by Lloyd Baron
“Well Rynota was a great man. He was not always an artist. He started his life as a weaver in a small village called Tet, in Hillsbough. He painted his wife on her birthday. A sun or so after she ran off with another man. He sold the painting and made a tidy sum. He took it up then. Doing portraits of locals and then he became well-known and soon he was here at the palace.”
“You know a lot about him. I am just a simple farm hand who has come into money due to a wealthy aunt I did not even know.” He looks up then and his eyes sparkle. “Do you want to go outside? I am not a great fan of crowds.”
Sabastian’s heart leaps and for a second he has not felt happier. Then it sinks away as he remembers his role in tonight’s events. A few minutes would not hurt though. Everyone here is already primed for the stabbing. He could enjoy his time with the delightful... He suddenly realizes he does not yet know the man’s name. In that moment it seems to be the most important thing in the world to find out.
He grasps the man’s arm and stops him. He stutters out his question, hating himself for sounding so pathetic. He even feels his face begin to blush.
The man does not seem to notice. He smiles a slow but wonderful smile and answers in his captivating deep voice. “It is Ervand. Ervand Clain.”
Ervand steps out onto the veranda and breathes in the chill night air. His skin had felt like smothered fire within the cramped hall. Grand as it is, the hall lacks comfort. He felt so out of place surrounded by the rich and influential of Atlantian society. That was until the kind man with the infectious smile had approached him and began telling him about the artworks. He was very knowledgeable and as they walked through the hall he had explained and pointed out what each painting meant or symbolized. It was fascinating.
A gentle wind ripples the fabric of his jacket and for the first time he regrets wearing the common style of dress. It had the desired effect as he was left well alone for most of the evening. The healer had verbally beaten him about wearing such a garment to the Queen’s ballroom but he had merely walked away into the crowd. She did not follow so he assumed she had lost sight of him.
The man stops beside him and lets out a long shaky breath. It is clear to Ervand that the man finds him attractive. An odd thought had fluttered across his mind when he made the realization. He is glad that the man likes his looks. It makes him feel wanted.
“You must be cold?” he says suddenly breaking the silence that has built up between them. It was not an awkward silence. He feels safe and comfortable in the man’s company. He could be silent and not feel like he had to speak just to fill the air.
“I am a touch. I never really liked the outdoors.”
“How come?” The man, Sabastian, asks, turning to face him.
Before giving his answer he takes a good look at who he is talking to. The man must be in his late twenties, thirty suns at the most, and has a handsome, slightly feminine face. He wears a long sleeved pink and black jacket with large collar and cuffs. He wears the jacket open to show off his black silk waistcoat which is fitted to his body. His breaches are black with gold embroidery at the knee. White tights and black formal shoes with a slight heel and perched upon his head is a wide brimmed hat with a gold buckle and long pink feather. He had not been wearing the hat in the hall.
“Outside is where the other kids played, the kids who teased me.” He drops his face away from Sabastian’s as embarrassment colors his cheeks. He knows they have changed to a deep red because his skin has started to burn again.
A soft hand touches his cheek and slowly lifts his face back up. Sabastian smiles kindly back at him and in that moment he feels as if he has made his first real friend in the world.
He is about to speak when Sabastian leans in and brushes his lips gently across Ervand’s. Both men linger in that position for a second before Ervand moves back an inch. He smiles and lifts his hand to touch Sabastian’s face in return.
“I am flattered that you chose me,” he says trying so desperately not to sound harsh or judgmental. After all, he has made his first friend. “I do not feel that way about men. I am sorry if I made you think otherwise.”
Sabastian’s eyes lower towards the ground but he smiles. “I had to do it. I had to kiss you once so that I did not regret it for eternity. I want us to be friends.” He stands upright abruptly and paces past Ervand. He lifts the hat from his head and places it on the stone balustrade. “I have a secret,” he looks around him and takes on a nervous look in his eye. “I have a talent, shall we say.” He licks his lips nervously.
“What kind of talent?” Ervand asks uncertainly. Where is this going to lead?
“I can sense things, things that I choose. It’s hard to explain.” He turns and hops up onto the balustrade, dropping into a crouch. Ervand laughs at the sight and without thinking joins his new friend standing on the wall.
“When I was young, just ten suns old.” His face stares off into the distance as if he is looking at himself as a child. A thin smile pulls at his lips. “I had a toy. My father had given it to me and it was very important. One day I could not find it. I looked everywhere and still had no luck. I was crying and could not speak to tell my mother what the matter with me was. Then I just knew. It had been on the windowsill of my room the day before. Without really knowing why I ran down the lane to the field where our neighbor kept cows. There in the mud was my toy. It was ruined. One of the cows had taken it and chewed it up. But ever since then I have just known where things are.” He stops and his face returns to the present. He glances at Ervand but says no more.
Ervand knows what he is waiting for. He wants to know what his reaction will be. He stands slowly to his full height and looks down over the edge. It is higher than it had seemed when he jumped up. He wobbles but a steadying hand helps him regain his balance. He grins and hopes it looks pleasant. “You just saved my life. That means I owe you one thing. Duty would have me tell the guard about your gift. However, since you did save my life.”
Sabastian leaps up and the two men stare deeply into each other’s eyes. Ervand can see passion burning in Sabastian’s and he wonders what the man is seeing in his. He leans forwards and kisses him on the cheek. “We are friends. If you can sense things and find them then you can find me wherever I go. I take comfort in that.”
Sabastian moves backwards and takes a shuddering breath. “What you have done means so much to me. Even though we have only just met I feel a close link to you. Something I cannot explain made me look at you tonight. I should not even be here. It was meant to be fun that was all. Come to the palace and have some fun. It is not important any more. All I want is to spend this night with you and talk till the sun rises.”
“Well here you are!” A harsh female voice barks from the open doors. “I have been chatting to the Queen and she is in perfect health.” Ervand drops down from the wall but Sabastian remains where he is. The woman in a horrible pink and black gown glares up at his friend. “All because you have found yourself a bit of filth.”
Sabastian leaps past Ervand’s head and clashes with the woman. He takes hold of her arm and pulls her around. In a shouted whisper he berates her for interrupting. Ervand hears him say that he is more than a male friend, that he is falling in love. This makes Ervand shift his feet. Sudden feelings of dread and confusion drive a blade through his heart and he steps forwards.
“Leave him,” he says firmly to the woman. “He will go with you now. We were finished anyway.”
Sabastian looks hurt and shakes his head slightly. The woman smiles at his obvious pain and taking his arm drags him back through the doors.
As the doors close he sees his only friend in the entire world turn back. He smiles and waves a hand. He hopes deep in his heart that Sabastian knows he only spoke those words for the woman’s benefit and that he did not mean to end their conversation so suddenly.
He turns back to the dark view of the city and lowers his head to touch the cold stone. He screws up his face and takes a deep breath.
Ozul Uno shakes his head from his place in the corner of the ballroom. What a nightmare this evening is! They had sat for a meal with a group of commoners an hour later then they should have. One of his party was taken to the healer’s after an accident in the halls involving a dog. A dog! What was a blasted dog doing in the palace halls?
The Queen had not attended as she was meant to, and he was stuck sitting next to a moody healer who not only took the last slice of beef but also helped herself to the bigger slice of apple and rhubarb pie. She did nothing but glare at a young man from Flambour and tell a tiny woman from the east how beautiful she looked in her gown.
He had been horrified to learn that they were all heading east the following morning and thought it would be nice to go as a company. Before he could object his friend had arrived – looking like he had been dunked into a vat of whitewash – and told them that they would be delighted. He then went on to make eyes at the young woman, Aasta, who had returned to them.
The other stranger at the table had kept silent for the best part of the meal, only speaking to tell everyone his name and that he was from a small island to the north-west. The healer had been interested, but before any more could be said by the chunky man, the food had arrived and everyone’s attention drifted away to eating. Once the meal was done they had all forgotten that he had not finished his story and went onto other tales.
He had been asked who he was and he replied he was from Common, here on business over trade routes. It was a boring story and made sure that he was not disturbed again.
Ozul looks to his left and studies a pair of siblings standing along the side wall. He could not tell why he thought them brother and sister. They look nothing alike. She is hideously overweight with a sunken face and he is tall and skinny. It is something else that makes him know who they are, something inside him.
The woman had stood a while ago and made a move towards the Queen but her brother had stopped her. Something is going on, he is sure of it but it is none of his concern, and so he turns his attention to his right.
Aasta and Brychan giggle over some private joke. She holds out a hand and he takes it in his to kiss. She blushes as she pulls it back but he can tell that she liked it. Women are all the same. Well, not all women, he ponders as the healer stalks in his direction. He groans openly and he knows she has seen him. He straightens and tries to smile but it comes out as a grimace. She ignores him completely for a few seconds before turning to face him.
“Have you seen…?” she looks into the crowd and frowns, “…the man from the feast, the one from the island?”
Ozul smiles wickedly. He has great satisfaction from this woman having to ask him for help. It makes it better that she can clearly not remember the man’s name. He lowers his face so that she misses the expression and shakes his head.
“I am afraid I have not seen Ervand Clain,” he says as warmly as he can muster. He smiles again but this time to himself. Not only had he lied but he had shown her that he had remembered what she could not. Just to add another blow he adds, “Have you asked Aasta and Brychan, Healer Dymphia?”
She glowers at him before stalking away to his companion and his new friend. He feels satisfied that he has been unhelpful to the healer and more so because he has helped Ervand. He frowns to himself. Why should that make him feel so? It is very out of character for him to care about other people. It is just that over the meal he had watched Ervand closely and felt sorry for him. He had said more, now that he thinks about it, but everyone had talked over him.
Deep inside he wanted to befriend the man, but it was very deep, and he did not care that much. However, seeing him with the man in pink had warmed his heart a little. Ervand clearly needed a friend. A friend and maybe something more. He grins to himself and shakes his head.
Not everyone thinks the same as you. He muses. He catches sight of Lisle chatting to several girls at once and he almost bursts out laughing. Clearly he does.
He leans back against the wall and stares into the crowd again. At least tomorrow he can be on his way, and then this journey will almost be over and he can return to his normal life. The same thought a week ago would have filled him with joy but now he cannot think what it will be like to return to the farm. He has seen so much of riches and power. He wants to be like these people every day of his life, not just while he is a guest.
He rubs his arm and smiles fiercely. He will have power and he will live like a lord. All he needs to do is keep close to the others in his new party and he will end up very wealthy. He explodes with laugher and has to cover his mouth to stop it.
His outburst earns him a few disapproving glares but he just stares them down. This is the new Ozul Uno. At the start of the week he had been withdrawn. Now he feels energized with the power of the Creator. He will no longer stand aside and let his life be controlled by others.
His life is his own and he must take it in his hands. This will be fun. He smiles at a young man who walks past and chuckles to himself. He will get what he wants from life even if it means taking it from others.
Katilena has to physically drag Sabastian from the hall. She is furious with him. Not only has she left the children, but she wasted over an hour talking to the Queen who has to be one of the dullest people ever given birth to.
And for what? she thinks bitterly. The only thing getting her through each moment with the Monarch was the thought that any second an assassin would launch herself onto the Queen and plunge a knife deep into her breast. When no assassin had shown herself after an hour, she knew that something had gone wrong with Sabastian. For a brief moment she had worried about him. His mental outburst had been panicked and full of fear. What that was about, she has still to learn, but she is no longer in the mood to be his lackey. Coming here was his idea and was meant to benefit both of their needs. She would be safe in the knowledge that Atlantia would not race to Common’s aid, and Sabastian could prance around getting his face seen so that when it comes to the Parliamentary Election in B’ret, he would have lots of high ranking Lords and Ladies to sing his praises. She was not prepared to have him slink away with a bit of meat and make nice. Her temper builds to such a crescendo that all she can hear in her own head is her screaming voice telling her to make him pay. She digs her fingernails into the soft skin of her palms and takes a deep breath, readying herself for her outburst. It never comes.
“Do you think he will let me go?” Sabastian whispers the words so quietly that she almost does not hear them over her own angry thoughts.
She pushes him against the wall, knocking a tapestry askew and banging the man’s head. He looks up at her but the pain in his eyes melts her anger away into nothing. She is lost in his emotions for a brief moment before the dried husk she has in her chest masquerading as her heart devours them. “What are you talking about, Sabastian? He who?”
“The Master,” he says the words slowly, knowing what her response will be.
Her hand strikes his face so hard and fast that he staggers into a chair and sprawls across the floor. He does not even attempt to stand.
“You are pathetic” She barks down at him. “You would throw everything we have worked so hard to achieve away for some child!”
“He’s not a child,” is his reply.
“Oh this is just great, Sabastian. Five thousand suns of running, fighting, hiding, and killing – and for what? Huh? For you to meet a brainless bit of meat you want to get into your bed and screw.”
That has the desired effect. The man leaps to his feet and summons. She had been prepared for it, though. His lame static-strike hits her shield and evaporates. She has to laugh, although she does not really want to push him anymore.
“Are y
ou quite done, King?” She says in her most demeaning tone. “We should go before we are seen using magic in this hellish castle. Don’t want to become locked up again, do we?”
“You always revert back to your old speech when you are angry,” he says brushing down his pink jacket.
“Huh?” She says with a frown.
“You use old-fashioned words, from the past. You cannot hide who you once were as much as I can, Katilena.”
“He won’t let you go. You know he won’t and if he thinks you will disobey him then he could have you destroyed.”
“You almost sound concerned, like you care!” he says with a wry smile.
“I do!” she says strolling past him. It is a simple truth that she did not want to disclose. They are the only two of the six members of their coven that do trust one another. She knows that he would never report her failures as much as she would his. In fact they have covered up mistakes for each other. In the past, before the cataclysm had shattered the world and they were forced to hide for nine hundred suns, they were friends. They used to flirt with the same men. Drink together in ale houses and play games of stones. Nine hundred suns spent in the company of the same six people had done none of them any good. The Master had kept himself to himself, only speaking if he had news of the outside world. The other three had fight after fight and a few times had almost destroyed them all. Sabastian and she had grown further apart. They are no longer friends, yet they still retained their old loyalty for one another.
“Who do I have if you die? My mission is the loneliest, Sabastian. You get to have your fun and mix with people. Have a relatively normal life when you are not doing the Master’s work. You have a house and staff.”
“So do you,” he says plainly.
“No I do not, Sabastian. I have drones. I live in the middle of a forest with no contact with other humans. I have nothing in my life but my work. And you.” She turns and smiles at him. “Even having all those brats in the basement has made me happy. Just hearing them play fills me with warmth that makes me sick. He won’t let you leave. Forget the boy. You won’t see him again.”
