Seeing is Believing

by Sasha L. Miller

  "Really," Wilheim said, his voice strained from the effort of trying to remain casual. "Why don't you take Mr. Homes to see them while Mr. Epson and I conclude our business?"

  "Of course," Sabrel murmured, standing up. Anton hesitated, but Theo nodded tensely, giving him permission and the chance to try to sway Sabrel without giving themselves away.

  Sabrel waited until he was standing to start walking, back the way he came. They skirted around a rosebush, under tall tree blooming all over with tiny white flowers, and along the wall until Sabrel stopped under another tall tree, this one blooming with pink flowers. The wildflowers were indeed in bloom, scattered along the ground in front of the wall and under the tree.

  "Hello," Anton started, earning small smile as Sabrel knelt down and picked a flower.

  "Hello," Sabrel replied. "You should stop coming here."

  "I can't," Anton denied immediately, wondering if Sabrel had seen anything.

  "Of course not," Sabrel murmured, quietly enough that Anton wasn't sure he'd heard it right. He didn't say anything more, simply twirled the flower between his fingers. It had a pleasant scent, and Anton wondered if they had any of these flowers at home, in the gardens there.

  "What's with the flowers?" Anton asked, and Sabrel glanced at him, startled.

  "What do you mean?" Sabrel asked, and his voice didn't have that quiet, almost dreamy quality to it anymore.

  "You mentioned these flowers and your father got upset," Anton frowned. He hadn't been seeing things—Wilheim had definitely not been happy.

  "Oh," Sabrel smiled a little. "He doesn't like it when I mention things that remind him of my mother."

  Anton frowned, tucking his hands into his pockets. "She's dead?"

  Sabrel gave him a look that plainly said 'you are an idiot.'

  "I know, you're a Seer," Anton shrugged dismissively. "I've known Seers whose mothers survived."

  "Don't tell my father that," Sabrel sighed, letting the wildflower fall. "She died twice."

  "Twice?" Anton repeated, mystified. "How do you die twice?"

  "She was revived the first time," Sabrel shrugged. "She had a weak heart, and six months into her pregnancy she died. Then she died again, when she was giving birth to me, and stayed dead."

  "Oh," Anton hesitated, unsure of what to do. Sabrel didn't look miserable over it, at least.

  "So I'm a Seer because she died before I was born," Sabrel smiled a little, shaking his head. "I shouldn't be telling you this."

  "Why not?" Anton asked, following Sabrel as he retreated towards the base of the tree.

  "Because the story my father tells is that my mother died of illness, shortly after I was born. And that I was born slow, so he keeps me safe and happy locked away," Sabrel leaned against the tree trunk, glancing up when a bird squawked unhappily. Anton glanced up as well, catching a glimpse of blue.

  "Well, that's the story I'll stick to, then," Anton shrugged, and Sabrel smiled a little.

  "Good," Sabrel told him, his pretty green-grey eyes watching him steadily. "You're not here for Theo."

  Anton froze, then tried to appear casual. Coughing a little, he shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "You're not here for Theo," Sabrel repeated, crossing his arms. "I don't know what you're here for, but it's not for Theo."

  "I'm here with Theo," Anton insisted, and Sabrel smiled slowly.

  "That's the story I'll stick to, for now," Sabrel told him, looking confused for a moment. "You should tell me."

  "I can't," Anton denied, then realized that he'd admitted it there. "I—" Anton started, then cut himself off before he could do anymore damage. It was too premature to be asking something as volatile as whether Sabrel was willing to turn on his father. Even if it didn't seem like there was much love lost right now. It could just be a spat.

  "What do you do, when you're not accompanying half-noble friends who are being blackmailed?" Sabrel asked curiously, shaking a few of his dark curls out of his face.

  "That's my life, I'm afraid," Anton sighed, smiling a little. "I spend all my time accompanying my not-quite-noble friends to their various blackmailers—"

  Sabrel laughed quietly for a moment before looking quite startled and stopping. Anton smiled, pleased.

  "Really? I own a couple of inns," Anton shrugged. "Not as glamorous, I know, but it lets me buy some nice clothes."

  "Inns," Sabrel repeated slowly. "What do you do for that?"

  "I hire good people to oversee each inn," Anton answered easily, wondering if Sabrel was trying to figure his real purpose out this way. "I visit each one once a week or so and deal with all the government rules and regulations."

  "Do you have family?" Sabrel asked, almost wistful, and Anton frowned, because this couldn't be as simple as Sabrel being curious.

  "Two brothers and my parents. A few aunts and uncles, far too many cousins, and my grandmother," Anton listed off. "But they all live in the capital, so I don't see them often."

  "Why did you come out here?" Sabrel asked, leaning his head back against the tree trunk behind him. "Why not stay with them?"

  "Not enough work for us all there," Anton shrugged, smiling a bit. "What's with all the questions?"

  "My father wants me to find out something about you. He doesn't trust your intentions here," Sabrel replied slowly and Anton decided he was glad he'd stuck with the cover story and hadn't blown it by letting Sabrel know why he was really here.

  "Lovely," Anton muttered, combing his hand through his hair restlessly. He and Theo kept hitting setbacks like this—first Anton had gotten caught, then there was Sabrel with his Seeing, and now Wilheim was wary of Anton. Possibly Theo. At this rate they'd be dead and floating in the middle of the river before long.

  "I was curious, too," Sabrel spoke up again, studying Anton with unreadable green eyes. "Is it the truth?"

  "Some of it," Anton admitted. "It's the story I'm telling."

  "It will be the story I tell," Sabrel said slowly, frowning a little at him. "We should go back now," he announced abruptly, and Anton hesitated, a little confused because it seemed like Sabrel was being on their side. Except he could just be playing it like that—and if he was, did it really matter? Sabrel could See their motivations at any moment and then it would be over. Anton frowned, following Sabrel back across the garden. He wished he was better at reading Sabrel, because then he'd have more of a clue as to what Sabrel was thinking.

  Theo was scowling at the tabletop when they entered the little clearing. Wilheim and Hilsner were nowhere in sight, and Theo didn't have his pouch of money anymore. So Wilheim had upped the stakes, it seemed, and Theo stood up abruptly as they approached.

  "Let's go," Theo snapped, not sparing Sabrel a second glance. Anton nodded, giving Sabrel a nod. Sabrel just stared back at him blankly, not following as he and Theo made their way into the house.

  *~*~*

  Wilheim stalked across the garden to where Sabrel stood, not hesitating as he swung. Sabrel flinched, but didn't duck away, letting Wilheim's fist connect with his left cheek. He stumbled back a few steps before straightening, almost smiling because the wildflowers always got Wilheim in a snit.

  "What have you learned?" Wilheim asked coldly, his eyes narrowed. Sabrel shrugged, moving to sit in one of the garden chairs, amused when he caught sight of Hilsner hovering by the kitchen door but not approaching.

  "He's Theo's friend," Sabrel replied slowly, sitting down gingerly in the chair. He wanted to touch his cheek, but that went against the 'pretend it didn't happen' mode of behavior. "He owns a few inns, and his family lives in the capital."

  "And how much of that is true?" Wilheim asked suspiciously, frowning. At least it was likely to be suspicion of Anton's story and not of Sabrel. Yet, anyway—Sabrel would need to be careful to not withhold too much.

  "I can't tell yet," Sabrel replied distantly. The safe course would be to admit to Anton's deception. It had been years since Sabrel had tried to do anything but tell the truth,
and he hoped that Wilheim wouldn't find out this time. He'd be cautious—and he'd learned from his last experience.

  "Have you tried?" Wilheim asked, his tone bordering on scornful and his mouth twisted angrily. Sabrel nodded dutifully, even if he hadn't yet.

  "I think I need to spend more time with him," Sabrel decided, wondering as he did whether it was more an excuse to keep his father happy or to sate his own curiosity. He'd had that odd dream of the ballroom twice more since the first time, and he still didn't know what it meant after meeting with Anton again.

  "Fine," Wilheim granted begrudgingly. "I've a meeting with his friend in three days—you can distract him again."

  Sabrel nodded, keeping his face impassive. Staring off into the distance behind Wilheim's head, he tried to decide whether or not he should attempt to catch more visions about Anton. So far he'd only had the two—the one of Anton staring up through the rain and the one of them in the garden—and the one dream.

  "Don't stay outside too long," Wilheim ordered sharply, and Sabrel gave no reply as Wilheim stalked across the yard to disappear into the house. The door slammed behind him, and Sabrel took a deep breath but didn't bother moving.

  Instead, he shut his eyes and concentrated, focusing on the few moments he remembered most vividly with Anton—Anton looking up through the rain towards the library window, the smile he gave Sabrel when he'd slipped inside the library that day, the way he'd watched Sabrel cross the garden—

  Anton was stretched out on a cot, shoved into the corner of a crowded inn room. He was shirtless, and his arm lay above his head. He was asleep, it seemed, until the door was flung open and he nearly took a tumble off the narrow cot in surprise.

  "Theo!" Anton snapped, straightening himself as Theo ducked under the short doorway and slipped into the room.

  "What?" Theo grinned, dropping a small sack on the little table shoved into the corner of the room inside the door. "Food."

  "Great," Anton muttered. Stretching with a yawn, he stumbled to his feet. Theo snickered, edging around him to reach the cot. He threw himself down, to which the cot gave a protesting squeak. "Steal my bed, why don't you?"

  "I will, thanks," Theo grinned, tucking his arms under his head and making himself comfortable. "So, want to up our wager?"

  "Our wager?" Anton asked, digging through the sack to come up with a half-dried apple. He bit into it with a shrug, leaning against the wall behind him because there was no place to sit. The room would have barely fit him and Theo standing together sideways, so there was really very little room for more furniture than was there.

  "Up it to fifty gold," Theo replied confidently, crossing his legs at the ankles. "I say that we pull it off completely."

  "Define completely," Anton said dryly, taking another bite of his apple. "No more hitches?"

  "We haven't had hitches, per se," Theo hedged.

  "We've had to modify the plan," Anton frowned. "But sure, I'll take that bet. There's far too much that could go wrong at this point."

  "Pessimist," Theo accused, getting Anton's apple core thrown at him. "Come on, Ant, live a bit. There's even a pretty boy involved!"

  "A pretty, untouchable boy," Anton retorted, and Theo snickered, knocking the apple core to the floor.

  "I'm sure if you asked him real nice he'd put out. Isn't he keeping your secrets for you?" Theo smirked, and Anton rolled his eyes.

  "So of course he's willing to be bedded," Anton muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I'm going for a walk. Stay here and sleep."

  "Fifty gold!" Theo called after him, the door shutting on his words.

  Sabrel gasped a bit, blinking his eyes open into the bright light of the garden. Staring at the house apprehensively for a long moment, Sabrel relaxed when no one came rushing out.

  Almost completely useless, Sabrel decided after a moment. He'd known they were up to something, after all. The only odd part … Hilsner and his father weren't pretty boys. He fit that description best—did that mean that—

  Sabrel cut off that train of thought, feeling his cheeks heat. Anton was after his father's papers, for one reason or another. His business, not Sabrel, and if he was after Sabrel, it was because of his power to see things, not for any silliness like Sabrel being pretty.

  But why was he after Wilheim's business? He'd admitted that he wasn't here for Theo—and it seemed even Theo wasn't here for Theo, but to help Anton in. Perhaps they were both after Wilheim's business deals? They were quite lucrative—Wilheim had a large and varied collection of things he dipped into, many of them not legal.

  But if Anton and Theo wanted in on that, why hadn't they stooped to less civil attempts to try and get in? Unless they didn't want Wilheim's business—but they wanted Wilheim to be held accountable for his business.

  It certainly wouldn't be the first time for either. If Anton was after Wilheim's business for himself, he'd be trying to curry favor with Sabrel so that he could get Sabrel along with Wilheim's business. He did already know what Sabrel did, after all. If he was out to end Wilheim's criminal activities, it was more likely he was trying to be nice in an attempt to keep Sabrel from giving him up and possibly so that Sabrel would help him.

  Sabrel frowned, standing up slowly and moving towards the house. He'd have to get some answers out of Anton the next time he saw him, because he would quickly run out of ways to stall his father.

  *~*~*

  "How'd it go?" Theo asked, as soon as the carriage was rattling away, back towards the house they were renting for this show.

  "I don't know," Anton frowned. "He could be playing us for either side, but I can't tell if he's being sincere when he says he'll stick to the story I gave him or if he's just good at acting and is running back to his father with every word."

  "What did you tell him?" Theo frowned, perched precariously on the edge of his seat.

  "Just our story—I'm an owner of inns, here to support you, which he didn't buy but said he'd stick to that story," Anton repeated. "That and his mother died twice—and that Wilheim, you noticed he got upset when Sabrel mentioned the wildflowers?"

  "Yeah," Theo grimaced. "He wasn't too pleasant after you two left. I am supposed to meet with him again in three days, with more money to keep him quiet."

  "Something's going right, at least," Anton muttered. "But Sabrel said Wilheim didn't like it when Sabrel mentions things that remind Wilheim of his mother."

  "Wilheim wasn't exactly bursting with pride when he introduced Sabrel," Theo said thoughtfully, nearly taking a dive out of his seat as they hit a bump.

  "No, but Sabrel is supposed to be slow, so keep that in mind," Anton replied. "Apparently that's Wilheim's cover story for why he keeps Sabrel shut up."

  "Good to know," Theo muttered, shaking his head. Then he grinned, and Anton sighed, bracing himself. "Sabrel is awfully pretty looking Anton."

  "I know," Anton shrugged. "It doesn't matter, we've got a job to do."

  "Aw, poor Anton," Theo mocked, but reduced his taunts to smirking when Anton shot him a dark look. Sighing, Anton tried to make himself comfortable as he lapsed into thought. If they could get Sabrel to help, this would go a lot easier.

  Anton needed to find some sort of leverage for Sabrel. Something that would convince him to keep quiet and possibly help. Perhaps—Sabrel didn't seem all that fond of his father, and his father did keep him in the house … maybe Anton could tempt him with travel and the chance to get out from under his father's thumb?

  Anton frowned, shifting a little as the carriage finally rattled to a stop. A bribe, possibly, to convince. They certainly had the means, and Sabrel would need something to get by after Wilheim was arrested. Theo scrambled out of the carriage in front of him, landing on the dirt-packed road easily.

  Anton followed a little less gracefully, deciding he'd write Charles again, to see if they couldn't do something for Sabrel if he helped.

  *~*~*

  Sabrel didn't look up at Anton as he entered the room, focusing instead on his book. An
ton waited until the door shut behind Wilheim's assistant to cross the room, taking the spot on the loveseat beside Sabrel.

  Sabrel still didn't look up, and Anton frowned, wishing he had a better plan than 'attempt to bribe Sabrel.'

  "Hello," Sabrel greeted quietly after a long moment, flipping a page.

  "Hello," Anton replied slowly, half-wishing he'd taken another seat in the room instead of the one right next to Sabrel. Sabrel smelled nice, and his hair shone from a recent washing. Anton wanted to reach out and see if it really was as soft as it looked, and that was a bad thought to be having. Forcing himself to concentrate, Anton struggled to think of an opening line.

  "Is Anton Homes really your name?" Sabrel asked after a moment, shutting his book quietly. He looked towards Anton, shaking his dark curls from his face. Anton stared, reaching out before he thought about it. Sabrel flinched away from his hand though, and Anton pulled his hand away, letting it fall back to his lap.

  "If I tell you, will you tell me how you got that black eye?" Anton asked, because Sabrel was closed-mouthed and he didn't think he'd get it from him any other way.

  "If you tell me your real name," Sabrel bargained, a smile hovering about his mouth. Anton sighed, but nodded.

  "It's not," Anton said, staring at Sabrel. "How did you get that black eye?"

  "What's your real name?" Sabrel countered, fiddling with the top edge of the cover of his book.

  "I want to know that first," Anton bargained, wondering if he was going to be stupid. He did need to get Sabrel's trust—so perhaps.

  "Wilheim didn't like my comment on the wildflowers, so he hit me," Sabrel smiled sweetly. Anton winced, wondering how Sabrel could say that so pleasantly.

  "Why do you stay here?" Anton blurted out, touching his fingers to Sabrel's cheek. Sabrel didn't flinch away from his touch this time, a bitter smile curving his lips.

  "Does it matter? What's your real name?" Sabrel asked, glancing away. The bruise around his eye was dark, but Anton couldn't help but think he was still beautiful, even with the bruise.