(The Dark Servant)Midnight Matters

by A. C. Ellas

  Jethain took it with a wry face. “Thanks for the warning.” He swirled the potion once, then chugged it back. “Aaagh!” Once he finished grimacing, he said, “Another sun-scorched horse tonic!”

  Rak burst out laughing. “The mint tonic is not, it is my grandmother’s recipe,” he said, once he’d recovered. “She swears by it for all manner of stomach ills.”

  “That’s the only one that tastes good, I bet.” Jethain pointedly handed back the empty cup. “May I have another mint tonic?”

  “Of course.” Rak accepted the cup and padded to the side table. He started mixing another tonic. “If you want, for the other medicines, I can put a tube down your throat to dose you.”

  Jethain looked startled. “That’s what…no, a sun priest wouldn’t force a tube down my throat. Must have been a fever dream.”

  “Tell me,” said Rak urgently, returning to the bedside with another mint tonic. He resisted sitting in Jisten’s lap, but sat so close that he might as well have been.

  “A priest came in,” said Jethain. “He spoke something I didn’t understand. He forced a tube down my throat and poured something down it. Then, nothing.”

  “Dreams have not been turning out to be dreams of late,” said Rak and smiled at Jisten, who smiled back. Rak stood up and paced. “But what to do. This cannot continue.”

  “I’ll have a cot brought in here for myself,” Jisten said. “I’ll rotate only my core guards.”

  Rak paused by the bed, pulled off his pendant, and put it on Jethain. “Two cots. I will stay here myself.” He resumed pacing.

  Jethain picked up the pendant and looked at it. “What is it?” “The sigil of the Lord of Night. And on the reverse, the symbol of my sect.” Rak smiled a little. “That particular one was a gift from my God. All His high priests have one like it.”

  “You gave me a high priest’s sigil? Doesn’t that curse me?”

  “Ix, not at all,” said Rak. “I gave it to you. If you had taken it from me against my will, then you would be cursed.” “Does it offer protection?” Jisten asked. “That is my hope. At the very least, this sun priest will be in for a rude surprise when he touches the prince.” Pacing back to the bed, Rak pulled a grass green lizard from his pocket and put it on the headboard. It spread translucent wings and clicked.

  Jisten grinned at the little lizard. “Hello, little wings.” The green lizard clicked at him and explored its new surroundings.

  “What about Forael?” Jethain asked, worry in his voice. “Will he be harmed?

  “Warn Forael and remove it before he touches you,” said Rak.

  “Where is he?” wondered the prince. “I don’t know,” Jisten said, “Perhaps we should send him another message.” It took him a few moments to write a note and set it on a lap desk for Jethain to sign.

  Jethain lay back on his pillow and let a breath out. “When will I not be tired anymore?”

  “Soon,” said Rak. He took the signed note, rolled it tightly, sealed it, and said, “Message.” He stroked the blue lizard that emerged from his hood. “To Forael, and no other, then back to me.” Trelo zoomed off with scroll clutched in his feet.

  Jisten watched the whirring little wings with amazement.

  “Mastigi have many uses,” Rak told him.

  * * * * * Too soon, an agitated Trelo zoomed back into the room, still clutching the message. He landed on Rak’s outstretched hand and clicked in distress.

  “Forael is deeply asleep,” Rak said. “Or ill.” Trelo clicked again. “You tried, you did well,” Rak crooned to the lizard and fed it bits of sausage.

  “I’ve almost killed the archpriest,” Jethain said quietly. “Just like Father said.”

  Jisten, still sitting on the bed next to Jethain, shook his head. “No, my prince.”

  “I doubt that, he has healed worse,” said Rak. He wrote another note. “Those patients were probably stronger,” Jethain said bitterly. “Not weak. Not fit for anything but an overdose of morphea.”

  “Jethain, don’t say that,” Jisten said and patted the prince’s hand.

  “Actually, I was nearly dead.”

  Both men snapped their attention to Rak. “You, brother?”

  “Oh, S’Rak, when was this?” Jisten asked. “Go to Dethrian.” Rak sent Trelo whizzing back to the Sun Temple. “It was when Ylion Xaethien was archpriest over the Riverlands. Forael was a junior priest assigned to him.”

  “And you were an unfortunate slave,” Jisten added. “I was lucky compared to some. Nobody wastes morphea on a dying slave. Mercy doses are reserved for the wealthy.”

  “I feel for those who were unlucky,” Jethain said. “But Forael was younger then. Now he is aged, and I’m draining him.”

  “I would think that he is even more powerful now than he was then, and he is not that old. Xaethien drained twenty years of his life to feed himself.”

  “That Ylion again? He coulddo that? How?”

  “Why hasn’t Forael ever mentioned it?” “An evil application of blood magic,” said Rak. He shook his head. “There are some who think the taint of such magic clings to the victim. It cannot, particularly in the case of a sun priest like Forael, but silence is the wisest course for him.”

  There was a knock at the door and two servants with cots stood there. Rak and Jisten helped the servants bring the cots in. Once they were set up, Jisten checked on Jethain again. He pushed back damp strands of Jethain’s hair from his face. “I’m cold,” Jethain said.

  “You feel clammy,” Jisten said, laying a hand on the prince’s forehead. “More blankets?”

  Jethain shook his head. “I have four on already.” Morth leapt onto the bed and curled up beside Jethain. Rak said, “I can ask Scorth to sleep with you. He is better than any blanket—his kind radiate heat continuously.”

  Conflicting emotions chased across the prince’s face. “Yes, I’d like that. Would you miss him in your bed?”

  “I think I can manage,” said Rak soberly.

  “Truly, my prince, you want Scorth in your bed?” Jisten sounded surprised. “Are you jealous? Are you offering?” Jethain asked, and there was no teasing in his voice.

  Rak stared at Jethain. “You want a man?”

  “You make it sound wrong,” Jethain answered defensively. “I said I was cold.” “Sa’sa, Jethain,” soothed Rak, “there is nothing wrong with that, and Scorth is as hot as the desert sands.”

  Jethain still clutched Jisten’s hand. “I’m hurt, and nauseous and hungry and —”

  “I’m sorry,” Jisten said. “Didn’t mean to jump to conclusions.” “It’s all right, Jisten. We’ve been friends forever,” Jethain smiled up at him.

  “Yes, we have, my prince. Soon you’ll be better,” Jisten said. “And all this will be behind you.” Chapter Five: Golden Questions The sense of Scorth’s nearness caused Rak to look up from the tome of herbal remedies he was perusing. Dethrian and Scorth walked in at the same time, eyeing each other. The sun priest alternated between glancing at Scorth and the little blue lizard riding his wrist. Trelo clicked at him with each glance, as if carrying on a conversation.

  “Iatrion Dethrian, thank you for coming,” Jisten said. He made to stand up, but Jethain kept a death grip on his hand. Rak stood up instead, stretching briefly.

  “Good morning, Captain Jisten,” said the sun priest, then turned his gaze on Rak, who motioned him aside. Rak spoke to Dethrian in a low voice, telling the priest what he’d discovered, and what he suspected. Dethrian looked at Jethain as he listened to Rak, nodding now and then.

  Scorth grinned fangily as he approached the bed. “My services have been requested?”

  “The prince is cold,” Jisten said. “And blankets aren’t enough.” Scorth sat on the bed on the side away from Jisten, then slid under the blankets and snuggled up next to the prince. He radiated heat. Jethain finally let go of Jisten’s hand and pressed against Scorth. His color slowly improved.

  “Warmer, Prince Jethain?” Jisten asked.

&nbs
p; “Much,” Jethain murmured sleepily. Dethrian did a quick exam and confirmed Rak’s fears. “Someone has been purging him, against our teachings. We haven’t used purgings in ten years.”

  “And these cuts, Iatrion,” Jisten said. He brushed the spots on Jethain’s arm. Dethrian scowled. “And bloodletting! No wonder the prince is so weak. He needs good food and much care.”

  Jethain snuggled against Scorth, eyes closed. “My mother can make excellent food to your orders, Iatrion. From bland to rich.”

  The corner of Jethain’s mouth quirked, revealing that he was listening, even if he had closed his eyes.

  “I had assumed his troubles were blood loss from the original wound and paralysis of the healed gut. But this is a completely different problem. He needs nutrient dense food, heavy in protein now.”

  “Pastina,” Jisten declared. “Good quality protein that’s easily digested. It can start bland and be made richer and more flavorful as digestion permits.”

  “Acceptable,” said Dethrian. “I will check on him tomorrow, but send for me if you have any questions. Do not let any further purgings or blood-lettings occur.”

  “He’ll be guarded around the clock,” Jisten said. Jethain’s mouth quirked again into a grin.

  “We will do everything we can to keep the prince safe,” said Rak. “There is nothing more that I can do. But I will return every day to check on the prince, until our Ylion is back on his feet.” A worried look flitted across the senior healer’s face.

  “What is wrong with the Ylion?” asked Rak, concerned. “That is the question,” Dethrian said. “The golden question. Perhaps I should check him for purging and bloodletting.”

  Trust sun priests to wonder about golden questions, thought Rak. “That is a good idea,” he said politely.

  Dethrian gave Rak a curt nod. “Thank you, cousin, if I may be so bold as to call you that.”

  “You may, and please, cousin, keep me informed. Forael is an old friend.” “Perhaps if I had a beautiful little messenger lizard to send back to you?” The senior healer looked oddly wistful.

  Rak’s eyebrows shot up. He pulled a plump red lizard out of his pocket and murmured to it, stroking its head. The red mastigi whizzed over to Dethrian and latched onto the man’s robes, clicking happily.

  “They always stow away in my pockets,” said Rak with a rueful grin. “I pull them out, and they dart back in when my attention wavers. I found over a dozen of them hiding in my packs when I arrived.”

  Dethrian offered the smile of a kind man who wished a pet, but was too busy in his profession. He stroked the little red head. “And what do you like to eat, little one?”

  “They will eat anything,” Rak said. “But they like bugs. And sausage. And grapes. A mastigi eating a grape is always an amusing sight.”

  “Bugs, sausage, and grapes,” Dethrian repeated. “We have those in abundance. Perhaps you will keep the herb garden free of pests? The insects target the rarest of herbs.” He practically cooed at the little lizard. When Jisten chuckled, Dethrian straightened. “Healing herbs of course. I have professional interest in them.” The egg-heavy lizard clicked some more. Rak suspected that the garden would soon be bug-free and mastigi-full. “I’m off to check the Ylion,” Dethrian said as he stroked the mastigi. “You’ll have a note soon. And, ah, you will send back this one, yes?”

  “Of course,” said Rak. “She is yours now.”

  “Truly?” Dethrian’s smile creased his entire face. Why do sunnies always question whether something is true? If it wasn’t true, I wouldn’t have said it. “Truly,” said Rak. “They do not have room in their little heads for much, certainly two owners is beyond them, so I have imprinted you on her.” At home, people would routinely march in and demand that Rakunimprint a mastigi from them, their child, their pet…

  Dethrian laughed. “We are suspicious souls, aren’t we, those of the sun. Quite used to lies. My thanks, cousin. I will take exquisite care of her. Sun’s blessing on you.” He walked out talking to the little lizard, who clicked back.

  Rak retained a straight face until the door closed, and then he chuckled. Jisten joined him. “I think that man needed a pet, and now he has a portable one.”

  “Not only portable, she is easy to take care of.” Jisten scribbled on a piece of parchment. “I’ll send a note to Mother. Tebber would be the best choice for messenger. Can you recall him?”

  Trelo clicked happily. Rak sent the blue lizard after Tebber.

  “Such amazing little wings,” Jisten said. “There is not much difference between a mastigi and a dragon,” said Rak. Scorth opened his eyes and glared.

  “He said it!” Jisten pointed at Rak, grinning hugely. “Not me!”

  Rak affected innocence. “What? It is merely a matter of scale!”

  “Dragons are not winged geckos!”

  Jisten laughed. “You’re right. The little lizards do look like geckos.” Since the issues involving the prince were settled for now, Rak stretched out on the cot. He was tired himself, and the sun was climbing high in the sky, far past his normal bedtime. He pulled his hood up to shade his eyes and fell asleep even faster than the prince.

  Chapter Six: Massage

  Jethain woke up snuggled against the furnace that was Scorth. He rolled over and pushed his back against the black man. “You’re my brother’s bonded partner? How long have you been married?”

  “We’ve been bonded for many years,” rumbled Scorth sleepily. “Not married. My kind doesn’t marry.”

  Jethain pushed harder against Scorth. “Not marry? Why? Do you mate with others?”

  “Of course I mate with others. None of my kind marries, that would be ridiculous. We mate and move on.”

  “And Araken doesn’t mind? Doesn’t hold a grudge against those you mate with?” Jethain rubbed against Scorth.

  “Rak likes all my kind,” said Scorth. He snuggled closer to Jethain. “Thank you for coming in bed with me.” Jethain ran one wool sock covered foot up and down Scorth’s leg.

  “I don’t mind, I’m hotter than a basking stone at midday.” Jethain hummed agreement. “Want to do more? If you think Araken won’t mind.”

  “More what?”

  “More in bed,” Jethain said. “I feel strange.” “I can read to you if you want to fall back asleep. Or how about a massage? Rak likes those.”

  “Massage? That sounds great. If you’re sure that Araken won’t mind.” “Why would he mind a massage?” asked Scorth, tone baffled. “He might be jealous, but upset? Hardly.”

  “Jealous? You can mate with others but he’d be jealous over a massage?” “I give really good massages. That’s what he’s tells me. His neck and back are always tense.”

  “Oh, that kind of jealous,” Jethain breathed a sigh of relief. “My tension is lower in my back.”

  Scorth rolled Jethain over and massaged the man’s lower back. “Lower,” Jethain moaned. Scorth kneaded lower, just above the buttocks. “Lower,” Jethain begged.

  Scorth moved to the man’s thighs. “You should have told me it was your legs that hurt.”

  “Not my legs,” Jethain said. “Between my back and legs. Please?”

  “Your buttocks hurt?” Scorth sounded astonished. “Are you constipated?”

  Jethain lifted up his head and looked at Scorth. “No!”

  Scorth blinked at him. “Okay.” His hands kneaded Jethain’s butt.

  Jethain laid his head on his arms. “That feels good.”

  Scorth continued to knead his butt, but he never touched more private areas.

  “Scorth, do you find me attractive?” This was a question humans had asked Scorth before. Usually young, uncertain ones. Carefully, he said, “You are a handsome human.”

  Jethain looked at Scorth coyly over his back. “Handsome enough to mate with?”

  “For a human, you are handsome enough,” evaded Scorth.

  “Do you not mate with humans?” Jethain asked.

  “No, I do not.”

  J
ethain blew out an exasperated breath and laid his head down. Rak got up and blinked owlishly at them. Jethain wondered if the noise had awoken the priest or something else. He watched glumly as Rak padded over to the side of his bed with an expression of polite concern on his face.

  “Hello Araken,” Jethain said. “Xai, Jethain. Is there a problem?” “No,” Jethain said, trying and failing to stifle his surge of depsression. “Thank you, Scorth, for the massage.” He rolled over on his side, glad that he hadn’t pulled down his satin bedpants like his instincts had screamed for him to do.

  Rak touched Jethain’s shoulder. “You do not sound as if nothing is amiss. What is wrong?”

  “I just feel strange,” Jethain said. “Did you use any healing magic on me? Or anything like that?”

  “ Ix, I have not. Strange, how?” Rak sat on the edge of the bed, his leg pressing into Jethain’s side. The contact felt good. Wrongfully, but delightfully, good.

  “Lonely,” Jethain said. Rak squeezed his shoulder. “I am sorry. Do you want me to stay with you?”

  “No, I want Jisten,” Jethain said, in a moment of total honesty. Rak’s leg pressed against him felt good, and he imagined that Jisten’s would feel even better. “Oh, sorry, brother. That was rude.”

  “I will get him,” said Rak. “He said that he needed to check on his men, so this might take some time.” He slipped off the bed.

  Jethain straightened his bed clothes. After Rak walked out, Scorth said, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “You didn’t upset me,” Jethain said. “You were just honest.” “It’s not that I don’t like you,” said Scorth earnestly, “But we’re different species. We don’t fit together. You’re not in any condition for a mating flight even if we could.”

  “Mating flight? So your wings can fly?”

  “Of course.”

  “That doesn’t seem fair. You can fly while Araken can only glide?” “I’m a member of a superior race. Are we going back to sleep or not?” Scorth asked. “It’s the middle of the day. Should be sleeping like normal beings.”