Ravens, Owls and a nightingale

29. Arguments & Reasons

Fire was crackling in the big fireplace and Karos pulled his low stool further away from it. The glow warmed the room nicely, but in his search for enough light he'd been sitting a little too close to it and beads of sweat had risen to his upper lip. He wiped them away with a sleeve, then squinted at the thing in his hands. Perhaps it would be best to admit defeat and just forget about trying to re-lace the leather hose he was holding. Even if he'd mostly been relying on his fingertips so far, light was still needed to locate the occasional smaller holes, and there was just too little of it for precision work.

Steps from the corridor made him hastily look up from his work and drop it to the floor. He'd been brought up by servants and the Wizard and was thoroughly used to always doing something, but his father frowned upon it. It was all right for his mother and stepsisters to always have something at hand in the evenings, but a Lord's son was a different matter, and Lady Merania's scolding couldn't sway Lord Rhodan from that opinion. He much preferred seeing Karos in other activities, such as playing strategy games with Bengor, and basically Karos enjoyed it too. The problem right now was just that the Ranea was absorbed in reading, and there was no fun in trying to outwit oneself in a strategy game.

The figure that appeared at the door didn't belong to Lord Rhodan, though. Karos fought back a threatening flush when Count Daynar stepped in, naturally followed by the blond Sorel. The man shot him a quizzical look, then walked to one of the large armchairs and sat down.

"The minstrel isn't here?"

"Probably in the bigger hall," Karos grunted and gathered the piece of clothing from the floor, debating with himself whether or not he should get up and go. Of course he should, and yet...

There was this strange feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever he saw the two men, He couldn't help remembering the scene in the bathhouse. It was branded in his mind, clear as anything. Their naked, wet bodies pressed intimately together, the possessive hold —

Karos tried to push the thought away but didn't quite succeed. He knew that those two shared something good, something akin to what Schean wanted to have with him, and it both embarrassed and intrigued him. He wanted to talk to them, ask them about it, ask them to prove him that Schean and Rhamirr were right and there was nothing wrong with it. They were so comfortable together, he could see and feel it when they were around. Could they help him drive away the lurking shadow that waited just out of reach, ready to leap upon him as soon as his body went hard and hot for desire?

He hadn't thought about the incident for ages, not really remembered it until he'd started to think of Schean that way. Now it was his nightmare, and even though it was a little bit easier to live with now that Schean knew, it still frightened and frustrated him. When that memory sank its claws into him, he was again a scared boy, heart beating madly in his chest, fighting to keep quiet and crawl away and get help and not make a sound, and yet hearing and smelling and almost feeling it all happen so close, too close. Karos hated the helplessness and fear that made his breath stick to his throat.

Could he bring himself to talk about it? Would they be able to help him? Would this be his chance —

"Daynar, here you are!"

Lord Rhodan smiled at the count who nodded graciously. "Yes, my Lord, I'm here. Were you looking for me?"

"Yes, in fact I was." The Lord came in and the others got up to greet him. "I would like to talk to you about something."

Count Daynar raised one eyebrow, then glanced at Sorel and nodded a little. "Perhaps you should go and talk to Kariell about the extra drills we were discussing earlier today?"

"Yes, sir."

"Maybe I'd better go too," Karos made to follow the blond bodyguard, but his father waved a hand.

"No, Karos, why should you go? Just stay here, will you?"

Karos sat down in a free armchair and eyes the Lord warily, not quite sure what to think about the expression on the man's bearded face. Count Daynar, obviously intrigued as well, tilted his head.

"What is it, my Lord?" he inquired. "I hope I have not done anything to displease you?"

"What? No, nothing of the kind!" Lord Rhodan shook his head. "There's just something I've been thinking about recently, and since it's got to do with you, I decided to talk it over with you."

"I'm all ears." The count spread his hands and sat back in his chair.

"Very well. Now, mind you, this isn't anything urgent, as it were. But still it's something that will need my attention within the next few years, and I can see no harm in discussing it with you already."

The Lord looked at the Count for a few moments, but as the man just waited patiently, he continued: "I'm talking about my daughter Benella. She's still too young to be married, but that'll change... and I know she likes you, Daynar."

Karos swallowed and glanced anxiously at the dark count. The man's expression remained astonishingly steady, but Karos could've sworn that he'd just gone slightly paler.

"I can hardly express how deeply honored I am by the suggestion," the count said after the briefest hesitation. "That you, my Lord, a man whom I respect immensely, should consider me worthy of your eldest daughter."

"You're being modest, Daynar," Lord Rhodan said with a broad smile. "If you aren't worthy of her, then who would be? So —"

"However, my Lord, don't you think the age difference is too great?"

"Too great?" The Lord snorted. "Well, granted, there's quite a few years between you. But you're not that old!"

"Thirty-two, my Lord, and Lady Benella is only fifteen."

"That's not too much." Lord Rhodan waved a dismissive hand. "And, mind you, I'm not suggesting that you get married yet! You could get engaged and then wait a couple of years, there'd be nothing strange about such a wait."

Count Daynar's jaw tightened just visibly.

"My Lord, I have other concerns too. I am very fond of Lady Benella, hold her in the highest esteem and wish her much happiness in life. I also know that all of your children are dear to you, and that you won't look too kindly upon anyone who causes them sorrow. And as much as I wish that I could do as you want and agree to the proposed marriage, I know that by doing so I'd only deserve your wrath later on, for I would not be able to make her happy. Therefore I must regretfully refuse, even though I know it will mean your displeasure now."

Lord Rhodan gaped.

"What are you talking about, Daynar?" he asked at last. "I swear that all your eastern finesse and turns of phrase make my head spin. What do you mean, you couldn't make her happy? Of course you could! You said yourself that you like her. She likes you. You know each other, you like each other, and that's damn much more that can be said about many a couple who've eventually lived a very satisfying life together! You're talking nonsense."

"No, my Lord, it's not nonsense," Count Daynar said. "I mean every word. I beg you to believe me — this marriage would be a disaster. Please let us forget about it."

Karos nearly flinched. Count Daynar pleading? That was something he wouldn't have wanted to hear, nor did he want to see how his father's eyebrows crunched together as the man scowled at the Count, temper rising visibly.

"I don't understand you, sir Count," the Lord rumbled in an ominous tone. "Somehow I don't believe that you'd have a wife waiting somewhere, so what reason can you have to refuse? Or perhaps you've grown tired of what Deleon has to offer and are planning to leave in search of more lucrative deals elsewhere?"

"My Lord, have I really served you so poorly that you're so willing to think the worst of me?" The Count's back stiffened and his voice took on a definite edge. "I am a mercenary, but I've also sworn loyalty to Deleon and its Lord and have neither reason nor intention to leave Deleon's service, unless its Lord decides that he has no use for my sword any longer."

"Father," Karos put in, unable to stay quiet any longer. "Please, father, could we drop this matter for the time being? Surely there's no hurry to decide on Benella's future husband yet."

Lord Rhodan was not too ruffled to realize that he'd just insulted his friend and right-hand man thoroughly. He also recognized Karos' peace offering for what it was but was still too ruffled to back down just like that. He granted Karos a blazing glance and snorted.

"All right — but I would still like to understand what this is all about," he said. "Isn't my daughter worthy enough, or what?"

"My Lord!" Count Daynar closed his eyes for a moment, then took a deep breath and looked straight at the Lord. "Lady Benella is certainly worthy of the best, and that's why I don't consider myself the man for her. She deserves someone who is able to appreciate her as a woman too, not only as a wife. I trust you understand what I'm talking about."

Lord Rhodan blinked a few times in surprise. "Someone who is able to... do you mean... no, I can't believe that! You're a man in your prime, Daynar!" He barked in laughter, then abruptly fell serious. "Unless — surely you haven't been... uh... wounded, or something?"

The Count's lips twitched minutely and Karos frowned. He suspected that for a brief moment the man was sorely tempted to resort to a lie — or was it perhaps, after all, the bitter truth that he was just loath to admit?

"No, I haven't," Count Daynar said. "It's not what you think, my Lord. And yet I know that no matter how much I wish I could do as you suggest, such a marriage would only bring misery to everybody."

"Then I definitely don't understand!" The Lord heaved a deep sigh and spread his arms. "All right, I know that you're a man of moderate tastes, and that's one reason why I like and trust you!"

Karos bit his tongue not to interject that the proclaimed trust had been hanging by a rather precarious thread just moments earlier. But it wasn't for him to say such things, nor did Count Daynar seem inclined to point out that detail, although a muscle in his jaw tightened visibly.

"And I would dearly wish to see you as my son-in-law," Lord Rhodan went on. "So why do you talk about misery and disaster? You say that Benella is worthy of the best and that you like her, and you just admitted that you aren't — ahh — damaged as a man, either. So what can be the matter? Surely, with an attractive and spirited woman —"

"I'm afraid that such a woman hasn't been born yet, nor will she ever be," the Count said politely but firmly.

Karos' heart nearly stopped as the Lord's eyes narrowed and he leveled a hard stare at the dark mercenary who met the gaze calmly.

"What do you mean?" Lord Rhodan's voice had gone quiet and menacing.

"I know that you value honesty, my Lord, and therefore I'll be honest with you." The man's voice didn't waver. "What I mean is that I already have someone in my bed, and have neither desire nor intention to replace him with anyone else."

The Lord looked at him in silence for a while.

"Is that so?" he sneered at length. "Well, since you're now being so honest with me, after all this time, I will be honest too. Perhaps it would be of interest to you to hear that I have once hanged a man of your kind?"

"What did he do, my Lord, to deserve such a punishment?"

The Count's composure was truly something to marvel at, Karos had time to think before his father acknowledged his presence for the first time since the conversation had started.

"You remember it too, Karos, don't you?" the Lord asked with something of a triumph. "The hanging of that bastard?"

Karos tried to swallow the bile that rose to his throat. He could feel the Count's eyes on him and forced away the suffocating panic that once more tried to engulf him, not noticing that his fingers were digging hard into his knees.

"Yes," he ground out hoarsely. "Yes, I do remember it."

"What happened?" Count Daynar asked. "What did the man do?"

"Raped a boy," Lord Rhodan said savagely. "Goddamnit, the poor thing must've been younger than Bengor is now!"

"What boy?" The words were like a whiplash.

"A stable boy," Karos said, voice thick but relatively stable. "The Wizard had to look after him for a long time."

The Count's dark, scrutinizing gaze still lingered on Karos but he turned to face the Lord again, upper lip curling in distaste.

"My Lord, you've hanged a man who abused a child," he Count said. "And in your position I would've gladly done the same. I hope that you'll forgive me my boldness, my Lord, but I need to correct you. We're not talking about the same thing at all. In fact, if you look at us in the right way, there's not so much difference between yourself and me."

"How dare you —" The Lord was about to rise on his feet but the Count coolly finished his sentence:

"I too want my bedmates adult and willing."

Lord Rhodan sank back into the chair and leveled an outraged and at the same time puzzled stare at Daynar who tilted his head a little and raised an eyebrow.

"I've got my principles and my pride, just as you do," he continued with a tiny hint of a smile. "Yes, I prefer to lay my hands on a man, not a woman, but why should that concern anyone but me? I only sleep with others like me — grown men who know what they want. I won't grovel in front of anyone, and even less would I resort to force to have my way with any man. If he's not interested, that's his loss."

The corner of Lord Rhodan's mouth twitched and Karos blinked. He wasn't sure whether the big man was actually beginning to thaw or if he was just about to explode with fury, but that question was soon solved when he heard the deep chuckle.

"You..." Lord Rhodan shook his head. "You're a dangerous man, Daynar. Always able to find the right words, and to twist and turn everything so that whatever you say sounds right."

"My Lord, I'm not twisting anything," Count Daynar insisted. "You're a man of reason, and even though you were upset and shocked at first by what I just told, you can't help seeing the truth of my words. You haven't known it but I've been the same all the while — so, obviously it hasn't made me any worse a captain, or any less of a man to trust. Therefore, why should anything be different now that you know?"

The Lord's nostrils flared as he took a deep breath and then nodded, forced to agree against his will.

"Why indeed?" he said reluctantly.

"And, my Lord, I can understand if it occurs to you to be concerned about me teaching the Ranea..."

It was plain that the thought hadn't yet occurred to the Lord. His thick eyebrows crumpled together, but clearly the Count was going to shoot down all potential doubts before they even found their wings.

"... but let me assure you that you've got nothing to worry about. He's the son and heir of the Lord I serve and respect, a brilliant boy whom I'm honored to teach, and his teacher and ally is all I desire to be. Not least because I already have someone by my side."

The man went serious, but his expression made Karos choke.

"Sorel and I have shared the good and the bad for years now. You can consider us married, if you like. So, perhaps you will now fully understand why it would be so wrong to tie Lady Benella to someone who is already taken."

"I think I do." Lord Rhodan sighed through his teeth, shoulders sagging a bit. "All right, Daynar, you win. We will not talk about this marriage any more. I can't say that I'd feel quite easy with this all, but... and, well, are you quite sure that —"

"I'm sure, my Lord," the Count replied, a hint of genuine regret in his tone. "It wouldn't work out, believe me. Besides, it would be unhealthy for me to entertain such treacherous thoughts, considering what an expert Sorel is with knives."

The Lord's jaw dropped. For a moment he merely stared at the Count, then burst into raucous laughter.

"Indeed!" he guffawed. "Jealous, eh? Well, let me ask you one more thing: you say that you're 'married', but how strictly?"

"Strictly enough, my Lord." Count Daynar flashed him a slanted smirk.

"Very well," Lord Rhodan snorted. "Well, in spite of some things I might've said a moment ago, I do trust you, Daynar. You've shown yourself to be a man I can depend on, and my heart is telling me now that you still are that. I was upset, I said things I don't really mean, and I regret that. I can't help thinking that it's a pity you won't be my son-in-law, but I won't press this matter any more. You're right in saying that I am fond of my children, and I'm not going to push any one of them into something that has no chance of turning out well in the end."

"I'm grateful for that, and not only for my own sake. I'm sure they will appreciate it too."

Karos was still just about reeling — had he really, only a moment ago, heard his father actually apologize to Count Daynar? — but didn't miss the Count's quick glance that made heat rush to his face. He rose quickly to his feet.

"I'd better go," he muttered in reply to Lord Rhodan's questioning look. "I, I promised to visit Rhamirr before dinner."

Karos fled the room and headed to the walls. He needed to calm down, and the best way to do that was to go check the mouse and rat traps and then feed the catch to his round-headed friends.

As always, no matter how agitated he'd been a while ago, the trick worked like a charm. By the time Karos reached the walk on the wall top and left out the soft, hooting call, the earlier discussion had been pushed firmly to the background and he watched the gleeful feast with a smile on his face. When the last owls had either floated off or huddled on the highest stones like sated, feathery gnomes, he backed away from them and then turned around, peeling the grimy gloves from his hands. Soon he'd be expected for dinner.

Except that someone was already waiting. Schean stood a little further away, a short cloak tightly wrapped around him. When he noticed that Karos had seen him, he sniffled and ineffectually tried to wipe his running nose with the back of a hand.

"The Lord said you'd gone to see the Wizard," he said by way of explanation. "But I saw your owls. What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"I don't believe that, sorry." Schean looked up when Karos stepped closer in the quickly darkening night. "Something's upset you."

Karos hovered for a moment and then pulled Schean close, felt him at first recoil in shock and then burrow gratefully closer. A purr of laughter rose from deep inside him to tickle his throat. "You're freezing, stupid."

"You're not exactly warm yourself," Schean retorted and smiled up at him. "Come, it'll soon be dinnertime and I need to get my fingers warm enough to play after that."

"You can warm them on the bowls and plates."

Nevertheless Karos fumbled for the clasps of his jacket, managed to open a few of the lower ones, and maneuvered Schean's icy hands inside the lightly padded fabric. He could feel the chill through his shirt as Schean flattened his palms against his sides and squeezed a little.

"So, what's wrong?"

"You're stubborn. Why do you think something's wrong?"

"You're here because you're upset," Schean murmured. "Otherwise you wouldn't have come here this early."

Karos thought about this for a while and realized that it was true. And of course Schean would've noticed it.

"I was there while father suggested to Count Daynar that he should marry Benella."

"What!" Schean's pulled back enough to look at Karos in the dark, eyes huge and round. "So, what happened?"

"Count Daynar told father about himself and Sorel."

"He didn't!"

"He did."

"What did the Lord say?" Schean inquired anxiously. "Was he angry?"

"At first." Karos let his arms wrap around Schean and pulled the slim body close. "But, believe it or not, I think they're still friends."

Schean sighed and snuggled closer once more. "I hope your father won't change his mind."

"I don't think he will." Karos rubbed his cheek on Schean's silky, straight hair. It smelled of smoke, and underneath he found a very cold ear. A kiss on it elicited a squeak and some wriggling from the minstrel, but Karos wrapped his arms more tightly around Schean and closed his eyes.

"Karos, we have to go to dinner."

Karos sighed and reluctantly let Schean pull himself away but didn't let go of Schean's slim hand.