Ravens, Owls and a nightingale

23. Memories & Revelations

Schean woke up with a start. For a moment he just lay still in the pitch darkness, gasping for breath, then his arm reached out in search of something that just wasn't there. In an instant he was fully awake, sat up in the bed and looked around, then scrambled on his feet. Nothing. He couldn't hear a thing and that was bad, because it meant that he was still alone.

It didn't take long before he was fully clothed; he'd just intended to lie down for a moment, and had therefore only taken off his shoes and tunic. Silence throbbed in his ears as he pushed the door open and crept out. Damn it, he should've gone after Karos straight away! How long had he slept? Stubborn idiot or not, Karos wasn't well. Suppose he had worn himself out completely and passed out somewhere in the cold night, wet and upset?

Schean listened, holding his breath, but the big castle was quiet around him. He paused to think. What would Karos do, where would he go, after getting one hell of a shock? Two obvious alternatives immediately sprung to mind: either he'd want to be alone, or he'd go to the Wizard. Which one was it? Schean prayed hard that Karos had chosen the latter option, even if the climb up to the Ghost Tower was a tough one. If he'd gone somewhere to sulk on his own, his superior knowledge of Deleon's hideaways was sure to beat Schean's hopelessly limited experience.

And if he didn't find Karos now, quickly, he really was in a ditch! Schean didn't even want to guess what Lord Rhodan and the chatelaine would say... no, that didn't bear thinking about! The minstrel shook his head. He'd have to try and save what he could of the situation. He would go and throw himself at the mercy of the Wizard. At least the man wouldn't skin him upon sight.

The straightest way to the Ghost Tower was of course along the wall tops, and that was where Schean hurried on swift feet. He ignored the cold, wet wind and peered searchingly towards the east. Ragged clouds were flying in the horizon, and between them he could just make out the first red hint of sunrise. At least he hadn't slept very long then, which was a relief. Perhaps there still was hope?

The minstrel walked on as quickly as he dared along the rain-slicked passage, trying to assure himself that everything was going to be all right, that no major calamity had taken place while he'd slumbered. He reached a bend, turned around it and nearly tripped on his own feet.

Even in the dark, he recognized immediately the tall figure leaning against the wall. Yet, as relieved as he was to see Karos so obviously still alive and at least well enough to be traipsing around in the middle of the night, that feeling was overshadowed by apprehension and wonder as he saw the birds. Stocky bodies, big round heads, rounded wings that spread without sound above the man's head, the hisses and croaks.

Schean stared at the sight, too astonished to move at first, and then it dawned on him that the owls weren't trying to attack Karos, nor was the man cowering under their wings. No, he was doing something that fascinated the birds so much that they hadn't even noticed Schean who watched the surreal scene with abated breath, awestruck. He could hear Karos cooing something to them, but it took him a good while to figure out what was actually happening. Then he saw Karos' hand move, toss something a little further away, and an owl darted after that something with a low mewling sound. Realization clicked. Karos was feeding them!

Soon the owls were clearly getting sated, they weren't attacking the distributed morsels with nearly the same ferocity as mere moments earlier, and one by one they spread their wings and floated away. The last ones Karos shooed gently off, then pushed himself wearily upright. His movements were sluggish, and no wonder — he had to be totally drained. Schean simply stood, waiting.

Karos wasn't many steps away when he spotted the minstrel and stilled. They stared at each other for a moment in complete silence, until Schean broke the spell and stepped closer.

"You were feeding the owls," he said in awe. Karos nodded.

"It looked incredible. Totally incredible!" the minstrel went on, enthusiastic. "You've done it before, haven't you? They looked like they knew you."

"They do."

"But you haven't been able to come here for a long time now. Do they come every night nevertheless?"

"No," Karos grunted. "But they came when I called."

"You call them?" Schean sidled even closer. Karos was trembling with exhaustion, he sensed rather than saw it. "What do you give them?"

"Mice and rats. I set the traps earlier today."

"Oh."

Schean was close enough to touch now, but he didn't do it. The scene that they'd both witnessed earlier was hanging heavily in the air between them, and he knew it had jolted Karos badly. What the man thought about it, what he felt, was a mystery. But it would continue to bother them both until they'd manage to talk about it — if they ever did. Schean wanted to put Karos at ease, but how? He didn't know where to start. Well, at least there was another, safer topic: the owls. He plunged gratefully back.

"They are fascinating," he said. "The owls. Do you know them individually?"

"Oh yes, quite a few," Karos said, sounding almost relieved. This plainly was indeed a safe topic. "Some of them have been coming here for years."

"Do you feed them by hand? Like they feed the hunting falcons?"

"No, they'd rip my fingers. They are wild." Then Karos cocked his head in obvious interest. "Have you seen those falcons?"

"A couple of times. They use them in the southern castles, I saw them when I was traveling north with my uncle. They're beautiful."

"I'm sure," Karos said wistfully.

"The owls are different, but they're so beautiful too!" Schean smiled up at him. "Like you."

Karos froze and so did Schean. In the pregnant silence he cursed his glib tongue that had once again ran off with him. Dark eyes turned to look at him, deep and inscrutable.

"Like — me?"

"Yes," Schean breathed, unable to stop himself. "Big and strong and mysterious and — a bit wild and dangerous, and b-beautiful."

He bit back a yelp when a long arm suddenly shot past his head to seek support from the wall and Karos leaned closer, towering above him. Schean held his breath, staring up into the shadowed eyes, then let out a startled whimper when lips closed over his mouth with such force that he staggered back against the wall as well.

It was a crushing, burning, desperate kiss that nearly knocked him out. His arms flew instinctively back to claw for support from the rough stone, he closed his eyes and opened his mouth under the surprise assault. Then he blinked as the kiss ended, as abruptly as it had begun.

Karos whirled around, nearly lost his balance, then found his footing again and just about ran away, towards the Ghost Tower. A panting Schean made to follow him, but after a few uncertain steps he stopped and wiped his mouth with the back of a very shaky hand. There was no blood, so at least his lips hadn't split, but they were tingling fiercely and his face was burning.

"What on earth was that?" Schean mumbled aloud. Nobody answered, and after a few more moments he simply turned around and returned blindly to his own room. Ill or not, Karos was definitely more than he could handle tonight.

The Wizard raised his head as he heard the sounds outside his door, observing in passing that he'd once more got so absorbed in his notes that he'd stayed awake for the best part of the night. Then he perked up. What was going on at this hour? Surely not some emergency in the infirmary? He made a quick mental check and dismissed the idea. None of the patients was in such a condition that a sudden turn for the worse should've been possible.

Before he had time to get up, the door opened and a miserable-looking creature stumbled in. The Wizard immediately leaped closer and gathered the young man in his arms

"Good gods, Karos, what's happened? What're you doing here?"

"I'm cold."

"Where have you been, my boy? Come, come, you're trembling. What the hell do you think you're doing, going out in the middle of the night like this? And you're still ill, too!"

The Wizard slung an arm around the younger man and pulled him towards the bed, frowning as he felt how Karos slumped against him and seemed to be dragging his feet. He pushed Karos to sit on the bed and began to open the jacket, pulled off the boots, gathered the cloak in his arms and took it closer to the fire. The rustling of bedclothes prompted him to turn around and return to the bed, just in time to prevent the boy from crawling under the blankets still half-dressed.

"No, no, take all of those clothes off. You'll never get warm if you don't. Here, let me."

He managed to strip Karos naked and then shoved him gently. "Now to bed. Have you eaten?"

"Yes," Karos mumbled while burrowing under the covers. The Wizard shook his head, spread the clothes to dry and shuffled closer. It was definitely time for him to sleep as well, and right now Karos seemed to need some comforting closeness. But what in the name of all gods could have happened to upset him so? Rhamirr had never before seen 'his boy' like this.

The Wizard undressed and crawled into bed, fumbling under the blankets to touch the boy. Karos was trembling violently, and his skin was cold to touch. Was the fever returning? The man pursed his lips. Karos had been recovering so well, and now this — what had he been up to? He pulled Karos gently in his arms and squeezed, heard the heavy breathing.

"What's the matter?" he asked softly. "Where have you been to get this cold? Schean must be out of his mind with worry."

An uneasy shifting was all the response he got.

"Come on, spill it! Have you been outside, in that rain?"

"Went to feed the owls," came an indistinct reply.

"Feed them? With what?"

"Set the traps earlier today. There were plenty of mice to give them."

Rhamirr heaved a deep sigh. "So you've given Schean the slip again, have you? You shouldn't do that! And why aren't you in your own bed now?"

Karos huddled into an even tighter bundle and Rhamirr began to get truly worried. "Karos, what is the matter? Surely you haven't quarreled with Schean?"

He thought he felt the head shake. "Well good. But then, why? Why are you here and not there?"

"Can't go there!" Karos' voice was very tight. "I can't."

The Wizard rubbed his arms through the blankets and waited a moment, then tried again. With a lot of patience and repeated questions he managed to coax it out, tiny piece by tiny piece, and the more he heard, the more puzzled he was. No, Karos hadn't exactly quarreled with Schean, although he'd sneaked out in the afternoon and had now been out since roughly midnight. But he wouldn't, couldn't go back there, couldn't face Schean again.

Why? Because they'd gone to the bathhouse together and there — ahh, right. They'd seen someone there, or rather, two people. Rhamirr's eyebrows shot up when that piece of information was revealed. Now he had at least something to tread on, and he could more effectively start pumping Karos for more. Had the two people perhaps been intimate with each other... yes, well, seeing that kind of thing could be rather embarrassing, but surely that was no reason to avoid Schean? Schean had seen it too, so Rhamirr really couldn't see why Karos would be so adamant to stay away now.

At this point Karos tensed up so badly that the older man was scared. He felt like he were trying to hold in his arms a frightened horse that hadn't quite made up its mind whether to burst into a wild canter or start biting and kicking at everything within sight. What was this? He shushed the trembling young man, held him tight, waited. Was Karos actually crying? Yes... yes he was. Rhamirr hugged him still a little tighter, confused and desperately hoping for anything to give even the slightest clue, anything to start unraveling the knot of anguish in his arms.

"I don't want to hurt him," Karos at last murmured distinctly enough to be heard. "I don't want to."

"Of course you don't, my boy. Why would you?"

"But the way he makes me feel..." A long, shuddering inhale, followed by almost convulsive hugging of the pillow clutched to Karos' chest. "I don't want to hurt him, but — it's wrong. It's all wrong. I — I'm a beast, a monster!"

"Hush!" Rhamirr ruffled the curly hair, alarmed. "No you're not. Why do you say such things? You and Schean are friends, I know you'd never do anything to hurt him, and so does he. You're no monster, Karos my boy."

"But — but he's so..." Karos' voice was muffled by the pillow into which he dug his head even deeper than it had been a moment earlier, but not quite quickly enough; Rhamirr was rather sure that he'd heard the last word right. 'Beautiful'. So Karos agreed with the rest of the world and thought that Schean was beautiful? What was the harm in that? He strained his ears and ventured to shake the broad shoulders slightly.

"Karos, I'm afraid I still don't understand you. There's nothing wrong with thinking that Schean is beautiful — why would that make you a monster, or somehow hurt him?"

"It's wrong! I'm not a monster like — like —"

"Like who, Karos?"

"The man who — was hanged."

Karos rolled up into a tight ball, but Rhamirr hardly felt it in the flash of illumination that exploded in his head. Just a word, yet he knew exactly what Karos was talking about. Remembered it all too well, really, for it had been an ugly and rare case, and he'd seen its worst consequences. It wasn't that common to hang people around Deleon, for Lord Rhodan believed more in making offenders feel the consequences and somehow compensate for what they'd done, but on that particular occasion the Lord hadn't much hesitated. How long ago was it now, six or seven years?

The boy hadn't been much older than Karos at the time, which was a big part of why Rhamirr had been so shocked by the whole thing. He'd been sent to work at the castle stables by his parents in the hopes of securing him a future, and there he'd caught the eye of a much older stable worker. Other stablehands said afterwards that the boy had rejected the man's crude advances several times. Then, late one night, the man had just hauled him to a supposedly sheltered spot and there beaten and raped him. Someone had alerted the castle, the man had been caught literally red-handed and hanged soon thereafter, while Rhamirr had got to use all his skill and patience to help the boy heal from the experience.

He also remembered that Karos had all the while acted somewhat strange while the boy had been staying in the Tower with them, at the same time fascinated and horrified. He'd been so unlike his usual self that Rhamirr had in fact suspected that the boy knew more about the incident than he let out, but he'd never asked before. Maybe this was the time?

"Did that man try to molest you, too?" he asked, but Karos shook his head violently.

"No. I saw it. And I'm not like that!"

Oh by all gods... Rhamirr's teeth clenched together. Karos had actually seen it happen, most probably been the nameless someone who'd raised the alarm too? But then why should he...

Idiot, the man thought to himself when pieces at last fell into place in his mind. So Karos thought Schean was beautiful, but the way Schean made him feel also made him want to get the hell away from Schean. Why? Because he didn't want to hurt Schean. But why would the thought of hurting Schean even occur to him?

Because Karos wanted Schean, and his probably only experience of anything sexual between two men was a very brutal scene of rape unfolding in front of a frightened young boy's eyes, years ago.

Rhamirr wanted to curse aloud but bit his tongue and held the words inside. Instead he hugged the shuddering lump closer and sighed.

"Karos, my dear boy," he said in a low voice. "You know that men sleep with women, and women with men, because they like it. There are also men who sleep with other men, for the same reason — because they like it. But what you saw back then had nothing to do with that. It was rape, and it would still have been rape it he'd chosen a woman and not that unfortunate boy as his victim."

Karos was crying now, deep awkward sobs that racked all of his big body and made Rhamirr's heart bleed. "Oh my goodness... Karos, my poor Karos, so that's why you've been so uptight with Schean, isn't it? No no, there's nothing wrong with you even if he makes you feel that way. You want to hold him, kiss him, hug him, but none of those things make you into a monster! Didn't you say yourself just a moment ago that you'd never hurt him?"

Rhamirr paused to listen, to let the words sink in, and also to think. He knew quite a lot of the minstrels, had had the opportunity to observe these two particular specimens in some detail, and was pretty certain that Schean would respond to Karos' feelings if given half the chance. However, Rhamirr didn't want to give away too much. He was after all only guessing at Schean's emotions, and besides, any talk about minstrels in general would inevitably bring with it the question of what might have taken place between Schean and Mioll. There was no need to complicate matters any further by dragging the older minstrel into this mess, especially as he was going to leave soon anyway. No, better leave Mioll out altogether, Rhamirr decided, and just try to give Karos an encouraging nudge or three.

"Karos, listen to me," he tried again. "It's true that most men are interested in women, but you're not the only one of your kind. Nor does liking other men make you disgusting, let alone a rapist. I think you should trust Schean and tell him how you feel. He's your friend, and I'm sure he'll still be your friend even if he didn't like you in that way."

Karos was at last calming down, not to mention getting warmer. He ought to be in his own bed, Rhamirr thought, but realized that it was best to let the boy sleep here now. He had to be half dead with exhaustion, both physical and mental.

"And even if Schean isn't the one, I'm sure you'll find a partner one day," Rhamirr went on, voice low and soothing. "Someone who'll love you and stand by your side. Someone with whom you will see that men can enjoy each other, just like men and women can."

The Wizard rubbed the younger man's shoulders, feeling to his immense relief and satisfaction that they were distinctly relaxing. Well, about time too. Karos would be lucky indeed if he'd have no fever the next day... "What did you say?"

"I think I understand now." Karos was mumbling into the pillow, drifting off fast. "Couldn't understand... 's bigger too... Sorel couldn't force him to do anything..."

Rhamirr's jaw dropped and he stared for a moment into darkness. Sorel — forcing anybody — ohh. Right. So it had actually been two men, and not just any two men, whom Schean and Karos had seen, being intimate with each other in the bathhouse? Ah well. Now that explained Karos' extreme agitation. Suddenly something occurred to the Wizard and he shook the boy awake once more.

"So you were together in the bathhouse, saw Count Daynar with Sorel, then you went up to the walls to feed the owls? Right?" He felt Karos nod, heard the hummed affirmative. "Where was Schean? Does he know where you are?" Good gods, the poor minstrel had to be frantic.

"Schean came there," Karos said into the pillow. "Saw me with the owls."

"Oh, he did? Did you talk?"

"Mmm." The black animal burrowed deeper once more. "He liked them. Said they are like me."

"In what way?" Now Rhamirr was holding his breath. Karos let out a small sound, maybe a groan or a sigh, he couldn't tell.

"Mysterious... and fascinating... and —"

Again a word was only breathed into the pillows, and again Rhamirr could swear that it had been the same word as before. "He said you're beautiful... and what did you then, run away?"

"Kissed him."

The Wizard slumped in relief. One, he was now almost certain that Karos' feelings would indeed be reciprocated. He couldn't imagine anyone saying such things to a person they weren't considerably interested in. Two, at least Karos hadn't fled straight away after hearing the revelation. Oh yes, the whole thing was a mess and quite particularly Karos was a mess, but there was still hope. Plenty of it.

"So he can guess that you're here," he sighed. "Well, good. Just sleep now."

He could hear faint snoring from the huge pile of blankets and pillows next to him even before he got himself comfortably settled in bed, then sighed and closed his eyes. Just before sleep gathered him he had time for a muzzy thought: it was such a good thing that he'd never got entangled into anything that could be called a 'private life'. Oh, he'd been bitter and sorry for it quite a few times, but there was no denying that he'd been spared from a lot of trouble.