Glimpses: A Collection of Nightrunner Short Stories

by Lynn Flewelling

  Hesitant, or revenge? Seregil wondered with amusement. It soon proved to be neither as Alec licked the tip and closed his hand around the shaft, stroking him in a perfect rhythm.

  All too quickly the ecstasy shook through Seregil in waves, pulling a strangled snarl of pleasure from deep in his chest as he came hard and long in Alec’s hand. Helplessly undone, he laid there, chest heaving, as Alec lay down beside him.

  He found Alec’s hand and gripped it. “Thank you.”

  Alec grinned, looking rather proud of himself.

  Happy. Seregil felt so damn happy. The despair and self pity of the night before seemed like a bad dream. They lay there together for a while, listening to the night breeze and the beating of each other’s hearts. When his head finally stopped spinning, Seregil rolled on top of Alec and kissed his way down the side of his lover’s neck. “Your turn.”

  ***

  The night candle burned down to the socket and guttered out before they fell, sated, against the bolsters, sweat cooling on their skin. Alec yawned widely, eyelids already heavy. “Sorry.”

  Seregil gave him a fond smile. “Nothing to apologize for, talí.” Turning on his side, he pulled Alec back against his chest and kissed him on the back of the head. “Everything was perfect. Go to sleep.”

  Alec was, almost before Seregil had finished speaking. But Seregil lay awake a little longer, thinking of all the times they’d nearly lost each other. But Alec’s scent and heat soothed away the dark thoughts.

  “Forever, talí,” he vowed softly. “No one but you.”

  ***

  Something woke Seregil just before dawn. As he lay there with Alec asleep beside him, the sense of happiness was even stronger, like being filled with sunlight. He’d never felt like this before. It took a moment to realize that it wasn’t only his own emotions he was feeling. It was almost as if he could feel a second heartbeat under his ribs.

  Alec stirred beside him, then his eyes flew open in obvious surprise. “Seregil?”

  “You feel it, too?”

  Alec sat up, one hand pressed to his chest, just below his throat. “What is this? I feel—you!”

  Laughing, Seregil pulled Alec down into his arms, heart overflowing with shared joy. “The bond. The talímenios bond. Our spirits are joined. Chypta Aura! I didn’t think I’d ever experience it.”

  “Really?”

  Seregil felt a twinge of a disappointment not his own. It was a little unnerving, really. This would take some getting used to. “No, I didn’t mean it that way, talí. It’s just that I never dared think you and I would end up this way.”

  “Can you hear my thoughts?”

  “No, it’s not like that, but I can feel how you feel.”

  “Me, too.”

  Seregil stroked Alec’s cheek. “It’s beautiful.”

  Alec closed his eyes and nodded.

  “As I understand it, the sensations probably won’t be this strong all the time. But the bond will be there for as long as we love each other.”

  Alec snuggled closer. “I don’t plan on that changing, so I guess you’re stuck with me.”

  “Well, I can only think of one response to that.”

  “Oh? Oh!”

  ***

  When they woke for the second time, Alec could hear the clatter of dishes and fire irons in the house beyond.

  “We’ve missed breakfast,” Seregil said with yawn.

  Alec reeked of sex and his bladder was full, but suddenly the thought of facing their friends was daunting, especially in this condition.

  Seregil understood without being told. Perhaps it was the bond again. “Get dressed,” he whispered.

  Together they climbed out the bedroom window and snuck into the unattended stable for their horses. They didn’t bother with saddles, but rode bareback up to the otter pond for a swim.

  It was still chilly, but Seregil stripped and dove into the water, only to come up sputtering. “Bilairy’s balls, that’s cold!”

  A mother otter and her two pups watched them from the bank, apparently not welcoming this interruption of their morning fishing. Alec sank into the water, not finding it as bad as all that. He swam over to Seregil and wrapped his arms around him as they stood there in the chest-deep water. “You’re always cold.”

  Seregil shivered against him, but he was smiling. “You’re always warm. And as much as I’d love to make love to you again right here and now, I’m afraid your warmth is no match for frigid water.”

  They contented themselves with helping each other wash. Then, dressed and refreshed, they rode back to the house and sauntered into the kitchen in search of food as if they’d just been out for an early ride. Arna was there, however. She took one look at the pair of them and burst out laughing. “So you finally came to your senses, eh?”

  Alec’s face went hot and he was strongly tempted to turn tail and run.

  But Seregil just laughed as he poured himself a cup of tea from the pot warming on the hearth. “Yes, we did. Any breakfast left?”

  ***

  On the surface things were the same as they’d always been, but the looks Micum, Kari, and the servants gave him when they thought Alec wasn’t looking told another story. It was embarrassing, but he didn’t regret anything.

  He sparred with Micum in the morning, grateful beyond words that his friend didn’t bring up the subject of the night’s activities, then he and Seregil helped him build a haystack in one of the fields behind the house.

  The day turned warm. When Micum went back to the house to fetch them some water, Seregil pulled Alec around to the back of the stack and gave him a shove, toppling him over on his back in the crisp, fragrant hay. Grinning, Seregil straddled him and rested his hands on either side of Alec’s head. “I slept very well last night, thanks to you.”

  “So did I, once you let me.” Even after everything they’d shared last night, Alec still wasn’t beyond blushing. There was more than embarrassment to it this time, though.

  Seregil’s grin was crooked as he took in the sudden bulge in Alec’s breeches. He lowered himself slowly down to let Alec feel his own hardness.

  “Here? No!” Alec gasped, trying to push him off.

  “Just a taste,” Seregil murmured, overwhelming his lover’s protests with a kiss. Alec squirmed under him in a rather half-hearted fashion—which only made matters worse, of course—then gave in and kissed him back, tongue meeting tongue. That was still strange, but oddly intimate and exciting, too.

  Lost in this soft give and take, neither of them was aware of Micum’s return until he threw a flagon of cold water over them.

  “Bilairy’s balls!” Seregil sputtered, rolling off Alec.

  “Someone else’s, I’d say,” Micum observed with a shrewd grin. “It’s a good thing I didn’t bring Illia back with me.”

  Alec jumped up and pulled the front of his sweat-soaked shirt down, though Micum’s obvious amusement was quickly curing that problem.

  Micum laughed. “Go clean up. You’ve got time for a wash before supper, and some more cold water will do you both good.”

  Seregil flipped him a rude gesture as they walked away, but he was still grinning, apparently not embarrassed in the least. Alec’s face was burning and he suddenly felt a little sick.

  Seregil’s smile disappeared as he laid a hand on Alec’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I should have thought—”

  “It’s bad enough that everyone knows,” Alec muttered. “They don’t have to see, too.”

  The minute the words were out of his mouth he knew he’d hurt Seregil, even without the bond to tell him.

  Still, his lover’s grey eyes were kind as he said, “I understand, talí. I’m sorry. I should have realized.”

  That just made Alec feel worse. “It’s just—”

  “Still the good Dalnan?”

  “After last night?” Alec made a conscious effort not to look around for people as he took Seregil’s hand. In the distance he could see Illia playing some game in the kit
chen yard that involved a lot of jumping.

  Seregil squeezed his hand, letting him know his unspoken apology was accepted. “I don’t expect you to change, Alec. I like you just the way you are.”

  ***

  They turned in early that night. Alec had hardly latched the door before Seregil was in his arms, kissing him deeply as he backed Alec up against the wall by the door. He buried his fingers in Seregil’s still-damp hair as Seregil pressed against him, letting him feel his renewed arousal.

  This time Alec didn’t object. Hoping to make up for his reaction at the haystack, he pulled Seregil’s shirt off over his head and licked his neck, tasting the lingering hint of salt from their day’s labors.

  Seregil reciprocated as he steered Alec to the bed, dragged him onto it, and flopped down on top of him. The sensation of Seregil’s rising passion, coupled with his own, made him forget about worrying if anyone in the house knew what they were up to.

  “Is this going to be a habit?” he asked between kisses, grabbing Seregil’s backside with both hands.

  Seregil raised an eyebrow at him, grin a little crooked. “I certainly hope so!”

  The Summer Players (working title)

  Forthcoming from Spectra in 2011.

  “My lord, it’s said that there is no way to cheat at bakshi, so I can only assume you are using magic,” Duke Koris growled as Seregil slapped down one of his carnelian pieces and captured the Duke’s spear.

  The Three Dragons gambling house stood a few doors down from the Drake and was even more opulent, attracting a clientele made up of higher ranking nobles. It was only by Reltheus’ invitation that Seregil and Alec were here at all. Seregil’s reputation was well known in the Street of Lights, however, and quite a crowd had gathered around the bakshi table to see him pitted against Koris, a young rake with a reputation of his own, one that had gotten him banned from several of the brothels here in the Street, including Eirual’s, as it happened. Seregil was enjoying besting the man very much.

  “No magic, your grace, just Illior’s luck,” Alec drawled, leaning on the back of Seregil’s chair.

  “I’ve played him enough myself to agree, Koris,” Reltheus told the man. “He’s just damn good, and lucky.”

  “It’s all right,” Seregil said, sliding another carnelian piece into place in front of Koris’s lapis one to blunt the spear. Picking up the captured stones one by one, he glanced up at the duke with a cold smile. “I’m sure his Grace wasn’t impugning my honor.”

  The duke, however, was drunk and not put off by the veiled threat. Lord Seregil was better known for avoiding duels than fighting them. “Six rounds in a row? You must have a charm on you somewhere!”

  A murmur went through the crowd; it was a serious charge.

  Seregil leaned back in his chair and spread his arms. “Search me, your grace. I swear by Illior you’ll find nothing of the sort.” He looked around at the crowd with the slightly inane grin he affected when dealing with situations like this among the nobles. “Why, the rest of you can wager on it, but I say your money is best laid on me!”

  “Yes, have him strip!” one of the ladies cried, holding up her silk purse, and the cry was quickly taken up by the crowd.

  Koris’s smile was mean. “Yes, I’ll take that wager. Fifty gold sesters says he has a luck piece or mark on him. What say you, Lord Seregil? Will you stand by your offer?”

  “I suppose I must,” Seregil said with a shrug.

  “But how will we know it?” an older noble demanded. “A charm could be anything. Is there a wizard here?”

  “Here’s one!” someone at the back of the crowd shouted.

  Old Reneus, one of the senior Orëska wizards, was none too pleased to be pressed into service for such a menial task, but with some cajoling and a fresh cup of wine he finally consented.

  “Now you’ve done it,” Alec muttered as Seregil handed him his sword belt and pulled off his boots and socks.

  The wizard took each one with evident distaste and quickly handed them back. “No magic here.”

  “Better than a duel,” Seregil whispered back, then climbed up onto his chair so everyone had a good view of him. “Really, your Grace, you’re throwing your money away.” He slipped off his coat and dropped it into Alec’s waiting arms. The wizard took it and searched through the pockets. Seregil pulled off his shirt and tossed it to the man.

  “There, you see? Nothing,” said Seregil, turning for the crowd to inspect his lean, bare torso.

  Koris smirked up at him. “There are still places to hide something. Keep going.”

  “Perhaps he has it hanging from his cock!” one wag suggested loudly.

  “I’d like to see that,” the woman who’d placed the first bet concurred. “Come on now, Lord Seregil. Out with it!”

  One thing Seregil had never managed to master was blushing at will, but he made a good job of looking comically outraged. “You’re not serious? Really now, your Grace, I’ve left those days behind me.”

  “A wager is a wager, my lord, unless you’d rather settle this on the plain?” said Koris.

  “I’m afraid he’s within his rights, Seregil,” Reltheus reminded him.

  Dueling was not allowed with the city, but a blind eye was turned on whatever went on outside its walls and killing someone in a formal duel was not considered murder. It had been some time since Seregil had fought for his honor.

  “Very well, then.” He unlaced his leather trousers and pushed them and his linen down with a graceful flourish. The crowd exploded in applause and laughter. Those closest to Alec slapped him on the back. Seregil climbed off the chair and stood grinning, hands on hips, as his trousers were inspected, then took them back and dressed as carefully as if he was in front of his looking glass at home, smoothing out every wrinkle. Money was changing hands around him and it was clear that public sentiment was on his side, for whatever reason.

  Taking his place again, he raised his chin and grinned across the gaming table at his opponent. “Shall we continue, your grace?”

  More applause erupted at the duke’s expense.

  Caught, Koris had no choice but to finish—and lose—the game. With gritted teeth his paid off the wager, swept his stones back into their fancy embroidered bag, and strode off with all the dignity he could muster.

  Seregil looked around at his admirers. “Next?”

  The woman who’d championed the wager took the chair Koris had vacated and poured her stones into the polished tray in front of her. They were made of blue opal, and she held one up, showing him Illior’s crescent inlaid in silver on the back of it. “The Lightbringer will have to decide between us, my lord, for I’ve been known to have the Immortal’s favor, as well. Or would you like to inspect my clothing for charms first?”

  “A tempting offer, Marquise, but your honor is above reproach.”

  “You’re very gallant, Lord Seregil, but now I’m disappointed,” she said with a teasing smile. “Well, you had your chance. Shall we play?”

  They were still arranging their stones for the first round when a young page made his way through the crowd and whispered something to Alec. He, in turn, leaned down and whispered in Seregil’s ear, “We have to go.”

  Seregil quickly made his apologies to the disappointed noblewoman and the crowd and scooped up his stones.

  “What is it?” he asked as they hurried out.

  “I don’t know, but it must be important. Kepi’s outside, asking for us, and he wouldn’t do that if it wasn’t important, would he?”

  “Most likely not.”

  They found the boy waiting for them on the pavement, under the watchful eye of the doorman, who clearly disapproved of such an unsightly character on the Street.

  Seregil and Alec hustled him quickly out of sight into the shadows beyond the reach of the street lanterns.

  “What is it?” Seregil demanded.

  “That actor fellow, Atre the Mycenian? He’s a friend of yours, ain’t he?”

  “How in
the world did you know that?”

  Kepi just winked and grinned.

  “Yes, he’s a friend of ours. What of it?”

  “Well, he got hisself knifed tonight.”

  “Bilairy’s balls! Where?” asked Seregil.

  “Down at the waterfront, back of the Skulpin. I just heard of it and I come straight up to tell you. Your man at the house told me were you was.”

  “The Skulpin?” said Alec. “What was he doing down there?” The gambling house was just outside of the respectable commerce district of the Lower City, and catered mostly to locals and sea faring men. There were plenty of cutpurses, bawds, and footpads about at this time of night, ready to relieve the unwary of their winnings.

  “Is he alive?”

  “He was when my friend heard about it. I went to your house and they told me you were here. I came straight on.”

  “Good lad.” Seregil took half a dozen coppers from his purse and gave them to the boy. Kepi made him another ill-formed bow and took off at a run, darting between horses and carriages. He was soon out of sight among the evening crowd.

  ***

  They made most of the long ride down to the Lower City at a gallop and found the actor still alive and groaning on a couch in an poorly lit back room of the gambling den. He was dressed uncharacteristically plainly without a jewel on him—an apparent attempt to fit in with his surroundings, perhaps, or he’d been robbed.

  A small crowd of ne’er do wells and doxies were peering in from the doorway, but parted for Alec and Seregil, who had come armed.

  A drysian was with Atre, tending to a wound on his belly. The actor was white-faced and looked frightened, but at least he was conscious.

  “What happened?” Seregil asked, kneeling down beside him and taking the man’s hand.