice again, his words emerged in an ugly snarl.
"You … fool! Do you realize the mistake you've made?"
FIVE
"Master, please!" Renulf crawled to his feet, shaking in terror at Ozwyn's thundering rage. He kept more than an arm's length of distance between them in case Ozwyn should decide to lash out at him again. "What can you mean?"
"Your new friend would like to take you away from Xir and Xir away from us!" Ozwyn spat the words. "I knew his purpose here was far from innocent—and he is using you to accomplish it. You are too naïve and smitten even to realize it!"
"You are wrong!" Renulf protested. "Lord Bazel is a good man! He wishes no one any harm! Least of all me!"
"It is partially my own fault. I might have known he would try to lure you into his bed." Ozwyn reached into his robe and pulled out a set of keys Renulf had not seen in many years. With only two of them in the sanctuary, there seemed no need to lock anything. Nonetheless, Ozwyn fitted one of the keys into the clasp on the outside of Renulf's door. "You will remain here unless I am with you. I will not allow you to spend another moment with him!"
"Master, please!" Renulf protested as the door swung shut. He pounded on it with both fists to no avail. Instead of a reply, he heard Ozwyn's determined steps moving back up the stone floor of the corridor.
Renulf noticed that Ozwyn did not mention the scroll. Did he only think Renulf and Bazel had become lovers? That, at least, came as a relief. Not knowing what else to do, he curled up on his bed and watched the sky turn from misty gray to hazy pink as the sun rose. This time, despite his exhaustion, sleep eluded him. He was too worried about what fresh conflicts the morning would bring.
When he finally did manage to close his eyes for a few moments, he heard a fist hammering on his chamber door.
"You did not come to breakfast!" Lord Bazel's voice shouted from outside the room. "Are you unwell? Open up!"
"No, milord," Renulf called back, pressing himself against the wooden slab. "I am locked in. Master Ozwyn's orders."
"Oh? We'll see about that. Stand back."
To Renulf's astonishment, Bazel flung himself repeatedly against the door until the wood around the lock splintered. The door swung open with a pitiful creak.
"My master will be furious. He knows we were together last night. I do not think he knows exactly why, however."
"I don't care. He'll be gone for a while anyhow. Right after breakfast, I saw him walking off into the garden. All this means is that we must accelerate our plans. You will finish translating the book now! Come!"
Renulf marveled that Ozwyn did not show himself as the two of them hurried back to Bazel's room. He supposed Ozwyn had gone out to the garden or somewhere else that prevented him from hearing the door shatter. If he had heard the ruckus, he would have appeared at once—in what sort of rage Renulf could not guess. Apparently unconcerned with such matters, Bazel donned his breastplate and stood guard with the sword. Meanwhile, Renulf settled himself at the table and got back to work.
Time was short, he knew, so he worked quickly. The long hours he had already spent on the document had left him familiar with the author's peculiar turns of phrase and fanciful style. His increasing comfort with the style, combined with his fear that Ozwyn could discover them at any moment, enabled him to make nothing short of amazing progress.
Yet the final section of the poem seemed to make even less sense than the beginning. As the early aelfyn kings grew more corrupt, the large flying creatures that had guarded the earth at last began to abandon them and disappear—beneath the mud and rock, the poem said. Did this reflect the kingdom's inability to maintain the technical prowess to build flying machines? Had they buried the broken and useless pieces of those that had crashed? Renulf could not say for sure. He pressed on, hoping all would become clear.
"How much do you have left?" Bazel asked after a while, crossing the room to check on Renulf's work.
"Only a few lines," Renulf said
. "Yet I think I have worked in too much haste. What I think they mean cannot be right."
"Read them to me."
"Earth's music is sweet," Renulf read with some embarrassment, "yet upside down the tune is sweeter still. In this direction deliverance lies. You see, milord? It tells us nothing of battle strategy, as you had hoped. What can it mean?"
"No matter. Press on. Finish, and then we can figure it out together."
Renulf had to admit he liked the sound of that. However, he worried that his inability to help Bazel defeat the Garwigs would eventually pull them apart again. He'd had such high—and no doubt unrealistic—hopes that he could uncover an amazing military secret for which Bazel would be enthusiastically and unendingly grateful.
Grateful enough to take him back to his own kingdom, perhaps …?
He was putting the finishing touches on his work when Ozwyn arrived outside Lord Bazel's door, just as Renulf had expected. The door handle rattled as Ozwyn shook it from the other side. He began pounding on it with what sounded like a wooden stick.
"I know you are in there, Lord Bazel! Release my acolyte, come out, and face me like a man! Before you leave this place, you will answer for the trouble you have caused me!"
Bazel glanced over at Renult. "Finish quickly."
"Nearly there, milord."
"Good!"
Nervous sweat dripped into Renulf's eyes as he scratched at the parchment with his quill. Meanwhile, Ozwyn kept pounding; he was without sufficient strength to break the door in as Bazel had. Finally, Bazel saw that Renulf had finished. He opened the door, and Ozwyn nearly fell inside. What could be seen of his face was purple with rage, and in one hand he clutched the walking stick he occasionally took into the garden with him. He looked a bit surprised to see Renulf seated at the desk, no doubt having expected to find them in bed together. The thought sent a secret thrill through Renulf's core.