Ravens, Owls and a nightingale

24. Gossip & Guesses

It wasn't quite midday yet when a shy knock sounded at the Wizard's door, and as the man had expected, a sandy-blond head peeked in.

"I'm sorry to disturb, but – ah, so he is here!"

"Indeed!" Rhamirr smiled to Schean and pointed towards the bed. Karos was still sleeping like a log; he hadn't as much as stirred when the older man had woken up some time earlier and anxiously felt his neck. It had been slightly warmer than it should, but Karos was comfortably snuggled inside a heap of blankets and looked peaceful. "And I did let him hear my opinion of the way he keeps sneaking out behind your back, too."

Schean grinned a little and went quietly closer to peer at the relaxed face, then shook his head.

"He's trying so hard to get better, and overdoing it. Of course it's not nice to be totally helpless, and I can understand if he's sick and tired of it, but he should give himself some time!"

Karos sighed and shifted a little, and the minstrel hastily backed away from the bed with an apologetic grimace. "Oops... mustn't wake him up! I, uh, I'll be going now. Better let him sleep now as long as he does, but would you please tell him to come to our room when he wakes up? Lord Rhodan already saw me this morning and wanted to come and see him, and I had to say he's still sleeping. Otherwise the Lord would've come and found out that I'd managed to lose him again!"

"Through no fault of your own," the Wizard reminded him. "But yes, definitely I will. I'll make sure he behaves now, even if I have to walk him there by the ear."

"He's so stubborn," Schean chuckled, and Rhamirr smothered a smirk. When had he last heard anyone say those words with such a downright tender tone? And obviously Schean didn't even notice it himself, either. "Well, I'll trot off now. Must go and find Mioll, we need to refresh every single song we've ever learned, for the party!"

"Ah, the party... Karos must be able to attend, even if he couldn't stay the whole night." Rhamirr shook his finger to the minstrel. "Therefore, I hereby grant you permission to shackle him to the bed if he still tries to be difficult, and will certainly tell this to him as well. Agreed?"

Schean vanished with a conspiratorial nod, leaving behind an indulgently smiling Wizard who returned to his usual chores, humming quietly to himself.

The young minstrel hurried back to the keep, in higher spirits once more. It was no wonder that after all the shocks of the night, he had taken a while to fall asleep, and even after that he hadn't slept too well. He had dreamed too much and of altogether weird things. Every single dream had involved whole flocks of owls, slippery wall top passages that went on forever, enormously big bathhouses, and down-soft beds that upon closer inspection appeared to consist mainly of owl-down. What made them particularly disturbing was that every dream, and especially the dream beds, had also contained Karos, all nude and gorgeous.

So, when Schean had finally woken up, he had practically run to the bathhouse and taken a belated bath, never mind that the water had cooled down considerably during the night. More than anything, that was solid proof of how much the goings-on of the previous night had shaken him. He hated cold water with a vengeance, had hated it ever since his wanderings with his uncle when he'd had such plentiful opportunities to make acquaintance with cold water in all its forms and disguises – icy brooks, autumn rain, freezing wells – and now avoided it whenever possible. And yet, this morning he had deliberately doused himself with it until his teeth chattered. At least it had woken him up, even if he still didn't feel quite settled.

But at least he now knew that Karos was all right, safe and sound, and the Wizard would keep his word. So Schean could count on eventually finding the troublesome convalescent in the room where he belonged, which was a very good thing, because that meant one dangerous topic less on his mind. Now he only needed to find company to keep him busy, otherwise fatigue and his own whirling thoughts would soon get an opportunity to attack and distract him so that he'd be ripe to walk into walls.

That meant finding Mioll, and soon, then they could hole up somewhere and lose themselves in music. Right now Mioll could probably be found in the day room, or perhaps he was with Lady Bialka? Schean pondered his options for a while, then decided to check the day room first and turned a corner.

Less than a second later he almost bashed his face into a wall that was luckily, though somewhat peculiarly, covered with dark brown cloth. It also had two long, steely strong arms that quickly shot out and steadied Schean as he gasped with surprise.

"Careful, minstrel! Too much of a hurry can be a bad thing, you know."

Schean blinked up at a pair of deep blue, quietly amused eyes and felt how heat invaded his face.

"Sorry," he breathed and flushed an even deeper red when the dark man's lips pulled into a knowing smirk. Why, oh why did he have to embarrass himself again with these two?

"No damage done," Count Daynar said mildly and released the minstrel. Schean bowed quickly, careful not to meet the other pair of eyes looking at him, and scurried away.

Schean beat a hasty retreat to the music room to regain his usual, more muted color and to let his heart slow down again, but to his consternation Mioll was already waiting for him there. The older blond immediately spotted his friend's flustered state, and within minutes he had pumped out the whole story – or actually, most of it. Schean somehow managed to be sufficiently vague about the later part of the night, and anyway, Mioll was too interested to hear of the two famous warriors to get overly inquisitive about what exactly might have happened between Schean and Karos.

"So it is indeed true!" he sighed, oozing smug satisfaction. "Well well. So far I've only heard rumors, nobody's been able to say anything for sure. But now I know!"

"I seriously hope you're not going to actually tell about it to anyone?" Schean panted, eyes wide. "Mioll! You can't do that!"

"And why not?" Mioll tilted his head, then grinned and shook it firmly. "But no, why would I tell? Except to selected other minstrels, of course... and you'll never know when such information might prove useful, too."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a dreadful gossip?" Schean asked dubiously and snapped his teeth when Mioll patted his head.

"My dear little brother, if you'd been around half as much as I have, you'd know that that is the way to get the extra favors – gossip!" Mioll assumed his best know-all expression. "Or, well, it's half of it. The trick is not only to know things, but also to know when to tell, when not, and to whom. When you master that, you're halfway to success."

Schean shook his head at Mioll, a tad wistfully. "I somehow can't imagine myself in such places – the rich, busy castles and big parties and intrigue and whatnot. But I guess that's where you really belong."

"Belong?" Mioll chuckled a little and bent over his lute so that long hair spilled over his shoulder. "Yes, I suppose so. First I'll head to Eregal, to sing there the praise of the good Lord Rhodan, and then – who knows?"

Mioll flashed a grin through the ashen veil and Schean swallowed. He couldn't see the man's eyes behind the hair that hid nearly all of the face, but his sharp eye saw that the hands expertly tuning the lute were trembling slightly.

"And in every possible place where I meet our folks, I'll make sure to tell them that there's a minstrel in Deleon who is definitely worth hearing. You'll have plenty of visitors here, I can promise you that!" There was an unmistakable melancholy undertone in Mioll's voice, but before Schean could say anything, he swiped his hair once more to the back and shot the younger minstrel a questioning glance. "What'll we play first? Are you in tune yet?"

"You bet!" Schean nodded, eager to grab any straws. He didn't want to ask anything, not think about what the sorrow in Mioll's voice meant, not now when he already had more than enough to think about. "Let's begin with the ballads, as long as we're fresh and bright!"

Mioll agreed, and once they got started the day passed on quickly enough. In fact it flew by at such speed that dinnertime was already well past when he finally scuttled towards his tower room once more, arm lovingly around his lute. His stomach was pleasantly full, his fingers were sore, and he felt ready to fall straight to bed.

Except that the bed was already taken. Schean started and a smile spread on his face when he saw the tall form sprawled haphazardly across the covers, head cradled between crossed arms. To his surprise he realized that Karos' eyes were open and looked at him steadily.

"Here you are!" he breathed, at once relieved and somehow agitated. "Had dinner yet?"

"Yes."

"Right. Well." The minstrel was suddenly at a loss. "Um, do you want to go to bed? Have you bathed?"

"I have."

Karos lowered his arms and shifted aside to make room on the bed. Schean took that as an invitation and cautiously sat down on its edge, puzzled and unnerved by the dark gaze that glittered in the sparse light of the fireplace and made him grapple for words.

"Would you like me to play for you?"

Karos gave a tiny nod. "That'd be nice."

Did the day perhaps hold still many more surprises in store? But at least this offered a chance to break the silence, to do something. Schean gratefully picked up his lute from the bench once more and settled more comfortably on the bed pulling his legs under him. The solid form of the instrument in his lap was a welcome comfort, and he didn't need light to unerringly find the right strings.

"We've been practicing today, me and Mioll," he explained, wincing internally at how garrulous that sounded even in his own ears. "For the feast, you know. Must have enough to play there."

"If you're too tired to play, just say so."

"No, no, I'm not tired!" It wasn't a lie, either. Schean found that he very badly wanted to play, anything to appear busy. He quickly picked a tune and soon his lute was making the dimly lit room alive.

Karos watched and listened without a word, lounging comfortably on his back, one hand behind his head and the other resting on his shirt-clad stomach. Schean kept his attention on the instrument, not wanting to look straight into those watchful eyes, and quite specifically not at the body that was so damn close. He switched from one piece to the next on the fly, losing himself in the uninterrupted flow of music that pulled him on.

"I like that one."

"Huh?" Schean blinked and blessed the thickening darkness that hid his flush. Why did he have to blush so easily, he thought irritably, when for example Mioll was quite as fair-skinned and yet had nothing of the same problem? Then the words penetrated fully. "Oh... oh, this one! Well, I –"

"You've played it before," Karos went on. "What's it called?"

Schean swallowed. He tried to think but could only come up with the truth.

"It's – it's called 'Noriet'."

"Noriet?"

"Yes." He had felt Karos tense even though they weren't touching each other, and cursed himself. Spontaneous lies obviously weren't his forte, particularly when he'd let himself drift again into the dreamland. "That's its name. I've – it's about you."

"Have you made it?" Karos was speaking barely above a whisper. Schean nodded.

"Yes. Or, well, it just came to me. Some songs are like that."

"But it isn't a song," Karos observed.

"Well... actually it is," Schean confessed, cheeks aflame. "Not in Revnashi, though."

"Sing it, please."

Schean closed his eyes for a moment and did his best to hide behind his hair and his lute. Of course it was a new piece, but he'd never ever sung it to anyone, not even Mioll, even though he usually didn't much dawdle before letting the older minstrel hear his latest compositions. But this was different. This was a love song, and even though he knew that Karos wouldn't understand a word, the thought of actually singing it felt like stripping naked in the middle of a crowded hall.

At the same time he knew that he was going to sing it nevertheless.

"All right. I will."

The last echo of the chords had long since shivered into silence inside the lute when Karos spoke again.

"What does it say?"

Of course he would ask...

"It tells about someone who's black and proud and strong." There was no way Schean could hold back his smile, and he knew Karos could hear it too. "Someone who's a courageous and good friend, and... and very important to me."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do the words go like that?"

Karos' eyes were like embers, and Schean shifted under their gaze. Why indeed, he asked himself. More specifically, why had he let himself be lured into this situation, without protesting once? It would've been so easy to avoid it – just a little lie at the right moment. But he hadn't even tried.

"Because that's how I see you," he said boldly and then just waited, barely breathing, for what felt like hours.

Karos slowly rolled a little to his side, towards Schean. Crawled closer. Then, very slowly, his long arms rose and wound loosely around the minstrel.

Schean was sure that his heart would stop at the first tentative touch, but instantly his thoughts leaped to his lute, his most precious possession. He put it carefully away and then blinked when it dawned upon him that now he really was at a loss. Where would he put his hands now, without the lute to hold on to? Help came from an unexpected quarter, though: the arms around him loosened, as if to let go, and Schean reflexively clasped them tighter with his own. As soon as he'd grabbed the hold he regretted it, then braced himself. He'd already gone way beyond anything that could be explained away with a giggle and a shrug. Besides, he reminded himself, Karos had kissed him, not the other way round. On the previous night, on the wall top, he had more or less directly told Karos that he found him fascinating and handsome, and got a near-bruising kiss squarely on the mouth in return. Now Karos was holding him – was this a moment to start feeling apprehensive? Definitely not.

So Schean squeezed the strong arms a little with his own and felt Karos shift closer, still a little bit closer, and a curly head pressed shyly on his thigh. Shy? Well, there was no other word to describe it. Schean felt the hot puff of breath through the cloth and sighed in wonder, let his fingers at last sink into the thick bush of curls and ruffle it gently. He chuckled.

"I like your hair," he ventured to say and was almost certain that Karos smiled. He pulled a lock straight, let go, and it curled back around his fingers. Just like he'd thought it would. "Oh, I like it!"

Karos hugged him wordlessly and Schean laughed aloud, softly, cradling the arms with his own. He felt how the long, lean body relaxed, curled closer, as if wanting to surround him completely, and squeezed Karos harder. He just had to, he was sure that otherwise his madly thumping heart would burst out of his chest.

"Karos," he whispered into the thick hair, one hand still fisting it. "Karos, you need to rest. Let's crawl to bed."

A low hum was his only reply, but that didn't deter Schean. "To bed, now. You must still be tired after all that running around yesterday and last night. Come on, be a good boy."

He let his hands creep to loosen the clasps on Karos' shirtfront. The skin underneath was warm, and Schean felt his fingers tremble a bit when they touched it. He negotiated the clasps open, caressed the muscled chest, felt the short dark hair on it. He'd seen all of that body, front and back, while taking care of the ailing man so few days ago, he knew what he was touching: sheer glory.

"Karos, you need to let go of me just a little," he purred. "We need to undress."

Never before had it sounded so thrilling. Karos silently sat up and pulled the shirt over his head while Schean stripped himself as well, nearly getting his fingers into a knot in the process. Karos' body loomed in the dusky room as he slipped under the covers and Schean followed, holding his breath. He cautiously crept next to Karos and sidled closer until they were skin to skin, hand ghosting back to rest on the man's chest. Karos tensed again, but nevertheless his arm snaked around Schean and gave him a cautious squeeze.

"Karos..." Schean pressed his lips on the man's shoulder, felt the shiver, licked a little. "I've wanted to be like this with you, you know."

Why was Karos so silent? Schean's searching fingertips found the dip between pectorals and the stripe of hair that ran along it. The treasure trail... he felt how Karos' breath hitched and the man tensed, then a large hand closed on his and stopped the southward movement.

Take it slow. Don't rush. I'm sure my hand was nowhere near the scar, so it couldn't have been that I hurt him. Slow down. Maybe he's just new to this kind of thing.

So Schean just snuggled next to Karos, put his arm around the man's neck and reached out to plant a kiss on his lips.

"I like you so much," he said softly. The arms around him tightened, one hand rose to play with his hair and then tenderly cupped his face.

"I – I like you," Karos whispered hoarsely. "I would never hurt you, Schean."

"I know that," Schean breathed.

Karos exhaled slowly and gathered the slim body close, maneuvering himself to lie on his back. He was so hard that it hurt, even the blankets felt too heavy and chafing on heated flesh, but he ground his teeth together and told himself to wait. Just wait. Fear made his belly ache, horrid images flashed through his mind, and he screwed his eyes shut against them. Schean was warm and willing in his arms, this felt good, this was right. He wanted to hold Schean close, breathe in his scent, feel the warmth and kisses and that soft hair. Nothing more, not now, no matter how desperately his body demanded it. He wouldn't give in, wouldn't let his body betray him. It wanted something dangerous, something he couldn't handle now that a miracle had happened and Schean wanted to be with him, like this, naked and cuddled close. This was enough.

And Schean seemed to understand him, too. Fingers played in his hair, lips brushed on his chest, a blond head pressed close to his own, and he heard a contented sigh.

"Good night, Karos."

"Good night, Schean," he replied huskily and bit back a groan when lips grazed his own.