Oparu's hands shook as he held the scrying glass, and the ghostly image of Topaza's throne chamber faded away to nothing. He lowered the thick crystal shaft back to its satin cushion, and looked bleakly at Carunirian.
Carunirian grinned, his eyes agleam with gleeful amusement. "Did you see how he blew that fool Topaza's head clean off? I've got to hand it to Glaces---this kill lacked the creative panache of his others, but he's still got a flare for the dramatic."
Oparu sighed heavily, moving to sit in one of the velvet-upholstered chairs of the conservatory, mopping sweat from his jowled face with one hand. He eyed Carunirian balefully. "I've given up on trying to figure out why you're not as terrified by all of this as I am, Carunirian. Just please, at least have some respect for my frayed nerves."
Carunirian rolled his eyes, picking up the scrying glass and using a cloth to wipe Oparu's sweaty, greasy fingerprints off of the delicate crystal's surface. The man perspired constantly. It was one of the many reasons that Carunirian had never even considered taking Oparu as a lover, although he was well aware that Oparu desired him. He preferred his lovers young, attractive, and blissfully unaware of the sorts of pleasures that were Carunirian's specialty.
Still---Oparu had his uses. He was an excellent watcher, for one thing. Every artist needed at least one steadfast admirer.
"I apologize for treading upon your delicate sensibilities, my dear Oparu, but you really do worry too much. The young Mage Glaces may be powerful and vengeful, but he's also quite predictable."
He put the crystal down, turning the cushion so that the light struck the glass at just the right angle. Yes, perfect. He looked around, noting that the windows were spotless and the curtains drawn as he'd ordered to allow just the right amount of light through. The scrying glass had cost him a small fortune, and he'd be damned if he was going to hide it away in some coffer. Turning to Oparu, he stifled a sigh. The sweating, pallid Sorcerer was a jarring flaw in the perfect arrangement of the chamber, his copious belly spilling over the arms of the velvet chair. Carunirian shook his head in annoyance, and decided to focus on something more pleasant.
"I'm ready for him." He allowed a slow smile to spread across his lips. "In more ways than one. He's even more lovely than his master was. I'll enjoy spending a few days with him, once he's captured."
"You would do well," Oparu said, pushing himself up from the chair with an effort, "to just kill him, if you've really got a way to stop him. He's too powerful, and half mad. Two reasons too many to bother keeping him alive, I say."
Carunirian sighed, heading for the conservatory's mahogany double doors; the two servants standing on either side of the entryway opened the doors wide for them to pass. "Oh, Oparu. You have so little sense of adventure. I've seen how much you enjoy it when I play with the lovely, powerless creatures that my clients bring to me. Think how much more of a thrill you'll experience when it's a Mage's immortal flesh responding to my... directives." He smiled, watching Oparu sidelong, noting the telltale shiver that passed through the man at the thought. Yes, Oparu definitely had his uses.
"The ignominy of having failed to avenge his lover, and indeed wasting his lover's death by dying in the same manner. The humiliation of being able to command the forces of Nature, yet unable to prevent something as simple as an unwanted touch. Think how absolutely devastating that will be for him."
Oparu was practically salivating now, and Carunirian smiled again, feeling a stirring deep in his own groin. He reached a cross-corridor and changed direction, heading for the lower levels, and Oparu's breath quickened as the other man guessed where they were going. Oparu would be pleased; there was a slender, dark-haired boy in the dungeon that looked a bit like Marron Glaces. Perhaps he could practice what he intended for the young Mage on less valuable material.
Gateau.
Gods.
He pushed his hands into his hair, rubbing at his scalp to ease the not-entirely-physical tension that had spread its way up from his shoulders, and sighed heavily.
He tried to think and could not. Tried to focus on Oparu and Carunirian, and could not. Tried to tell himself that Gateau's appearance and its implications were irrelevant. He could not.
Gateau's heaven-blue eyes. So different from Zeii's fathomless, constantly-changing blue. Gateau could hide nothing with such eyes---but then he'd never tried.
It had been three years. An eternity, for him. How long had it been for Gateau? Long enough that Gateau no longer traveled with the others. Long enough that he'd taken a lover. But not so very long, in all the ways that mattered most. The hunger that had been in Gateau's eyes, for that moment in Topaza's throne chamber, had been no different. Despite the time, despite the changes, and impossible as it seemed, Gateau still loved him.
The pressure in his head, beating against the backs of his eyes, suddenly intensified, and he clutched his head in his hands as if to squeeze out the offending thoughts. He bowed his face to his updrawn knees, vaguely aware that he was whimpering, desperate for the cool, clean emptiness he'd felt only a few hours before. Wondering how it could have been driven away so quickly, so thoroughly, and by such a simple, innocuous event.
"Marron---" Hands touched him and he cringed away from them, knowing what they offered. He could not, dared not, accept that offer. Not yet. Not now, when his defenses were all but gone, and a single touch might smash through the last of them and leave him helpless, raw and bleeding.
"Marron." Where had the emptiness gone? The comforting white noise that drowned out the endless, shrieking rage and grief within him... He needed it. He could not function without it.
Help me! Help me!
And help came. Delicately and inexorably, ice crystals growing through his soul. Where the cold touched, the fire subsided---not snuffed, but banked, at least for the moment. Controlled. He took a deep breath and felt the tension fade, the constriction in his chest ease; a few moments later all was well again. If not whole... at least functional.
"Marron!"
He lifted his head to find himself almost nose-to-nose with Mirufi, the other man's golden eyes darker than usual with concern. Ah, but he knew better. Mirufi wanted him to break. Mirufi was his enemy as well, in a different and far more insidious sort of way. The comfort that Mirufi offered came with a price attached. He must never allow himself to forget that.
He straightened his posture, composed his face, and looked frankly back at the Haz Knight. "Nan da."
Mirufi stared at him, then scowled. "Don't you dare, Marron. I come back to camp and find you curled up crying---"
"I don't cry."
"Oh, yes, I forgot, you don't feel anything, and you weren't so upset a moment ago that I had to call you three times before you answered---"
He got up, dusting himself off, and turned away. "I'm going to meditate for a while."
"Marron." Mirufi's hand caught his arm and he tensed, looking down at the offending hand and daring it to stay there. But Mirufi did not flinch, or let go, and after a moment he could do nothing but sigh and turn back, glaring sullenly at his companion.
"No lectures, Mirufi."
One delicate pale eyebrow rose. "When have I ever lectured you, Marron?"
He had a point. Marron relaxed, and after a moment Mirufi nodded. "Now. Sit down, and talk to me."
He sat down again on the log. "There's nothing to discuss. I'm fine now."
"That's debatable, but I'll accept it. For now. Tell me what happened at Topaza's."
Marron sighed, leaning over to warm his hands near the fire. He might have known this would come up. "I killed him."
"And?"
"And... Gateau was there." He lifted his eyes from the fire and watched Mirufi's face carefully.
The shock that crossed the Haz Knight's expression couldn't have been feigned. Mirufi inhaled sharply and leaned forward. "Gateau? How the hell---" He fell silent, thinking, and then sighed. "Well, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You haven't exactly been discreet." He glanced at Marron, his gaze suddenly searching. "What did he say?"
"What was to be expected. He asked where I'd been, why I hadn't told anyone I was alive, things like that."
"And you told him...?"
"I put him to sleep. He meant to stop me from killing Topaza." He shrugged. "I didn't have time for his questions."
"I see." Mirufi leaned forward and pulled a haunch from the rabbit cooking over the fire. Setting this on a broad leaf, he held it out until Marron accepted it, then took the other haunch for himself. They ate in silence for a while, and Marron waited. He knew Mirufi wouldn't leave it at that.
Sure enough--- "So how did he seem?" Mirufi asked casually, biting into a piece of roasted potato. "Was he well?"
"Well enough. He seemed the same."
"Not with the others, though?" Mirufi sighed heavily. "I'd hoped they would have made up from that stupid quarrel, by now. Carrot was wrong to blame him---"
Marron stood, wrapping the leaf around the remains of his meal. "Doumo for dinner. Oyasumi."
Mirufi sighed, but said nothing as Marron went to the horses and took down his sleeping bag, laying it out beside the fire. Marron ignored him, lying down with his back to the fire, and to his companion.
It's perfectly possible to love more than one person, Marron.
He flinched, and closed his eyes. The silence was so fragile. Not tonight, Zeii. Please, gods, not tonight.
A hand fell on his shoulder, and he turned over to see Mirufi, crouched beside his bedroll. His hair was unbound, his patrician face grave; when he spoke, his voice was low. And compassionate.
"It's not what you want, I know. But it'll take your mind off of things. For a little while, anyway." He smiled, with just a hint of sadness in his eyes, for just a moment. Then he winked. "Ne?"
Marron pushed himself up on his elbows, watching him, remembering other offers. Other times he'd accepted. Mirufi stinted him nothing, giving Marron the full measure of his centuries of experience; the escape he offered was real, and definitely effective. But temporary. Always temporary. When the sweat had dried and the morning came, he would still be alone. Still be empty.
But perhaps, just perhaps, he would exhaust himself. Then there might be sleep without dreams.
He moved over in the sleeping bag to make room for Mirufi, and the other man first undressed and then slid in beside him.
In the darkness, Mirufi's body was hard and lean beneath Marron's hands, his slender arms warm and welcoming. The moans that the Haz Knight coaxed from him were not the silence he craved, and the lightning that flickered through his body was not the cold, but together they had the same effect and so he welcomed them, throwing himself feverishly into the act, demanding more. Until he could think of nothing but pleasure and Zeii's voice was silent and the faces of Carunirian and Gateau and all the people who had the power to make him feel, to cause him pain, were gone.
And when it was over, wondrously, blissfully, he slept in peace.
He awakened with Kei's light fingers on his brow, with warmth and softness surrounding him. For a moment, he wondered at the unfamiliar surface beneath him; it was far too soft to be ground and far too warm to be outside. A bed. A nice one, to judge by its cloying softness; no hard, straw cheap-inn stuffing in this mattress. Cotton and goosedown, judging by the feel, covered in fine linen.
With difficulty he opened his eyes and saw---white. A canopy?
Kei's face moved into his field of vision, frowning in concern. "You're awake. How do you feel?"
"Fine," he managed, slowly getting his bearings and sitting up. A canopy bed in a spacious, tastefully-furnished room. He frowned, vague recollections floating through his mind, too fleeting to grasp fully. "Where am I? What happened to me?"
Kei was silent for a moment, and Gateau glanced at him, wondering. The other man's expression was unreadable and oddly subdued.
"We're in Topaza castle," he said finally, his voice soft. "We've been here for the past three days. Waiting for your friend Marron to show up. Which he did, earlier today. Do you remember it?"
He inhaled sharply as vague recollection suddenly crystallized into hard, clear memory. Kei watched his face and nodded.
"He put you to sleep. Some kind of spell. Killed Topaza and then vanished. Topaza's wife finally showed up, and she cursed us both and told us to get the hell out, but I couldn't carry you by myself. The servants helped me get you up here. We're supposed to leave as soon as you're awake."
Marron. Marron had been here. Alive. And---
His face flickered through Gateau's mind, and he frowned. Alive, but cold and hard. Emotionless, save for hints of sadness and anger. Alive and yet, somehow... dead.
Kei sighed, interrupting his thoughts. "I can see, now, why you love him."
Gateau started and looked at Kei, but there was no mockery in the man's tone, for once. Indeed---and this disturbed him in some way he could not define---Kei's face was grave, his manner resigned and almost formal. Distant.
"Nani?"
"He's beautiful." Kei shrugged, and his lips quirked in something that was not quite a smile. "The most beautiful man I've ever seen, and that's saying a lot. Like a sculpture brought to life. I wanted to hate him. Until I saw him. Then I couldn't. I was too busy getting a hard-on. Even though I was terrified and completely convinced that all of us were going to die. It's funny, the body's priorities in an emergency, ne?"
Gateau nodded, once, warily. "He's always been beautiful. But that's not the only reason I loved him."
"Love him." Kei smiled again, that tired not-quite-smile again. "You still do and there's no point in pretending otherwise, Gateau. I saw how you looked at him today. Do you know how long I've waited to have you look at me like that?"
This was not going well. Not at all. He preferred Kei silent and angry, or derisive and cold. Much easier to deal with than Kei resigned and sad. Tentatively, unable to think of anything else to do, he reached out and laid a hand atop Kei's, lightly. The sad, faintly weary, look did not change.
"I wanted to love you like that." Oh, that was weak. But what good would it do, to lie? "I really did, Kei. Gomen ne."
Kei examined him for a moment, then shook his head. "It doesn't matter, I guess. He can't love you back, any fool can see that much." He looked toward the window, his eyes seeing beyond the glass, and Gateau's stomach clenched, both at his words and at the disinterested expression on his face. "I feel sort of sorry for him, really, now that I've seen him. Something's broken in him, and I don't think he knows any way to fix it but to pay back everybody who caused it. There's no room for love in a heart like that."
Gateau stared at him, stricken.
He glanced toward Gateau; suddenly pity came into his eyes. "Gomen. I shouldn't have spoken. I know seeing him must have been hard for you."
It was too much. He threw aside the cloyingly soft sheets and blankets and got up, walking away from Kei and the bed, searching for his clothes. His hands trembled as he pulled on his pants. He couldn't think clearly, not past the morass of thought and emotion that had gathered in his mind and in his chest. He didn't want to think. Didn't want to hear Kei's words, delivered so carelessly and so ruthlessly. So truthfully.
Hands reached around him from behind and tangled in his, long artist's fingers stilling larger, stronger warrior's hands with the gentlest of gestures. He looked up at Kei and saw, at last, something besides sadness in those brilliant eyes. Beneath the distance, beneath the sorrow, lay something new: compassion.
Whether it was real or just another of Kei's affectations he didn't know, but it was a balm on his raw emotions. Roughly, he reached out and pulled his lover into a tight embrace.
He could not have said whether the gesture was meant to comfort him or Kei. In either case, only a moment passed before Kei's hands lifted to rest on his shoulderblades, holding him just as tightly. They stood like that for a few moments, silent and motionless, drawing strength from one another. And then Kei made a slight move in warning, and Gateau sighed and let him go.
He was gratified, at least, to note that some of the resignation had faded from Kei's expression, when the other man pushed his hair back with one hand. He sighed, gazing at Gateau. "So. What now?"
Gateau leaned against a dresser, picking up his shirt. "Now... I don't know." He glanced at Kei, gauging, but it was impossible to guess how his lover would react. He had no choice but to say what was in his mind. "I want to find him again."
Kei nodded, as if he'd expected this. He handed Gateau his vest and turned to make the bed. "What will you do, if you do find him?"
He slipped his arms into the vest. "I'm not really sure. I get the feeling that talking won't do any good." He swallowed back unease, and sighed. "I guess... I'll have to fight him."
Kei paused in mid-fluff, not turning; after a moment he resumed. "Can you really do that?"
Gateau watched him, hearing the unspoken question. Not asking if he was capable of fighting Marron, the unbelievably powerful magician he seemed to have become---but if he was capable of fighting his friend and former teammate. Someone he loved. He sighed and ran fingers through his hair, smoothing it back into place.
"I don't know. I guess I'll have to find out, ne?"
Kei said nothing, finishing with the bed. It was obvious without saying that Gateau did not have to find Marron.
Gateau sighed, looking down at his hands as he donned his gloves. "Kei, I---"
"No." Kei straightened from the bed and turned to him, and Gateau looked up, uneasily. Kei smiled a little, and there was for the first time a hint of warmth in the expression. "You don't have to explain, Gateau. I understand." He sighed heavily and sat down on the newly-made bed. "I hate it, but I understand."
Gateau watched him, then cleared his throat. "You don't have to come. I don't... I don't know what Marron's like, now. There might be danger." Kei frowned at him, and he stepped forward, not quite reaching out to him. "I don't want you hurt, Kei."
The other man's expression turned speculative; after a moment he half-smiled. "And I don't want you hurt. Seems the only way I can make sure of that is to come along and see that you keep out of trouble. Ne?"
Gateau smiled back in relief, despite his worry. "You've never been able to keep me out of trouble before."
Kei smiled again. The sadness had not left his eyes. Only faded somewhat, partially eclipsed for the moment by affection.
"True. You're a stubborn bastard. Don't know what I see in you, really."
"It's my charming personality," Gateau replied, playing the old game. "The way I swept you off your feet, of course, with a whirlwind romance."
Kei went silent for a moment, and Gateau wondered, suddenly, whether he'd done something wrong. But then Kei smiled again and he relaxed. He turned, finally, to lift his pack to his shoulder.
Kei spoke softly from behind him. "Aa. That must be it."
**End Ch. 13