Beneath the strange light that bathed the plateau, it was difficult to make out shapes and movements. But across the flat, unobstructed space, sound carried very well, and the moans and gasps and soft rhythmic cries were more than clear.
Kei watched Gateau make love with Marron for a few moments, then turned away.
He floated in darkness, and this time there was no comfort in it.
[You should have killed him.]
I know.
[Are you dissolving our compact?]
I don't know what I'm going to do, now.
[Your beloved remains dishonored.]
I know.
Silence, for a long moment.
[Shall I return to sleep, then?]
I don't think I can do it, without you.
More silence. Waiting.
Why do you help me?
[You called for my aid.]
You didn't have to answer.
[You offered me a chance at freedom.]
Would you forgive me, if I reneged?
[Forgiveness is not my demesne. But fate is fate.]
I don't want revenge anymore.
[What do you want, then?]
I want the pain to be gone.
[There is only one way to end the pain. You know that.]
Yes. I know.
Marron was so beautiful.
For over an hour Gateau sat, gazing down at him and drinking in the sight. Enjoying the pleasant weariness of his body. And the absence of pain.
It had been so long since he'd felt like this: contented, relaxed. Happy, for the time being. He closed his eyes and tried to savor the brief interlude, wishing it could last forever and knowing that it could not.
Marron was still, now, resting quietly in his arms, his head pillowed against Gateau's shoulder. Even in repose, there was pain in his face, from the drawn brows to the tight jaw. Whether he was awake or not, Gateau could not tell. At least the tremors that had racked his body in the aftermath of his seizure---or whatever it had been---had ceased.
Soon, he suspected, Marron would wake. And then would come more questions, more conflict, more complication. More pain.
But for now, there was peace. Gateau lifted his fingers to stroke Marron's face again, and savored the sight.
"Kuso tare!" Carrot kicked the undignified sprawl of the Sorcerer's corpse on its upturned rump. "Kisama! Baka yarou!"
Chocora watched him from where she was sitting, and voiced a sigh. "Are you done yet?"
"No." Carrot kicked the body again, and watched it fall over on its side. "Yes. I just wish this bastard was still alive so I could kill him again."
Chocora sighed and pulled off her hat. "If you're so upset about wasting time, why are you still doing it?"
She had a point. Carrot scowled, finally sheathing his sword, and turned to take a good look at her. "Uhn. You okay?"
"Not really." She stood, and he finally saw what her posture had hidden: an ugly wound in her side just below her ribs, made by the demon that the Sorcerer had summoned. He winced.
"I hadn't realized it clipped you."
"You had your own problems at the time, with him. But I think I need to see a healer."
Another delay. He frowned, then quickly smoothed his expression, swallowing back guilt.
"Hai. Can you walk?" He moved over to stand beside her, and frowned again; the wound looked even worse on second glance. He was no healer, but it couldn't be a good thing that he could see a shiny glimmer of bone amid the mess. He looked up at her face, and saw her tight smile. She was sweating.
"I can. But I don't know for how long."
"Here---" He didn't see any way of helping her that wouldn't hurt. After an awkward attempt to slip his shoulder under her arm---she stiffened so quickly that he released her immediately---he finally settled for finding her cloak and draping it about her shoulders, then walking uneasily beside her. "Come on; the townsfolk ought to have at least one healer. And I should hope they'd show a little gratitude, since we just saved their children from being sacrificed."
"We didn't... do it for gratitude," she gritted, walking slowly down the steps of the Sorcerer's temple.
"Yeah, well, it's not like we're doing it for the great salary, ne?" He smiled weakly, trying not to notice the dark droplets on the steps behind them. "Good benefits, though, at least."
"At least." She smiled another tight smile and then gasped, going pale, as she stumbled. Carrot jerked forward to catch her, but she righted herself before she could fall, although she did lean against him for a moment. Through the contact he felt her trembling.
"You're going to have to go on without me," she said softly, pushing away from him. She started down the steps again.
He frowned. "And leave you behind?"
"Don't pretend you haven't thought about it."
He fell silent, feeling his face flush hot. They reached the bottom of the steps and made their way slowly down the road leading to the temple from the town.
"Even if they've got a magic healer, I'll still need to rest," she said, walking easier now that they were off the jarring steps. "If not, I'll probably have to stay in whatever passes for their infirmary. You're already a day farther behind Marron than you wanted to be."
"But---" She was right, of course, and he agreed with her, but he still felt the need to protest. If only to let her know that he did care about her, however urgent his desire to find his brother might be.
"Shut up. You never did do 'sensitive' all that well, Carrot." She glanced at him and smiled again, this time affectionately; abashed, he lowered his eyes. "And you have to go on. This isn't some noble self-sacrifice. He's my brother too."
A long-ago night in a barn. Sweet hay beneath him and soft, warm woman on top of him. A tender, mischievous smile. We're not brother and sister, you know...
He wondered, suddenly, when that had changed---before he'd married Tira, or afterward.
"Hai," he said, finally. He looked down the road and was relieved to see a party of townsfolk making their way up the temple road toward them. "I'll go on. But---" He glanced down at her and tried to make his voice gruff. "I expect you to catch up when you can. Darou?"
She chuckled. "You never were much of a leader, either, baka. But all right. And you'd better find him." She leveled a stern look at him.
He smiled back at her, and suffered a mild epiphany. It had nothing to do with his marriage to Tira, he realized abruptly. The change had happened whenever they'd become friends. Somewhere between the time that she'd stopped wishing for more, and he'd stopped regretting having less.
"Hai, hai," he said. "I'll tell him you said hello."
She nodded, her smile fading as pain took over. He helped her onward, to meet the very grateful townsfolk.
"What will you do?"
Marron sat with his knees drawn up on the grass beside the pool, his eyes quiet and downcast, focused inward. Gateau sat beside him, as he had since his lover had awakened. Dawn had not yet broken over the mountains, but the sky had finally grown light enough for Marron to banish the mage-lights. They'd been out of the hot spring for an hour now, saying nothing to each other. Gateau thanked the many gods for Marron's ability to create a bubble of warmth around them that protected them from the bitterly freezing morning air. He could not tell, yet, whether that warmth encompassed Marron as well.
"I haven't decided yet." His voice was rough and barely above a whisper. He had not yet healed his throat from the ravages of his earlier grief-stricken cries.
Gateau cleared his throat. "How are you... feeling?"
The dark eyes lifted and met his, and he felt a haphazard fluttering in the pit of his belly. "Better than I have in a very long time." He did not smile, but there was, for the first time, a hint of warmth in his eyes. Which quickly faded. "And worse." He lifted his head to gaze out over the plateau, his expression solemn and weary. "There were advantages to feeling nothing. No loneliness. No grief."
Gateau frowned, lifting a hand to stroke a silken black lock of hair lying across a smooth shoulder. "No pleasure. Or love."
Marron sighed, lying back on the grass. "Love doesn't solve every problem, Gateau."
"I see it can make improvements, though."
"That was just sex."
Gateau scowled, turning to look down at him. "One of these days, you're going to stop lying to me, Marron."
Marron flinched, frowning up at him, and for a moment looked abashed. He lowered his eyes and spoke very quietly. "I never meant to hurt you, Gateau. I swear I didn't."
"Yeah. Well." Gateau reached up to brush a wisp of hair out of his face, and sighed, gruffly. "Just stop doing it, okay?"
Marron covered his eyes with one arm and sighed. "I don't know if I can."
Gateau groaned. "Oh, hell, what now?"
"I can't stay with you, Gateau. That's what you want, isn't it?"
The question caught him completely off-guard. He frowned and fell silent for a few moments. "I... don't really know what I want," he admitted at last, speaking slowly. "When I came here last night... all I wanted to do was see you and talk to you again. I didn't expect to..."
He looked down at Marron's body again, prone on the grass beside him, and felt his face flush. Unable to resist the compulsion, he reached out to run a fingertip down the center of Marron's chest, and tried not to think about the taste of that smooth skin. Marron did not react.
"It was something I wanted," he admitted. "Something I've wanted for years, but not something I had in mind when I came to find you. As for what would happen after we met again... I hadn't given that much thought, beforehand."
"I have." The words were very soft; talking was robbing him of what little voice he had left. "It's why I tried so hard to stay away from you, and the others. You especially. You don't stop, Gateau. You just keep coming, and coming. I was afraid that I could never escape you, if you caught me. It seems I was right."
He fell silent. Gateau's hand stopped moving on his chest. Beyond the perimeter of the bubble of warmth, a brisk dawn wind blew across the plateau, rippling the water of the springs all around them.
"Do you hate me?" Gateau asked. Marron lowered his arm and looked at him.
"If I did, you'd be dead by now."
He scowled and planted his arms on either side of Marron's shoulders, glaring down into his face. "That's not enough, Marron, and you know it. Why for once can't you just---" He caught himself before he might have said things that couldn't be retracted, and sighed, his shoulders slumping. His chest ached, for no explicable reason. He lifted his head to the sky and forced himself to laugh. "Gods. I should know better."
"About what?"
"You. I'm never going to be able to..." He shook his head. "You're never going to... to give me anything, are you?"
Marron's expression was infuriatingly calm. "What do you want from me?"
Exasperation exploded from him in a furious sigh. "I don't know, damn it---"
But he did. He fell silent, and Marron continued to gaze up at him, only his cabochon eyes moving in the stillness of his face. Searching Gateau's.
"I want you to love me."
The eyes softened for a moment, pain and something more darkening their depths. "Are you sure that's enough for you?"
"It's a start."
"There's nothing more, Gateau." Marron pushed himself up on one elbow, reaching up to touch Gateau's face with the tips of his fingers. Gateau felt his stomach clench with two kinds of pain. "Do you want to... be with me again?"
The pain lanced upward, and Gateau scowled, catching his hand. "Is that all you think I want?"
Marron sighed and looked away. "I know it's not. It's just the best I can do."
"I don't need your--- pity, damn it---"
"It's not pity." Marron scowled at him, his rough voice sharpening for a moment. "Do you really believe last night was pity? I almost killed you, Gateau, because I knew you were going to destroy any chance I might have of avenging Zeii. And you did. I'm just me again. I don't have the strength or the anger or the cruelty I need, to make Carunirian suffer as he should. And I can't even hate you for it, because everything's awake inside me again and I can feel, now, the space where Zeii used to be and the space where you are now and it's not the same, it can never be the same, but I need it anyway---"
He faltered to a halt and put his face into his hands, shuddering, silent for a moment. Gateau stared down at him, unable to think of anything to say.
The tableau lasted for only a moment. Then Marron sniffed and pushed his hair back with his hands, looking up. His eyes were still bloodshot, now full of tears which remained stubbornly unshed. "I can't stay with you and become a Sorcerer Hunter again and make everything like it was. I can't put you in Zeii's place, in my heart. I can't even be Human anymore." He lowered his head, looking away. "I know what you want from me, Gateau. It's nothing compared to what I want, and can never have, from you. So I'll give---and take---what I can. All right?"
Gateau nodded, mutely, and shifted to sit beside him again. After a long moment, Marron uncurled, sighed, and leaned his head on Gateau's shoulder, closing his eyes.
The night-insects' songs had ended hours before, and the birds' morning twitters were already in full chorus. Only the plateau was silent and grey, a water-pocked island of stillness amid the stirring morning expanse of the forest. Then the sky lightened noticeably as the sun finally broke the horizon, and Gateau watched its rays spread across the mountain for a while, saying nothing, unmoving.
Dawn. He thought, fleetingly, of Kei.
Then he turned to Marron and pulled him close to take what he could, while he could.
The planes of prophecy existed in light and shadow and colors beyond imagining and four dimensions, at times. It took more than mere eyes to see them, more than an ordinary mind to comprehend them. Even for a well-trained and powerful mind, however, there were times when the planes refused to adhere to convention. The event-lines stubbornly refused to go in any specific direction, and the myriad futures resisted interpretation. This was one of those times.
She pulled free with a heavy sigh, and slumped back into her chair.
"Still no luck?"
"No." She pushed hair back from her face and sighed in frustration. "Marron's future has been convoluted at the best of times; this new conjunction just makes it even more incomprehensible." She reached for the restorative drink waiting beside her chair and downed it, sighing as she lowered the glass. "The poor, poor child. We shouldn't have left him alone for so long, you know. He needed us."
"Well... what with the work and all, and... well, there were so many who blamed him for Zeii..."
"I know. And they were fools. If I hadn't listened to them, he wouldn't be in this situation now." She pushed herself up from the chair and staggered; her companion caught her quickly.
"You shouldn't get up. You've spent too many hours in the planes---"
"Oh, hush, damn you. You're worse than my mother. Gods help my father." She straightened and took a deep breath. "Well, damn the council. I run things here; I'll make the decisions."
"You're going to contact him? But---"
"No, I'm going to go to him."
A splutter. "L-leave? But---"
"But nothing. Don't give me that tradition nonsense. Go get my travel-cloak. It's cold in that part of the continent."
"But what will you do? How will you---"
"I'm going to do the one thing that nobody except for that young Gateau seems to have come up with. All the manipulations and maneuverings haven't worked, you'd think they'd try something new. But no, naturally it's up to me to fix things." He stared at her blankly, and she sighed in exasperation. "I'm going to talk to him, damn it. And a few other people as well. Now go get me my cloak!"
Smooth, down-soft skin. Muscle like stone underneath. Chiselled planes in chest and abdomen and jaw. More sensual curves elsewhere. The face of a warrior out of legend---noble and proud and handsome and strong.
He had begged Marron to look at him for years, and each time Marron had turned away. Now he gazed at Gateau and drank his fill of the sight, for the last time.
His eyes ached dully as he brushed his lips across the blade of one broad shoulder. He did not fight the tears this time when they fell, anointing Gateau's skin and rolling down to collect along his spine. He rubbed them in with a caress. Only a few tears. He was a man, after all, as his brother would have reminded him. Tears were for the weak.
"I do love you," he whispered, stroking thick golden hair. "I'm sorry that isn't enough."
Gateau sighed in his sleep, but did not stir. After a moment, Marron got up, put on his clothes, and silently teleported away.
Mirufi threw off the blanket and leaped to his feet, his eyes wide. "Kuso--- he couldn't---"
Onion's astral form flickered slightly as Mirufi's sudden movement startled him and jarred his concentration. "What is it? What's happened?"
"He---" Mirufi scowled and scrambled about the camp, grabbing his clothes and dressing hastily. "Your son. Little brat just upped the ante on me."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Onion stood, bristling with agitation. "Tell me!"
"He's gone straight to Carunirian's." Mirufi threw his sash over his head and shoved one foot into a slipper. "He's going to go ahead and kill him. And then---if Carunirian doesn't kill him first---he's going to kill himself."
The sun had been up for over two hours now. The horse had been saddled for nearly twice that long. Kei stood, turning to finally go to the horse.
Gateau walked into the campsite. Kei paused and frowned at him.
Gateau did not meet his eyes. He walked past Kei, over to the log beside the fire, and sat down. Eventually, he slumped and put his face into his hands. His shoulders began to shake.
After watching for a few moments, Kei walked over to stand beside him. He laid a hand, after a second's hesitation, on his shoulder. After another few moments, Gateau lowered his hands and leaned against him, pressing his face into Kei's belly. Kei sighed and folded his arms around Gateau's head. He stroked his lover's golden hair, soothing.
They remained in that posture, unmoving, for some time.
**End Ch. 18