Warning: the following piece contains no plot. If you are looking
for a plot, may I reccomend another work available on this site. Mary Lou
does brilliant work as do Kaas, Jocelyn and others. All comments and complaints
are welcome, however, other than those about the lack of plot in this piece,
of course. Chapter headings are purely for the purposes of being able to
find your place again when you have to duck out or let your boss see you're
reading fiction at work ... again. They mean nothing more
Something was wrong. Nashen rolled over in
the oversized bed. Arkay was gone! His eyes snapped open before he zlinned.
"Oh lover," Arkay's weight made the poorly
constructed bed creak alarmingly. Nashen zlinned it with a dismayed lateral.
"Where are you going?" He sat up and rubbed
the sleep from his eyes. Even here the chill of the early morning hour slapped
his bare chest with an impious hand. For a moment he again envied Arkay's
thick thatch of hair. The thought of which brought a smile to his face, with
teeth.
"Thinking wicked thoughts?" Arkay's tone less
implied a question than a statement.
"Thinking of tangling your fur in my tentacles
and dragging you back to bed." He gazed right into his lover's fantastic
gray blue eyes. No matter how many years passed together, they were as
fascinating as the day they'd met. Nashen still remembered the first time
he actually talked to Sharm Lord Arkay, then Sharm Lord Arkay Azov.
"And just what are you doing here?"
Nashen knew the voice of Lord and Ruler Arkay.
He trembled right down to his bare toes. "Uh, um, ..." He licked his lips.
Even with Taina at home, the Sharm Lord he loved more than anything or anyone
else, Arkay struck him speechless.
"Well?" Those light blue eyes tied his tongue
in knots, not to mention his tentacles. Nashen couldn't say a word. He just
stared ... and drooled. For Arkay wasn't wearing much more than his hair.
He'd slept with Avilan, sharing a bed with
Arkay before, but then Arkay'd been low field. Now his nager glimmered with
a strength Nashen could never hope to encompass. With his Fatima sensitivity,
he could zlin Arkay's wings spread behind him. They cupped the air, as if
Arkay truly were an angel.
"Lord Fatima?"
"Oh, yes, right," he blinked, completely
dumbfounded. "That is my name."
This feeble attempt at wit actually worked.
Arkay laughed, shaking his head. "Is there some reason you're drooling on
your toes?"
"You're naked," he pointed out, probably
unnecessarily.
"These are my rooms," Arkay gave him a raised
eyebrow. "So, they aren't yours."
"Uh, no, they're not," Nashen zlinned around
for his own overtunic. Where had Avilan put the thing? It wasn't hanging
up anywhere he could find it. What had happened last night? He rubbed at
his temple ruefully. "I do have to get home."
"I'm not stopping you." Arkay was still looking
at him with disconcerting attention. Nashen tried to think of Taina, with
her curvy little body and lithe nager. It didn't work. It was like comparing
a sparrow hawk with an eagle.
"No, you're not," he shook his head again.
Then Arkay turned around. Ins'Allah, the backside on him. Avilan was beautiful,
but Arkay was truly a work of art. He held his thoughts under the tightest
shield he could imagine. "If you know where my overtunic went?"
"Avilan probably hid it," Arkay looked over
his shoulder. The posture made Nashen's mouth flood with roniplin filled
saliva. He gulped, most likely loud enough to be heard in the sharm. But
Arkay didn't seem to take much notice. "Particularly with the way you're
drooling on the rug."
"Oh, so I am," intelligent conversation was
not Nashen's forte at the moment. He blinked, trying to force himself not
to zlin. "He's probably a bit edgy about having to take this month off."
"What's Taina doing?"
"Has a friend," Nashen didn't want to admit
it, but she was sliding away from him month by month. He colored, despite
need.
"Then stay with us, Lord Fatima." Arkay smiled.
Nashen lost all sense.
"I'd love to." He stepped forward, not quite
offering Arkay his hand. He'd have done it if he didn't know Arkay'd never
accept him. But this way, he'd at least be close to him.
Arkay watched the expressions cross Nashen's
face and field with a gentle smile. When they'd bonded, the frightfully skittish
Lord Fatima would have never relaxed so far in anyone's presence. He waited
patiently, still entranced at the beauty he'd missed seeing for so many years.
Of course finding out they were perfectly
suited for each other in personality hadn't harmed matters any. Nashen was
so entirely Sime, there was never a breath of doubt of his need for Arkay.
Except that fist time, of course.
Arkay rose from his knees as folded his prayer
rug, still looking towards the east. Here, in Jaffa, all those who followed
the way of peace knelt to pray in that direction. Which was the entire city,
or nearly all of it. There were infidels in the city, but they were few and
far between. Up until a couple of weeks ago, Arkay'd been one of them.
"Ins'Allah, my Alahin," Nashen's entire grace
had not yet recovered completely from his ordeal in the desert, but there
was a light in his eyes which fascinated Arkay utterly.
He bowed his head to his bondmate, as he'd
never done before in his life, "Ins'Allah, my Alamir." Nashen's fingers trembled
as he fastened Arkay's veil. The significance of the gesture brought a lump
to Arkay's throat. Thrown together by what some would call the whim of the
One for all their lives, now they could embark on truly learning of one another.
There was no other way.
"Would you have it so, my Alahin?"
"No," he looked up into Nashen's amazing silver
eyes. There was a softness there, unlike any other Sime Arkay'd ever known.
Certainly he'd bonded to Simes before, once to a mad man and once to wonderful
woman whose only flaw was she was his best friend's handfasted wife. They'd
taken him in when he'd been sick and hurt, giving him his life back. He loved
both of them more than life itself, but it wasn't the same as being bound
to only one Sime.
"I've never done it." Nashen essayed a tremulous
smile.
"Never?" Arkay took his lover's hand into
the sleeve of his heavy robes. He'd not been encumbered so drastically since
he'd been a teenager, but it somehow seemed right to save all of himself
for Nashen. As if saving something for his Alamir.
"No," Nashen began walking slowly, heading
towards the center of town. The sun had set a few hours ago, and it was cooling
off rapidly. Not that it would ever be what Arkay would call cool. The evening
breeze played with the bangles on his hood, making them tinkle musically.
"Would you mock me if I ever were to tell you, you are the most exquisite
Sharm Lord in the world?"
"No, I wouldn't." Arkay walked at Nashen's
side, wondering what all this was leading up to.
"Oh, not much," Nashen's profile was set off
by the brilliant desert moon. There were lights, mostly torches, along side
the palm tree lined streets, but they were far less brilliant than Nashen's
beauty. "You flatter me."
"No, I don't," Arkay knew his smile was hidden
by his veil, but still couldn't help himself. They were generally meandering
through the streets of the ancient city, gradually describing a circle back
to the town house. "You are as beautiful as Fatima's blade."
"Such pretty words," Nashen stopped and turned
to him for a moment. Arkay could hear the trickle of water somewhere nearby.
He cocked his head, trying to hear better. "Why for the scowl? Already unhappy
with me?"
"No, never," he couldn't stand to see Nashen
taken on the curb. Too many Sharm Lords had ridden Lord Fatima with barbed
bits and razor sharp spurs for years. "Trying to find the shenned fountain."
He muttered at last.
Nashen threw back his head and laughed. Arkay's
ears burned at his own foul language. He was not used to being so
wrapped in cloth any more.
"I like it." Nashen smiled so very shyly it
was like a crocus peeking out from the last snows of thaw. "It's only until
we get back."
"But I also like pleasing you." Arkay's ears
burned even more as he realized how very Gen the heavy robes and constant
attention of the south made him feel. It was as if someone were always reminding
him of how desirable he could be to Simes.
"Do you really?" Nashen smile was quite crooked.
He assisted Arkay into a seat carved into the rim of a huge fountain. Arkay
couldn't see anyone and the gently splashing water seemed to create a bit
of privacy in the teeming city. He knew there were people about, many, many
of them, but here it was as if they were alone in the world.
"Yes," he wondered again at the attention
Nashen lavished on him. The sense of being more desirable than anything else
in the world made his heart pound in his chest. "I do." Pleasing Nashen,
he'd found, was simpler than anything he'd ever done before in his life.
"You didn't ask for all of this." Nashen sat
at his side, arranging the heavy folds of cloth blocking his nager from the
zlin of Simes. "I would think you'd resent it."
"No, not at all." As a matter of fact, he
was basking in all the attention. No one, not even Karola had ever been so
constantly considerate of his possible wants or needs. Arkay recaptured one
of Nashen's hands to tuck beneath his robes. "Feel." He stroked Nashen's
palm over the hair on his forearms standing up, begging for attention.
"Feels wonderful," a single tentacles brushed
over the sensitive nerves lining the inside of Arkay's wrist. After all the
time spent shielded, Arkay's body went into immediate frantic desire. He
shivered all over in anticipation. "Cold?"
"Not at all," his own voice had dropped to
a throaty purr. "But if it will get you to pet me more?"
"Not here," Nashen's smile straightened out
a bit, but he didn't recover his hand. "So, are you at least content enough
as Sharm Lord Fatima?"
"I'd be sharm lord Arkay for the rest of my
life with you, Nashen." Arkay swallowed back the lump in his throat again.
"You are worth any price."
"You don't know me so very well."
"Yet," Arkay added. "I look forward to learning."
"I'm not an easy man to get along with." Nashen
turned his face away. The bright stars seemed to glitter against the backdrop
of his eyes. Again the beaked nose and arched forehead reminded Arkay of
a great hawk ready to stoop. "I'm rather set in my ways, I'm afraid."
"If those ways are cosseting and caring for
your partner as you've shown so far, then I'll be well content."
"Talk to Diomid some time." Nashen sighed
heavily, as if there were truly something wrong. "We've gotten into a few
discussions."
"I'm sure you have." Arkay smiled wryly, thinking
of how strong willed Diomid could be when he got his fingers into something.
He wouldn't put up with temper tantrums in a Sime any more than he'd ever
put up with tantrums in any child. But then Nashen could be so exquisite
in a temper.
"How can you think such a thing when I'd nearly
killed you in a temper?"
"I deserved it." Arkay let his hood fall forward
over his eyes. Shame still ate at him for his despicable treatment of Nashen,
his son Vayer and Vayer's mate, Darya. "You were right, I was wrong."
"But that doesn't mean I didn't do it." Nashen
sighed again. For a moment Arkay was lost in watching the easy grace of his
field slowly darkening to match the sky above. Pulse after pulse, perfectly
matching his own rising warmth, Nashen's body consumed the selyn he needed
to live. And it also perfectly matched the selyn Arkay produced which would
choke him to death if he didn't rid his body of it.
Together, Alahin and Alamir, they were bound
by their bodies. But it was Nashen's mind which truly fascinated Arkay. "True,"
he dared grasp Nashen's long, slender fingers in his own broad hand. They
felt so very right together like this. "You did. I learned too."
"Learned not to anger a Fatima Lord." Nashen
bowed his head. It was as if he were a hawk drooping on his block.
"I learned you are a man to be respected.
Not a fool, not a tyrant, not a child." He wished he could explain. "Before
then, I never saw you as a peer."
"I am younger than you." Nashen's deliberate
usage of the formal made Arkay's skin crawl.
"Please don't," he put his arm around Nashen's
shoulders. "Don't betray yourself to me, my Alamir."
Nashen turned to him and rested his head against
Arkay's chest. He had to have heard the pounding of Arkay's heart. It was
about to leap out. Arkay held Nashen to him, kissing his scalp through his
veil. The heat of his body went right through the heavy cloth, making Arkay's
head spin. He'd hardly touched another human being, much less an entire Sime
in the entire time he'd been in the South.
"My Alahin," Nashen's voice was filled with
wonder.
"I am." Arkay held him, rocking him and crooning
an ancient bonding song.
"Good thoughts?" Nashen could sit and watch
his beloved for hours. Arkay's expressive face, without cosmetics or enhancement
of any sort was more fantastic than life itself. When he smiled Nashen's
heart skipped a beat every time.
"Thinking of the fountain in Jaffa." He smiled.
Nashen's breath caught in his throat. Lined by years of hard use, Arkay's
indomitable character shone through. His boots clattered to the floor.
"If you want to go out." Nashen waved towards
the door.
"Not if you don't want me to." His strong
neck arched in invitation to dalliance.
"Not with you looking at me like that." More
than his chest tightened in excitement. He stirred beneath the covers.
"For me?" Arkay bit at his lower lip.
"Oh yes," Nashen growled deep in his throat.
He rolled over and crawled on hands and knees. "All for you."
"Nothing for Pyoter or Gregori?"
Nashen had to laugh. "If you like."
"I like," Arkay's hand was cold! Nashen yelped.
"Get back in here." He pulled Arkay under
the blankets.
"I'm still dressed."
"Not for long," Nashen attacked the drawstring
on Arkay's pants with his teeth. The smell of him went straight to Nashen's
head. There was nothing else so arousing as the scent of his love. Unless
it was his deep voice, thrumming with anticipation.
"Cold nose," Arkay's nicely padded middle
danced away.
"Then I should warm it up." Nashen stuck it
in Arkay's navel. Arkay's scream nearly brought down the bedcurtains. He
grabbed Arkay around the waist and pinned him.
Smack! Nashen squawked in outrage as
Arkay's hand descended on his rear. That stung! He bit at Arkay's middle.
Laughter echoed from the ceiling. "You bite!"
"Only figured that out now?" Nashen relented
and licked where he'd bitten. Crinkly, short hair gave beneath his tongue.
"Bad aim, too," Arkay arched his back.
"Patience," Nashen flipped a stray blanket
over both of them. Soon it was warm and cozy beneath the covers. They'd finally
gotten a featherbed as deep as he liked, well over a third of a meter. Together
they sank into the warm softness of the bedding.
"Is it just me, or do some Simes like to nest
as well."
"This one does," Nashen was contemplating
moving south. No, he'd let Arkay squirm a bit. Then Arkay cheated. He slid
over to begin investigating Nashen's thighs. His traitorous limbs fell open,
as they always did.
As Arkay's fingers rubbed at the warmth he'd
left with his swat, Nashen squirmed. His lover's whisker roughened cheeks
were brushing the insides of his legs. He captured Arkay's face before his
lover could turn him into a mindless lump.
"Hey!" Arkay's complaint fell of deaf ears.
Nashen wet one of his tentacles and slid it between Arkay's legs. His lover
moaned and quit struggling. This was much better. Nashen went back to his
earlier contemplation of Arkay's wonderfully soft middle. This was utterly
perfect.
Gens should have soft middles. It made for
infinite degrees of contemplation. His cheek stroked the soft fur he'd wet
already. Warm, happy, and amorous, Nashen turned Arkay into a little quivering
heap. Do unto others before they do unto you had been one of Nashen's mottos
for many years.
Arkay had been thinking of going out for a
ride. Had was the operative word. Or perhaps what he'd been planning on riding.
Not that he was complaining. Nashen's long, lean body was still resting on
top of his. He sighed in utter bliss, hugging Nashen to him with all his
might.
Not that it was much at the moment. He'd gone
rather limp. Purring to let Nashen know how he felt, Arkay let his fingers
explore Nashen's warm back. He was so much better than a fireplace or a blanket.
"I heard that." Nashen chuckled softly, sending
little shudders of pleasure through Arkay's body. "You are wonderful, my
love."
"As are you." Arkay gave him another rib cracking
hug. Once upon a time, he'd worried about being too rough with Nashen. His
love had changed Arkay's mind.
"I won't break." Nashen was utterly beautiful
when he was pissed. Arkay sighed and rested his chin on his hand. "Have you
heard one single word I've said?"
"No," he murmured, watching the play of light
and shadow across Nashen's bare chest. In the year or so they'd been together,
Nashen had put on a bit of weight as well. Now he was just right. Arkay could
only see the bottom three ribs peeking out from under the elastic muscle
covering his ribcage.
His fingers itched to touch again, to make
sure it was all still real. How amazing it all was to be loved by so brilliant
a Sime. Even Karola, with all her quicksilver beauty, did not have the exquisite
elegance of Lord Fatima.
"Arkay!" Nashen popped his field right under
Arkay's nose. Arkay blinked and leaned back. "I'm not fragile."
"You like it when I am."
Nashen groaned, his tentacles flicking out
as if to grab. Arkay stared at them, entranced. Karola's were heavier, not
quite as limber as Nashen's wonderful digits. Nashen's even came out perfectly,
with delicate sheaths to hide their treasures beneath his silky skin. "Lover,
you're going to make me blush."
"Oh, sorry," Arkay tried to pull himself out
of his rapt contemplation of Nashen's arms. It didn't work very well. He
squirmed a bit. Between transfer and turnover, Arkay rarely forgot about
the sleek feel of his lover's body in his for more than a few hours at a
time. "Being a teenager, I'm afraid."
"Flatterer," Nashen chuckled. "Although I
appreciate it. If only you wouldn't keep holding back!"
"I'm not." Arkay cringed. "Have I done something
wrong?"
"I'm not going to break if you hold me." Nashen
sat at his side. His arm around Arkay's shoulder was wonderfully reassuring.
Together their fields matched perfectly, reminding Arkay to give thanks to
Allah yet again for His wonderful gift.
"My Alamir," he tipped his face up to Nashen.
"My Alahin," Nashen captured it and gave him
a feather light kiss. He wanted more. "Do you now?" Nashen's eyes were smokey
dark, with a wickedness behind them Arkay'd not seen before. His heart fluttered,
wanting to feel Nashen's great Sime strength. "We'll see about that."
"Nashen!" Arkay leaned back. Nashen captured
his face and this time plundered his mouth with a nearly violent kiss. Arkay
groaned deep in his throat.
"Give unto me." Nashen's command was irresistible.
Arkay opened up his mouth, and everything
else, to his lover. Nashen's arms came around him with bruising force.
"Ins'Allah," Arkay prayed, giving over his body to Nashen's strength.
"I love thee." Nashen said, half growl, half
great pronouncement.
"Yes," Arkay's body went limp as Nashen's
demands deepened. His lover's hands were clasping at his flesh, controlling
all of his with his deft touch. Or at least part of his body went limp. Even
at nearly sixty, Nashen could get him hard with half a look.
"What will you do for me?"
Nashen's question made Arkay's heart pause.
"Anything."
"Is that so?" Nashen chuckled, his hands still
demanding Arkay give to him. Arkay moaned, lost in the sensations those long
fingers called forth. "You are my Alahin."
"Forever," Arkay's head fell back as Nashen
mouthed his throat.
"Then prove it," he stopped! Arkay whimpered.
"We do have work today." His tone was so playful Arkay thought for a moment
he was teasing. He was. But in a different way than he wanted.
"Get up." Nashen stood.
"I am." Arkay looked up at his lover longingly.
Hoping he wasn't about to walk out. "And ready for you."
"Not quite," Nashen's eyes held a wicked twinkle.
"Put this on." He came back with a massively heavy Sharm Lord's kador. It
looked to be as heavy as one a Veiled Sharm Lord would wear. "Come on."
Giving in to Nashen's sense of the perverse,
Arkay slid out of bed. "So very, very exquisite," Nashen purred. The sensation
of warmth caressing his nerves made Arkay's knees tremble. "But first," he
set down the kador and pulled out a bit of silk.
Arkay's eyes widened. What was he going to
do?
"Stand still," Nashen's delicate hands did
nothing to cool Arkay's ardor. Particularly as he bound Arkay's loins and
wrists with the strips of silky material. Arkay squirmed as the slippery
sensations threatened to drive him crazy. He'd never wanted any Sime so much
in his life. "Better," Nashen slid the kador over Arkay's head.
He could do nothing to stop this sweet torment.
His hormones were on fire, tieing his tongue in knots. His heart was pounding,
as were other things. Then he realized there was nothing between his chest
and the rough wool. "One more thing," Nashen reached into the drawer by the
bed.
"Nashen!" Arkay's eyes went wide as he recognized
the spicy scent of clove oil. His protest did no good. Nashen's fingers danced
into the side seams of his kador and liberally anointed his oversensitive
nipples. This was too much. Then it got worse ... Nashen tightened down the
laces on his kador. Every breath he took reminded him of how very much he
wanted his lover.
"Time to go," Nashen slid into his clothes
with a speed Arkay could have wished were far slower. "I love thee." He leaned
down and placed another of those feather light kisses on Arkay's lips. Arkay
tried grabbing for him.
With Fatima speed, Nashen flitted to arm's
length. "No fair cheating." His hand fastened the veil across Arkay's face.
Arkay let his hood come down so Nashen wouldn't see his pupils dilate with
pure lust.
"Oh, I can zlin it." Nashen purred, taking
Arkay's hand. "Lets get to work."
The rest of the day had been pure torment,
if exquisitely sweet. Every time he shifted his weight or even breathed,
Nashen's little decorations nearly drove him mad. Beneath the heavy wool
kador, no one else knew what Nashen was doing to him, which made it even
sweeter.
"What are you thinking about?"
"Your teaching me not to be so delicate."
Arkay admitted with a wry grin. "I enjoyed the lesson."
"As much as I enjoyed your teaching me the
same?"
"Probably," he curled up in Nashen's warm
arms, content with the world. This was where he was meant to be. Nothing
was better than this. He sighed and rested his head on Nashen's shoulder.
"I love thee."
"Really?" Nashen chuckled softly. "I love
thee, fancy that."
"I fancy you."
"Still?"
"Forever," he twined his fingers with Nashen's
tentacles. "So, did you enjoy my tormenting you out of being so shy?"
"Would have been a bit less exciting if you
hadn't done it at high court." He kissed the top of Arkay's head.
"Wouldn't have been anywhere near as much
fun." Arkay looked up at him, still reveling in being shorter than his lover.
He would have never thought so few cents would make such a difference, but
there was more to Nashen's height than mere geometry. His pride and grace
had a great deal to do with his sense of presence.
But then Nashen had sometimes not quite managed
such grace, even though as they grew to know each other, Arkay sometimes
had wondered if it had simply been that he'd been unable to see Nashen's
grace at times. His hand wandered down, stroking Nashen's wonderful flanks.
How truly perfect he was, unmarred by the years, only refined and improved.
"I'm getting soft, my love." Nashen was shaking
his head.
"For your Alahin, I hope." Arkay draped his
leg over Nashen's.
"Always," Nashen's fingers explored this new
territory as if it were his first time. There was always a sense of wonder
to Nashen's touch and so Arkay never tired of it. It was as if Nashen were
always in awe of him in some small way.
"I never forget how fantastic and amazing
it is you accepted me." Nashen's smile lit the room.
"You are an easy Sime to accept." Arkay scooted
in even closer. "I'm simply amazed you haven't beaten me for ill temper more
often."
"You take that back." Nashen rolled him over
and pinned him to the bed. "Or I'll, I'll, I'll kiss you." He suited action
to words, nearly getting himself pinned to the bed this time. Arkay melted
beneath his lover's deft touch.
"This isn't getting us out of bed." Arkay
laughed as they ended up in a grand tangle of hair and bedclothes.
"Nope, it isn't." Nashen chuckled, still caressing
Arkay's ribs, where he could find them through Arkay's hair. He'd meant to
get it trimmed a bit, but that'd been nearly three years ago. Things had
come up since then and he hadn't bothered. "Do you think anyone is going
to come looking for us?"
"Maybe," Arkay shrugged, not really caring.
"Even though I would like to visit with our children some time today."
"Vayer and Darya are currently wallowing in
being able to sleep in, I'm certain." Nashen's voice turned thoughtful. "Although
our grandchildren are probably fretting about having to do things."
"Young people do," Arkay tugged a braid out
from under his hip. It was digging in a bit. "Keeps us old farts going."
"You keep me going." Nashen lipped Arkay's
ear.
"So you do." Arkay returned the favor. "Thank
you for talking me into retiring."
"I though you were going to work until the
day you died." Nashen added a tiny nip for punctuation. Arkay gave him the
expected yelp and swat. His behind was still so perfectly warm and firm.
Arkay's fingers inspected the handprint he'd left behind. "That isn't work."
"I'm retired." Arkay gave Nashen's ear a very
wet lick.
"Tiring is more like it." Nashen shook his
head. "Thank you for finally giving in to me."
"You were right, as usual."
"Can I have that in writing?"
Arkay laughed, "No."
"Awwwww," Nashen made soft sniveling sounds.
"Oh, all right," he gave in instantly as Nashen's
field glimmered with good humor. "I haven't had so much fun in years."
"More fun than when we got back from Jaffa?"
"That was a true lats up." Nashen chuckled.
"Only because you'd spoiled Diomid horribly."
"Not true," Nashen's ears pinked. It was
dreadfully cute.
"You did," Arkay stroked Nashen's side again.
"After you, any Sime isn't quite the same."
"Even your own daughter?"
"She's your daughter too." Arkay reminded
him.
"Not that I ever knew it." Nashen sighed.
"But still, you flatter me."
"It's only the truth." Arkay sometimes wondered
if Kirina hadn't changed over when she had, the day they returned from the
South, if he'd have had a fight on his hands. "You are the best."
"You only say that because you are my Alahin."
Nashen's brilliant smile shone for him alone this time. A shiver of pure
pleasure tickled up Arkay's body.
"I am. As Diomid is Kirina's." He reminded
Nashen.
"But I thought they were going to fuss around
until Kirina attacked someone."
"No, or at least she'd have never attacked
the wrong one." Arkay chuckled. "Kirina always knew what she wanted ... Diomid."
"She had a hard enough time convincing him
of the fact." Nashen's chin came to rest on top of Arkay's head. "I just
wish I could have made it easier for her."
"Not without changing the way Diomid is put
together. Which would have done neither of them any good." Arkay yawned,
feeling quite sated, even though he knew they'd both have to get up soon.
He did not want to. It was cold outside. In here under the covers with Nashen
was toasty warm.
Nashen stroked Arkay's long hair as he felt
his lover drift off into sleep. This was fine. He really should have slept
longer. Arkay always had said he only required four to six hours of sleep
a night. But he felt better when Nashen bullied him into at least seven.
Before Arkay'd come into his life, he'd have
never thought to bully a Sharm Lord into anything. But then he'd always feared
scaring away his Sharm Lord of the month. There never seemed to be as many
Sharm Lords as Lords hunting them. A tenuous situation at best.
"If you don't sit back down and finish
your breakfast I'm going to take away all your kadors and make you stay home!"
Nashen couldn't stand to see the horrible dark circles under Arkay's eyes
one moment longer.
"It's just turnover." He gave his remaining
breakfast, most of it, a dirty look. "I'm not hungry."
"I don't care." Nashen pushed Arkay's plate
back in front of him.
"I'll get fat." Arkay scowled at his orange.
Nashen took it and peeled it for him. Arkay
leaned back in his chair, gazing out the window. His face held a frighteningly
unhealthy gray cast. Their turnover yesterday had been unpleasant, but not
so much more so than normal.
"I bite." Arkay growled as Nashen tried to
hand him an orange segment. It smelled quite good. He ate one himself, in
example. "Good, you eat it."
"If you don't eat, I'm going to sit on you
and force feed you." Nashen felt like he was talking to Tzer, and he was
two! "This is ridiculous, Arkay. You have to eat."
"I know." Arkay dropped his eyes. As he reached
for a roll, Nashen saw his hand shake. "I'll be fine."
"You are going to see Diomid." Nashen got
to his feet. His joints popped and clicked in protest. How he hated winter,
even though he knew Arkay's joints had to be on fire with the change in the
seasons. He did not want to zlin. Sharing Arkay's pain would do no good
whatsoever.
"I am not!" Arkay glared at him. For a moment
Nashen's shoulders fell. No, this would not do. He had a responsibility.
Nashen took a deep breath. "You will. I am
your Lord and you will do as I say."
"I am Lord ..." Arkay bit at his lower lip.
"Not any more, am I?"
"No, you once said you'd be sharm lord Arkay
for me." Nashen's entire body was trembling with fear. Never before had he
demanded anything against the will of his Sharm Lord. But he also couldn't
look away.
"I did." Arkay's voice softened slightly.
"But that wasn't for something like this!"
"It is." Nashen could hear the tremor in his
own voice. "Now, Arkay." He couldn't keep talking.
"I don't want to."
"You sound like Tzer, and he's a toddler."
Nashen clamped his arms to his middle. His skin felt three sizes too small.
Arkay finally turned on him, his great wings crimson in fury.
"How dare you!" He came out of his chair in
a rush. All Nashen could think of was his beauty. Ins'Allah Arkay was
fantastically attractive. Nashen's heart was lodged somewhere up in his throat.
"Because you are Sharm Lord Fatima and bound
to Her Lord as Her child." Nashen gulped down his fear. "I am Lord Fatima
and you will obey the rightful order of Her Lord."
Arkay's face went dead white. There were spots
of red high on his cheeks, as if he were running a fever. "I don't think
it's necessary." His voice was strained and tight.
"I do." Nashen yanked his shoulders back.
All his instincts and training told him to submit. His heart knew Arkay required
help. "Then are you going to go?"
"Do I have any choice?" His jaw was clenched.
"No," Nashen stared Arkay in the eyes, praising
Allah for every cent of height he could command.
"Then you get to come with me."
"Fair enough." He slipped Arkay's warmest,
softest kador over his shoulders. Nashen didn't want his lover to get a chill.
Arkay dreamed of the first time Nashen had
truly stood up to him. He'd woken up feeling horrible, as if he were over
a hundred years old. All of his joints ached and his stomach was tied in
knots.
Nothing had smelled good, even the sweet oranges
Nashen seemed to be able to conjure out of thin air. He'd been so fantastically
beautiful in telling him to go see Diomid, Arkay couldn't refuse.
"What seems to be the problem here?" Diomid's
voice held the chirp of the recently well laid.
Arkay snarled at him. "Nashen's being an ass."
"Oh, because you are running a fever, are
even more anorexic than usual and you tried to tell him to go to hell?"
"How do you know?" Arkay shoved his hands
deeper into his sleeves. Nashen's hand on his shoulder had never let go on
the long walk to Sergei. As if he'd been afraid Arkay'd bolt on him.
"Because I'm Sergei." Diomid pointed towards
the examining table. "Sit."
"I'm not a hound." Arkay looked to Nashen
for reassurance.
"Go on," his hand felt cool against Arkay's
overheated face. It had to have been the warm kador. "Yes, he does have a
fever."
"You idiot." Diomid sighed.
"You're just a kid!" Arkay could at least
look down at Diomid. Nashen gave the back of Arkay's kador a yank.
"Behave yourself."
"No," Arkay crossed his arms again.
"If you don't, Diomid will have more to deal
with than your being sick. He'll have to cope with the aftereffects of a
cracked skull!"
"Oh," Arkay backed down. The fierce light
in Nashen's eyes was more than a bit intimidating. Then a flash of blue
electrical fire outlined his pupils. He slipped out of his kador quickly.
"Better," Nashen handed him up onto the table
with his extraordinary grace. It was as if he were handing Arkay into a carriage.
He could see Nashen's chin quiver a bit as he tried to smile.
"Hush," only now could Arkay feel the cold
draft of Nashen's terror. What was scaring him so badly? He was about to
wet his pants. "What is it?"
"You're sick," was all he would say.
"It will be all right, m'Lord Fatima." Diomid's
broad hands slid over the back of Arkay's neck. Arkay dropped his head, realizing
how knotted up those muscles were. "See, here," Nashen's hands joined Diomid's.
Arkay felt his eyes roll up in his head at Nashen's gentle manipulations
of nerves and muscles beneath the thin skin.
The sweet feel of Nashen's tentacles joined
his fingers. Warmth spread from the contact, loosening the tight muscles
of Arkay's chest and arms.
"Very good," Diomid's hands moved down, tracing
over the main nerve trunk. Arkay was too distracted by Nashen's touch to
follow much of what Diomid was doing. He leaned forward, landing with his
head against Nashen's chest. His lover's strong arms came around him, still
rubbing at his neck and shoulders.
"Well, good news and bad news."
"Bad news first," Nashen didn't even let Arkay
say a single word. But then he was trying not to drool down Nashen's front.
"Bad news is he really is sick." Diomid sighed.
Arkay wished he had the will to protest. He'd get better on his own. All
this nonsense wasn't going to make him well faster. But Nashen's hands kept
him immobilized. "I could dump a bunch of drugs into his system to try to
clear it up, but probably the only one which would do any good would be
Tramazine."
"That's a tranquilizer!" Arkay's head popped
up. His neck cracked under the stress. Nashen's slender tentacles worked
their way into the misaligned joint. He groaned, stretching against the
tightness. His eyes crossed. Ins'Allah this felt good.
"It is." Diomid's sigh of exasperation chilled
Arkay's back.
"So what he has to do is rest."
"Yes," Diomid's presence moved over towards
the medicine cabinet.
"No drugs," Nashen told him.
"Thank you," Arkay knew without them he could
be back at work in a few days, a week at most.
"I heard that." Diomid snapped.
"Didn't mean you to." Arkay knew he was sick
if he forgot about Diomid's ability to hear so much. He blanked his mind
from more betraying thoughts.
"So, how long does he have to rest and is
there anything I can do to help."
"One, get him in here more than every few
years for an examination."
"Would every quarter be better?"
"Perfect, or every eleven weeks."
"I'm not a cripple!" Such a schedule was for
ancient Sharm Lords who were about to ask for peace. "I'm not near death."
"And you aren't going to be," Nashen's hands
distracted Arkay from his ire again. "You will come in for regular check
ups, even if I have to tie you up."
Diomid snickered.
"Shut up," Arkay muttered. His hands were
straying around Nashen, as if they wanted to return the gentle back rub.
"You're fine." Nashen stepped in closer. "I
like it."
"You like being touched."
"He does." Diomid added, quite unnecessarily.
"So, as you know how to tranquilize a Sharm
Lord with your hands. I would say do it when he gets into too much trouble."
"You're just a kid!" Arkay tried to raise
his head. Nashen's fingers dug in again, this time on the nerve points arching
out to his shoulders. Arkay melted into a little puddle of sensation. Warmth
returned to his limbs, chasing away the fever borne chill.
"Relatively," Diomid's weight made the table
creak as he sat on it. "So, regular check ups, good food and enough sleep.
So far you've been missing out on all three. Right now you have managed to
actually catch a fairly minor virus, from what I can tell. I don't want you
back in here with pneumonia!"
"How do I stop that?" Nashen asked over his
head.
"Make him rest. You certainly did well enough
by me on occasion." Diomid's field was glittering with laughter. "No, I'm
not mocking you, otyet. I love you too."
Arkay had to look at him. Diomid's eyes flicked
away briefly. "You called me father." Wonder, and doubt, made his eyes water
some. He'd always wished Diomid'd been his son, at least in some ways.
"Yes, well," Diomid's broad hands were busy
flipping a stylus between his fingers. "I ... I want the best for both of
you."
"Thank you," Nashen pulled Arkay close again.
"From both of us. So, what can I, specifically do? As your field seems to
imply there is something exceptional about getting sick. I do nearly every
winter, at least once or twice."
"That's a symptom of bad transfers, not enough
sleep, food or warmth. Anything which causes significant stress can weaken
someone's immune system to the point where they fall ill. It isn't very common
with well bonded partners." Diomid's explanation of the obvious made Arkay's
ears burn. It wasn't as if he didn't want to be with Nashen enough.
"Hush," Nashen's fingers went back to work
on his neck. "So, how do I keep him out of trouble?"
"I'd have to tranquilize him." Diomid's weight
on the table made it creak slightly. "He's a lousy patient."
"And you aren't?" Arkay had to mutter. Nashen
redoubled his attack on Arkay's backbone. This was entirely unfair. Not that
he wanted it to stop any time in the next week.
"He's got you there, Diomid." Nashen's soft
chuckle was only audible by contact. "You don't eat when you're stressed
either."
"Telling stories out of school again, my Nashen?"
"Yes," Nashen's banter with his prior partner
was so normal Arkay relaxed even more. "How does Kirina get you to eat?"
"Didn't want to eat this morning." Arkay tried
not to drool on Nashen's chest again. The deft manipulations of his nerve
net were making him too relaxed.
"Well, things will change." Nashen's arms
came around him in a strong hug. "Won't they?"
"If it means I get to go back to work sooner."
"Wrong answer," Nashen glared down at him.
"Try again."
"We do have work to do." Arkay tried to remind
him, feeling very small and very alone at the moment.
"No work is worth your health." Nashen's silver
eyes were as soft as when they'd just made love. "I love thee, my Alahin,
and no prize is worth thy health." He added in Arabic.
Arkay felt his ears warm in a blush. "I love
thee, my Alamir. But I'll go crazy with no work!"
"Then I'll distract thee with sweet music
and honeyed words. I'll ply thy hunger with rose water scented dishes and
candied oranges." His tenor rang as he spoke the ancient language. "Live
with me and love me, my Alahin."
"I do." He clasped Nashen's hands in his.
"If this means so much to you?" Arkay couldn't imagine why Nashen would go
to such lengths. It wasn't as if it were anything serious.
"Your health means more to me than all the
gold in the seas and all the light in the heavens." Nashen's eyes still held
his. There were tears forming in them. "I love thee, my Arkay."
"As I love thee." He couldn't let Nashen cry.
With all his strength, he hugged him as close as he could. The heat of Nashen's
body leeched the worst of the aches from his joints. "Don't cry, my Alamir.
Don't cry."
"Then I won't." His voice cracked as he rubbed
his chin on the top of Arkay's head. "You are so very precious to me. More
precious than any gems or gold. More precious than the stars in the midnight
sky or the sun at noon. Live with me and be my love for all time, my Alahin."
Arkay couldn't resist the pleading. "I ...
anything, my Alamir." He gave in. "I'll rest, until you say otherwise."
"I thank thee, from the bottom of my heart."
He squeezed Arkay so hard his ribs creaked.
And it did work out. That month, from turnover
until three days after transfer, they stayed together in their suite. At
first Arkay fretted every minute spent idle. Then he remembered the small
things he'd once enjoyed.
By the end of their time together, Nashen
had a warm wool sweater to wear on those horrible late fall mornings when
every thing was gray. Nashen, on the other hand, had given Arkay yet another
bracelet, this time in braided platinum wire without an end, as a reminder
of how infinite their love could be.
Arkay began stirring restlessly at Nashen's
side. "Wake up, my beauty." Nashen lipped a strand of Arkay's hair. It was
now all silver at the top, as silver as Nashen's own. "Come back to me, my
pretty."
"What a wonderful way to wake up." His face
was still soft with sleep. There were few things more beautiful on this earth,
at least in Nashen's opinion.
"Good dreams?"
"I was remembering the time you bullied me
into going to Diomid when I was sick." A gentle smile lit his lined face.
Nashen's heart tripped a beat. "You were even more trouble."
"I was not." Nashen gave Arkay a hug. "We
had an appointment the next week."
"What's with this 'we' business. I had an
appointment. You were being difficult."
Nashen ducked his head. "It all worked out
in the end."
"Only because I insisted ... and had help."
He sat up and stretched. There were numerous pops and clicks from abused
joints, but nothing like the state he'd been in every winter before they
began coming out to Kaon to stay warm. Nashen certainly appreciated the warmer
winters.
The last fall before they'd come to Kaon had
been particularly bad.
"No, you aren't going to Year's Turning."
Nashen rounded on Arkay even as his heart was sinking into the soles of his
shoes. Tzer was still alive, barely. They'd had to send his Sharm Lord, Mikal
Tegue, back to the West to heal the Year's Turning before last. Ever since,
he'd watched his only son's health fail month by month.
"Tzer can't do it, Nashen." Arkay's skin was
tinged with gray. "I ..." he doubled over, coughing again.
"Lover," Nashen knelt at Arkay's feet. "Oh,
please, please, my love." He wished he knew what he could do. As lightly
as he could, he gathered Arkay's hands in his own. They were burning hot.
"Stay with me here, where it's warm." He looked
up into Arkay's pain ridden face. "Don't travel half way across town to stand
around in that great unheated barn."
"Fatima needs us."
Nashen damned the will of fate which had yanked
away their freedom at the last moment. Tzer had shown such amazing promise
before he'd accidentally injured Mikhail so badly. Now there was no Lord
for Fatima but Nashen himself. It had been so for the last thirty years,
but to have come so close to being able to hand over the Demense was
heartbreaking.
"I can go by myself." He'd done so nearly
all of his life.
"No, give it to Vayer and Darya." Arkay's
concession spoke volumes of the pain he was suffering.
"Vayer isn't Fatima." Nashen knew Fatima's
children would accept him for most things. But Year's Turning wasn't one
of them. "I have to go."
"Then so do I." Arkay straightened up, provoking
another coughing fit. "Shen!"
"Arkay, beloved," he stroked his face against
Arkay's hands, wishing against hope he could heal his love. But Arkay was
nearly as old as his father had been at his death. And Arkay'd had a harder
life. "Ins'Allah I love thee, my Alahin. Don't destroy yourself over a show
of face."
"It isn't," he managed to lever himself upright.
The deep lines in his face turned it into a mask of utter agony. His breath
hissed between his teeth as he tried to move. Nashen got to his feet and
helped Arkay to a chair.
"Sit, I'll get your robes." He turned toward
the closet so Arkay couldn't see the tears coming to his eyes. Arkay wouldn't
be able to survive too many more winters like this. Sharm Lord Vanya Sergei
had never been in such pain, even at the time of his death.
"He did not have a Lord to live for." Arkay's
remark on Nashen's unspoken commentary brought him up short.
"But I don't want your entire life to be defined
by pain." Nashen wouldn't wish such a thing on his worst enemy, most of whom
he'd now outlived. "Tell me if it gets too bad, my love."
"Not with you by my side."
"I can't stop you from hurting." Which was
the cruelest cut of all. Good transfers and medical care had done wonders
for the older Sharm Lord. But nothing could stop the march of time. Tzer's
crime had aged Arkay years overnight.
"Because of how it affected you." Arkay stood
with more creaks. "And I do care for the lad, greatly. It was a horrible,
horrible accident."
"Then why didn't you protest the ban?"
"Because he'd be dead now without it." Arkay's
hand landed on Nashen's shoulder. "It was the only way I could give him a
chance."
"He's dying by centimeters." Nashen's chest
cramped with the pain of his own loss again. To watch Tzer tormented by the
ban was worse than having to have said goodbye. "I hate it, Arkay. I truly
do. Did you see the way Mikhail pleaded for him?"
"I did." Arkay's arms came around him, as
if to keep him safe. "I did." He tucked Nashen's head under his chin. "Our
son made a horrible error."
"But he doesn't deserve to die for it!" Why
was everyone around him dying by cents? It wasn't fair. Life should never
be so cruel. Without Tzer, without Arkay, Nashen didn't want to go on. Never
again could he stand to be alone. Fatima had to go on.
"And without you, Fatima will die, my beloved."
Arkay's flawed heartbeat faltered again. Nashen could feel it skip deep within
his own chest. "I love Fatima. She gave me back my life and my own blood
son. She gave me hope."
"I can't let Fatima die." Nashen straightened
his spine. "Tonight, I'll do it alone."
"I don't want you to." Arkay caught his eyes.
"I can't let Her die anymore than you can. She needs Her Sharm Lord as much
as she needs Her Lord."
"She didn't have a Sharm Lord for over a decade."
"She also struggled to survive without one."
Arkay fought to straighten his shoulders. Nashen heard the catch in his breathing
before he collapsed into wracking coughs again. Fluid was collecting in the
bottom of his lungs, as Diomid had warned him about as the first sign of
systemic failure in Sharm Lords.
"Then do as I say, please, my love." Nashen
couldn't deny Arkay this time. Particularly if it was his last.
The covered litter had at least been warm.
The day had been nearly nonexistent, with only a few moments of light gleaming
on the southern horizon. Now it was evening, standard dusk, and the cold
air ate through Nashen's heavy cloak and coat as if they weren't even there.
"Bring him inside." If it had been snowing,
he would have at least been warmer. As it was, the sky was perfectly clear
with brilliant stars overhead.
"I want to see." Arkay protested, pushing
aside the curtains of the carry litter.
"Put your veil up." Nashen did not want Arkay
to get too much of the bitter cold air into his fragile lungs.
"Yes, my Alamir," he stepped out onto the
grainy snow and ice. The heavy kador he'd chosen to wear was a perfect complement
to the night sky. The outer layer was shimmering black silk with thousands
of tiny diamonds woven into the heavy cloth. It glittered against the backdrop
of frost and ancient stone, even as Arkay's nager glistened in the night
air. "I'm glad I got to see this."
The renSime guards turned their faces away
from the knife sharp edges to Arkay's field. Nashen trembled inside at the
finality in Arkay's tone.
"You'll see more, my beloved." He prayed more
to Allah than he truly could know.
"I'll try." The lack of self confidence in
Arkay's field shattered Nashen's hopes to dust. Both Fatima guards bowed
their heads, their nagers graying with stress and remorse. "Be well and do
your best." He addressed them both.
"If you will." The younger looked straight
at Arkay, naked pleading in her eyes.
"I'll do my best, little one." His eyes softened
as he looked at her. "I truly will."
"We'd be but doin' what we can." The elder
reset his gloved hands on his spear. "Only be but tellin us?"
"I will." Arkay's field shimmered with gold.
"I promise."
"At yer will, m'Lords." He bowed all the way
to the earth.
"At your will, Sharm Lord Fatima and Lord
Fatima." She matched her partner's gesture.
As soon as they passed out of zlinning range,
Arkay turned to him and murmured. "I didn't know they cared so much."
"All of Fatima's children do, my Alahin."
Nashen stripped off his gloves and put his hand over Arkay's. They were the
last to arrive. Vayer was already signaling for the guards to open the Kirov
doors. "Wait a moment." He waved to Vayer.
"Hold," Vayer called to them. The guards froze
in place. "What in shen are you doing here?"
"We had to come." Arkay's voice was a bit
thready for Nashen's peace of mind. He prayed his lover hadn't gotten a chill.
"Particularly if ..."
"No, otyet," Vayer's eyes went wide.
"Let's not argue in the hall. This winter is going to be quick. We are all
under a lot of stress and I have a long evening ahead."
"Why?" Arkay straightened up, warmth coming
back to his field with his curiosity.
Vayer smiled faintly. "Do you want to come
with?"
"Where?"
"Kaon." Vayer's grin broadened to a toothy
smile.
"Yes," Arkay's great wings spread to their
full extent for the first time since Mikhail's injury. "We will go."
"Don't you want to ask Nashen?"
"Oh," he ducked his head, turning to give
Nashen a shy smile. "I suppose ..."
"Yes, as long as we can take Tzer."
"I don't know if Mikhail would appreciate
having to face his rapist again."
"He loves Tzer." Nashen stepped forward. "You
have to give him the chance to make things right."
"He can't." Vayer's paternity was more obvious
at this moment than nearly any other time Nashen had known him. But Nashen
well knew how to get Arkay to give in. Vayer couldn't be that much tougher.
"Then give Mikhail the chance to see justice
done." Nashen had to give Arkay a nudge in the ribs for his snort of disbelief.
Good thing Vayer wasn't as sensitive as his father. Even though he did narrow
his eyes.
"You have something up your sheathes, Lord
Fatima."
"I always do ... my tentacles." He took Arkay's
arm and led his partner to the Fatima dias. When they'd reached the relative
security of Fatima's children, Arkay's laughter burbled over.
"You stuck that one right up his ..."
"Hush, Arkay," he put his hand over his lover's.
The ambient twinkled with laughter. "You wanted to give Tzer a chance."
"So I did." Arkay's fingers twined with Nashen's
tentacles inside the sleeve of Arkay's kador. Together they faced the upcoming
year, and upcoming trip, together.
"May I come in?" Nashen had dismissed the
knock on the door as wind against the shutters.
"Of course!" Arkay called out, before he could.
"Ow," he glared at the brush Nashen wielded.
"If you wouldn't neglect yourself so badly,
this wouldn't happen." Nashen stripped out another mat of Arkay's silvered
hair.
"Otyet?" Tzer's voice had hardly changed,
what with his being put under ban the day he came into his physical maturity.
"Yes, youngster," Nashen wanted to weep for
the emptiness he saw in Tzer's eyes. They were so like his own, but now shadowed
with the torment of two years of torturous transfers. "Come sit here with
me."
"I'm no longer a child." His throat moved
as he gulped for air.
"Sit," Arkay's nager had to have been
irresistible, even with the platinum ring distorting the ambient. Tzer nearly
crashed to the floor at Arkay's feet. "Oh, little one."
"I'm not." His head sagged, as if he were
a puppet with his strings cut. "I never meant to hurt anyone."
"I know." Nashen stroked Tzer's fine, short
hair possessively. He'd never been able to grow it out as he'd been condemned
to impersonal transfers since his fourth. "I love thee, my only son."
"Even if?" Tzer's shoulders shook with his
dry sobs. "Anyone else. Why did it have to be Mikhail?"
"Because neither of you knew." Arkay's voice
had dropped to its lowest register. "Why didn't you ask for help?"
"Pride," Tzer started to sag against Arkay's
knee and then jerked away.
"You can rest against me, little one." At
last Arkay allowed their son to come close again. Nashen wanted to cheer
in relief. It had been two years since he'd even once hugged the young man.
"I'm evil." He turned his wrist so the ban
could catch the light. "Evil and condemned to death."
"Only the ban, Tzer. Not death. Not yet."
Arkay looked between them. "You did not kill."
"No," Tzer pulled away this time. "Do I have
to go?" He'd nearly collapsed again when Vayer had announced who was going.
All the leaders of the Demense, except for moribund Maryam, were going ...
and Tzer. The latter had been added as an afterthought, obviously at Nashen's
prodding before the ceremony.
"Don't you want to?" Nashen couldn't imagine
why he wouldn't. It would be a chance to regain so much of what he'd lost.
"I do and I don't." He turned his face up
towards them. It was deeply lined with the torment he'd suffered for so very
long. Few Lords could have survived so long under ban. "What if he hates
me?"
"Then you can ask for peace." Nashen's heart
lay like lead in his chest. "I would give it to you then."
"But ...?" He looked towards Arkay.
"Yes, I would allow it and to shen with my
son." It had been Arkay's hand which had actually barred Tzer from death
in the first place, but this was not the time or place to mention such a
thing. "If Mikhail still hates you."
"He never did." Tzer shook with the force
of his walled off emotions. "He never did. He said he loved me when you sent
him away."
"He required time to heal."
"Two years?"
"Two or twenty, we knew and know so little
about him." Arkay was stroking Tzer's hair with his broad hand. "Perhaps
he has forgotten about us."
"I doubt it." Tzer's face fell. "I nearly
murdered him when I only wanted to love him."
"You forcibly raped him, Tzer." Arkay reminded
him, probably a bit too harshly. Tzer shrank in on himself.
"I did. It was wrong. Is there no forgiveness
in the world for a wrong truly regretted?" The words of the Koran stung Nashen
to his very soul.
"Allah has forgiveness for all wrongs truly
repented, but we do not live in paradise but in the world of men. You may
have to wait for absolution." Nashen wished there were something he could
do.
"Wait until after death?" His cry would have
shattered rocks.
"Yes," Arkay sighed, slumping himself. "I
don't know, Tzer. You were wrong. You should have waited until Nashen or
I could have watched over you two. It would have only taken a moment to ask
for help."
"I know, now." Tzer rubbed at his reddened
eyes like the child he so nearly was. He was too young for this. No adolescent
should be punished so cruelly for an accident, but the law was for everyone.
"Do I have a chance, otyet?"
"What does the Koran say, child of Fatima?"
Nashen's voice nearly broke.
"Strive for what is righteous, not for the
praise of your fellow man." It was not a verse Nashen would have chosen.
"It is right. As Allah is righteous."
"Yes," Arkay pulled forward a lock of sadly
tangled hair. "Do you think you can do something with this?" It had been
weeks since he'd taken it all down ... and it showed.
"Yes, I can." Tzer accepted the gift in the
sense it was presented, as Arkay's acceptance of their son back into both
of their hearts.
Not that Tzer's reunion with Mikhail had gone
at all smoothly.
"You may not accost the man in his office
the minute we get here!" Vayer was so furious Nashen could see his nager
twisting about his arms.
"Lord and Ruler Vayer!" Tzer protested.
"Yes, I am." Vayer's eyes turned slate hard.
"Give it some time, Tzer."
"I can sense him." His fine features turned
towards another part of the town. Nashen quivered with nerves at this sign
their bonding had been true. If Mikhail rejected Tzer now, no one would be
able to glue the pieces of him back together again. "He's so close."
"Get everything unpacked, Tzer, first."
"I'm not your servant." Tzer turned towards
the door.
"Let him go." Nashen put his hand on Vayer's
wrist. A shock of selyn turned physical made Nashen's fingers go numb. Rarely
did Vayer get so out of control he bit with his nager. "Vayer." The young
man might be ruler of Russia, but he was still Nashen's oath son and closest
friend after Arkay.
"Tzer," this time Vayer pleaded with the young
man.
"I have to go." Tzer's hand paused on the
door handle. "Please, I beg of you. I must see him. I must."
"Wait until he knows you're here. Don't corner
him in his office. Don't come at him as a revanant of his past. It would
be the height of cruelty."
"I love him, Vayer." Tzer's luminous silver
eyes closed. When they reopened, the pupils were outlined in electrical fire.
"I can't live without him."
"You will." Vayer advanced on the young man.
"You are under ban, Tzer. You will not rape again. If you so much as touch
Mikhail, no matter how innocently, I will have you put to death."
"Otyet!" He cried out, his field a
nightmare of shadows reaching for all of them. "I can't be near him and not
touch him."
"Then you should have never come with us."
Vayer grabbed the young man by the shoulder.
"Stop this nonsense, Vayer." Arkay flashed
his nager into the visible. Nashen was blinded for a moment. When he could
see again, Tzer had fled.
"I'm going to kill him personally." Vayer
headed for the interbuilding communications device.
"No," Nashen put his hand over the speaker
button. "You owe him the chance."
"I owe him nothing." Vayer had his head stuck
so far up his ass he had to ship in daylight. "You still think he is innocent."
"No," Nashen stared down at Vayer. Arkay came
over behind him, backing him to the hilt. "He was and is guilty. I did not
protest the ban. But he's had two years under ban for a crime he did not
intend."
"Intent has no place in justice." Vayer's
neck was so stiff it'd break in a summer breeze. "He did wrong. He will continue
to be punished."
"Until when, Vayer?" Arkay rested his hand
on Nashen's wrist, showing his support unequivocally. "Until he dies?"
"If necessary," Vayer was not backing down
a cent.
"But he does not deserve death." Arkay's fingers
wrapped around Nashen's tentacle sheathes, reaffirming their bonding. "If
you do not let him try, then you actively condemn him to death and are as
cruel a tyrant as any we've suffered."
"You no longer wanted the scepter and orb,
Arkay." Vayer's use of his father's bare name in such a harsh tone made Nashen's
breath hiss between his teeth. "You are no longer Lord and Ruler Arkay."
"No, but I could well Challenge you for the
position and win."
Nashen could feel Arkay's eyes bore into his
son's. "Back away, Vayer."
"This time," Vayer snarled. His boot heels
thudded dully on the poorly joined floor. The slam of the door was entirely
unnecessary.
Nashen leaned over and talked into the odd
device. "Lord and Ruler Vayer is distraught from the long flight. If you
would be so kind as to allow a period of reflection before allowing him to
speak with Mikal Tegue, I would honestly appreciate it."
"Who is it talking?" The voice came through
the device crackling, but comprehendible.
"Lord Fatima."
"And Sharm Lord Fatima." Arkay added on, earning
himself a huge smile from Nashen. This was heaven to work tentacle in sheath
with his love.
Nashen's collapse had come about within a
week of their return to Moskva. The months of mediocre food, hyperactive
young men bent on cramming two years into three months, and the excitement
of siring an unlooked for child had all been too much.
"Nashen!" Arkay caught him on the way down.
"Court is dismissed!" He shouted at the top of his lungs. Half of Fatima's
children headed for the dias. The other half seemed to be headed for Sergei.
Nashen protested Arkay's hands exploring him
so intimately in front of the entire court. But he had to get Nashen's laterals
out. "Not here."
"I'm not going to move you until I know what's
wrong." He leaned forward and made the fifth contact in what they'd come
to call, jokingly, Techton style. The impersonal contact was about as attractive
as kissing a fish, if only more so because it was Nashen. All he could sense
was absolute and utter exhaustion. "Why have you been hiding this from me?"
"Hiding what?" Nashen's eyes were dazed still
as he looked up. "What am I doing here?"
"You fainted." Arkay scooped Nashen's lanky
form off the floor. He'd lost a frightening amount of weight. Where had it
all gone? Arkay knew he'd lost a few kilos over the winter, but he'd had
it to spare.
"Is he all right?"
"Is there anything I can do?"
Arkay looked at their son and son in law,
in that order. At least Mikhail had gotten it half right. "Could you go sort
out the mob in search of Diomid?"
"Stay here," Mikhail's often abrupt orders
to Tzer would have rubbed Arkay raw in minutes.
Tzer seemed to love it. "With them?"
Mikhail winked and headed for the door. Eddies
of lords danced away from his towering field. In a temper, Mikhail was
frightening. He had a control over his nager no Russian could comprehend,
and it got higher than anyone but Tzer could contain.
"Come along, otyet." Tzer gave his
blood father a worried look. His tentacles were knotted all the way up in
their sheathes. "Please?"
"Since you ask so nicely." Arkay followed
the young man back to his suite. Nashen struggled futilely in his arms. "Hold
still."
"Let me down." His eyes were still slightly
unfocused. "It's just turnover."
"Early," Arkay narrowed his eyes at him. "You
shouldn't have keeled over until later."
"So I'm anticipating," from the lack of honest
nageric protest, Arkay knew Nashen had to be feeling like hell. A deep gusting
sigh came from him, then his eyes fluttered closed.
"You poor little Lord," he murmured, glad
Tzer and Mikhail's rooms were closer as he stepped inside. The normal stark
Fatima silver and black had been relieved with accents of brilliant red.
Nashen nuzzled his shoulder. "We're here, sleepy." He sat on the oversized
couch the young men had given pride of place in their sitting room.
"Why did you recover this thing?" Nashen blinked
at the back towering over both of them.
"I remembered it in the third Kirov drawing
room ..."
"I know where I hid it." Nashen shook his
head and his nager curled slowly around both of them, badly out of sync.
"Ugh." He closed his eyes.
"Then don't faint on me again." Arkay skin
tightened with a sudden chill. He could have so easily lost Nashen out there
today. Where had the time gone? Until now, he'd seemed nearly immortal, even
as Arkay knew in his mind Nashen was living on borrowed time. No Fatima Lord
had lived so many years sane as his Nashen in centuries.
"He's on his way." Tzer's silver eyes were
slightly unfocused. "Oh, don't do that." He cringed.
"What is it?" The bond between the young men
was so strong, Arkay sometimes wondered if they ever even managed to use
the bathroom alone.
"Not really," Tzer's elaborate smile was a
brilliant reflection of his father's. "Anyway," he went on, "Mikhail is bringing
Diomid back here, by the simple expedient of selyn litter."
"He doesn't have to do that!" Nashen sat up
too fast. Before he could fall out of the couch, Arkay caught him. His lover's
dizziness was beginning to make his head spin. Selyn litters were
incredibly wasteful of selyn, as they required four renSimes augmenting at
their maximum. Although it was fast and Mikhail did have the selyn to burn.
"The little idiot," Nashen grumbled.
"I wouldn't say that in front of Tzer." Arkay
reminded him, even as Tzer's eyes glittered with amusement.
"If he's well enough to bitch, I'll take it."
He perched on one of the huge arms. This couch was a refugee from a demon's
cave. Two and a half meters high, about four long and a meter deep, Arkay
could not figure out what other sort of creature it could have been made
for! "It is a conversation piece." Tzer tipped his head towards the back.
"Mikhail asked me to find an example of old
Fatima needlepoint in red, silver and black." Tzer shook his head. "So I
took him to see this old thing and he had to have it."
"It is comfortable." Arkay leaned back into
the embrace of one of the arms.
"Mostly why I never burned it." Nashen rolled
his eyes at the back looming over them. It was curved over their heads like
some kind of fantastic wave. But in the nooks by the arms, it supported Arkay's
back perfectly as he curled around Nashen. "I'd occasionally clean it off
and read draped all over it."
"I like hanging over the edge," Tzer flipped
a tentacle towards the far end. "Mikhail rests his head on my back."
"Monkey furniture," Arkay had to chuckle.
Turnover would be any time now, and afterwards his laughter was never as
free.
"More or less," Tzer hooked his hand over
the back and pulled. The frame never creaked once. "Nothing like this thing
at Kaon."
"What did Mikhail say when he saw it?" Arkay
was bemused as Tzer slithered up onto the back and peered down at them. Only
a Sime would crawl all over a couch like this.
"I couldn't say a thing," Mikhail gazed up
at his lover with a look of utter bemusement. "If you fall off that thing,
I don't know if I'm going to be able to catch you."
"That's fine." Tzer rested his chin on his
hands. "It feels good to be able to move again."
"I bet it does." Nashen had jumped a bit when
he realized where his son had gone. "Although you look silly up there." Tzer's
cheeks pinked and he looked to Mikhail.
"You're fine, Tzer." Mikhail helped Diomid
take off his outdoor kador. It was still fairly cold this early in spring
at night, particularly after three months in the far warmer environs of Kaon.
"Just don't tip it over."
"I won't." Arkay had the impression this was
a long running, or at least as long as it could be, discussion between the
two young men. "Is he going to be all right?"
"I have to examine him first, Tzer." Diomid
sat next to Arkay on the couch. "If your other father will let me." He narrowed
his eyes at Arkay.
"Oh, yes, of course," Arkay tried to get his
field to let go of Nashen's. This close to turnover, it wasn't budging. His
wings had clamped around Nashen with the immovability of stone. He sighed
and closed his eyes. Arkay could feel the ebb and flow of Nashen's field
down to the tiniest fraction, but none of it was leaking out past that barrier.
"Then let me in." Diomid's hand came to rest
on Arkay's forearm.
"I'm trying." Arkay scowled. He flexed his
shoulders, forming the image of his wings releasing his lover. They still
didn't move. "Help?"
Diomid shifted even closer. When he reached
for Nashen directly, Arkay's field shattered the ambient with the crack of
visible light. "This isn't working."
"I can zlin that." Tzer's commentary was entirely
unnecessary. Arkay glared up at him. Mikhail snickered softly. Mikhail came
to rest at their feet, his own field meshing with Arkay's. "Ooooh, pretty."
"Indeed," Nashen's eyes widened. One of his
laterals flicked out, as if to taste the ambient like a snake. "Warm, too."
"Very much so," Diomid smiled softly. "Why
don't you focus on him, Arkay."
"Good idea," Arkay fell into studying the
young man's nager. He was safely though his own turnover, and his field was
spiraling upwards in a geometric array of heartstopping beauty. There was
a patterning to his nager which no Russian would ever tolerate, but it was
attractive. Although there was also a dark core to his field no time would
ever erase, most likely.
"From being barred from my Alamir." He looked
upwards towards Tzer. His face was not classically beautiful, even though
there was a strength to it he'd not had when he'd first lived here, in these
very rooms. Mikhail's blue eyes were not those of any Demense, being lighter
than any modern Azov and yet far deeper than his own Sergei blue gray.
"You can quit wool gathering." Diomid's voice
brought him back from his distraction. "What's your diagnosis?"
"Exhaustion, compounded by the onset of turnover."
"Close, I would have called exhaustion, magnified
by his little display with Riana. I wasn't there, but I could feel the stresses
on Nashen's field for a week afterward." Diomid met his eyes plainly. "In
simple words, my Lord Nashen, you are going to bed."
"But I ..."
Arkay put his hand over Nashen's mouth, only
to get bit for his trouble. "Ow," he shook his hand.
"I have work to do."
"No," Arkay turned Nashen to face him. "Your
turn, my Alamir."
"For?" He paled, looking among them.
"Your heir is of sound mind and body."
"It's too soon. He's too young!"
"Nashen, listen to me." Arkay held Nashen's
eyes with his own. "It's long past time we both retired."
"I'm not that old!"
"You're older than any Fatima Lord in the
past four centuries." Arkay told him bluntly. "Let Fatima go on."
"She," Nashen looked around the room. "Arkay,
I can't."
"Yes you can, my Nashen." Arkay cupped Nashen's
beautiful face in his hands. "You've served Her unstintingly for decades.
Let Her grow again, as all the Demense are growing now. It is the time for
such change, we are of the past, my love, we can not let our children be
bound to our tunic strings forever."
"But only a few more years." He looked up
towards Tzer. Arkay looked as well to see Tzer smiling down on both of them.
He slithered down and knelt before them, alongside his Alahin, as was right.
"Look at them, my Nashen." Arkay knew this
was the time. If they waited, they'd never be free. Neither Tzer nor Mikhail
would grow into their places as the new heads of Fatima, but would be stunted
by having to follow into their fathers' footsteps.
"We won't be moving." For Nashen to leave
the suite of rooms he'd called home for so much of his life would murder
him at this point. Simes needed security and stability, much the way cats
did. Uprooting them was a needless cruelty, particularly for older Simes.
"They can still come to us with questions. Hopefully not too early in the
morning." Mikhail grinned at him.
"We won't." He put his arm around Tzer
possessively. "Will we?" He gave his lover a squeeze.
"No," Tzer said simply. "I know about waking
up either of you too early in the morning."
"I'm not that bad." Nashen's field glittered
slightly. It was still muted, but headed in the right direction.
"Yes you are." Mikhail gave both of them an
inscrutable look. "Particularly when you have plans for pinning Arkay to
the sheets ... again!"
Nashen swatted him with newborn strength.
Arkay laughed. It was good to see him recovering like this. He'd feared for
the worst earlier, when Nashen had been so slow to respond to Arkay's suggestion
of retirement. "Brute, beast," he looked up at Arkay again.
"I'm greedy Nashen. I want you all to myself."
He gave his final reason. With both of their health beginning to show signs
of stress, he didn't want anything barring their enjoyment of these years
left to them.
"Then yes," he smiled, his field breaking
free of Arkay's into its usual, fantastic display of light. Nashen sat up
straighter. Then he scooted to the edge of the couch. "Give me yourself,
my son." He held out his hands and all of his tentacles.
Tzer bowed his head, and submitted himself
to his Lord and father for the last time. "I love thee, father." He looked
up briefly.
In Arabic, Nashen continued, "I give unto
thee, my son and heir, the Lady Fatima and her children to guide and nurture,
cherish and protect, feed, clothe and house. Guide her feet along the mossy
banks of Moskva's rivers, steer her path through flower spotted meadows,
stay true to the ideals of peace and guard well her children in time of war.
"I love thee, Lord Tzer Fatimovich Fatima.
By Her hand you've grown straight and strong in the love of the One and the
One's Prophet and his daughter Before this day I searched to find the last
time Fatima had passed in the way of peace to Her heir, and could find no
record. May this occasion be the start of Her traditions anew!"
"So mote it be." Mikhail bowed his head as
well, his nager a glittering cape guarding his partner. Arkay's vision blurred
and he had to reach for a handkerchief. Diomid sniffled softly and rubbed
his own eyes.
"So mote it be." Tzer helped his blood father
to stand. Nashen's hands shook as he unbelted his sword. Arkay had to catch
his pants. Neither of them had been prepared for this moment. Nashen winked
at him, even as he fought to catch his breath.
"I give unto thee, Fatima's Lord, Her sword
to guard Her steps." Nashen belted what had been his burden for over thirty
years around his son's hips. "Take him and blood him that he may know thee."
Nashen stepped back.
For the first time in his life, Tzer drew
his father's sword. His tentacles laced through the hooks as if he'd been
born wielding such a weapon. "I name thee," he fell silent for long moments,
then his field flared in silence. Arkay knew enough of swords to know it
had been done. Tzer would never repeat the name he'd given his soul.
Nashen shivered violently, watching his son
lower the blade towards his own hand. Mikhail's eyes widened. Arkay waved
him back. *Don't interfere* he warned the young man. The muscles in
Mikhail's neck corded and Arkay knew he'd be in serious trouble if he ever
tried to challenge the next Lord and Ruler of Russia.
The blade touched the back of Tzer's hand
and a line of crimson sprang up. "I've blooded the maiden Fatima!" Tzer wiped
clean the blade and returned it to its sheath, all without looking.
"Then be bride to the mother Fatima." Nashen's
voice cracked as he handed over the last of his power as Lord Fatima.
Arkay had to prompt Mikhail silently, "And
I shall guard the crone Fatima." And with that, it was done.
The evening devolved into an enormous party
as soon as Kirina, Avilan, Karola, Vayer and Darya arrived. Nashen, who normally
didn't drink, had to be poured over a straw filled pallet to sleep it off,
Arkay nearly collapsed on top of him and the singing and merriment went on
long past dawn.
A few pellets of hard snow stung Arkay's bare
cheeks, but that was it. What Kaon called winter could hardly be called more
than a brief chill. It was only cold enough to be able to truly appreciate
a warm fire or warmer Sime.
Their horses' bare hooves crunched in the
remaining frost on the ground.
"Thank you for coming out with us today."
Jarmin was not much of a rider, but he had far more sense than anyone else
out here today. He was riding a brick ugly, hammer headed, shaggy
beast who could care less about anything other than food. Arkay's own mount
was shying at every shadow.
"Would you settle down!" Arkay longed for
Kika, now getting a quite elderly, but still with gaits like spun glass and
smarter than some humans. Not like this little twit. He kneed her out of
smashing his leg against a tree and then swatted her on the butt for bucking
in protest.
She snorted and flipped her nose. "I did not
jab you in the mouth."
"She lies?" Nashen grinned at him, his own
mount not a whole lot different from Jarmin's. It seemed horses came in two
types here, pretty and ridable. Aliana clucked at her mare, trying to keep
her attention focused on her rider.
"She does," Arkay gave Hali a dirty look.
She went back to trying to pull the reins through his hands. "I miss my Tekes."
"I want to see them sometime." Jarmin was
obviously watching his own mate, as her mount sidled all over the place in
protest at having to work. "This looks like a lot more trouble than I remember."
"You rode?"
"Yes, grew up on horseback, actually." He
shrugged. "Most Simes won't allow Gens to ride much here, other than when
it'd been necessary. Even then they'd never been allowed to ride for pleasure.
Too dangerous, don't you know." His wry smile as he watched Aliana's mount
dancing all over the place spoke volumes.
"It all depends on the horse." Arkay had to
admit, his granddaughter could stick on the back of a horse like a burr.
Aliana's mare finally settled down to a stiff legged, jarring walk like gait.
"Some are better than others."
"True," she tugged at her mare's mane. "You
are an idiot."
"I think she knows it." Nashen looked over
at Arkay curiously. "There's no correct side."
"Oh," Arkay laughed. "Go on the off side anyways."
"It's not the same," Nashen had to lean over
to get next to him. "I prefer it when you ride aside, my love."
"None of my saddles would fit any of these
nags." Arkay reminded him. "They were all made for Tekes, not Trakhs."
"True," Nashen admitted. "Too bad we can't
bring any horses over here."
"Not on an airplane." Arkay was adamant. He
was not going to risk dozens of generations of careful breeding on one of
those horrible mechanical contrivances. It was bad enough flying on one himself.
But at least he would be with Nashen if anything happened. But to risk Kika
would be unbearable.
"You could bring over other stock." Jarmin
tipped his head towards Aliana. The suggestion was so deft Arkay nearly fell
for it.
"Not without huge trade concessions, Jarmin."
Nashen's hand landed on Arkay's wrist. "Our horses are one of the bases for
our power. We aren't giving it up cheaply again."
"Again?"
"Ancient history," Aliana's lips tightened
into a hard line. "Not something to be spoken of here." She turned her face
towards the surrounding trees.
"Ah," Jarmin nodded his understanding, even
though by his field he didn't. Arkay waved him in close.
"We know a great deal more of the time before
and surrounding the mutation than the West. It is not public knowledge here."
He met Jarmin's sable dark eyes squarely.
"Quite honestly, I leave such curiosity to
Frihill."
"Good man," Arkay squeezed his hand briefly.
"Don't be afraid to ask, but most of it is deadly dull."
"You wouldn't happen to know the origin of
the mutation would you."
Arkay laughed so loudly ice slithered down
out of the trees. "I was wondering when you'd ask. No, we don't. And we really
don't care." He waived his hand around them. "We enjoy the world as it is.
I'd not be anything but Gen to Nashen's Sime. There is nothing more precious
than larity, no matter how it came about."
"A very different attitude than ours." Jarmin
stroked his gelding's neck in contemplation for a bit. "And I think a far
more mature one."
"Most likely," Arkay tried to sense if there
was anyone else around. He couldn't tell. His sensitivity had been going
to hell for years now.
"There's no one here, grandfather." Aliana's
supplied.
"Hush," Arkay wrinkled his nose at her. "We
are far more mature. Centuries ago we were where you are now, socially and
intellectually. We chose a different path. Maybe not a better one, we don't
know and can't change now, at least not without destroying ourselves. Grow
and change for us, you people of the West. We will provide a haven for those
who choose otherwise."
"My own people are very much like yours, I
have to think." Jarmin's face turned towards the westering sun.
"Did you know them well?" Arkay couldn't think
of why else he would have stated it so oddly.
"No, not very. I left at maturity and have
never been able to contact them again." His face was drawn into heavy lines.
"Do you wish to?" Nashen asked softly.
"Yes and no," his equivocal answer did nothing
to still the ambient. "I'd like to know if they are safe and well."
"Then let me find them." Nashen offered.
"How?"
"Fatima has Her ways and while I am no longer
Her Lord, I am still Her child." Nashen's field twinkled even in the bright
sunlight.
"I'll give you names and descriptions when
we go back inside." Jarmin's free hand twined with Aliana's. "I'd like for
them to know to expect a grandchild as well."
"I think it can be done, and I'll give them
the option to contact you through my means as well." Nashen wasn't usually
so shy about saying who he'd be dealing with. Arkay gave him a suspicious
look. He gave Arkay a later signal with one tentacles.
"I'd appreciate it greatly." Jarmin's gaze
was suddenly arrested by something going on with Aliana. "Is that really
her?"
"Yes," Aliana grinned, placing Jarmin's hand
on her belly briefly. "It is."
"So soon?"
"That they know they are alive? Yes, it seems
so." Aliana's smile broadened. "Our daughter."
"I know." He leaned over and kissed her until
Aliana's mare decided to throw another fit. They all laughed at Aliana's
explicit and vulgar description of her mare's parentage.
Nashen had to give Kaon's stable master a
second zlin. It wasn't polite to zlin utter strangers, but he figured his
age would give someone pause long enough for him to duck. Lissa, Liza, something
like that was whistling as she curried a winter shaggy pony.
"What has you so busy this fine winter afternoon?"
He leaned over the stall partition. Arkay, curious as always joined him as
soon as he'd put up Nashen's borrowed gelding.
"Making sure they're all still healthy under
their coats." She rubbed the little dapple's ears absently. She zlinned a
bit like Lexi, but not quite as strongly.
"You don't ride her?"
"Why not?" Arkay was taken aback.
"Of course I do." Her smile transformed her
pixie like features into something far more mature. "Gala here is Vi's, and
would be far too much for her to handle if I didn't keep her in training."
She patted the mare on the neck and turned her loose.
Nashen had to back up a step. He'd never seen
anyone but Kir who was so short. He arched his neck to look down at her.
Then he caught what had been bothering him and accidentally zlinned her a
bit more than he should have.
"Does Aliana know?"
"Know what?" Arkay tipped his head to the
side. His eyes unfocused briefly, and then he laughed. "Oh dear," his blue
gray eyes twinkled with amusement.
"Yes," Liza put her hand over her middle.
If you knew exactly what to look for, it was obvious she was pregnant. The
gesture, as always, made Nashen want to cuddle her under his arm. "How did
you know?"
"Nosy old man," he offered her one wing. "I
probably shouldn't have said anything."
"I mean how do you know about?" She flipped
her nager, entirely untaught, in the direction of Aliana and Jarmin necking
in a nearby stall. Those two seemed to have the cycle time of mink where
sex was concerned. Not that Nashen had been any different as a young man,
particularly when he had Taina to chase around the bedroom.
Taina had her ankles crossed over her back.
"And just what are you thinking of, m'Lord?"
"Your backside," he caressed the wonderfully
smooth curves made to fit his hand. She'd not been his first partner, but
her enthusiasm so far outshone any other he could hardly remember them ...
when she was around.
"What about my backside?" She rolled part
way over. Now he could see all her wonderfully soft Gen curves, front and
back. His recently donned pants grew constrictingly tight.
"It's beautiful." His fingers dug in, kneading
at her soft flesh like a clawless cat. She purred, stretching beneath his
attention. Taina had captured his youthful eye with her nager, but her body
kept him on his knees at her feet. "You are all so incredibly beautiful."
He met her sable dark eyes.
"You flatter me." She sat up. As she tipped
her shoulders back, all Nashen could do was stare at her generous breasts
capped with soft, tender peaks. He watched as they crinkled under his unwavering
attention. "Nashen!" She swatted at his reaching hand.
"I only wanted to touch." He pulled his hand
away and held it to his chest. Her rejection stung like salt on an open wound.
"Not to grab." He'd learned long ago she hated to be, what she called, pawed
over.
"You'd better not." She threw a shawl over
her shoulders. It was pure white and over her dusky skin only showed off
even more of her beauty.
"Truly," his eyes were burning again. He hadn't
meant to drive her away. Was there any way to please her? "Your skin is so
wonderfully soft, Taina."
"Only because I'm fat."
"No, never," his fingers itched with wanting
to stroke her silky skin. "You're not fat."
"You're only a pervert." She swept to her
feet. Her fury charged the air between them. "Admit it Nashen. You like fat
Gens."
"No I don't." He hated to see her run herself
down this way. "You aren't fat, you're Gen. There's a difference."
"I have dimples on my butt."
"You do." Thought of those perfect little
marks made all the blood rush from his head. His palms were sweating again
with how badly he wanted to brush his fingers across the velvet expanse of
her lower back. She turned away from him. Nashen nearly fainted with lack
of blood to his brain. Her rear formed such a perfect heart.
"There, you see!"
"Yes, I do." Nashen had to lick his lips clean
of saliva. He wanted her like nothing else in the world. Tiny, curvy, smooth,
perfect. Then he realized she was looking back over her shoulder. He stepped
forward.
"Don't you dare." She pinned him with a glare.
"Why not?" His heart was pounding in his throat
... and other places. Awareness of how very cramped he was made him pause.
"Excuse me."
"No, I won't." Her eyes blazed as she turned
on him. "I'm not going to stand here while you jerk off."
"I wasn't going to." He lowered his eyes as
other things fell. Nashen hadn't meant to offend her so badly. All his body
had done was show its appreciation. He couldn't help the fact it was all
pointed in her direction. Nashen certainly wasn't going to force himself
on her. Even if he'd been physically able of such a heinous crime, he'd never
want to hurt her."It's gone now."
"See, I am fat."
"No you're not." He jumped forward and grabbed
her upper arms. She'd rounded on him more than once when she'd been upset
like this. At the moment, there was no way his heart could take it. "You're
more beautiful than any angel."
"A cherub, morelike," she refused to look
at him, but rather at his hands. "Besides, you love Fatima more than anything
else."
"I will be Fatima's Lord."
"When you kill your mother." Her words hit
too close to home. He flinched away, dropping her as if her touch burned.
"Nashen, it isn't like you have a whole lot of choice in the matter."
"I know." He looked out the window at the
leafless trees. Valentine had been gone for months now, never to be heard
of once he'd passed Rodina's skirts. His mother, Aliana, would not make another
Year's Turning. With or without his friend, Nashen had to make his choice.
"Don't hurt yourself." Taina's hands caught
his as his nails dug into his own wrists. It was a habit he'd picked up years
ago and every time he was under stress it came out.
"I won't." He looked down at their entwined
hands. How he wished she'd accept his bond, even a simple private bonding.
Every month he feared she'd turn to another, leaving him bereft and alone.
All he wanted was the very slightest bit of security. The knowledge he'd
not be left without at least some warning. As it was, he could wake up any
morning and find her gone. "Not right now."
"Don't try to blackmail me, Nashen." She threw
his hands back at him, as she'd thrown every protestation of his love. He
fought to keep his chin from quivering. She hated it when he lost control
of his emotions, saying it was only a way to make her feel sorry for him.
"And don't just stand there and wallow in self pity, either."
"I won't." He turned away, clutching his arms
to his chest. They ached with unfulfilled desire, even as his groin ached
so badly he felt his testicles would fall off. She'd been tempting him for
days this time, with only their transfer consummation to whet his appetite
for her body.
"Nashen," her hand landed on his shoulder.
"Stop torturing me like this!" He turned on
her, pain making his temper flare. "I hurt, Taina. I know you don't care,
but I do. I love my mother. I don't look forward to taking her place. Why
can't you understand that?"
"I know it."
He cut her off. "You know it, you don't understand
it. She's my mother, damn you to shen. She was everything to me growing up.
I had no father, only my Aunt Tzanir. They raised me together. She's going
to die too. Can't you understand what they both mean to me?" He wailed his
heartbreak into unlistening ears.
"Grow up, Lord Nashen. You're going to have
to do it sometime." The door slamming behind her sounded final. It wasn't.
Nashen knew she'd be back, as soon as she'd had a chance to laugh about his
foibles with her paramour of the week. He'd smelled another Sime's scent
on her skin when she'd come back to him after one of these fights. And not
always the same one.
"What is it, my Alamir?" Arkay's question
bounced him out of his introspection. Liza was looking up at him as well,
her green eyes soft and concerned even though she couldn't understand Arkay's
question, as it was in Russian.
"Thinking of Taina." He tipped his chin up
to keep his tears from spilling over. Nashen rarely thought of her anymore,
except when something reminded him of her. And almost never did he remember
how cutting she could be to him.
"She could be a vicious bitch." Arkay's hand
on his wrist took some of the sting from his words. "Sometimes I wondered
what you saw in her."
"Her beauty." Nashen got himself under control.
"A young man's lust." He flicked a tentacle towards the young lovers.
"You don't mean to imply?"
"No, of course not," he shook his head. "Jarmin
is nothing like Taina, nor is Aliana. Taina was never innocent."
"True," Arkay's eyes narrowed. "She was a
slut from her fourth."
"Arkay!" Nashen had never heard his lover
speak so of anyone. "She never cheated on me in transfer."
"They why were you free so many months for
Avilan."
"She asked." Nashen couldn't face Arkay. "She,
we, never were bonded."
"Nothing?"
"Not even hands." He dreaded the disgust he'd
see in Arkay's eyes, but had to look at him anyway. He had to know. But there
was only pity in their depths. One he'd seen before, but never recognized
before they'd bonded.
"I was the one who refused to let her in Azov's
main suite." Arkay's voice was subdued. Nashen could hear the steady dripping
of melting ice outside the barn.
"Why?"
"Because she wasn't good for you."
"What right did you have to decide what was
good for me?" Nashen was so flattered though, his question held no bite beyond
the words.
"I suppose I could have said it was because
I didn't want Karola or our children exposed to her." His eyes twinkled with
suppressed amusement.
"But you would have lied."
"Not entirely," he took Nashen's arm. "Why
don't I tell you how it happened?"
"Do you require anything else?" Liza asked
suddenly.
"Yes, an audience," Arkay swept her up with
them. "Come on, you're part of Mir West. You get to sit around and listen
to old people talk occasionally. It's part of your job."
Liza laughed and gave in to Arkay with good
grace. How he wished he'd been a fly on the wall as Arkay told his housemates
he'd have Lord Fatima, but not Sharm Lord Fatima. It would have been interesting,
in the Fatima sense of the word, as something to be avoided on a personal
level.
As Arkay related the story to Nashen and young
Liza, he relived it.
"You are not allowing that bitch into our
rooms!" Arkay pounded his fist on the table in punctuation. One vase, three
glass pens, an inkwell and four books bounced into the air. He caught the
ink before it could overturn.
"Thanks," Avilan took it back, even as he
stared at Arkay.
"I've never heard you so dead set against
anyone." Karola stared at him as well. "Scratch Fatima, Avilan."
"No, not Fatima," for some reason Arkay couldn't
get Lord Fatima's fey countenance out of his mind's eye. Normally Arkay had
a very poor memory for faces, rather relying on his memory for nagers, but
there was something more to young Lord Fatima than met the wrists. He wanted
to find out what.
"We can't invite Nashen without Taina." Avilan's
eyes widened.
"Give her and her latest paramour a few thousand
at the Gray Cat." He shrugged. "They'd never know."
"Arkay!" Karola was blushing Kirov red. He
was surprised she'd heard the name of the most outre of Moskva's brothels.
It was named for the fact that in the dark, all cats were gray. This was
not a particularly arousing thought for Arkay, but different people had different
tastes. Quite a few of them he didn't share. Promiscuity was one of them.
"Don't tell Nashen I said this, but Sharm
Lord Taina is a whore, Karola. She's sold her nager to the highest bidder,
Lord Fatima. Whether or not he wises up on his own is his problem. But I
have no desire to deal with her at a dinner party." Arkay considered Taina's
overblown charms to be physically attractive, but not worth the barbed hook
contained in that silky flesh.
"I heard that." Avilan leaned away from him.
"What about me?"
"You are a sybarite, my old friend." He patted
Avilan on the back. "You enjoy yourself and are sure your partner does. You
don't set the hook and then play the poor fish for every last minute they
have. I've been watching Nashen and Taina for a number of years now." Ever
since he'd shown even more than the normal Fatima wit in stealing a kiss
from Avilan at Karola's challenge. That had been well done.
"Enjoy Lord Nashen with all your heart, or
other parts. He's not a one to betray you. Sharm Lord Fatima would rip your
heart out and have you eating it out of her hand." He particularly worried
about Karola. She did not have any experience with someone like Taina.
"Oh, I could zlin something off about her.
But then I don't have testicles to get in my way." Karola's impish grin was
wicked. Arkay couldn't meet her eyes. He too had been more than stupid for
his hormones with his long term infatuation with Sharm Lord Katrina Kirov.
The only one who'd managed to avoid stepping on his dick with any force was
Avilan, and that was because he cheated. It was always up and out of the
way!
"She's pretty, Arkay." Avilan admitted, still
a bit dubious by the crackling of his nager. "But if you say so, I'll not
force her company on you."
"Set her up with someone, Avilan. Give her
another boy toy. Maybe we can get Nashen weaned away from her. Why don't
you see if Lord Chavyer is available, or ..."
"Lord Zharev?" Avilan raised an eyebrow. "He's
richer than even Nashen and Valentine combined, personally. If she truly
is a money grubber, she'll drop Nashen in a heartbeat." Then he locked eyes
with Arkay. "If she does, and you're right, then I'm going to have to apologize,
but right now I have to warn you what you are doing is highly unethical."
"Running temptation in front of Sharm Lord
Fatima? I don't think so. She's nailed my ass to the barn door so many times
I don't even want to think about it. Besides, if she's honest, no harm will
be done." As Arkay said the words, his heart fell. He knew what he was doing
was wrong, no matter how he dressed it up.
"Besides, as Lord and Ruler, it is my
responsibility to be certain no leader of a Demense is working against Rodina's
best interests."
"You don't have to play lawyer with me, Arkay."
Karola's smile widened. "Do it. My call as Lord Azov. There's something wrong
with Taina. I want to know what it is. She's too slick. As you say, if she
doesn't take the bait, no harm done. And if she does, again, in the long
run, no harm done.
"Lord Fatima may knock you on your ass eventually
for messing up his love life, but I don't want to stand at Taina's side if
she's only after him for his station. He's a sweet man." Her eyes grew soft
for a moment. "Pretty good in bed, too."
"You know something, I'd forgotten that line
of hers." Arkay had to laugh at himself. The evidence of Kirina's parentage
had been buried in his mind all these years.
Nashen was laughing along with him. "You three.
Thank you, all of you. I didn't know what was going on. You did good, my
love."
"I'm glad it worked out for the best. Twenty
years ago you'd have been mad at me."
"No, but I don't know if I would have truly
understood, either." He tipped his head to the side. "She was so damn flattering
to my ego." Nashen sighed heavily. "And so beautiful."
"Was she really so good in bed?"
"Yes and no," his shoulders sagged. "Usually
when it didn't work, she blamed me. Now, I don't know. Sometimes yes. I was
incredibly green. Only my time with Avilan really taught me much about making
love rather than having sex. He never only had sex."
"True," Arkay rolled his eyes in agreement.
"He's really the only Gen I've had all that much interest in after my infatuation
with Katrina. He's so physical, it's as if his larity doesn't matter."
"Now that you mention it, you're right." Nashen
had a thoughtful look on his face. "When you're with him, it's as if you're
the center of his universe."
"Sounds like a lot of fun. Even though Jarmin
is very much like that." Liza was still tucked under Nashen's arm. Arkay'd
nearly forgotten her presence.
"So you admit having tripped him." Nashen
teased her gently.
"Well, yes," she blushed furiously. "I saw
him, and well, I wanted to be a mother."
"I know how that can go." Arkay had seen the
same thing many, many times before. Never, except for once, with him,
unfortunately, or not as the case may be, but certainly with men like Jarmin.
"Aliana helped." She admitted.
"I'm sure she did." Arkay couldn't help adding.
Liza sputtered and stammered a bit. "We have very different ideas about
parenting. I would, I admit, feel better if you had a partner of some variety
helping you out, but when it comes right down to cases, it's your choice."
"Thank you," she put her hand over her middle
again. Nashen, of course, zlinned the child she carried. No matter how many
times he saw it, the way any healthy Sime would automatically zlin a child
still warmed Arkay's heart and at the same time raised the hairs on the back
of his neck. It was such a primal gesture, to verify the new life growing
within a woman.
"You want to do what?" Nashen couldn't believe
his ears.
"I want to go shopping in Norleans." Arkay
blinked as if this were a perfectly normal sort of plan.
"It's more than a day's ride!"
"Not by car."
"Oh no you don't." Nashen felt his heart pound
in his chest. "I'm too old to die in one of those little metal boxes. I heard
about Jarmin and Aliana's little adventure in getting to Kaon."
"Not all motorists are as insane as Vanesa's
courier, Iter." Arkay still was acting as if this were acceptable. "We'll
be fine." He headed for the door!
"Now wait one minute, Arkay." Nashen jumped
between him and the door.
"Yes?" Arkay looked up at him with a bemused
expression. Nashen debated dragging him back to bed for a moment with himself.
Arkay's lips were so very
close, and so wonderfully kissable. "I was thinking of going clothes shopping."
"Clothes?" Nashen didn't care for much the
Techton made, but some of the exotic materials they produced could be exquisite,
if handled correctly.
"Yes, clothes." Arkay's wry grin broadened.
"I forgot to pack a few things."
"Like underwear?" Nashen had noticed the lack
of variety in Arkay's underthings over the past couple of weeks. Normally
he sported all kinds of varying pants and shirts under his loose robes. Even
though he'd come to occasionally wear his underwear outdoors here!
"Well, I was thinking of some more suitable
breeches and shirts to wear around Kaon."
The idea of being able to zlin Arkay any time
he wanted warred with Nashen's instinctive desire to keep him covered up.
He bit at his lower lip, trying to think. It was tough with Arkay not at
arm's reach. His lover's nager was curling around his lower spine, shorting
out his brains. "What's wrong with your robes?"
"I'd like to go out with Jarmin to a nightclub
he knows of." Arkay wouldn't meet his eyes.
"And let me guess, they aren't exactly the
sort of place you can take Aliana or me." Nashen knew his face fell.
"Ribs?"
"Oh, well, in that case." Nashen backpedaled
mentally. "I can zlin it. They don't know how to make a ventilation system
around here."
"I thought you might feel that way." Arkay's
nager glittered with amusement. "So, do you want me to stand out in a crowd
of strange Gens?"
"You will, no matter what you wear." Nashen
moved closer, using his height to fold his own nager around Arkay's great
wings. "You are too fantastically beautiful to hide in any crowd."
"You are smitten, my love." Arkay's arms came
around him. "One night?"
"I would love to go walk on the beach with
you sometime." Nashen put out his suggestion for repayment.
"Then come with, my love." Arkay's cool hand
cupped his face. "We won't be gone so very long."
"It's so far!" Nashen quivered inside again.
He hated the idea of riding in one of those death traps. All it would take
was one thrown shoe, well, broken wheel and they'd both be dead. "Besides,
you don't know how to drive."
"That's easy enough to fix."
Nashen had been afraid Arkay would say such
a thing.
"So, first I pull this lever here?"
"Actually you pull the little knob on the
dash." Jarmin reached over and suited actions to words. "This is the advance."
"Like the advance on money?" Nashen leaning
over his shoulder didn't help. Arkay studied the various dials and knobs
in front of him again. This hadn't looked so difficult when he'd seen someone
else do it. Like say Mikhail.
"Something like, I think." Jarmin looked over
at Aliana.
"Yes, exactly, maybe," she was blinking rather
oddly. "But then I don't know much about these things. No interest, none
whatsoever." Her shudder of dismay was quite plain. "Give me a good horse
any day."
"I'm started to think the same thing." But
he'd be damned before he let some machine win over him. The fact it was selyn
powered only made it worse. He'd used selyn powered equipment, even if it
was far more sophisticated and he had even less of an idea exactly how it
worked. So, the advance was out. Arkay could faintly sense selyn trickling
into the condenser coil.
He pulled the clutch lever back and stomped
the starter as Jarmin had told him to do. The car lurched forward, bucked
twice, and then came to a crashing halt. The engine wheezed with a tired
groan as it died again. "What did I do wrong?"
"What gear were you in?"
"I had the clutch back!"
"But when you're starting it, the drive shaft
has to be in neutral as well."
"Oh," Arkay'd forgotten. He studied the pedals
beneath his feet. Grumbling a bit, he popped it out of second. "Let's try
this again."
"Do we have to?" Nashen was dead white. Aliana
looked as if she were reconsidering the concept of morning sickness. Jarmin
was merely smirking.
"Yes," Arkay checked the advance again. It
had fallen back into normal. He advanced the selyn flow again. This time
as the coil heated up, he cranked it over. It rattled a few times and then
purred nicely for him. Jarmin had said something about this being a rather
old car, and that a newer one would be easier to drive. But Arkay didn't
want to spend good selyn on something he'd only use a few times.
Gingerly, Arkay put it into gear and began
releasing the clutch. It lurched to another of those teethgrinding halts.
"You have to give it selyn to get it to go
forward." Jarmin reminded him, quite unnecessarily. Arkay'd figured that
out as soon as he'd stalled the blasted car again.
"Sound familiar?" He gave Nashen a wink.
"Hush," Nashen rolled his eyes.
"Very," Jarmin had to duck a half hearted
blow from his lady. "Hey, I didn't deserve that!"
"Then store it up for the next time you deserve
a swat." She leaned on the back of the seat. "I'm glad you say this is the
safest spot."
"As long as you stay buckled in." Jarmin gave
her a kiss before shooing her back. "Now, advance, clutch, selyn and then
go."
This was getting more complicated by the minute.
Arkay sighed and went through the routine aga