by Kody Boye
“Yeah, I know. I’m not too great in that department though.”
“Neither am I.”
“Yeah, but you…” Nova stopped. A moment later, he frowned, then sighed. “Guess you’re right. I should go try, just not now. I’ll do it later, like when we go down to get dinner or something.”
“All right,” Odin said. “You can still come with me if you want.”
The older man waved his hand at him before settling back down on the bed.
Apparently, he would be visiting the mages by himself.
Later, after he was sure that at least one of the brothers had returned from dinner, Odin knocked on the door and waited patiently for the occupants inside to arrive. Hands in his pockets, head downturned, he stared at the tips of his boots and how their surfaces had managed to hold up all this time until the door opened, after which he returned his head to the world above him and looked on the brother standing in the threshold.
“Odin,” Icklard said. “Come in, come in.”
After stepping through the doorway, Odin turned to examine the younger brother closer. Without the hat and the mouthpiece, he could easily see the lengthened locks of fire-brown hair and the brown birthmark that rested to the right side of his lip—all details that had alluded him previously.
“What brings you here?” the man asked.
“I… I came to visit, if you don’t mind.”
“That’s fine. Here. Sit. I’ve got tea ready.”
Odin settled into one of the armchairs. Icklard poured some tea for himself, then set a cup in front of Odin. “It’s nothing special, really, but it’s good for you.”
“Thank you,” Odin said. Grimacing the moment he sipped the tea, he set it on the table, nodding thanks to Icklard. “Where’s your brother?” he asked.
“Domnin? In the kitchen, I’d assume, helping some of the other men with the dirty dishes.”
“Are you required to help around the ship?”
“No. What we do here pays for the food and the room. Technically, we don’t have to do anything other than make sure the ship stays safe. My brother, though… he tends to like working in the kitchen, but I think that’s because he can eat the last little bit of the fish.”
They laughed. Icklard set his tea down and seated himself in his own chair.
“So, Odin,” Icklard said, setting an elbow on his chair. “You’re here with your knight master, I assume?”
“I am.”
“What brings you out to this ungodly part of the sea?”
“I’m… not so sure. My knight master hasn’t said where we’re going.”
“How come?”
“He wants it to be ‘a surprise.’” Odin made sure to enunciate the words as harshly as he could, fingers raised and all.
“I see,” Icklard smiled. He looked around the room, particularly at the beds in the opposite corners, before returning his eyes to Odin. “Was there anything you wanted to ask me?”
“Actually… well… sort of.”
“Ask anything you want.”
“Jerdai said you’ve been with him since you were my age.”
“That depends on how old you are.”
“I’m sixteen.”
“Ah. Yes. Both me and my brother have been on the ship with Jerdai since we were your age. Well—I was your age, anyway. My brother’s two years older than me. As to our work… it’s the only thing that keeps us alive.”
“Do either of you have families?”
“I have a woman back home, if that’s what you’re asking. God knows I only see her once every few months though. What about you? You have someone back in…”
“Felnon,” Odin said, shaking his head whilst finishing the man’s sentence. “I was at Ornala until just a few months ago. I had some… complications that kept me from seeing much of anyone.”
“No need to explain. That’s your business, not mine.”
“You never mentioned your brother though,” Odin frowned. “What about him? Does he have a wife?”
“Well, no.” Icklard paused. He waited a moment, as if carefully considering his words, then shrugged and smiled. “Let’s just say my brother isn’t one to mingle with the fairer sex.”
“What?”
“You want me to explain it?” Icklard laughed.
“I… don’t exactly understand what you’re saying. Do you mean that he prefers his own company, or—”
“He prefers the company of men, my friend.”
Odin frowned. He couldn’t help but swallow a lump in his throat. “What?” he asked.
“You really must’ve led a sheltered life at that castle,” Icklard said, leaning forward to set his hands on his knees. “My brother, as I just said, prefers men over women.”
“Are you serious?”
“I am. He doesn’t go around broadcasting it like public knowledge, but wait up late at night and follow him through the halls. You’ll find he’s in the captain’s room many nights.”
“Is the captain—”
“Oh, no. Jerdai isn’t. Their relationship is… well, let’s just say it isn’t personal beyond what they do behind a closed door.”
Odin chose to remain silent. He kept his eyes to the floor, looked up only when he felt it necessary, and tried to avoid the plain, indifferent gaze Icklard offered him in that moment. Of all the things to do or say during such a conversation, he had to have been offensive—particularly, of course, toward Domnin, whom, judging by dialogue alone, Icklard obviously loved very much. “I’m sorry,” he said, taking a deep breath when he finally felt himself able to look up and face the man in front of him. “I just wanted to get to know the two of you better.”
“There’s no need to apologize. I’m sure my brother would’ve explained if I hadn’t. At least this way, you don’t have to say anything that might accidentally bring this up again.”
“Are you ashamed of him?”
“No,” Icklard said, then blinked, as though incredulous and unable to believe what had just been said. “Why would I be?”
“I just thought… that you might not approve.”
“My brother has his own life—it’s not my job to tell him what he can and can’t do.”
“All right.”
“Does it bother you, Odin?”
“No. Why would it?”
“Some men are ignorant,” Icklard said, a brief smile crossing his face as he leaned back in his seat.
After the period of awkward silence that followed, Icklard began to ask about the trip and just what they had seen on the way from Ornala.
“You’re back.”
Odin jumped. After closing the door, he turned to see Miko sitting in an armchair. “I’m sorry for coming back so late, sir.”
“It’s all right. Nova said you were visiting friends.”
“The mages,” Odin replied, stepping further into the room. “Icklard and Domnin.”
“What made you want to visit them?”
“I went up onto the deck earlier and ran into Jerdai. When I saw all the ice and asked him how he kept the boat safe, he pointed to the brothers and said they were mages. I wanted to ask more about what they did, so I went up and talked to them. They showed me how they kept the ice away, asked me to try, then invited me to visit after I dissolved a smaller berg.”
“They didn’t mind your presence?” Miko asked.
“No,” Odin said. “Well…. Icklard didn’t. Domnin wasn’t there.”
“Did you have a nice visit?”
“Yeah. He asked about our trip down to Elna.”
“I’m glad you’ve made some new friends.”
“I am too, sir. I just feel like I wronged you by not asking permission.”
“I wasn’t here until just recently. Nova was waiting up for you, but I told him to go to bed once I returned.”
“He was?”
“He cares about you too, Odin. I’m sure you know that.”
“I do, sir.”
Miko stood, drawing a bla
nket around his naked torso. “I’m going to bed,” he said, stopping to set a hand on Odin’s shoulder before he could descend to his makeshift bed on the floor. “Don’t feel like you did something wrong in going and visiting friends. My only concern is how you are going to keep contact with them after we leave the ship.”
“I…” Odin sighed. “I thought of the same thing. I shouldn’t grow attached to them.”
“It’s a matter of concern for your wellbeing, that’s all. Although…” The Elf smiled. “I can teach you a way to stay in contact with them.”
“Even though they might be leagues off?”
“Yes. Right now though, I want you to go to bed. I’m happy to say that we’ll be where we’re going soon, but not for at least another few days.”
“Yes sir. Thank you.”
“Goodnight.”
Miko slid his hand down Odin’s arm, graced his wrist with his fingers, then settled down onto the floor,.
Before Odin walked to his own bed, he considered the notion of communicating with people leagues away and wondered why magic couldn’t have been more prevalent in the world.
If only things were simpler. Maybe then people didn’t have to suffer.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here yesterday,” Domnin said, moving aside so Odin could step into the room. “I was in the kitchen cleaning dishes when you visited.”
“It’s all right. Your brother said you were busy.”
When Domnin turned upon closing the door, he revealed a trait that hadn’t been visible beneath the frame of his hat. A shock of grey, starting at his temple and rounding his skull, lined his head as if he were a skunk or some other mammalian creature, blessed by nature with a premature strike of grey that undoubtedly aged him beyond his years.
Could it have been from magic? he thought, blinking, trying his best not to stare. He’d heard such things before—that magic, when used in uncontrolled and boundless amounts, could age one far beyond their years—but never once had he seen something as fabled as a sorcerer’s streak.
Rather than continue to stare, Odin took a deep breath, expelled it, then asked, “Where’s your brother?”
“He’ll be back. He went down to the kitchen to make us some treats.”
“Treats?”
“Have you ever had milk chocolate?” Domnin asked, licking his lips. “It’s one of the best things you can have.”
“I haven’t.”
Domnin smiled and reached up to rub his neck.
Until that very moment, during which time the brother reached back to rub his neck, Odin had been unsure of how yesterday’s revelation would affect his outlook on the older brother if at all. Surprisingly, but much to his relief, it hadn’t.
Why would someone be bothered by something as simple as that?
It didn’t necessarily matter. Like it or not, those without conscience could keep to themselves.
“Is something wrong?” Domnin asked, blinking, blue eyes radiant with question.
“Oh no,” Odin smiled, feeling stupid and all the more knowing of his past feelings. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right. Here—sit down. I should’ve offered you a chair when you walked in.”
Odin shrugged and took his seat in the chair he’d occupied yesterday, while Domnin sat opposite, stretching his arms out over his head.
Just before he could begin to say something, the door opened to reveal Icklard, prim and proper and carrying a tray covered with small brown squares. “Hello,” he said. “Sorry I’m late.”
“It’s all right,” Odin said.
Domnin stood and plucked a square from the tray. After popping it into his mouth, he closed his eyes and clapped Icklard’s shoulder. “You always did make the better chocolate.”
“Thanks,” Icklard smiled. “Try a piece, Odin.”
“That’s all right. I’m ok.”
“No. Really—go ahead.”
“I don’t want to take something I didn’t make.”
“A couple of pieces won’t hurt us.”
“Besides,” Domnin said, plopping back down into his seat. “It’s not that hard to make.”
“Not at all,” Icklard said, extending his arm and the tray which sat atop his palm. “Try a piece.”
With little choice other than to do just that, Odin reached forward and slid a piece off the pan. He nibbled the side, just to make sure he wanted to eat more, before sliding the square into his mouth.
“Like that?” Icklard grinned.
“Yeah,” Odin smiled, reveling in the velvety aftermath of the sweet. “I do.”
“Good thing you got it from one of the best chocolate makers around,” Domnin laughed.
“You never want to have bad chocolate,” Icklard agreed. “It ruins the whole experience.”
After pushing a third chair opposite Domnin and Odin, Icklard settled down and took a piece of chocolate for himself. He closed his eyes, slid a piece of chocolate to the side of his mouth likely so he could suck on it, then said, “Damn. I should’ve brought milk.”
“No worries,” Domnin said. Odin shook his head in agreement.
“It’s better with milk, really. I remember reminding myself to bring some, but then I got to thinking about how low on milk the ship can get and decided not to.”
“Making chocolate does tend to use a lot of milk,” Domnin agreed.
“We don’t want to get the captain angry.”
“Aren’t you two… well… more important than the other men?” Odin asked.
“Not more important, per se,” Icklard said.
“We’re just more talented than the others,” Domnin added.
Icklard nodded. He and his brother slapped hands before swiping another piece of chocolate. Odin, on a whim, decided to take one as well.
“So, Odin,” Domnin said. “You getting bored yet?”
“Not really,” he shrugged. “My knight master said it wouldn’t be long before we’d be where we were going.”
“I bet you’re excited to finally setting off again,” Icklard smiled.
“Icklard told me about all you three have been through,” Domnin said. “Thinking there’s road runners on the pass. Wow.”
“Road runners?” Odin frowned.
“Another word for bandits,” Icklard said. “It’s surprising you haven’t run into any trouble on the way down. Most knights have to kill at least a few road runners on their way down the pass.”
“I think they’re afraid of him,” Odin mumbled.
“Who wouldn’t be?” Domnin laughed.
“He’s a brute, that one,” Icklard chuckled. “If I were a bandit, I wouldn’t want to attack him either.”
“I don’t know,” Odin shrugged. He stayed silent for a moment, watching the brothers banter between one another about the chocolate, before speaking. “I feel safe around him.”
“A squire should feel safe around his master,” Domnin said. “It’s natural for that kind of bond to develop. You probably think of him as a kind of father, even after this short amount of time.”
“Suh-Sort of.”
Why he stuttered he couldn’t necessarily be sure. Maybe it was because Miko had been compared to his father, or maybe it had been for the fact that the declaration seemed all the more set in stone. Since they’d left Ornala, and since he’d met the Elf to begin with, he’d never considered Miko to be more than a friend, a tutor to instruct him in the ways of chivalry and the world. Now, however, the simple meaning of friendship had taken on a whole new perspective.
“Odin?”
“Yeah?” he asked. He was unsure as to which of the brothers had spoken.
“Are you all right?” Domnin asked.
“I’m fine,” he said, rubbing his arms. “I just got distracted thinking about something.”
The brothers shrugged. Odin watched them for a moment before he remembered what Miko had once said about their relationship being split up.
“I’ve been worried about not being able to see the two of
you again,” he said. “My knight master said he could teach me how to stay in touch.”
“We can do that,” Icklard said. “Right, Domnin?”
“Right.”
The two stood and gestured Odin into the far corner of the room. A desk—obviously divided between the pair, since different books and parchments with distinct handwriting lay on each side—rested in the corner, near where he would soon stand as soon as he crossed the room.
“All right,” Icklard said, turning to face Odin when they’d arranged themselves in opposite corners of the room. “There’s a few ways to do it, but me and Domnin always use the image system.”
“Image system?” Odin frowned.
“Yeah,” Icklard said. “Like this.”
The man held his hands out. A series of small lights sprouted along his fingers, then came together to form a small bird that fit perfectly in the palm of his hand. Icklard did the same. Soon, an orange and green canary stood atop both of their palms.
