Here you'll find

 

Ravens, Owls and a nightingale

 

 

 

 

 

28. News & Promises

It took a while before the words penetrated enough to coax a reaction out of Schean, but considering the circumstances that was no wonder. The slim minstrel was kneeling on the floor beside the big trunk in his and Karos' room, upper body completely inside it and both arms digging deep among clothes and other stuff that had still been relatively neatly stacked and folded just a while ago. He knew he was making a mess but he absolutely wanted to find that nifty little leather pouch his father had given him before he'd left the village with his uncle...

"Wh-what did you say?" A disheveled sandy-blond head rose from the trunk and a nonplussed Schean stared at the maid who stood patiently at the door and tried unsuccessfully not to giggle.

"I said that there are visitors asking for you," she repeated patiently. "They're waiting for you in the hall. Some minstrels."

"Minstrels?" Schean scrambled up from where he'd been kneeling at the door, grimaced as he banged a knee against the sturdy wood of the trunk, and hastily shook his hair into some kind of order. "I'm coming!"

The maid, satisfied that she'd performed her duty, stepped aside and let Schean scurry past. A couple of times he nearly tripped on his own feet on the uneven steps before reason won and he slowed down to a slightly statelier pace. It wouldn't make a particularly good impression if he greeted the newcomers bruised and scratched, or all flustered and out of breath, no matter how exhilarated their arrival made him.

And enthusiastic he was, no question about it. Other minstrels! This was the first time he'd get to play the host to his countrymen. Of course castles were natural goals for itinerant minstrels, but so far their visits to Deleon had been conspicuously lacking. Not a single minstrel had strayed to the area of his own accord while Schean had been living there, but he couldn't much blame them for it. His people didn't expect luxury from their hosts, but places famous for their splendid courts and lavish hospitality were definitely more likely to attract traveling musicians than those with a reputation for military prowess and willingness to use it. And since Deleon most definitely fell into the latter category, it was no wonder that Schean's people hadn't been exactly running to see it.

But now there were other minstrels waiting for him, and not just one but several because the girl had talked about visitors, in plural. Schean stopped for a moment to straighten his tunic and to comb fingers through his hair, then ran down the last few curving steps and looked expectantly into the entrance hall.

His eyes lit up when he saw the little group that waited meekly next to the large doors, standing close to each other and gaping around in awe. In the light of the multiple torches on the walls Schean could see little puddles at their feet; it was snowing wetly outside and molten flakes were dripping slowly from their cloaks and pulled-back hoods. Four – were there really four of them? Schean hurried closer, a huge smile spreading on his face.

"Welcome to Deleon! Dear friends, welcome! Oh, I'm so delighted to see you!"

Yes, he had seen correctly. Four pairs of eyes turned towards him, four smiles greeted him, and the tallest of the men bowed a little.

"Thank you," he said courteously. "The fame of Deleon has reached our ears and made us very curious, so we've come in the hopes that we could make up for our lodgings and meals by entertaining her people with news and music! Am I right in assuming that we're talking to the Nightingale himself?"

Schean blinked. "The – Nightingale?"

"Yes, Schean Lyennam, the Nightingale of Deleon!" The gray eyes of the youth standing next to the tall man shone at Schean, almost as bright as the smile he flashed.

"That's what Mioll Labeth calls you," supplied the slightly darker of the two young men who were standing behind the boy, side by side. "We met him in Eregal some weeks ago, and it's he who made us turn this way!"

"Oh..." Schean, cheeks burning, tried to compose himself enough to get a word out but found it pretty difficult. "He – well, Mioll is – I, uh, how is he? Yes, I am Schean Lyennam and I am living here, but... Nightingale?"

"Yes indeed," the tall man smiled. "A very apt name, I'd say, judging by the songs of yours that we heard him play, and –"

"Oh, don't embarrass our host too much, cousin!" scolded the fourth minstrel, nudging the speaker. "For one thing, don't you think it unfair that we know no less than two names for him while he has none for us?"

The man chuckled. "You are right, cousin, and I do apologize! I'm Dasch Beillen, traveling with my cousins Lynn and Laonn Lefanos."

The two brothers bowed smartly and Schean greeted them, trying to guess whether or not they were twins; at least they looked to be about the same age.

"And this youngster here is my nephew Noy," Dasch continued, and the lovely boy pressed a hand on his heart.

"I'm so excited to meet you," he said, sounding breathless enough to actually mean it.

Remembering his role, Schean resolutely forced back his fluster and assured that the Lord and his family would be very glad to have the visitors in Deleon, especially as minstrels were by no means a common sight in the area.

"We did realize that along the way!" Laonn grinned affably. "We've met with such curiosity and hospitality everywhere that it's plain to see these lands aren't exactly overrun by our people."

"Well, I don't exactly blame anyone for not coming, with all the wars that've been going on," Schean said as he led the newcomers in. "I wasn't supposed to end up here, either, but there was this one skirmish going on back then and my uncle decided that we'd make this big detour west to avoid it."

"By the way, before I forget," Dasch put in,"has the Lord celebrated his wedding yet?"

"Yes," Schean nodded, then hurried to continue before his fellow minstrels' faces fell too much: "But it really was just a family affair, nothing grand, just some closest allies and such as guests. And don't worry, the entire family will be overjoyed to have you here now! Come, right now we'll go to meet Lady Merania, she'll decide where you'll have your lodgings..."

If the four minstrels had initially been overwhelmed by the sheer size of Deleon, they soon had plenty more reason to feel so. Not only were they warmly welcomed by the Lady herself, within not very many moments they also had a sizable room and a large bed at their disposal and were being ushered to take advantage of the currently empty bathhouse where water was just being heated for that evening's use. Schean accompanied them, deliriously happy to speak his native language again and to hear all the loads of gossip and news that the new arrivals had to tell.

The hot bath was followed by food and then it was already time to appear before the gentlefolks during and after their dinner. Lord Rhodan was very interested to hear news from Eregal and beyond, and Dasch was in fact invited to sit with him and a few of his closest men by the table while the other minstrels did their best to entertain the younger members of the family. Lady Merania, still not quite used to just sitting placidly in her place while servants were busy around her, chose to stay by the table this time and listened with obvious interest to the stories from outside world.

Benella and Bengor caused a lot of hilarity by joining forces and expressing their incredulity concerning Noy's age: he looked far too young for his claimed sixteen years, they stated in unison. Noy blushed and laughed but protested that he was telling the truth, and only the solemn assurances of the Lefanos twins finally managed to convince the brother and sister. Benella shook her head with a heartfelt sigh.

"It's just not fair, though," she said with an exaggerated pout. "Not fair at all – that you're a boy and prettier than me!"

"But isn't it a good thing that he is a boy?" Bengor said innocently, eyes glittering mischief. "One less person to compete with you for a husband!"

"Bengor!" Benella looked around for something to throw at her snickering brother, came up with nothing that wouldn't cause too much damage, and swatted him instead. "I don't want a husband! At least not for many more years! I have so much to learn still and besides, I don't want to leave Deleon."

"That is easy to understand," the minstrel Lynn said with a smile. "This truly is a magnificent place! But there are nice castles and big manors in the east as well – would you like to hear more about some of them? We've been to quite a few."

This smooth nudge redirected the flow of conversation to other things and Schean sighed with relief. He had noticed the glances shot at them from the Lord's table, notably by Lord Rhodan himself, and also Karos' slight discomfort with the topic. Oh, he understood very well why Karos might get a bit edgy when pretty minstrel boys and competition for a husband were mentioned in the same breath...

Suddenly a thought occurred to him. What if Lord Rhodan, true to the ways of mighty lords, decided to use his children as tools in strengthening his position with the powers around him – by marrying them suitably? Of course he'd sort of always taken it for granted, without actively thinking about it, that the Ranea and his sisters wouldn't be marrying just anybody; that politics would play some role in the selection of their spouses. But only now Schean realized that while those three were still too young to be married, there was one member of the family who wasn't. Karos. Young for a Revnashi man to marry, but not too young. And if that should occur to Lord Rhodan and he chose to act upon it, what would happen then?

He quickly pushed that thought away and plunged back into the happy chattering. There'd be time to think about such unpleasant things later! Right now he had his four compatriots to listen to and to sing and play with, and the Lord's children were more than eager to hear them.

The evening wore on, and when all the people had retired for the night, Schean let himself be swayed by the requests of his guests and followed them to their room for some more chatting. Sure they were tired after the day's journey and the bath and food and everything – in fact Noy nodded off within moments, practically in the middle of protestations that he wasn't at all sleepy – but the joy of getting to know Schean outweighed their exhaustion. They talked on until ever widening yawns forced them to finally call it a day; there was such a lot to talk about and still would be even if they stayed up all night, and besides the others wouldn't be leaving in a hurry!

Schean hadn't been able to imagine just how wonderful it would be to meet his compatriots again, and night after night they stayed together well into the wee hours, talking and playing long after the gentlefolks had gone to bed. He quite forgot to regret his plentiful free time, for it seemed that any amount of chattering could barely make a dent to the mountain of things to discuss. He eagerly devoured all the news and gossip from the east, and felt a pleasant rush when he realized that for the first time in his life he was included in the 'elders' teaching new things to a youngster. Noy, still rather fresh from the south coast, listened to his stories and particularly his music with a rapturous face, and there was no denying that Schean was mightily flattered by such attention.

And thus it was once again late in the night, nearly a week later, when he finally slunk sleepily back into his own room and made a face at the door hinges that emitted a penetrating squeak when disturbed. He held his breath and eased the door closed, then tiptoed unerringly to the wallside bench; no light save the faint glow of embers was needed, he knew exactly how many steps it was from the door. The room wasn't really cold, there had been a good fire in the fireplace all evening, but nevertheless the stone floor made his bare toes curl as he hastily shed his clothes and crawled to bed shivering a little. He was so tired...

Schean huddled into a tight bundle and pulled the blankets close, then squinted and listened with abated breath. Something wasn't quite right. He should've found Karos face down on the bed, stretched to his full length and hugging a pillow. But even though he could barely make out the black shape looming beside him, he saw enough to realize that the man was lying on his side, back turned to Schean. That could only mean one thing: he wasn't asleep after all. Karos never ever slept like that.

Schean stifled a yawn, then shuffled a little closer.

"Karos?" he whispered tentatively.

No reply, but he could hear the rhythm of breathing change minutely – so Karos was awake. Schean crawled closer still and sneaked a hand to touch his friend's upper arm.

"Sorry," he whispered. "Did I wake you up?"

"No," was the grunted reply. "Let me sleep."

"Okay," Schean sighed and tried to mold his slim body to Karos, then frowned when the man shifted pointedly to avoid his touch. "Karos? What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

The minstrel snorted, much more awake now, but decided to give it one more try. "Well, in that case turn around and hold me like you always do!"

Instead of turning Karos just shuddered a little, and Schean's nostrils flared. All of a sudden he was fully awake and irked beyond any reason, all the bottled-up exasperation bubbling to the surface. He was damn tired and really not in the mood to try and figure out what he'd done wrong this time – no, scratch that, he had not done anything wrong! So what the hell was the matter now?

"Did you hear me?" he hissed. "If nothing's wrong, then why do you act like something is?"

"Just let me sleep!" Karos growled and pushed away the hand resting on his waist.

For a moment Schean contemplated hitting Karos. He knew for certain that Karos wouldn't hit back, and yet his self-preservation instinct held his fists back, insisting that it just wasn't clever to hit someone far bigger than himself. Stupid instinct. He ground his teeth together, tired and seething. "All right then. Nothing's wrong, all is well. Good night."

He crawled back to his own half of the bed, never mind how cold is still felt, and turned his back to Karos.

"Should've stayed the night with them," he muttered angrily to himself.

"Why didn't you then?"

Schean spun around, surprised and indignant, and glared daggers at the black lump on the other side of the bed.

"Oh? Is that it? For once there are other minstrels here, I get to speak my own language and meet my own people and hear all the things they have to tell. So of course I spend with them as much time as I only can – and now you get jealous when I'm not fawning on you all the time?"

"I wasn't aware that you've been fawning on me." Karos' voice was quiet. "I thought we're friends. Good that you set me right."

Schean groaned aloud and hit his innocent pillow with a fist, hard.

"I didn't mean it like that," he huffed. "Of course we're friends. I just – look, it's not that often that I get to meet other minstrels, you know it too. So please don't sulk, Karos. Please. They'll be going soon, and –"

"Will you be going with them?"

The voice was throaty and even quieter than before, but Schean could hear it perfectly well. 'Yes', he wanted to say, 'yes I will because you're again being a prick and you confuse the hell out of me', but he knew that that would be exactly the wrong thing to say. It would only make Karos clam up again, and he didn't want that. Not tonight.

So he took a deep breath and then crawled closer once more, snaked an arm between Karos' neck and the pillow and put his other arm around broad shoulders. They were unyielding but he didn't let that deter him, just squeezed hard and buried his face in a mop of curly hair.

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered, lips just about touching Karos' ear, and felt the man tremble. "You hear me? Not going, not leaving you. I'm right here, silly, and when they go I'll wave them goodbye and maybe get a bit teary, like I did when Mioll left. But I'll stay here with you and your family. This is my home too, don't you get it by now?"

Karos stubbornly kept his back turned but Schean just burrowed closer, rubbed his cheek on Karos' shoulder, hugged tight and waited. For some time the body in his arms remained tense and forbidding, then he felt Karos wiggle around and a long arm pulled him into a breathtaking embrace. Schean chuckled and kissed the base of Karos' neck, hummed quietly as want flared up inside him like it always did when they were like this, naked and close. The skin was warm, so incredibly smooth as he let his lips graze higher towards the ears, and Karos gasped.

"No," he said indistinctly.

Schean ignored that and continued kissing, eyes nearly rolling back for sheer pleasure when he felt the swelling hardness against his thigh. "Karos," he purred, "why would I go anywhere, when –"

"No!" Fingers closed around Schean's wrist like a vise, just moments before his hand reached the tempting object trapped between their bodies, and Karos pushed him away. "Don't!"

But for once Schean didn't let go, just hung on tight to the muscular body that had again gone hard and tense, wanting and frustrated and tired of all the hide and seek he'd been going through, night after night.

"Why not?" he demanded through his teeth. "You want it as much as I do! Why do you... K-karos?"

He could feel Karos' heart hammering against his own, heard the ragged breath, and suddenly it dawned on him. This wasn't aversion or anger, this was naked panic. In very few moments Karos would bolt out of bed, unless he did something first. But what?

"Karos," Schean whispered and forcibly loosened his own grip, "Karos, it's all right. I'm sorry. Hush, it's all right."

He crawled higher so that he could cradle that curly head in his arms, regretfully positioning himself so that his still aching hard erection didn't touch his bedmate – no matter how sweet it would've felt – and kissed Karos softly. The man was breathing hard, obviously trying to keep himself in check, and Schean frowned in an effort to comprehend what had just happened. One moment they'd been about to make out, the next he was soothing an obviously panicking partner. Surely Karos couldn't be afraid of him? That was too ridiculous!

"What's the matter?" he tried again. "Are you all right?"

"I – I don't want to remember it!" Karos ground out through clenched jaws and buried his face into Schean's chest.

"Remember what?"

"How he screamed... or tried to."

The voice was strangled and it was all Schean could do not to recoil in shock. His mind whispered to him that he might have just stumbled on something very ugly, but what could he do now except go on? He had to know. "Who?"

"That boy..." Karos swallowed thickly. "He hurt him so badly."

Word by word, Schean managed to pump out enough to understand, and the more he heard the more he felt like crying. Not really for himself, though; he wanted to cry for the boy who'd been forced to watch from far too close range when another boy of his own age had been cruelly abused, and for the young man who still couldn't escape the nausea and horror of those moments. The memory would unfailingly surge up whenever things started to get steamy between them, and spoil everything.

Schean heaved a desolate sigh. If that was his enemy, how could he possibly fight against such a horrid, shapeless adversary? He had no idea, but he was damn well going to fight anyway – and win, too, no matter how long it would take. Of course the pull of adventure was again so very strong. He'd been thinking a lot about it ever since Mioll had gone, and now there were the four visitors too: level-headed Dasch and exquisitely pretty Noy, not to mention the two happy-go-lucky brothers with whom he had even shared a few sweaty, intimate moments just two days earlier...

But to actually leave Deleon? No, he couldn't do that. There was no way he would go away from this place and the family, and least of all from the complicated and endearing and utterly impossible young man with whom he'd fallen in love.

He flattened a palm on Karos' chest, let his fingers trace gently the outline of stomach muscles and then told it to stop right there. Schean leaned his forehead against Karos' shoulder and closed his eyes, breathed in the warm, musky scent.

"Won't be leaving you, silly," he mumbled.

Main Jainah Revnash Dorelion Others Gallery