Brute

by Kim Fielding

  “Please don’t do this,” whispered Aric.

  “Don’t what?” Gray reached up and cupped his cheek in one hand. “Don’t t-tell you my heart beats for you? Don’t tell you my s-soul sings for you? Don’t tell you that you’re hope to me, l-life to me, the c-center of my fucking universe?”

  Aric tried to get a response out, but his treacherous tongue now refused to work at all.

  “I love you, idiot,” Gray said.

  “But… I’m—”

  “Don’t you d-dare say you’re ugly or stupid or w-worthless. Don’t you dare! Y-you’re a giant because an ordinary man’s body is t-too small for what you are.”

  Aric had somehow been backed up against the wall. Now he slid slowly down, the stone scratching his back. He ended up on his ass with Gray crouching in front of him. “But you love Prince—” Aric began.

  “I th-thought I did, very long ago. He was pretty, Aric, and w-we had fun. Maybe I r-really did love him. I don’t know anymore. But I know what I feel n-now.”

  “I’m your jailer!”

  “N-nobody can remove these chains. B-but you’ve freed my heart.”

  Aric wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Maybe he could do both at once. He’d never imagined anyone declaring love for him, least of all in a dank cell inside the royal palace. He’d never imagined anyone waxing poetic over him. But gods, none of this made his life any easier, did it? Was this how the gods answered his prayers for a sign? If so, they truly possessed a wicked sense of humor.

  “What if I could?” Aric asked very quietly, deciding that it was time to share his secret. “What if I could remove those chains?”

  Gray lurched to his feet and backed away. “No. N-n-no! Wh-wh-wh— Fuck! Whatever you’re th-thinking, no.”

  “I can’t leave you here. I just can’t.”

  “C-can’t take me either. Y-y-you’ll get yourself killed. And for what? I c-can—we can be happy here. H-happy enough.”

  So tempting. But Aric sighed. “Those chains…. We lie together, and they’re there. Besides, I’m here at the whim of others. The prince could sack me. Someone could come in here and see you… see that you’re not completely miserable. I risked my life to save a prince I didn’t even know. Don’t you think I’d do the same for you?”

  Gray allowed himself to collapse to the floor. He massaged his temples as if he had a headache and then rubbed at his eyelids. “Of c-course you would,” he said wearily. “But, Aric, th-they’ll search for us. And I’ll still b-be blind, still with the fucking Sight.”

  “I can lead you. I bet I’ll be good at it—I’m easy to find. And… I have an idea about the other thing.”

  Gray lifted his eyebrows questioningly.

  “We’re going to go to Racinas and give your gift back.”

  For a moment, Gray simply sat there with his mouth hanging open. Then he barked out a laugh and scooted across the floor until he was sitting next to Aric, their arms touching. “Y-you’re an idiot and I’m a fool,” he said. “And gods, I love you.”

  Chapter 16

  WHILE some of the palace staff lived in the city of Tellomer, many lived on the palace grounds in a series of orderly buildings protected by the southeast corner of the outer wall. The buildings—made of timber and plaster, with red-tiled roofs—stood four stories tall. Alys’s flat was on the ground floor and had a miniscule garden in the back, with the first shoots of greenery just peeking through the soil of a few earthen pots.

  Aric had never been inside her home. Had never, in fact, been inside anyone’s house, aside from Hilma Gedding, the village healer. But Alys smiled broadly when he appeared at the door, and she ushered him in. He had to duck to get through the entrance, and he had little headroom once inside.

  The flat was simply two rooms. One contained two beds and a chest of drawers, while the other had a third bed up against a wall, as well as a slightly crooked table, mismatched chairs, several shelves full of miscellaneous household items, and a slightly oversized fireplace. The flat felt crowded, and must have been even more so when Alys and Warin’s parents were alive and the entire large family lived crammed inside. But it was a cheery place as well, with bits of colored fabric hung on the walls and chipped pottery, seashells, rocks, and little wooden toys arranged here and there.

  “Sit down, sit down,” Alys fussed, pushing him back against a chair. He sat and smiled at Cearl, who had a bowl of soup in his hands. Aric had met Cearl a few times before and liked him. He was a very quiet man with prominent ears and crooked teeth, the sort who tended to fade into the background, but he gazed at Alys with complete adoration, and his face lit up whenever she glanced his way.

  “Have some tea,” said Alys, plunking a cup down in front of Aric.

  “Thank you. Where’s Warin?”

  “Oh, off somewhere. Tired of hearing about the wedding, I’m sure.” She looked around until she found a pair of Warin’s trousers folded over a chair back. She took a needle and thread from a shelf, then sat down to mend a tear in the knee. Aric smiled. He never saw her idle, not for one moment.

  “What will Warin do when you’ve moved to your new house? Will he go with?” They had several other siblings who lived in the palace; perhaps the boy would remain with one of them.

  “We haven’t quite worked that out yet. He’s excited at the thought of having the run of the city, but I’m not sure that’s such a great idea. And he wants to work for Cearl, to be a carter, but if he stays here he can maybe become a clerk.” She smiled fondly. “He knows his way around the West Tower better than anyone.”

  “I guess being a clerk doesn’t sound very exciting to a boy his age.”

  “No. I’m just lucky Cearl’s been able to talk him out of a life at sea.”

  Cearl chuckled into his soup bowl. “Can see him now, climbing the rigging like a monkey.”

  Alys pointed her needle at her betrothed. “Warin is not becoming a sailor.”

  “Of course not, dear.”

  Aric had to sip at his tea to hide a smile. It was too hot and burnt his tongue. But even as he sat there, a terrible idea concerning Gray’s freedom came into his head, and he nearly dropped the cup.

  “Are you all right, Brute?” Alys asked with concern.

  “Oh. Sorry. I just… sorry.” He decided a change of subject would be good. “Are you all ready for the wedding, then?” The date was coming up—they’d be married on the first day of spring, only two weeks away.

  “Well, that’s why I asked you to come by. We’ve arranged almost everything. I’ve been given permission to hold the ceremony in that little garden near the library. Won’t that be pretty? I hope the trees are still blooming. It’ll be in the evening, after dinner’s done. And the chief assistant acolyte from the palace temple will recite the blessings. It’s quite an honor.”

  Aric remembered what Lord Maudit once told him. “Your family’s well thought of here.”

  She blushed. “Thank you. We’ll have some lovely little cakes and flowers, and Cearl’s brother can play the lute!”

  Cearl nodded sagely. “He always was the talented one.”

  “It sounds beautiful,” Aric said honestly.

  “It will be,” she said firmly. “And I’d like you to strew the seeds for us.”

  He gaped. It was an ancient ritual, both an offering to the gods and a symbol of fertility: seeds were tossed onto the ground, and a short blessing was recited. The person who performed these acts couldn’t be a blood relative of either the bride or groom, but was usually a close family friend. “Oh, Alys, you must have someone else—”

  “I might, but Warin insisted. I’d like it too.” She reached over and placed her hand over his. “You’ve been a good friend.”

  He was going to die, and that was all. He was just going to collapse and die. The day had been too much for him, far too much. Maybe he was dreaming the entire thing.

  “Thank you,” he said hoarsely.

  Alys seemed satisfied. She tied off a knot in her sewi
ng and broke the thread, then began searching for more holes. “I’m going to have to let these hems out soon,” she said. “He’s growing so fast. The other day he asked me if maybe he’ll grow as tall as you.”

  “I hope not!” Aric said, flattered but horrified.

  “’S not so great being short either,” said Cearl, who was a couple of inches shorter than Alys. “Handy on a ship, though. Don’t take up much space.”

  “I’ve never been on one,” Aric said. And then added carefully, “It might be interesting. How much would passage be to, say, Racinas?”

  “Two silver coins,” Cearl answered promptly, and was glared at by his wife-to-be.

  “You’re not thinking of leaving, are you?” asked Alys. She looked genuinely worried. And then her frown smoothed. “You’re lonely. I told you, I’ll introduce you to Lapurd the guard. I’m sure you’ve seen him. He has those black curls, and he always looks like he hasn’t shaved yet that day. I saw him just yesterday, lounging around the kitchens and hoping for a few extra scraps. If he comes by tomorrow—”

  “I’m not lonely,” Aric interrupted.

  Cearl snickered. “Al, not everyone moons around, looking for their beloved all day.”

  “You should be very glad I mooned for you, Cearl Oken.”

  “Every minute of my life,” he responded with a smile. “Maybe Brute here prefers a solitary life. Quieter.”

  “He does not. Nobody wants to be alone. Am I right?” she demanded of Aric.

  “I’m not alone,” he answered, very quietly.

  “Well, of course not. You have us. But someone to keep you warm at night?”

  “I’m not alone,” he repeated.

  She frowned in confusion, and then her green eyes went very wide. “Oh! Oh!”

  Aric sank down in his chair a little. Gray was right. He was an idiot.

  Cearl seemed confused, and stared at Alys as if he were afraid she was having some sort of fit. And she did seem to be: her mouth was opening and closing like a fish, and her face had gone very pale. “Brute! He’s a witch! And a—”

  “A traitor. I know the stories, Alys. And I know the truth. He’s just a man who made a terrible mistake. But I think… I’m pretty sure he’s a good man.”

  Alys remained silent for a very long time, chewing on her lip and staring at Aric. Aric tried not to fidget. And Cearl just sat there, slurping at the remains of his soup. Finally, Alys put her sewing aside and stood. She walked around the table to where Aric was sitting and kissed the top of his head, just as he’d seen her do to Warin. “Be careful, Brute,” she said.

  “I’VE b-been thinking about your idea,” Gray said. He was pacing his cell when Aric returned from Alys’s house, and he continued to pace while Aric washed up and got undressed. But as soon as Aric entered the cell and lay down on the quilts, Gray joined him, his warm, lean body pressed against Aric’s. “It w-won’t work,” Gray said.

  “Which part of it?”

  “Any p-part of it! You can’t get me out of here. If y-you somehow did, you can’t get me to Racinas. They’ll be right on our tails, and I d-doubt the giant and the b-blind man who screams in his sleep can travel unnoticed. And if we somehow magically made it to the V-vale, I can’t simply return their gift, j-just like that.”

  “That’s… a lot of problems,” Aric admitted. He didn’t add the other obstacles weighing on his mind: giving up his friends and the closest thing to home and acceptance he’d had since he was small. Betraying the trust that had been given to him by the prince and Lord Maudit. Abandoning the small world he knew for the vast unknown.

  “S-so you’ll give it up then?” Gray stroked his fingertips on the tender bit of skin under Aric’s ear. He knew that a touch there drove Aric wild. They knew everything about one another’s bodies by now, and that was a heady realization for Aric. “We’ll stay,” Gray continued. “B-be as happy as we can for as long as we can. It’s m-more than I ever expected.”

  It was more than Aric had ever expected too, but somehow it wasn’t enough. He smoothed his palm over Gray’s hip and traced the little crease just beneath it. He liked to lick at that spot, even nibble gently, until Gray would arch his hips upward and tug at Aric’s hair and beg for more.

  “I’m going to try,” Aric said.

  “All th-those tales of Lorad and Lokad have turned your head. You think y-you’re an epic hero. But you can’t m-move rivers, Aric.”

  “I don’t need to move a river. I just need to move one skinny man.”

  Gray made a sound against Aric’s chest that was somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. And then they didn’t speak at all for a while, unless moans and half-swallowed words of encouragement counted. Aric loved the way Gray felt now, still thin but so much stronger than before. Aric no longer feared that his lover might break if he forgot to be slow and gentle. In fact, Gray urged him to be a little rougher, a little harder. “N-not made of china,” he gasped into Aric’s ear. “Want to feel you. Let g-go a little, Ar. For me.” And Aric did let go just a bit, like setting down a burden for just a moment, and Gray cried out and marked Aric’s skin with his teeth.

  Afterward they lay bathed in sweat, hearts still hammering in their chests. Gray reached over to play idly with Aric’s hair, and Aric wondered if things felt different to a blind man. Certainly he’d never thought his own hair was all that interesting, but Gray seemed to like it. Gray liked Aric’s eyebrows too, and the curve of his ears, and even the little divot in Aric’s jutting chin.

  “What color were your eyes?” Aric asked, for no particular reason.

  “Blue. Y-yours?”

  “Mixed. One’s hazel and the other brown.”

  “You truly are unique, aren’t you?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “And you’re all m-mine.” Gray flopped over onto his belly, stretching his leg and arm across Aric’s body. Aric could feel the chains, heavy and cold, and it was as if they were fastened to him as well.

  Chapter 17

  THE exchequer’s office was in the West Tower, and that made Aric nervous. What if someone—Lord Maudit even—saw him and wondered why he was there? Of course, the exchequer might be regularly reporting Aric’s expenditures anyway, in which case alarm bells were sure to go off. Nonetheless, Aric squared his shoulders and marched confidently down the long corridor that bustled with activity. He was pleased with himself for being able to read the signs now, and had no trouble identifying the office he wanted. It lay through an arched doorway with the heavy door propped open. Inside, men bent over ledgers, and hundreds of oversized books lined the walls. The room smelled of dust and ink.

  “Yes?” demanded a man about Aric’s age. He was dressed all in brown, from the cap on his head to his ridiculous pointed shoes.

  “I’d like to have the coins I’ve earned. Please.”

  The man raised an eyebrow. “And who are you?”

  “I’m… called Brute.” He wouldn’t say that was his name, not anymore, but only Gray knew him as Aric.

  “Of course you are. And what have you done for the crown to earn your coins?”

  “I… I watch Gray Leynham.”

  Now the man’s eyes widened. “The prisoner who dreams! A terrible thing, just terrible. How do you stand it?”

  “How do you stand spending all day with ink stains on your fingers?”

  The man looked at his hands as if he’d never noticed, then shrugged. “Comes with the job.”

  “So do the dreams.”

  “Fine then. Wait here.”

  Aric watched as the man crossed the room and stood looking at a particular shelf, running his finger down the spines of the books. He quickly found the one he was looking for, brought it over, and set it on the tall table near Aric. “Let’s see. Brute.” He leafed through the pages for several moments. “Ah! Well, that’s an impressive account. Jailers are paid better than clerks, it seems. How much do you want?”

  “All of it.”

  “All— That’s a lot of money! Wh
at on earth do you plan to do with it?”

  “Is that part of your job as well?” Aric asked, maybe a little rudely. “Poking your nose into other men’s business?”

  Surprisingly, the clerk didn’t seem offended. In fact, his tone was slightly cheery when he replied. “No, not really. Does make things more interesting, though. It’s not often I get giants in here wanting a small fortune.”

  “Can I have my coins please?”

  “Wait here,” the man said again.

  This time he disappeared through a small doorway at the far end of the room. The door was heavily reinforced with iron bands and sported three impressive-looking locks. Naturally, that made Aric curious about what lay behind it, and as he waited, he considered all the treasures and surprises that the palace must hold. Even though he’d lived in the palace for a year, he’d really seen only a small portion of it. Most of it was closed off to someone like him. On the other hand, he knew very well where the palace’s greatest treasure was held: in Aric’s own chambers, behind the bars of a cell door.

  The clerk seemed to take a very long time, and the other people in the room kept giving Aric long and skeptical looks. But finally the clerk reappeared with a small copper bowl in his hands. When he set the bowl on the table next to the ledger, Aric saw that it was filled with shiny silver coins and a handful of copper ones as well. The clerk painstakingly counted them out—eleven silver and thirteen copper—and then counted them twice more. When he was satisfied that he was correct, he picked up a quill, dipped it in a pot of ink, and wrote some numbers in his ledger. “That’s every bit of it,” he said.

  Two days earlier, Aric had bought a small leather purse. Now he placed the coins in the purse, carefully so as not to drop any, and tucked the purse away in his clothes. “Thank you.”

  “Really. What will you do with it all?”

  Brute just smiled enigmatically and walked out the door. Withdrawing his money was only a very minor step and, by far, the easiest of the goals he must accomplish in order to set Gray free. But with the very real weight of the coins in his pocket, he felt as if Gray’s escape was truly underway.