Mal's Chants

Original fiction: Outlands. Sons of the Path arc, part 1

2009-11-15T21:33:38Z

Gah, I hate to post and run after so long, but here t'is, enjoy, please review as this encourages me to work past the apathy I've felt towards writing this path month...

Timeline: since it's been a few weeks since the previous chapter, people might not remember what the timeline of Outlands is. This chapter is situated a month or so after Ryou's arrival in the outlands, and not quite two weeks since Ryou's arrival in Sura.

Sons of the Path, part 1

The flood season had started a few days ago, bringing with it cool weather and the scent of mulching vegetation. And today was the day the Per Gathas chose to respond to King Leyam's invitation. It was likely they'd waited until the time Leyam could have reasonably expected visits by foreign dignitaries to be impossible for a few weeks due to high waters, debris in the river and a lot of mud. But those facts did not concern visitors who could appear out of thin air right in front of the God's Gate. Ryou, who could do the kind of mental judo known to all business managers, knew that was exactly the point the Per Gathas were making. He was ready to bet they could have scheduled their visit last week while the path from Mooncrest to the Walkway of Sura was still perfectly passable, but that entrance would have had no way near the same impact.

From the way Leyam smiled shark-like at the news, the timing and the means had not been lost on him either. But he also had one hell of a card to play in his turn.

"I’ll leave you to finish your repast," he announced as he got to his feet, shooing away the kneeling slave holding his breakfast plate in lieu of table. He stalked out of the royal dining room (the small, private one, only twice the size of Ryou's apartment back in Tokyo) with a predatory step that was at odds with his purple skirt and flowing red top crisscrossed with purple veils.

Darius was sitting on the raised stone hearth of the fireplace in the middle of the room; a small blaze had been lit at its center to beat away the humidity and coolness that now inhabited the stone palace. His plate was resting on the slate beside him. He pushed it away with a frown that made the servants hesitate to move forward to retrieve it.

"We're fine, thank you," Ryou told them. Two weeks in the royal palace had not begun to habituate him to talking authoritatively to anybody. He addressed them as if they were hotel staff, they obeyed him with the deference accorded to princes and foreign dignitaries, and Ryou tried not to let it bug him too much.

"You don't need to worry," said Darius as soon as the attendants had left. "It'll be fine."

His words were self-assured, but Ryou observed the way his lover was cracking his knuckles and frowning blindly at a corner of the room, and so instead of going over the list of reasons why this might not be fine at all, he only said, "I'm sure it will be."

"Leyam has guaranteed your safety. They can't do anything. They wouldn't dare." There was a personally threatening note to that last sentence that had less to do with Leyam's assurances and more to do with the way Ghan the Beast dealt with his enemies. This was why Leyam had dismissed his brother’s suggestion that they both be present at this initial meeting. Leyam was a calculating man who used the right tool for the right task; he used his own abilities for subtlety, and his brother to destroy those for whom subtlety was not good enough.

"They'll be in talks most of the morning," Darius added, finally looking back at Ryou. "Want to go out riding? I promised I would show you Sura from the north when the weather cooled. I’ll roust the men; we can be up Mount Ytemen and back by the middle of the afternoon.”

Ryou translated that as, 'I want to give you something to distract you, and I know how you love to explore and ask all sorts of questions.'

“That’d be great,” he answered. He had the feeling Darius might need distracting as well.

The slave who had fetched Ryou as soon as the latter had gotten off his horse ushered him in through the door and closed the large double panels behind him. Ryou walked forward, feet brushing the mosaic as he crossed the banquet hall that felt twice its size now that it was empty, and stopped near the throne on its dais.

“You wanted to see me?” he asked. 'My King' didn't come naturally to Ryou's tongue, and Leyam had picked up on that and let Ryou know that they didn't have to stand on ceremony when it was just the two of them.

Leyam was in an even more startling dress than this morning, cloth of gold falling in heavy pleats down the front, folded away from the shoulders and chest to allow the shimmering tight green silk bodice to peep through- and still revealing a lamentable lack of cleavage to go with it. But the gold-decorated wig was perched on the chair's armrest and the superb garment was carelessly rucked by the foot he’d drawn up onto the low throne’s cushion. His elbow was propped against the gold-painted wood and ivory, chin in his hand as he stared out through one of the windows at the mountains. The way his eyes were heavily lined with khol made the stare a bit more meaningful than it probably was.

"Hmmyeah, sit down," he said, the words compressed by the palm pressing into his jaw.

Ryou obeyed the flip of a finger that'd accompanied that, climbed the stairs and sat on a cushion at the edge of the dais in front of the low throne.

“Ashur and Enlil, not like that,” groused Leyam, looking around. “That makes my knees ache to watch you.”

Ryou shifted from Seiza position to sit down on his butt with his feet resting on the steps of the dais at a comfortable angle.

“That’s better. My brother...?”

“Taking care of the horses.”

“As good a job for him as any,” said Leyam. “Though I bet he gave the task to one of his men the instant you left, and is now pacing outside the door, giving it and the guard that famous dark look of his, waiting for you and making sure I’m not selling you hand and foot bound to the Per Gathas.”

Right into the heart of the matter, then, thought Ryou.

Leyam tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “In the twelvedays I’ve known you, Ryou, I’ve confirmed that you are an intelligent man, and for a complete stranger to our lands, you’re astute. So allow me to get down to the gristle and bone of our current affair. The Sons of Zaratusra want you. Magians of your power are inducted into their ranks whether they will it or not. Or so it is said, and since I've never seen a magian of your stature running around without the winged crest on his chest, I do have to give the rumour some credence. The man who appeared this morning is no less than Blessed Haaskoning himself, the current leader of the Per Gathas, possibly the single most powerful man in the Outlands. He came expressedly to remind me, in a diplomatic way, that the Grand Design is the exclusive domain of the Sons of Zaratusra, and not to be meddled with for fear of wreaking all kinds of chaos and havoc upon us all. Any king who thought to retain his own magian would soon find the regular Paths barred to him and any of his countrymen. As you can imagine, this is a very hefty threat."

Ryou said nothing, waiting. Leyam’s mouth quirked. “Marble statue,” he muttered, “as always. So what do you think I said?”

“It would be disrespectful of me to hazard a guess,” said Ryou, who didn’t want to jump through Leyam’s little hoops today.

“No fun. Well I said, just as diplomatically and with as many words, that you were not a court retainer or my pet magian, but a stranger from Ezo who was bedding my brother.”

Ryou’s eyes flickered shut briefly. Yes, Leyam would say exactly that.

“This is where it got amusing, as I’d foreseen. Haaskoning said, in a flowery way, that he didn’t give a bloody damn what you were doing with my brother. I answered that before dismissing the matter so easily, he should know that my brother was rather attached to you, and in an exceedingly bad mood after a recent problem in Kaides, which, incidentally, I’d wanted to talk to the Per Gathas about. As you can imagine, the dice were now coming up with my numbers.”

“It wasn’t the Per Gathas who ambushed Darius, and you know that,” said Ryou. Then he amended, “more importantly, this magian leader has to realize you know that, or you would never have let him near you.”

“Yes, but he cannot prove that I know that,” said Leyam with a delighted grin. “Whereas I have a dozen soldiers with not enough imagination to lie convincingly - and my brother as well, no less - who can tell anyone who cares to listen how the Sons of Zaratusra kidnapped the leader of my forces from the field of battle, thus putting the whole siege of Essin in peril. You look as if you're about to object in that polite way of yours as soon as I stop talking. You already knew I had this leverage.”

“Well yes, but...you would use it to protect me?” Ryou asked guardedly. “It’s not something you’d be able to brandish over their heads after today.”

“Clever man. Yes, that’s correct. Once they leave here and Haaskoning and I give each other the olive branch of friendship on the steps of Ashur's temple, I can’t really bring this matter up again.”

“Isn’t there some other advantage that you want? “

Leyam tapped his rouged lips with a thoughtful finger. “Nothing that this coin can acquire; it has limited use at this point in time. There are things I would buy with it, but I do not even know their name. Whereas 'back off from my brother's friend and I won't press the matter' was easy to ask for."

"Then I owe you a great debt."

"Yes you do."

"That I won’t be able to repay," Ryou pointed out, "since I cannot use my magic reliably, and the Per Gathas would retaliate if I used it for you. There’s nothing I can do for you."

"You can keep my brother happy," leered Leyam.

Ryou favoured the King with a cool look.

Leyam grinned, but his eyes were focused on a point above Ryou's head and when he spoke, it was softly and without the usual twisty wit. "I think you’ll find a way to repay me, Ujiie Ryou. There’s something going on. Our history is rich with tales of strange monsters, usually with some demigod to beat them into bone soup tagged onto the story. Times of Trouble, as our ancestors called it. I always thought those days belonged to the past, but the last two years have seen odd things happen in our regions. An entire village emptied of living things overnight, even insects, gone without a trace. Wells poisoned, cattle dying in droves, misshapen children born, fires that burn without fuel and die without charring anything. Travelers and their Passer disappear along the Paths, never to be seen again, and odd shadows roam the borders, strange chimera, men with the head of animals, snakes bearing lion manes, goats with lizard scales; you name it and some drunkard in a tavern has seen it. Maybe this is just more of the usual chaos that is bred out of war, but I'm thinking not, no. No, there is something going on, and you, Ryou, will be part of it. I would not be all that happy having my brother close to you in these circumstances, but I believe he was a part of it before you ever appeared, so...so I want to keep you here, where I can see things develop and take whatever steps will protect Darius, his friend and my country, and hopefully give me some added leverage in Per Gathas affairs."

"Thank you," said Ryou, just about all he could say.

"Of course they want you to come with them and join their ranks," said Leyam dryly. "And they also want to talk you before they leave."

"They what?" asked Ryou, startled.

"They essentially came here for you; they won't leave without seeing you. Oh, don't worry, they won't take you anywhere by force. I did point out that were you to enter a room and then mysteriously never leave it again, I would be very, very displeased. Haaskoning said that all he wants to do is talk to you. They don't know where you're from, so they cannot use your family's lives as leverage," Leyam added in what he probably thought was reassurance, "and the only person you are close to in Assyria is not someone they can touch with impunity, so really, what can they threaten you with?"

"I would rather not find out."

"Unfortunately you must," said Leyam, sounding immensely curious rather than regretful. "Don't worry. Haaskoning is an interesting, enlightened man, and he seemed honestly desirous to have a civilized conversation with you and nothing more. It will be a mere sunset stroll in the gardens."

"If by that you mean it will be easy, then it will be the first thing in the Outlands that is," Ryou muttered to himself once he was dismissed and the heavy doors had closed behind him.

The Sun Room was a gazebo perched on a high corner of the palace's building reserved for official business, a bird's nest of pillars surrounding a circular marble floor and a round table. Refreshments had appeared on the latter, as they always did wherever anyone of importance was likely to be present; a pitcher of watered wine, flatbread, cheese and a bowl of apples smaller than Ryou's palm. Most of the fruit found in these regions were half the size of their Inland versions. On the other hand, they'd been specifically selected, grafted, bred and propagated to be tasty and durable.

The late afternoon was pleasant with the coolness brought by the floods. A breeze wandered by as Ryou stepped through the door; it fluttered the brown robes of the cowled figure nearby.

"Hello," said Ryou, eyeing the figure. "May I come in?"

The hooded figure said nothing. But a cheerful, "Oh yes, please. Sorry, I'm over here," drew Ryou's attention away from the silent magian and to the other side of the marble table. A portly man in his late fifties straightened up from where he'd been crouched out of sight.

"What are you doing?" asked Darius abruptly from behind Ryou.

"Oh, just admiring these mosaics. I don’t come to your lands frequently enough, Lord Ghan; every time I do, I am amazed by the finesse of the work. Are these green ones here malachite?"

"Do I look like a stonemason to you?" said Darius with his usual approach to diplomacy. "Are you Haaskoning?"

"Ah, yes." The man's hair was white, cut short and well combed, and his small salt-and-pepper beard was neatly trimmed, lining a non-descript face. He was dressed in the garb of his order, a long brown sleeveless tabard with the yellow winged circle symbol sown onto the chest, a brown cowl over his shoulders, and beneath it all, an ankle-length white tunic. Blessed Haaskoning, leader of the most powerful force in the Outlands, had no mark to distinguish him from any other member of the Per Gathas.

"That man over there is Illuminated Emiokarnage of the second circle," Haaskoning added. "He's here as my assistant." The hooded man bowed.

Darius nodded curtly in return before turning back towards the magian leader. "I thought you were going to meet Ryou alone."

"Well yes," said Haaskoning with a faintly bemused smile as he looked at Darius. "So did I."

"I'm not going anywhere." Darius walked over to the marble table and leaned a hip against it in a clearly territorial move. "My king tells me you lot weren't behind the attempt to kill me in Kaides, so there is no bad blood between us at present. But I won't have you weighing into my home and threatening my friend in order to get him to go back to Asha Mainyu with you."

"That was not my intention at all," said Haaskoning, hands out in a placating gesture.

"Then there's no reason I can't stay," Darius concluded.

Haaskoning didn't answer directly, giving Ryou a weighing look instead. "We have not been formally introduced. By which name would you prefer to be addressed, sir?"

"You may call me Ryou," said Ryou, not looking forward to the way the locals chopped up 'Ujiie'. "I apologize if Darius and I appear a little blunt," his civility forced him to add, "but I don’t see what there is that you wish to discuss with me that my friend cannot hear."

"You cannot?" Haaskoning shook his head. "Ai, that's even worse than I thought."

Ryou and Darius exchanged quick looks, equally puzzled.

"What are you talking about?" Darius groused.

"I'm talking of the Mysteries of the Grand Design, Lord Ghan. I'm talking about the Lore of the Gathas. This man may be your friend, but he is also a magian, and he has knowledge that should not be shared with the layman. In turn, what I am about to tell him should not reach the ear of the non-initiated. As such, our conversation must really remain private."

"No," said Darius, crossing his arms over his chest.

Haaskoning gave Ryou a beseeching glance. Ryou returned it neutrally. He could wish Darius would be a bit more diplomatic about it, but Ryou knew what this attitude stemmed from. Darius was tense. This was not a situation he could control, no attacking army or a threat of the material world. All he knew of the Per Gathas was hearsay and superstition, and some of those were rather grim. Ryou for his part didn't mind having his lover here; in addition to moral support, Darius, the king's brother, was his guarantee of safety here in Sura. And if the Beast of Assyria's powerful presence put this smooth, civilized magian off his stride, then Haaskoning might let slip some extra information that he would otherwise not share, information Ryou desperately needed and had a feeling he was going to have to bargain hard for.

"I can ask Emiokarnage to leave," Haaskoning suggested helpfully.

"You can do that," Darius conceded, "but I'm not going anywhere."

"Some of the things we may discuss are magical in nature, and may confuse you."

"That's a given," snorted Darius, "but as long as I can hear the complete lack of threats, I'm fine with most of your magical conversation going right over my head."

"That is something I can guarantee," said Haaskoning with a strange smile, and there was such certitude in his voice that Ryou felt a chill. "The secrets of my order constrain me, I'm afraid. This conversation will be held in privacy."

"I just told you I'm not going anywhere."

"Oh, you misunderstand me. You're quite free to stay or go, Lord Ghan. I'm just telling you, this conversation will be held in privacy," said Haaskoning, before touching first his chest then his forehead with the fingers of his left hand while murmuring three words beneath his breath that Ryou did not catch.

Ryou felt something. It was subtle, hard to define, but it brushed his mind and swept through it for just an instant.

"Darius, careful," he said sharply.

Darius stiffened and twisted around to stare at Ryou in surprise and alarm. A lot of surprise and alarm, more than Ryou's curt warning should have generated.

"What?" Ryou whispered, alarmed in turn.

Darius's jaw worked helplessly, and then he said-

- something that made no sense at all. A language with gutturals that sounded jarringly alien to Ryou coming from his lover's mouth.

After a split second stare, they both spun on Haaskoning, who had the gall to give them a shrug that was almost, if not quite, apologetic.

A chair crashed to the floor as Darius surged around the table- he halted after only two steps, fingers gripping the marble. Darius might use his looks, reputation and bluntness to give an appearance of ferocity and brutality that was to his advantage, but Ryou was one of the people who'd seen beneath that, who knew Darius was considerably more in control than he let on, and was quite smart enough to see they'd been checkmated and that violence could only turn against them. Besides, Leyam had impressed upon them that the powerful leader of the Per Gathas could be given a little attitude but nothing more concrete, and he'd forbidden his brother to go to the interview armed. From the way Darius was clutching his belt where the hilt of his sword was normally tied, that'd been a good call...

Darius spat out a few words. Haaskoning responded calmly in a different language, Ryou could tell that much, even if he couldn't make that out either. Darius scowled, caught short. He could hear the same thing, it seemed. At least it was a language he knew, if not well, by the look on his face. He scowled at Haaskoning, fingers still gripping his belt where his sword normally resided, but then he turned towards Ryou. He started to speak...caught himself, mouth turning down at the corners, and pointed over his shoulder at a bench along the gazebo's railing. Ryou nodded unhappily, a sentiment he could see echoed in Darius's eyes. Haaskoning might have just intended this move as a way to enforce privacy and as a subtle sort of threat, but it was a devastating one, a brutal reminder of all the things that separated them, starting with a common tongue...Darius, turning, let his hand make contact with Ryou's briefly, a reassurance. Then he made his way towards the bench.

"I had the feeling he would stick around anyway," sighed Haaskoning, "and also, I hope you speak English or else I am screwed."

Ryou stared blindly at his lover's retreating back for a couple of thunderous seconds. "What-...what did you say?" he croaked, finally turning to face the magian.

Haaskoning tilted his head, eyes wrinkling in concern. Ryou caught himself. He'd been so used to speaking Japanese and being understood...

"You speak English?" he repeated in that language.

"Yes, and I am glad to see you do to," said Haaskoning, smiling once more and digging around a deep pocket sown into the inside of his tabard. "Here is my card. This should make it clear."

He was holding it out between two fingers. Ryou reached for it automatically with both hands. It was a little yellowed, obviously old. It said:

Casper Haaskoning

Haaskoning-Lendau
Architectuur en landschap
Barbarossastraat 28, 3452 Maastricht

Ryou found the seat next to him by feel, pulled it out and sat down heavily, still reading the card over and over again. Haaskoning pulled up a seat for himself opposite Ryou.

"You're from the Inlands."

"Yes. Maastricht, as you can see."

"That's in Europe."

"Yes, in the Netherlands. You are Japanese, ya?" The man spoke English with the precision of a foreigner, which only served to underline his accent. Ryou had learned English from an early age and could understand him well enough, though these last few years he'd mainly practiced the language in a business context.

"Yes. Ujiie Ryou, from Ujiie Standard and Trades, Tokyo. My apologies, I do have cards with me but I did not think to bring them to this meeting." Ryou was aware that the words coming out of his mouth were inane and as completely out of place as this little piece of cardboard, but his mental processes were still reeling about and couldn't come up with anything better.

"No matter, no matter. Do you think you could wave at Lord Ghan? He is getting...agitated over there."

Ryou snapped out of his daze and looked to the right where Darius was not getting agitated one bit, in fact he was remarkably still, hands hooked in his belt, poised at the edge of the bench with his eyes fixed on Ryou and emanating an alarming amount of lethal menace, probably in response to Ryou's stunned look. It was to be remembered that the palace was filled with guards who would instantly respond to the shout of their king's brother and would not wait for diplomatic go ahead to do something excitable and irreversible. Ryou pulled himself together in record time and nodded, giving Darius a weak smile to say all was okay. Darius stared at him, searching Ryou's eyes, then he slowly leaned back against the bench, the tension around him decreasing not a whit.

"You have a fiercely loyal friend," said Haaskoning.

Ryou nodded and handed the card back. "Please explain." He was once more composed, his voice businesslike. He'd been caught off balance twice now, and badly, but that was no reason to slip further. Ryou had already shamed his father in a dozen ways in the past month, but he was damned if he'd lose his grip during a business negotiation after all the president had taught him.

"That is easy to explain. Like you, I am from the Inlands. I have been here for more than twenty five years. You, I believe, are a newcomer, though, ya? How long have you been in the Outlands as far as you can tell? I know time can be difficult to measure here-"

"Thirty five days."

"Ah, I see. You certainly arrive in an interesting place in so short a time," said Haaskoning with a look around the elegant Sun Room. "There is a rumour you saved Lord Ghan when Roman wonder-makers took him to an Inland temple for a sacrifice to Aten. I do love the way stories spread here...I take it most of that is, how do you say it in English, stuff and nonsense? Did you meet him Inland or was it elsewhere?"

"I met him in the no man's land at the border," Ryou said composedly, and then before this amiable manipulator could recommence his interrogation he added, "I'm amazed that you're an Inlander. How many are there in the Per Gathas?"

Haaskoning's easy demeanour hit a small hitch when he realized this was going to be tit for tat, not a one-way extraction of information. "Ah, you see, Ryou-"

"There are some things that only the initiated can know, is that what you were about to say? Sorry if I am rude, but please see this from my eyes. As you just said, there are lots of rumours and stories here. I have been told about the Per Gathas who capture magians to either kill them or force them into their cult-"

"Oh no, we-"

"And though you are very nice, I have to notice that you, an Inlander with no affiliation to anything in the Outlands, are a part of the Per Gathas and you believe this 'initiated' credo, so much that you forcefully stopped my friend from listening to this conversation."

Ryou let a moment pass, mainly to outline the fact that Haaskoning had little he could retort to that statement.

"I won't ask you to go into any great secret, but at least a minimum of information?"

Haaskoning hmmmed and fell silent, gaze turned inwards, hands tucked beneath his brown tabard. Ryou waited patiently. The leader of the Per Gathas struck him as a man who thought twice to speak once, as they said in Assyria.

"Very well, this much I can say to you," Haaskoning finally declared. "Inlanders cross to the Outlands often. That's how the Outlands were colonized. It's been some time since we've seen a large migration; the only one this century was in the ninety seventies by Inland calendar, when the population of a village in Sri Lanka found its way here. They were escaping from a civil war, if I remember. Only fifty people got across before the Path closed of itself. We have set them up in their own enclave very far from here, and they seem happy to be left alone for now. Paths through the Great Veil around the Inlands exist, but they open only very rarely. One of us stands guard over them, and we only let through those who have otherwise nothing else to lose...As I said, that is a rare phenomenon these days due to...circumstances. The Outlands have their own rhythms, ya? So most crossovers are not through naturally formed Paths, but through the abilities of single individuals."

"How can we do it without even knowing how? I mean, why us and not-..." But from the polite, final way Haaskoning had smiled, Ryou realized this was a deeper level of mystery, and he was not going to get this information unless he traded for it, if at all.

The magian continued as if nothing had been asked. "Inlander magians are rare. A few dozen every generation. Some die during the crossing or quickly after, I am sorry to say. But them that do not die, they find their way to the Per Gathas and from there they choose to stay with us, or go home. Often they go home. We make sure they understand it is, as my English friends say, a one-way ticket. What I mean is that if they return to the Outlands again, we will not help them back home a second time. We do not encourage exchanges between countries in the Outlands, and so much less with the Inlands itself. So they go back with a heavy secret nobody will believe, but the other choice is not nice either. These societies we come into contact with...But you, of all places you end up in Assyria and in the middle of a war, so you know what I'm talking about, ya? If you want to go home, this is something we can do for you."

"I'm fine where I am. Am I going to be inducted into the Per Gathas if I stay?" Ryou asked directly.

Haaskoning shook his head slowly. "You have been misinformed. It is true, that I am inviting you. I do wish you will join us. But we do not induct. We invite. Many times, we are begged. The Per Gathas means safety in these regions. May I ask why you seem so against the idea? Except for something that Lord Ghan might have told you in, sorry, but in ignorance?"

"I'm not saying I will never consider it," Ryou answered cautiously, "but right now I am only trying to understand my position here, and how these lands work." And more to the point, it was obvious from several things Haaskoning had said and done that the Per Gathas would require his total allegiance, and for Ryou that was not possible; his faith, as Assyrians would put it, was to Darius and by extension to Leyam and Assyria. He would not want to put himself into a position where he might be asked to work against their best interests.

"The Per Gathas are more than safety, we deal with great powers, with things an intelligent man will want to study," said Haaskoning, who'd obviously thought he'd detected an opening there. "There are interesting futures open for powerful magian. Research into important magical matters, or observing and writing the history of the countries around us. If your inclination and power take you there, you could join Emiokarnage and me into the three Holy Circles, perhaps right to the highest. Other than one bad episode hundred of years ago, every leader of the Per Gathas since Zoroaster has been an Inlander."

"Is that so?" said Ryou calmly, covering the fact that he was quite surprised.

"Yes. Please keep that to yourself. This is a Mystery of my order."

"Why on earth would the Per Gathas choose Inlanders to lead them? Are we that strong?"

Haaskoning rubbed a finger up and down his beard, silent and thoughtful again. Finally he nodded cautiously. "Those who can break through the Veil without training, and who then have the will to stay here, are usually stronger than average magians, yes. But the reason one of us is leader is because of impartiality. The power of the leader is balanced by a council chosen from the five oldest surviving countries: Assyrian, Greek, Mauryan, Roman and Chinese, or the Empire of S'ung as it is known here."

"I see." Ryou turned this over in his mind, fitting all this information into a new world view. "I should have realized other Inlanders could find their way here, if I had."

"How did you find your way here?" asked Haaskoning, a reminder that this was an exchange.

"Right." Ryou rubbed the bridge of his nose, jostling his glasses. "I wish I could tell you more about how I got here, but it's mostly a mystery to me."

"Do not worry about the mechanics," said Haaskoning with a genial smile, and Ryou remembered that the blighter would know a lot more about it than he did. "Where did you cross over? Tokyo, you said?"

"Yes, about twenty minutes away from the Kabukichō district. It was completely by accident. Though there had to be some kind of outside force at work, because I crashed my car a few feet away from where Darius arrived."

"Hmm, I heard some of it from King Leyam," said Haaskoning. He was digging around in pocket sewn into the inside of his tabard; he'd already drawn out a small scroll and he now unstoppered a tiny inkpot inset into a wooden stand, and screwed a steel nib onto a wooden pen he'd produced. "I am sorry, I have to write this down. I am at the age where I should think of passing on my role to a younger man in a few years. My memory has become bad...Ah, there. So from what King Leyam said, his brother was attacked by, how do you say, imposters, who for some reason put him in the No Man's Land. Well, I can think of worse places they could put him, much worse, but that was probably the easiest to reach and the easiest way of making sure he would not come back."

"Who were they? Do you know?"

”I am afraid I do not, though I am as anxious as King Leyam to find out, sir, believe me," said Haaskoning as he bent over his parchment. Ryou could not tell if the man was lying or not. "It has been more than a hundred years since someone tried to involve us in a war between countries, and we could have gone a thousand more without such thing being done. But we will find them soon. So, you said you arrived at the same location as Lord Ghan in the border zone, ya?"

"Yes. Darius was fighting a Rajin Bher."

Haaskoning nodded; Leyam must have already filled him in.

"What are they?"

"That is something I cannot tell you."

"Because it's a Mystery? Or because you don't know?" challenged Ryou.

"Oh, we know, unfortunately. We know." Haaskoning lifted his head and for a brief instant the pleasant expression was gone, and the knowledge that looked out at Ryou chilled him.

A moment of silence ended when Haaskoning nodded. "Please go on. You met Lord Ghan, and you both ran away, since you are both here, safe. Where did you go when you ran?"

"I took Darius to a hospital. He was injured."

"Huh?"

The pen had skidded half a centimetre across the parchment. Haaskoning had been startled, though he'd tried to cover it.

"A hospital? You went back Inland?"

"Yes. Once more, no idea how."

"....Really. Well, that is...surprising."

"Darius once mentioned it's harder to cross the Veil in that direction?"

"Yes...otherwise we'd have more Outlanders stumbling Inland. I...tell me, Ryou, you say you work for a trading company? What exactly do you do?"

"I am- was a financial manager of Institutional Securities, Japanese division."

"Oh." Haaskoning stared at his paper as if it contained some form of answer.

Ryou could say nothing, but that'd not get him very far. Whereas dropping more information might get him confirmation of something he'd wondered about. "The bit you may be missing is that I have a master's degree in advanced mathematics and geometry," he said slowly, watching the other man's reaction.

"Is that so," said Haaskoning after a few seconds. The nib was leaking ink on the parchment.

"I take it that maths is important in this. You're an architect, you must have knowledge of geometry, physics and space too."

"Hmm. A Master's, you say." Haaskoning smeared the ink absently, then he put down the pen and joined his fingers together. "I am no longer so surprised at your abilities. I cannot tell you much about the powers you and I posses, not unless you join my order, but as you guess, a skill to think beyond the material dimensions is part of the key. Your education helped you do that, and it would help you harness your abilities much more if you build upon this with the right knowledge and lore. Right now your grip on the power is instinctive, not calculated. It will not respond to you well, or necessarily do what you ask it to. With the right education, the Outlands would be open before you."

Oh boy, thought Ryou; they really do want me now. But it seemed Haaskoning was currently willing to talk, if only to give Ryou a benevolent view of his order. Might as well take advantage of it. "What exactly are the Outlands?"

"That is yet another Mystery."

"...Well, it is really a series of, um, planes immersed in a higher space?"

A brief conflict crossed Haaskoning's expression, as if the leader of the Sons of Zaratusra wanted to yap on about Mysteries while the onetime architect from the Inlands wanted to discuss maths and physics with someone who would at least know what he was talking about and not drop magic into the mix. "This is not a knowledge that can bring you harm, so I guess I can tell you how it is, if not why. The Outlands are in fact a spiral, ah, a spiral fraction of our initial plane."

"...I am sorry, I don't know what you mean."

Haaskoning started gesticulating with his hands, almost knocking over the inkpot. His English was more elaborate now, as if this was a subject he was more used to discussing in that language. "It is as if our plane - that is to say our world, earth - creates an echo of itself but in a parallel dimension. Except this object is not parallel to its originator. It is bent into an X-dimensional spiral with the Inlands as its point of departure. The spiral fluctuates according to-...I cannot reveal that, but it loosens and tightens all the time. It also drifts very slowly outwards. This is why geography does not match up anymore to the Inlands. I did not know where you were from, so I was not able to do the maths - I will do them as soon as I get back to Asha Mainyu, let me tell you - but if these attackers shot Lord Ghan back straight through the layers of the spiral -"

"The Paths," Ryou interrupted in a blinding moment of understand. "They cut through the layers of the spiral. That's why I cannot take a Path and just go anywhere at any time. Mooncrest will only lead to the countries juxtaposed to it in the spiral, and depending on the shifting, these territories can or cannot be reached- but can all this be charted? Yes, of course they are, because the Passers know when a Path will be available."

"That is correct," said Haaskoning, beaming at Ryou like a proud teacher approving of his star pupil's epiphany.

"That means the shifting is not random- oh, you can't tell me."

"Unfortunately not," said Haaskoning, shrugging into the awkward moment dampening their exchange. "Well, coming back to Lord Ghan, you can see that if they did just push him straight through to the border to the Inlands, and if the planes were parallel and unchanging, he would arrive in the No Man's Land somewhere in, oh, somewhere in Ethiopia. Certainly not in Asia."

"My god, he could have landed anywhere. He could have ended up in the ocean." Ryou glanced automatically to the right where Darius was still watching them.

"Yes, though-...ah, there are other parameters that I cannot discuss."

Ryou swallowed a sigh of frustration, while his civility prodded him to say, "Thank you for telling me this much already."

Haaskoning waved that away and then leaned over his scroll, pen poised. "Coming back to your journey, why did you to take Lord Ghan back to the Outlands?"

A question Ryou did not want to answer to the full extent of the truth, but he could at least honestly say, "I'd seen the Rajin Bher. I knew something was wrong. Darius also said his enemies could track him down. He was unable to communicate with anyone else, he was obviously not from Tokyo...it just seemed better all around to take him back where he belonged."

"All around, I am sure," said Haaskoning with a bemused shake of his head. "I love the way you do not realize how hard that decision was. It is like I would say, I will leap over Sura because I want to get to the other side. And then?"

"We were attacked by border crossers. I couldn't leave Darius at their hands, so I...well, I didn't know what I was getting into at all, I was amazingly lucky, but I just, ah, drove the car through the spiral to another place. The Broken Lands."

Haaskoning shook his head again, still bowed over the parchment he was scribbling on, and muttered something in a language Ryou did not understand, possibly the man's native Dutch.

"The effort drained me, I couldn't do anything else. So Darius led us out." Ryou glanced over at his lover again. Darius was frowning still, looking puzzled at the repeated mention of his name in this flow of foreign language...Ryou knew he should probably be referring to him as Lord Ghan, but for some reason the words just never took shape on his tongue. Darius was certainly the Lord Ghan that Rome feared, despite all the exaggerations his reputation had garnered, but for Ryou, Darius was Darius, and the Lord Ghan bit was just a part of him, and not the most important one. If Darius ever told him to, Ryou would correct himself when in public and use the title and the dog's name and all that, but until Darius said anything, Ryou would continue as now. Haaskoning seemed to know who he was talking about, and had not asked any questions.

Darius upheld Ryou's gaze with an expression that clearly said, "What? Do you need me to come over and help?" Ryou smiled, a reassurance and a little more than that as he remembered those first days of surviving together...Then Haaskoning dipped his pen and tinked it against the glass, and Ryou quickly called his emotions to order, pushing up his glasses and letting his fingers settle on his mouth in an automatic verification that none of his feelings had leaked out onto his face and embarrassed him.

Haaskoning hurried Ryou through the next bit of the tale with only a few obligatory noises of sympathy at the treatment Ryou received at the hands of the deserters; the magian was visibly not interested in the mundane details of the journey. Ryou skipped ahead to the part where they'd taken the Path from Tot to Palis, which was the one bit that had him the most worried, as well as the question that had morally forced him to accept this meeting, even if Leyam hadn't made it an order.

The pen had not written down a single line of the travel through the Broken Lands and Tot, but now it was scratching away again. "The Passer of that area? Sorry, I cannot comment."

God damn it. "You do know, though, right?" Ryou's fingers were leaving fingernail marks in his palm.

Haaskoning shrugged, a gesture that could mean anything. "As I said, I cannot comment."

"But...I'm worried. I feel as if it was my fault."

"The creature you describe might have been there in response to your presence," said Haaskoning calmly, "but not through your fault. You did not know. Do not think I am unconcerned by what happened," he added. "We take care of our own: the magians who create, maintain and police the Paths, and also the Passers who guide travelers on them. If you join our order, protecting women like her would be...how can I say. It would be good work for you."

Bastard, thought Ryou, reigning in the flare of anger. He knew intellectually what Haaskoning was doing. This 'order' business made it sound needlessly religious; what Haaskoning really was was the CEO of the company of magian who insured trade and traffic through the Outlands, and he was not about to relay internal information or a hint of a weakness to a man who was as yet an outsider and who he was trying to recruit. Ryou tried to think of it that way, and only partially succeeded.

"What happened next?"

"...We traveled through Palis, and then we took the Path to Essin. No, sorry, to Anwat, the neighbouring province. This time the passage went smoothly; I concentrated hard on not interfering with anything."

Haaskoning only nodded.

"Then...then I was at the siege of Essin. Um."

In his head, Ryou had not gotten past the question about the Passer who'd disappeared in Palis. He'd not thought how he was going to present the next bit without going into embarrassing details.

"I...ah...because of the attack, I was sent up to the Essin border. Actually we were going to go to Aksum, and get out of the whole region entirely. But I...I decided when we got there that I did not want to leave, and that I'd rather stay with Darius. So I used the Essin circle to..."

"Yes, I know that bit," said Haaskoning, shaking the pen above the mouth of the inkpot.

"You do?"

Haaskoning tinked the nib against the glass and looked up at Ryou. "We have been following in your footsteps, a little. We did not know where you started from, but your exploits at Essin were the talk of the country. When we looked at the border there, it was clear what had happened. Using a sanctuary circle like that leaves a lot of tracks."

"I see." Once more Ryou noted that Haaskoning did not give a fig for Ryou's motivations, just the bits about his power.

"It was also very dangerous, what you did."

"I know, I probably should have not done it, but...well, there were reasons. I guess I might have ended up back in the Broken Lands."

"No, that is not the baddest thing that might have happened. That almost did happen." Haaskoning had drawn a cloth from his tabard and was wiping the pen with it, but he was watching Ryou and his eyes were deep and old. "Did you have a very scary dream that night? Yes, I can see from your face that you did."

Ryou licked his lips and looked down at the hands he'd clasped on the marble tabletop as he remembered alien spines scratch-scratch-scratching at the walls of reality...

Haaskoning unscrewed the pen's nib, wrapped it in the cloth and slipped it back into the pocket, along with the handle. His eyes did not leave Ryou's.

"I do not tell you what thing you came close to that night. I am not allowed to talk of such things outside the order. But I think you know enough to be afraid of it. That is good. I hope you are very, very afraid, my friend. Of that thing, you cannot have too much fear."

"I...I tried hard not to think about it. Um, that sounds stupid."

"It is," said Haaskoning with a frosty smile. "Not thinking about it would not help. However, what your mind did was echo that feeling in a way you do not understand and...it did something. You have a big natural gift, Ryou. But it is also putting you into a great danger. I cannot tell you how much, not only because of the law of the Lore, but because my words are not enough to describe it."

The sun was shining straight through the arches as it brushed the top of the mountains surrounding Sura, but to Ryou, the room felt dark and cold anyway.

Haaskoning dusted off the scroll with sand from a drawer at the bottom of his inkholder. "Well, if you do not use your powers, however, you should be safe. That is, as safe as you can be in an old country like Assyria who is at war with one of the great powers of our times."

Ryou looked at him in surprise. He'd already figured out that there was danger in spatial manipulation, he'd not needed Haaskoning to underline that. He'd expected the dire warning to be a lead-on to more threats and an effort to pressure him to join the Per Gathas for his own protection. Instead, Haaskoning was reassuring him that Ryou did not need the Per Gathas to stay safe as long as he did not touch his power.

If he was surprised by the sidestep away from threats, the next part astounded him.

"It goes without saying that you are welcome to come see me in Asha Mainyu at any time you want. We can talk more. I do mean just visit, we will not, what, chain you and starve you into taking the robe and flame; that is not a good way to get a willing magian, and a pissed-off magian is a dangerous man who can jump in a number of directions, some of which do not even exist except first in his head." Haaskoning grinned, waiting for Ryou to appreciate the dab of humour. "So, a free invitation is always here for you. I will also have a package sent to you through the Passer at Mooncrest; books you will like to read. They are in English. We have another secret language for our more greater texts, but so of course, those are not allowed out of our order. However, these English books should be good reading for you, and it is safe, you are the only man in Assyria who can read them, ya? You can read English, ya?"

Ryou nodded, then he hastened to thank Haaskoning. He still could not believe this apparent open-handedness.

"I cannot urge you strongly enough to not use your powers. If you do not believe me, ask Lord Ghan for tales of magian who disobey the natural order. If you will prefer to talk to a magian, or me, here, please take this."

Haaskoning drew a pendant from around his neck from where it'd been concealed beneath his tabard; it was a circle of gold with a stylised flame etched into it, surrounded by short wings. Its owner handed it over to a bemused Ryou, dropping it into his hand by the chain. "Please, take it, I have another. This is a symbol of our own religion of Zoroaster, but Outlanders who travel the Paths like to wear one like it for protection, so it does not, how would you say, obligate you of anything. This one has my mark on the back. It will get you free usage of the Paths. Please continue to take the same precautions as you did from Palis to Anwat; one book I send you will help. Also, if you do want to come to Asha Mainyu for whatever reason, show this to the Passer to get him to tell you the most direct route and start you on your way. You will be welcome."

"Thank you." Ryou looked at the symbol, heavy in his palm; gold, almost certainly.

"May it protect you on the Path. Any Path," said Haaskoning softly. "Not all of them are made by the Blessed Path Maker's design. Please do read the books I send you. They will help."

"Yes," said Ryou, who did not need the urging. In fact he wondered why Haaskoning was underlining this when he'd told Ryou in much the same breath to not use his powers at all. He had the oddest feeling the man was trying to tell him something else without actually spelling it out...

Haaskoning stood up to take his leave as if nothing odd had been said, leaving Ryou to wonder if the language or cultural gap wasn't at work here. Ryou got to his feet as well. So did Darius, pushing away from the bench and advancing towards them with a scowl on his face.

"Oh yes," Haaskoning said, then he added three soft words in an unknown tongue while touching his chest and forehead again.

This time Ryou was ready for it. He threw his senses wide like a net to catch what was being done. Unfortunately it was considerably more subtle than barrelling through dimensions; Ryou had feelings and impressions brush his perception, but he didn't think he'd be able to reproduce it, or, more importantly, counter it if it was used again...But even with his barely-there understanding, Ryou still couldn't begin to see how gestures and words could impact what was being done. All this was the power of the mind, not hands or vocal cords. Maybe it helped Haaskoning focus his thoughts on what needed to be done? Or maybe it was a way a way of reinforcing the supernatural , quasi mythical nature of this 'magic' with the locals.

"There, you may communicate once more," said Haaskoning, now speaking fluent and elegant Japanese to Ryou's ears, a contrast to the sometimes halting English before that'd made him seem warmer and more genuine. "My pardons, Lord Ghan, as I said-"

"Yes," said Darius curtly, visibly reining in a powerful temptation to tell Haaskoning to get out of their sight now, screw diplomacy.

"Thank you," said Ryou, mainly to let Darius know the effect was over for him as well.

Haaskoning obviously picked up the subtext. He bowed without any show of being offended by the attitude, and left, collecting Emiokarnage with one quick look.

The door closed. Two held breaths were released.

Who knew who moved first, maybe both, but Ryou found he'd reached out and another hand had seized his, gripping so hard it made his bones ache, gripping hard enough to pull them physically past the gap they'd glimpsed between them. Ryou squeezed back just as hard. Darius leaned back to sit against the edge of the table, eyes still fixed on the closed door. Without a word, Ryou imitated him.

"Are you okay?" Darius asked gruffly.

"Yes, I can understand you now."

"Not what I meant. With that smiling git on one side of the table and you showing him that golden mask of yours on the other, I couldn't tell if he was promising you a mountain of silver or threatening to murder your mother. Or maybe casting some enchantment on you."

"I don't think he can do that."

Darius turned his head to look at Ryou's profile. "Oh really? 'cause I noticed he could do something else we didn't expect him to."

"I know, but cancelling the Gift of Zaratusra is one thing. Taking over my own thought processes- it's not the same thing. It's different, it's-...not the same thing. Trust me."

Darius grumbled something about Haaskoning's sexuality and bloodline, his hand still gripping Ryou's.

"He didn't threaten me at all when we talked," said Ryou, mentally adding 'more than he already had'. "In fact he gave me a good amount of information and extended a strings free invitation to the Per Gathas stronghold."

"Right. The snake extends that invitation to the mouse every night."

"I think he actually meant it. But I'm in no hurry to put that to the test. As for the rest...he says he doesn't know who attacked you or why. But from what I gathered, there's really very few people who could do what was done to you. I suppose it's no wonder he didn't tell me anything."

"You think he knows?"

"I imagine he's got a very good idea; there's no way a power like that would be unknown to him. But he won't say anything that could betray a weakness, or worse. One thing he said, about the way their leaders are chosen, suggested a reason why there could be tensions within certain faction of the Per Gathas. If someone from his own order was acting against him, he'd not be in any hurry to admit it."

"Those were not Per Gathas stooges who attacked me," said Darius with conviction.

Ryou looked at him searchingly. "You sound very sure. Is it because they were wearing their own crest? I thought so too at first, but now I wonder if that's such a strong argument after all; they could be trying to bring pressure on their own order by discrediting them...What were you thinking?"

Darius smiled grimly. "I've seen any number of people attack others. I've seen those who do it proudly under their own banners, and those who don the color of treachery and deceit. I faced those cowards with their fucking magic, I know which kind they were."

Instinct, then. Ryou found he could reason one way or the other just as well and with as many clever arguments. Now he knew why Leyam was occasionally tempted to cut through conundrums by trusting Darius's gut feelings.

"What else did he tell you?"

"A lot of strange things. I'm going to have to think long and hard about it...Unfortunately what he told me was under a certain implicit oath of silence-"

"Implicit?" Darius echoed nastily. "That bastard born of his own sister fucked with our ears to keep his secrets safe, what's so implicit about that?"

"I agree that was a bit heavy-handed of him, but nonetheless, you understand, I can't go into too many details about what he said."

Darius gave him a strange look. "Of course you can't," he said as if confounded that Ryou could even think anyone could ask him to betray a confidence. That was Darius, Ryou thought, covering the strong, callused hand he held with his own; if only his brother would have the same restraint. It was almost certain Leyam would not. He'd spend the next few days trying to worm out of Ryou as many of the details as he could. Ryou rather expected it, and if he wasn't a complete idiot, Haaskoning would have as well.

TBC...

I iz back (for those who are interested in the author's real life)

2009-11-15T21:30:11Z

Wow, almost a month of radio silence. I wish I could say I'd spent that month working fervently on Outlands or something constructive, but nah ^^; Real Life took over for awhile, and is still in full swing. Nothing bad, quite the contrary; I landed a very interesting (if challenging) new job, which means I am FINALLY out of the madhouse where I'd worked for an embarrassing number of years. The advantage of the madhouse is that I'd kind of given up doing a good job against all the odds my company had stacked against me, so I did not hesitate to goof off for an hour every day to write or play around with fanfiction. Now I have a real job again, as well as a two-year-old kid and a fierce two-week-long head cold, my writing output has faltered down to nothing. The fact that I was playing Brutal Legend on the PS3 has NOTHING to do with my ~~laziness~~ writer's block, nothing I tell you! Besides, I finished it now.

I'm posting the second arc of Outlands, whcih I'd written before the blackout started. Posting will come in fits and starts as I pick up something that resembles a writing schedule again (I hope).

Crap, kid woke up and is climbing the walls. Lemme go post this chapter, and then Mal over and out.

Original Fiction: Outlands - 'Family, Friends, Sons and Lovers' part 2

2009-10-11T22:13:12Z

Next part of the chapter I posted earlier.

Family, Friends, Sons and Lovers, part 2

Six days after Darius's return to Sura, a temple celebration in Inder's honour was organized to rejoice in the victory of the Alliance army at Essin. Ryou found himself in his finery right up a wooden podium with Darius, three feet behind Leyam and at the same level as a few important nobles and generals. He could only hope that the rules of precedence weren't as strict here as they'd been in feudal Japan, or some of these men would be plotting his demise to avenge themselves of this dishonour. In that context, Rand was a somewhat reassuring presence since he was standing right behind Leyam and nobody seemed to mind. Then again he might be there as a bodyguard. Even if he was not, he was not a man one would pick a fight with lightly...

Leyam was dressed in a long flowing white skirt bordered with gold, a golden halter top and a magnificent cylindrical hat of gold, gems and white silk rising almost a foot above his head. Despite the Pretty Princess getup, he talked about victory and the clash of arms with perfect aplomb, and the crowd listened respectfully. Ryou watched the faces curiously. Sure, the nobles had by now understood Leyam's game and accepted it, or at least did not dare go against him, but what did the man in the street think about it? Ryou watched the faces lifted towards Leyam...It was to be remembered that these societies were very rigid. These people were uneducated, could not read and write, and were too busy making a living to worry about the philosophy of government and the freedom of the individual. All that mattered was that Leyam was their monarch. He could point to any one of them, and have them killed on the spot or made rich beyond their wildest dreams. He was the walking, talking representative of Ashur and Enlil on Earth and the heir and blood of kings. Presumably he could give this speech naked and the awe ingrained into these people from birth would still do its job.

"Acclaim your champion!" Leyam shouted, startling Ryou out of his thoughts. The King made a flourish back towards where they were standing and Darius strode forward in his armour and his black leather collar, his strength rippling from him like a sword bared in his hand. He didn't make a speech; maybe only the King was allowed to. But he lifted one fist in the air and held it there, and the crowd, who'd been worshipfully silent until now, went wild, particularly the soldiers.

Then the priests of Inder took over. A garlanded bull was lead out of the side door of the nearest temple and towards the public forum. Ryou gave the animal a pitying look, an old Buddhist legend about live sacrifices going through his mind, then he went back to studying his surroundings. Their group was at the foot of the flight of twelve large steps leading up to the palace's main gate, known as the God Gate in reference to the three major temples around the public square and hanging out in large balconies over the slope of the hillside. Between temples and palace was the largest open space in Sura, reserved for royal or religious functions. Otherwise it was used as a temple-sponsored flea market of amulets and holy objects as well as an open-aired tavern. It was currently jam-packed with people. Room had been cleared by soldiers next to the temples to make room for the holy rituals of celebrations. When the royal party had arrived, men had been wrestling naked there, running races, distributing good nutritional food for free (Hygeia's temple, naturally) or watching scenes re-enacting famous myths and stories of the old gods. In this land without weekends and very few holy days, people knew how to enjoy a good party when they could.

"See the third man in Ashur's delegation?" Leyam whispered to Darius. They'd both stepped back, letting divinity now take the stand. Inder's temple was in charge of the sacrifice at Darius's request, but the three main temples of Sura - Ashur, Enlil and Hygeia - had sent representatives bedecked in rich clothes and symbols of their god. Ryou had been distractedly watching the Holy One of Hygeia absently disentangle the snake from one of her arms to let it wrap around another.

Darius looked towards a group of five men fifteen meters away, all of them bearing the silver horned disk of Ashur on their staffs. "Yeah. Third man- oh, is that what's-his-name? Obeor?"

"They call him Obeor-Tallit now," said Rand from where he'd stationed himself behind Leyam once more.

"That's right," said Leyam, nodding languidly. "I had the temple hierarchy summon him to Sura, without being obvious about it of course."

Darius shaded his eyes as if the sun was bothering him, but his gaze was sharp and directed towards their left. "So that's him, hm? I'm glad I saw him. Are you going to talk to him after the ceremony?"

"I think not, not yet. Rand tells me he's a stubborn man. Hmf, wonder where he gets that from. He's working his way up the temple's chain of command on his own power. Showing him favour now might injure his pride in his achievements."

"He is a hell of a lot younger than those other cadavers."

"One day, if he makes it to the top- oops, that's my signal," Leyam added. The bull had bellowed, a horrible wet trumpeting of agony as its throat was slit. Leyam swept forward and arrived just as the creature was in its final throws. The attendant priest, a large man built like a butcher, handed him the bloodied sword. Leyam lifted it before him with dainty care for his finery, and the crowd made loud noises of approval. Ryou distracted himself from the animal's final bubbling, wheezing demise by concentrating on the man Leyam had mentioned.

"Half brother," explained Darius, catching the direction of Ryou's glance.

Ryou stared once more as discreetly as he could, surprised. The young man was standing behind the Holy One of Ashur. They were dressed much the same, in long robes without sleeves. Obeor-Tallit was of average height with brown hair, and he was either frowning or looking very serious. It was a bit too far to tell exactly, but he did look a little bit like Leyam, just younger and with a rounder face.

"I didn't know you and Leyam had any other brothers."

"We don't. Not officially. Not that I'm official either, mind you, but Obeor was given to the temples like the others, poor bastard. I was half recognized by dent of being left intact to grow up alongside Leyam."

"...Intact?" asked Ryou who did not really want to know.

Darius gave him a pointed look which was explanation enough.

Ryou reminding himself - once again! - that his own culture had gotten up to a lot worse a comparatively short time ago. A few children from the wrong side of the royal beds in Japan's history had undoubtedly been deprived of life rather than of their genitals. From the little Ryou knew of temples, Obeor would have to know how to read and write to get this far up the hierarchy, and that meant he would have been sponsored and funded at his entry, undoubtedly by his father. As such, Obeor himself would not necessarily think his fate a cruel one, and compared to those born in slavery or in the harsh condition of the lower classes, it was not.

"Do you know Obeor at all?"

"Never seen him until today," Darius said with a shrug. "Leyam mentioned him awhile back, and I was curious, though not enough to seek him out. I suppose someone's told him who he is, but then again, maybe not. Our father was dead when he was, uh...Leyam, how old is Obeor?"

"Nineteen," said Leyam, who'd just rejoined them.

"Right. What? Nineteen, and he's already one of Ashur's Ensi? Damn, that man will go far."

"I certainly hope so. I would love to have someone of my blood as Holy One of the temple of Ashur. Come on, it's too warm to stay out here. Gods, I wish it would flood already." Leyam waved one last time and the crowd cheered long after he'd departed and reached the top of the stairs and the God Gate. Darius and Ryou trailed after him in the knot of nobles making their way back to the palace buildings.

"How many wives did your father have?" Ryou asked curiously, which, on second thought, was not a question he'd ever thought he'd have to ask a boyfriend...

"Two when I was a child. Queen Sophrone and the Lady Baileet. The third one died childless after a bad fall when I was very young, I don't remember her."

"Then there was your mother and other concubines." Busy man.

"He was a king," said Darius prosaically. "Come on, let's go to the atrium, there'll be something cold to drink."

"How many siblings do you have?" Ryou asked as they entered the cooler marble room a few minutes later. It was in the royal compound where only the most favoured were allowed to enter, so they were alone again. The other nobles had gone to write letters and petitions in the Golden Hall, Tupila's domain, or else they were preparing for the evening's feast in the houses they lived in near the walls while they were in Sura, or walking the gardens in little coteries, plotting things.

"Ah, two. Obeor and some other guy who's off in a temple in Atta province. And a few girls, too. Hmm, actually just one, now that I think about it. In Ishara's temple, or married off to someone."

"So, five children, and then there's the two royal children who died. Seven in total."

"I imagine there's a few extra bastards who died as children that I never heard about. Not that many children in all, I know. My father was at war frequently, and even had he stayed at home, he was a man who controlled his appetites and his household. He was no Zomay-Kaillit, to beget a hundred sons."

"I was actually thinking that seven was a lot." Ryou's modern Japanese sensibilities certainly thought so.

"Considering how many women he could have fathered them on, no, not that much." Darius poured himself a beer from the pitcher kept cool by the waters of the fountain in the middle of the room; the atrium had only half-walls, the rest was open to whatever breeze would grace the gardens. Ryou had found the place a few days ago and it'd become his favourite room after the baths. "Ahhh, that's more like it. The weather will break tomorrow, all the augurs say so."

So does the barometer, thought Ryou, watching a few low-flying birds chasing flies amongst the palm trees. "So who is the other brother?"

"No idea. Leyam would know, but he's never mentioned him; probably a really boring man. His mother was from Atta; they're of Babylonian descent down that way, kind of inbred and not always very bright."

"And he's also in a temple, then. Same deal as Obeor, I take it."

"Yeah, that's what happens to most bastards; their mothers are married off to some vassal if they want to stay close to the child - most would rather stay close to the King if he's not tired of her yet - but the kid is placed in a temple. There's enough infighting amongst children of the wives, you don't need to go adding illegitimate get to the mix. Leyam's got a bastard in a temple too, but he put the kid in with Inder if that makes you feel better."

"Why would that make me feel better?"

"Because the notion of eunuchs seem to bother you a bit," said Darius with a perceptive look in Ryou's direction, "and Inder only takes whole men as his devout. Hopefully the little by-blow is growing up to be a fine warrior-priest alongside my own brat."

So instead of getting castrated and confined within the religious system, the kid was going to be sent to war as a- waitaminute.

"I'm sorry?" said Ryou, hand frozen mid-motion as he reached towards a mango floating in the water.

"Hm?"

"You said he'd be growing up alongside...?"

"Yeah, I've got one in Inder's house as well. Best place for mine, that's for sure, but Leyam's going against tradition to not-"

"You have children?"

Darius looked at him quizzically over the rim of the cup. He'd leaned a hip against the fountain's rim, ignoring the ornate bench carved out of the basin's marble. "Sure I do. I did mention they didn't cut me at birth, right? You should know." There was a faint leer in his tone, which went right over Ryou's head.

"...Right. How many?"

"Two sons that I know of."

"...Oh."

"You seem surprised."

"I guess I shouldn't be. You did say you'd been a little wild in your younger days."

"The youngest is two."

"...Oh. Um, I thought you said you didn't sleep with women anymore."

"Only when nothing else is available," Darius corrected. "Or in other circumstances."

"I see...Where is he?"

"My youngest? He was born in Nairoban, a city on the Taibor five day's ride from here."

"Why is he not here in the palace? He's your son."

"That he is," said Darius with a wolfish smile, "but his mother is another man's wife."

"...Oh."

"You've been saying that a lot."

"Yes, I have, haven't I." Ryou dropped his surcoat on the bench before sitting down next to it. The breeze, normally one of the pleasures of the atrium, was absent today, but some coolness rose off the waters of the fountain.

"His mother fostered him off somewhere before her husband came back and asked a few awkward questions. He'd been at war for a year, you see. Besides, Rand says the bastard looks like me. He keeps tracks of these things, just in case." He was looking at Ryou with his head tilted to one side. "This seems to have really surprised you. You're thirty and the oldest child, so you have sons too, right?"

"No, as a matter of fact I do not."

"Really? Ah, well, that can happen, some mares never come into season as they say-"

"I've never slept with a woman, I've never felt the compunction to. Culture gap."

"...What?"

"I'm forestalling what you're about to say."

"Oh, I know you're man enough," said Darius, one hand up in a placating gesture. The nature of his denial was enough to tell Ryou where his lover's mind had gone to, of course, but he decided not to pick up on it. "I'm sure with your lifeforce and, heh, thrust, you'll be getting sons as soon as you try. If you see some girl around here that catches your fancy, have a go at it. Just run it past me first, some flowers are only for the king to pick."

"...That is a joke, right?"

"Joke?"

"You cannot possibly be serious- I'm not about to have a one-night stand with some woman when I'm living under your roof, Darius."

Darius paused with his cup halfway to his mouth and looked once more puzzled. "Why ever not?"

The cheerful burble of the fountain suddenly sounded prickly.

"Ah, what heat!" Leyam exclaimed as he entered the atrium, fanning himself with one hand. He'd dressed down to the long skirt. Rand was following him, holding the clothes and hat his King had discarded. "But the augurs say-...what's up with you two?"

"Nothing," said Ryou with great perspicacity, but unfortunately Darius, smiling jaggedly from the other side of the fountain, did not pick up the cue or care to, and said, "My friend here wants to make a eunuch out of me."

Leyam stayed still, hand paused in mid-flap. Then he put down the scribe's table and papers he was holding on the circular bench, came around the fountain and sat down to listen with rapt attention. "Really? Do tell. Because that would be the most amazing thing I've heard since the last flood, and I've been reading reports all year of strange phenomenon that put your dog-headed creature in Palis to shame."

His reaction was the diametrical opposite of Rand's who'd glanced at Ryou, at Darius, picked up the scribe's table and papers, bowed to everyone quickly and left as silently as he'd come in.

From the way he was now frowning, Darius realized he'd made a tactical mistake, but it was too late now. Darius could be blunt, rude, brutal even, and seriously scary and forceful when he wanted to be, but Leyam was both his older brother and his king, and there was too much history between them; he was never going to be able to tell Leyam that this was none of his business.

"He says he has no intention of warming his bed with anybody else, even while I'm gone off on campaign for half a year, and he expects me to do the same," Darius finally said, still halfway between irritation and exasperated amusement at Ryou's crazy notions.

"I was explaining that it was a sign of- of affection and respect, Darius."

Leyam's eyebrows shot up and he turned towards Ryou with a bemused smile. "Really? Well, that's not quite castration, but that's still pretty odd."

"Odd?" Ryou felt like the room was spinning around, trying to knock him down. "Faithfulness is odd?"

Leyam blinked. " Faithfulness? What's that got to do with anything?"

"My faith is to Leyam, my king," Darius said firmly.

Oh great, from the puzzled look on both the brother's faces, the very notion of commitment in a relationship was foreign. "It's having several wives, mistresses, male lovers and god knows what else that'd be considered odd where I come from. In the Inlands, monogamy is the rule and not the exception."

"Your men sleep with nothing but one single woman for their entire lives?" Darius sniffed. "That can't be healthy."

Leyam nodded wisely. "A man with only one woman dies young, it's a well-known fact. Although..." The king scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Now that I think of it, it's only the poorest who cannot afford more than one, and wouldn't they die before a rich man who doesn't have to lift a finger to put food on his table...?"

"It's still unhealthy," growled Darius.

"No, as a matter of fact it's sleeping around that's not healthy," Ryou shot back. "Or do you not care about picking up some disease?"

Leyam snickered and clapped his hands. From the look on Darius's face, that one had scored.

"I'm no longer- I make plenty of sacrifices of wine and fruit to Ishhara, as does any soldier who's got more than the intelligence of a rabbit."

"Somehow that doesn't reassure me. Look, just to get one thing straight, are you telling me that you really are planning to-...That while we're-...I'm sorry, your maj- my King, but would it be possible to let Darius and myself discuss this privately?"

"Not for all the gold in Sura," Leyam answered brightly.

Ryou drew in a deep breath as discreetly as possible. Fine. Fine, he could do this. "Darius, do you think you'll actually sleep with someone else while you and I are lovers?"

"I'm a man, that's what I already said."

"That's not a reason."

"It's reason enough for me"

"And you really don't mind if I sleep with some woman?"

"No. Don't you mind not to? He doesn't have any sons yet, or any children at all," Darius added for Leyam's benefit. Leyam's eyebrows curved up in surprise and he gave Ryou an assessing look.

Ryou's lips pinched. He'd taken the wrong tack. In the weeks he'd been in the Outlands, he'd understood some things about these societies still clinging to antiquity. Darius was somewhat misogynistic even for his time, but men and women existed in different spheres as it were. Men could love and respect their wives, quite deeply in some cases, but women were seen as a part of that man, not wholly separate entities. No, Darius would not feel threatened by a woman, but of course that left the obvious tack.

"Then how would you feel if I slept with another man?"

"Who?" Darius asked immediately, eyes narrowing.

Ryou pushed up his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose while Leyam burst out laughing.

Darius glared at his brother. "I merely want to know who. It seems a reasonable question. Ryou's a stranger in these lands, some bastard might be trying to take advantage."

"You mean you'd be okay with it?" Ryou asked sardonically.

"I said I would," said Darius, though there'd been a second's pause and a scowl beforehand.

"Oh, brother, I remember a couple of dead bodies who would, if they could-"

"Leyam."

"-whisper to me how well you share."

"Those fights were about women- in fact, they were mainly about fighting. I was a kid back then, a mindless young stallion."

"No argument there." Leyam snorted away one last chuckle and then looked expectantly at Ryou, waiting for the next volley.

Ryou felt he'd scored a point with the last thrust, but not won the game by a long stretch. A small inner voice wondered if he should push this...This way of thinking was ingrained in Assyrian society. But no, he needed to explain what he expected to Darius, what to someone from most countries Inland seemed pretty obvious, if not always strictly adhered to back there either. Whether he'd get it or not was another matter, but at least Ryou should not stay silent. And...it embarrassed him privately to realize this after a lifetime of one casual non-exclusive relationship and a good number of one-night stands, but the idea of Darius sleeping with anyone else did funny things to Ryou's composure.

"I don't understand you," Darius said, scratching his heads and making the disks in his hair clink. "You and I are both free men of equal age, why should one of us be cloven to the other?"

"It would be valid for both of us," Ryou ground out. "That's the whole point. I told you it's sign of respect-"

"How does my bedding somebody show you disrespect?"

"Because I'd not see a difference between that drunken guy you indiscriminately drag off into a corner and myself, for starters," Ryou said in the tone of one of his long-time algebra professors demolishing a student's shaky equation.

Darius's eyes narrowed, and Ryou finally realized he'd been understood. But when his lover spoke, the previous half-amused exasperation had been replaced by cold anger. "I invited you into my home."

"What's to say you won't invite one of those others into your home?"

"Nothing," Darius conceded, "but what's bedding them got to do with that? I would have taken you back here if you'd not gotten injured at Essin and reminded me you were safer away from all this. And I wouldn't have touched you until you'd shown me you wished it that way."

Darius had a point of sorts, even though he and Ryou were still talking a little at cross-purposes; maybe he'd meet the love of his life tumbling blindly into bed with someone, but stopping him from sleeping around would not much lessen the chance he'd eventually run into someone who could take the place of this cold and complicated Inlander with his odd ideas...

The silence was three seconds away from becoming fraught as they stared at each other across a gap that seemed wider than the atrium...but fortunately silences and Leyam did not get along very well if he wasn't their originator.

"You, not touch someone you wanted? That would have been a novelty in itself. Though of course I seem to understand that this wonder did not occur, and that it didn't take one hour after the fall of Essin for that resolve to have its day."

Darius gave his brother and king a particularly heavy look. It only made Leyam laugh.

"It's what I've always told you, little brother, there's enjoying the pleasures the Gods accord to all free men and then there's going overboard. It's fit for a man to take a wife and a few lovers in his life, but there were times in your youth when I feared an entire army would not be enough. Now you're down to one phalanx, so there's hope."

"I do not and have never bedded as many as you seem keen to assign to me, My King," Darius said through gritted teeth, "and never anyone under my command. Discipline would disintegrate."

"Mmmyes, that leaves all the other units though. Well, I'm hoping some of Ryou's restraint will rub off on you, because the sign of a true man, according to the Greeks-"

"There's nothing wrong with a man being passionate."

Leyam's eyebrows shot up. Not only was he not used to being interrupted, he'd probably not expected the interruption to come from Ryou. Neither had Darius. Neither had Ryou exactly planned this, and it left his argument in something of a mess.

"Sorry, your majesty- my King, but as long as I've known him, Darius has always shown considerable restraint. In most circumstances. And I don't mind, ah, I mean there's nothing wrong with passion in its right place. I know what the Greeks think, but in my coun- in the Inlands," Ryou corrected himself, leaving Japan out of his globalization, "people are allowed more latitude with their individuality."

Leyam scratched his chin. "Good thing you didn't appear in Roma Praetorium with those kinds of ideas, my friend; or in some of our Greek cities in the Alliance either. So tell me, if you like my brother exercising his passion and, ah, individuality, why are you so bothered by his practicing it with others?"

"Maybe it's a passion I want to keep to myself," said Ryou with glacial steadiness.

Darius was scowling at some grapes floating in the water. That'd been an unfair thing to do to a soldier; Darius's warrior spirit was quite ready to deal with an argument or even a knife fight as par for the course, but suddenly praising him and appreciating a quality of his fierce personality that he'd been repeatedly told was not his best point was sweeping the feet out from under him.

"Fine," he finally growled, giving a point halfway between Ryou and Leyam a stony glare. "Unlike what my brother likes to jest about, I do not need a new body for every night of the year, or indeed any night in particular. It wasn't as if I was planning on dragging someone other to my bed while you're available to me. I just don't like constraints imposed for nonsensical reasons, that's all. But if it's that important to you, and if you will abide by this as well of course, it's no real problem for me to forsake-"

Leyam burst out into a high trilling noise that an aghast Ryou could hardly believe could come from a human throat. "Wonder of wonders! Wonder of wonders! Rand!" he shouted as the latter burst through the entrance arch, alarmed; the ex-assassin had probably been hovering nearby, waiting for the pitfall conversation to end. "Contact the temples, the stables, anything and everything! We need to sacrifice a bull- no, a stallion! Make that five! Divine intervention alone can explain what I just heard my brother promise!"

"Leyam," Darius snarled.

"Yes, my King," said Rand, leaving Ryou to hope he knew the maniac was joking. Almost certainly joking. "My King, ambassador Akal Elianth would like to meet you soon."

"Heh? Yes, but I was going to let him stew a little longer."

"I believe he's waited enough."

"Oh damn. Well I will leave you two to enjoy a fine afternoon. Ryou, I do hope you're as tough as my brother says you are, because you will need to be if you're going to keep up with him." With that, Leyam pushed himself up off the bench, grabbed his ornate hat from Rand and swept out with a regal wave and a final leer.

Ryou stood there, fists clenched on his hips, trying to remind himself that being here in this situation, talking about all this openly, was a- a privilege, an improvement on his old life of total silence and cold restraint. Right. Certainly. Totally. Besides, Leyam was the king of this realm and calling him an insensitive jerk would be lèse-majesté and punishable at the very least with a whipping. The man couldn't help himself, anyway; Ryou had already figured out that Leyam stirred up trouble and seized on any weakness with the single-mindedness of a magpie going after shiny objects. It was a by-product of his flawed upbringing, where keeping factions fighting amongst each other and too busy to worry about him had insured his eventual supremacy.

Darius had drawn up next to Ryou while the latter was swallowing all the things he'd wanted to tell his majesty and would never be able to. "Remind me to buy Rand a seah of whatever drink he chooses," he said.

"I'll pitch in on that."

Darius gave the exit out of the atrium a disgruntled look. "Leyam knows me as well as any man still on this earth, yet it pleases him to see me as I was back when I was seventeen."

"I know, it's a failing of big brothers that I share." And just maybe Leyam preferred to tease and pretend he was still dealing with his little brother Darius, keen for battle and pleasure in equal measure, rather than the grown man hardened by years of fighting his king's wars, the one who had grown up to earn that name, Ghan the Beast...

The lovers exchanged morose looks as the force of nature that was Leyam cleared the air and the original issue crept up on them again.

Darius leaned back against the fountain and looked away as he grumbled, "My men are going to wonder what you did to me. If I don't sleep with someone before a battle, they'll think I'm nervous about the coming day."

"If it's just sleeping, I don't mind. I mean sleeping." After all, the nights camping out could get cold, and he and Darius had shared a bed for ages quite innocently. So did many of the Hounds who did not have a relationship beyond that of good friends.

"Do you mean that?"

Ryou gave him an interrogative look, puzzled by the intensity behind the question. "Why?"

"Well, I know a couple of friends who'd warm my blankets without blabbing later that we'd done nothing more than a couple of sisters would."

Ryou couldn't help a short snort of laughter, though there was only a couple of inches of humour in the well. "Is image that important to you?"

"It's my custom," Darius explained with a frown. "That's very important to soldiers. I don't mean the holy rituals like putting my arrows on Inder's altar the night before the battle; if I didn't do that, not a single man under my command would march the next day. But it's the little things, like Jexen and Kaibaroses always having a game of dice, and Terentius wrapping up the war council early so he can have a good night's sleep. It's about confidence, you see? If I don't take someone to my bed, the men will think I'm either sick or too worried to get my blood up. Worse, they'll think it a bad omen. You've never been in a real battle; when two armies match in size and prowess, then everything else, from the whims of the Gods to the morale of the horse-holder's boy, is going to come into play and tip the scale."

He was perfectly serious...Ryou had been getting an education in soldiers as well as everything else; he knew they were as a whole terribly superstitious. These 'customs' Darius talked of would be like the good luck routines of high level sportsmen, only in this case they were there to spare them fatal consequences.

"I think I understand. Okay, if it's that important, far be it from me to stop you from keeping up appearances."

"You don't mind that?

"No, I guess I don't." After all, since it was customary - more customary than keeping faith between men it seemed - nobody would make assumptions about Darius's or Ryou's availability on that basis alone.

His concession earned him a weighing gaze. "Others will think I'm getting laid."

"I don't really care what others think."

The corner of Darius's mouth crooked into a smile. "That's what I thought. Ei, I still don't understand any of this...but fine, we are agreed on the matter. Keep in mind, I will be gone for months at a time after the floods, once the barley is in the ground and the armies back on campaign again."

"That's great, I love to travel."

Darius gave him a troubled look. "You're not a warrior, Ryou."

"Correct. So I'll be somewhere in the back of the army with the Hygeians and cooks and things, out of your way and just close enough to help if some Per Gathas impostors show up again."

"That is not the place for a free man," Darius told him crisply.

"Oh? And staying here waiting for you to come back, assuming you do, is?" asked Ryou in a measured tone that managed to turn the heat in the atrium down to tepid, and maybe even cool.

Darius just reached over and gently slapped Ryou's cheek, making Ryou blink. "I meant that you should be at the heart of the effort, standing with the general and his staff. Maybe, as Leyam says, that restraint of yours will rub off. There's quite a few hotheads amongst the Alliance, and we cannot afford mistakes now. It's still a dangerous position; I would rather you stay here in Sura, out of harm's way, as you are not involved in these wars and do not possess the skills to defend yourself if the day goes against us and a retreat turns to a rout. But I was not going to insult you with the suggestion that you wait for me while weaving a tapestry of my deeds, because then I know you really would castrate me."

"Huh-uh." Ryou caught the hand that'd lingered on his cheek. "Darius, do you understand why I'm asking you to do this? I don't want to take away from you as a man, I-"

"Yeah, yeah," Darius said, his eyes falling to where his thumb was brushing Ryou's lips. "I get it. Hell, if nothing else, I'm a grown man who has left the callowness of youth far behind; it's well time I became a little more Greek in my pleasures."

Ryou's lips twitched beneath the caress. "Just not too much."

"Little chance of that."

Ryou let himself be drawn into the brief kiss. There were chances that Darius would stray a little in the future; generations of ingrained cultural habit did not change that easily. But bar an occasional drunken post-battle tumble, he was willing to try, which was something of a concession right there. It wasn't as if Ryou had any other experience of a long-term relationship to compare all this to. Assyria and its cousin countries had an odd view of male lovers, he knew that much. Friendship stronger than the bonds of man and wife, a friendship that could include sex as well as some awfully romantic declarations of love and dramatic actions to match, yet still just friendship...But Darius was willing to enter into a bond that Ryou was willing to call being lovers, and that was enough for now.

TBC...

The second arc starts next, probably in two or three weeks to allow me to get ahead with other chapters further ahead.

Original fiction: Outlands - 'Family, Friends, Sons and Lovers' part 1

2009-10-11T21:11:10Z

A busy two weeks on the writing front (actually, every front). I've finished the next arc - it's fairly short, only three chapters - and I'm working on the one after that. This is Mal, still having fun ^_^ This single standalone chapter is almost as long as the arc, ironically. But whereas arcs advance the storyline, these chapters are mainly for fun and fleshing out the background and characters. I broke it into two parts to give the readers a break between all things Assyrian. I'll post the next part today or tomorrow, when I have the time. Enjoy!

Family, Friends, Sons and Lovers, Part 1

The first day of Ryou's stay in Sura was rather boring, which was not entirely unwelcome. After his talk with Leyam in the library, he went back to Darius's room and rested until the sun stood poised overhead and the gardens outside vibrated in the heat and insect chirps. At that time Jexen appeared out of nowhere to serve Ryou a tray of lunch, a light meal of bread, fruit and cheese as was the custom in these hot countries, the evening meal being the important one.

Ryou spent some of the afternoon inspecting the room the master of the Noble Quarters had prepared for him, one door down from Darius's, then he rested some more while browsing through a bunch of maps he'd found in his lover's room. Halfway through the afternoon, Peistrasos, one of Darius's palace attendants, invited Ryou to visit the balneum again. As the sun touched the top of the wall around the palace, the servant lead the well-washed and relaxed 'noble guest' to a round room with painted walls at ground level where a meal of melons, steamed barley and lamb with a nut and date sauce was already set out on the sideboard.

"You look settled down," said Darius behind him, just as Ryou was wondering how he was going to enjoy dinner in this large, empty room with two hovering servants for only company.

"And you looked satisfied with yourself," Ryou concluded with a glance at his lover.

"Hell yeah." Darius untied his sword from his belt and tossed it carelessly at Peistrasos. "These lazy divisions stationed around here got a reminder of why they call me the Beast, or considerably worse when they think I'm out of earshot. If you listen closely, you can hear the groaning from here. Ahh, that's better," he added, letting himself fall onto the couch next to Ryou's. He was dressed in a thigh-length skirt, leg greaves, the bracer on his left arm and nothing else. His skin showed evidence of trickles of water. Ryou didn't have to push his imagination very hard to visualize his lover, covered in sweat and dirt, rinsing off in a horse's trough somewhere. Whatever hell the garrison had been through, they would not dare complain about it when their commander, the king's half-brother, shared it with them, and probably left them straggling in his dust.

"Beer, Peistrasos," Darius said over his shoulder. "I'm too thirsty for wine tonight. Has my skin gone soft, or is it even hotter than it was last year before the floods?"

"I know two things, Lord Ghan," Peistrasos answered ponderously as he brought over the jug of beer and a small silver sieve to filter it into a cup. "One, is that it is hot, and the other is that if your skin is soft, then I'm the Queen of Kush." Peistrasos was a servant, not a slave, a burly old ex-soldier with a limp, terrible scars down one arm, three missing fingers, and a certain lack of servility in his manner.

Darius drank down a whole cup of beer, bit into a melon and mumbled, "I have more to do with the troops tomorrow. We are going to be doing footraces to the Ox Gate; in the late afternoon once the heat dies down a little, though, I don't want to kill the little ladies. They need to be able to shore up defences against attack in less than two hours, or I'll have them do the same the day after, this time barefoot and with bags of arrows on their backs. But if you're free in the morning, I'm taking you to see Sura."

"Thank you," said Ryou, a little relieved. One day of doing nothing was just about as much as he could stand. It wasn't just the workaholic in him, either; in Assyria, when there was nothing to do, there really was nothing. No internet, no TV, no radio and of course no books unless Ryou wanted to find someone to read to him out loud.

"What are you doing this evening?" he asked on the heels of that thought. During their travels, the time between dinner and sleep had been spent talking and sharing tales. Ryou didn't particularly fancy staying alone now, and not only because of boredom. For a man who'd been solitary most of his life, it was rather alarming how much he missed Darius after not seeing him for just one day.

"This evening? I've got a few orders to give and a letter to write. But I can do that later. I was planning to go see this room the servants gave you after the meal. I need to make sure those lazy bastards set you up right."

"Oh they did, it's actually very-" Ryou caught the look Darius was giving him as the latter took another slow bite of the melon. It was not the look of a man who was curious to see furniture arrangements. If Ryou had to label that look, the word predatory would come in handy.

Ryou wiped some of the lamb sauce as well as a wry smile away with his napkin, and spoke gravely. "It's a great room, more than sufficient for my needs, and you're quite welcome to come see it. I was just concerned you might be a little tired after today."

Darius nearly choked on his mouthful (near the sideboard, Peistrasos coughed suddenly in a way that sounded suspiciously like a muffled snigger).

The orders were given eventually but the letter did not get written that day...

Early morning on his second day in Sura, Ryou finally set foot outside the palace. He gently insisted that they start their tour at the bottom of the city and work their way to the top. Darius was puzzled, since there was 'nothing to see down there', but he conceded with the good-natured shrug of one who did not mind a walk. They rode down early in the morning with a group of Hounds who were going to practice mounted archery in the fields beyond. The Hounds took the extra horses with them while Ryou, Darius and a small escort started the trek back up. Ryou wanted to see the beauties of Sura by all means, but the bottom of the hill was just as important as the top to a new arrival like himself; the crowded houses and narrow streets were the source of the cheap labour used further up the slope, as well as the endless supply of flies that rose all the way up to the palace to be swatted by specially designated slaves.

The low rent neighbourhoods of Sura weren't as bad as Ryou had half pictured them. The poverty here was striking after the palace, but these weren't garbage-ridden slums as found Inlands. For starters, there wasn't going to be that much garbage around when people reused everything to near-extinction and then sold the remains to the ragmen in exchange for a quarter of a copper bit. The scraps of perishable wastes that weren't turned into soup or goat-feed, as well as the night-soil, were dumped in the crude sewer washed out by the aqueduct waters and regularly cleaned by slaves.

The sewer trench was a miasma that the water and breeze could not quite clear, and it was joined by the rich, bustling smell of too many people living in close quarters without refrigeration for food, clothes that were changed less than once a week, soap and deodorant and who knew what else. There was nowhere near Tokyo's number of people per square meter, but the houses of Sura never rose above two or three stories and as a result, the streets, houses and yards were packed; space was at a premium. Kids, naked in the rising heat, were everywhere, playing rough games unsupervised, drawing pails of water from the aqueduct fountains, carrying items or leading goats and the odd donkey down the hill to the pasture areas. Skinny dogs and cats, sometimes mangled by past fights amongst each other, weaved around their legs or hid in the garbage. Ryou could only imagine what the rodent population was like, but according to Darius, the only time you saw rats in daylight was if their burrows were flooded or else if Namtar was walking through the town, in which case it was time to go sacrifice at the temple of Hygeia. Namtar was the god of disease, and His mark was in every street they visited; people scarred and blinded by plagues, the weakened matchstick limbs of the beggars, the crooked spine of the skinnier children and a good number of missing digits and limbs that the Priests of Hygeia amputated if the sufferer did not have the money needed to offer up sacrifice for a more wholesome recovery. Ryou supposed it was better than dying of gangrene, though for someone who'd grown up with a fairly equalitarian health system, it was nonetheless somewhat repugnant.

The lower quarters were the domain of women at this time of day; the men were working on the docks or in the workshops higher up. The women worked as hard as or even harder, cleaning clothes, chopping wood, pounding grain, cooking and sewing and kneading and cutting and tending tiny vegetable patches. The children were either glued to their hips or were left to their siblings' supervision and their own devices. None of them were in school. The only way of getting an education in Sura was in the Temples, and sponsoring and donations were necessary. The mass of the population was totally uneducated, beyond learning the trade of their fathers. Which, from what Ryou saw a little higher up in the shops, work-yards and docks, was an education that started very young indeed. Ten year olds were working jobs that would probably kill Ryou in a day.

Their condition could only be described as arduous and primitive, but the lower classes of Sura seemed not to realize it. Their faces were worn to old age by the time they were thirty, yet those roughened features broke into smiles and cheers when they saw 'Lord Ghan' strolling down their alleys. Kids congregated around them, pestering Jexen, Hamado and the two other Hounds with questions about the campaigns, while some women came up to Darius and bowed low, half-kneeling with their hands lifted before them, thanking him for leading the armies of their sons to victory.

Their small group of six climbed the streets of Sura. It was already hot, but not yet baking. The street crowded with houses cut sharply upwards in hairpin bends, balconies and gardens perched out on the side of hill beyond it. Leaves of fruit trees buzzed with insects and birds while women shook coloured carpets out the window and clapped their red-coloured hands once to chase away bad spirits along with the dust...Sura was very much lived in, a busy hive of people, but it certainly had a solid charm of its own.

The houses improved in size and elegance as they marched up the hill. Darius led Ryou through one of his favourite areas, the market, with what seemed to be as many people as Ryou had yet seen in the Outlands crowded into a series of large open spaces full of produce and so much noise it could bowl one over. Even Darius and his small group went pretty much unnoticed.

This was the commercial sector of the city. Businesses congregated together in designated sectors. The streets of clothmakers was full of the busy clack of looms, Iron Row echoed with the sound of hammers, shops of glassware smelled like charred sand...Their group avoided Butcher's row and Tanner's Yard, but Ryou caught a whiff of them in the distance. At Darius's suggestion, Ryou paid particular attention to where all these shops were; the steep streets full of houses did not have names or numbers, people directed themselves by known landmarks such as these.

It was nearly noon when they reached the palace once more. Ryou had gotten used to Darius being hailed, cheered, occasionally accosted and blessed, but he was glad when their guards went back to the barracks and he and Darius were finally left alone, wonderfully alone, to walk through the palace grounds. The gardens, wide open spaces and elegant buildings around them looked unattainably beautiful right now, like a dream the inhabitants of the city could look up at every day yet never set foot in except in imagination.

Darius took him up to the highest point, a wall of dizzying height around a corner of the gardens. That was where the aqueduct poured its waters, siphoning some off to the palace while the rest flowed downhill. The wet air was delectable in the heat which was really gearing up. Ryou leaned against the wall, ignoring the way his glasses were getting speckled with tiny drops, and looked out over the city.

...It was...like a tight weave. The disparity between the bottom of Sura and the top - considerably more stretched than in Ryou's country - felt wrong, yet it was part of a whole. There was cohesion here, a single focus to this simplified society, which, even if it was due to lack of education of the masses, was still remarkable. Ryou knew that harkening back to 'older, simpler days' was nostalgic bullshit, it was obvious it was better to live at the top of the hill than the bottom, and so much better to live in modern day Japan...Still, there was a certain grace in the way all the habitants of Sura seemed to accept their place and fulfil their life's work with cheer and without resentment. On the surface of it, a Confucian dream come true, Ryou thought dryly. Except Ryou knew the reason why there was a solid garrison in Sura, despite good defences and no enemy armies nearby. It was a no-brainer that the ruling class had to always keep slave revolts and law and order in the back of their minds...

"Come on," said Darius, tapping Ryou on the shoulder. "Garalgexes, a friend of mine, has invited us to lunch with him. His house is a few paces away from the Women's Gate. You'll like him, he's an old commander of-...tch, now there's someone I did not want to meet."

Ryou looked around. A party had come up the covered stairway that led to the wall, four guards and three attendants, all for the woman walking ahead of them.

She was dressed in a white tunic whose hem swept the tips of her sandals. White veils embroidered in black and silver made a complicated series of loops and pleats around her, billowing out in the hot breeze like wings. Her complexion was so strikingly pale compared to Assyrians that, if Ryou had had an ounce of poetry in his soul, he would have been tempted to mistake her for an apparition, a creature of cool mist, moonlight and shadow in this sunshine country. Her eyes were ringed in kohl, but she wore no other colors, not on her face, nor her hands which Assyrian women traditionally decorated with hennaed designs or red stain on the palms. Her black hair was a complex coiffe of loops and knots to match the dress; it appeared and disappeared as the veil she held above her head to protect her from the sun waved back and forth. Silver earrings swung from her ears and more of the metal glittered in her hair, the only jewellery she wore. When she looked their way, Ryou felt a touch of coldness that was quite at odds with the noontime heat wave. Then she was once more looking at the gardens, studying the trees and the fountain with hungry eyes as if she could not get enough of the sight.

"Bow," Darius told Ryou as she made her way towards them along the walkway. Ryou quickly imitated his lover, who'd bowed sharply. This was unusual; Darius tended to treat court formalities as entirely optional for dogs and people raised in kennels. Ryou kept his head down, but he turned it a little so that, at this angle, he could get another look at her discreetly. Her face was thin and angular, but she was handsome in a sharp, unsmiling way. She only looked at them when she was nearly abreast. Darius stayed bowed, so Ryou did the same.

"Ghan," said the woman, a vinegary greeting that stressed the absence of 'Lord'.

"Sister," replied Darius just as deliberately.

A bug would have gotten a better look than he did, and then the woman walked on slowly, her hungry eyes back on the gardens.

Darius stayed bowed until she was past them. His eyes were narrowed and fixed on her back when he straightened. "I need to have a word with the guard; she shouldn't be wandering around out here."

"Who is that?" Ryou whispered, eyes flickering from the woman and her entourage to Darius's expression.

"Leyam's wife. Her name is Vibiana."

"His wife?" Ryou stared wide-eyed after her. He'd noted how the four soldiers, who'd appeared to be an honour guard when he'd first seen them, had become a prisoner's escort the minute they'd recognized Darius. They were now watching the woman in white as if she might try to escape at any moment. She ignored them and their about-face with a disdain as raw and painful as the sun beating down overhead. "But..."

"Yeah, you can see how it is. She's my brother's wife and queen, but she's also Cassius Leius's daughter, which should make things clearer for you."

"No," said Ryou after a momentary gape of amazement, "no, that really doesn't. He married his uncle's daughter? After-...everything?"

"Cassius arranged the match back when Leyam was fifteen and she was ten. She was the only surviving child of the leader of Hellias, it was hardly a bad match. Leyam went through with it because it gave us another few months of respite from Cassius's plan to send him to Rome. He kept her after Cassius's death because it lulled the suspicions of the Roman-loving camp, and gave us an entire extra half-year in which to gear for war. Why he kept her since then is anybody's guess. I suppose Hellias and the other Free Cities not in the Alliance would make it a rallying cause for war if he discarded her or shoved her off a cliff."

"Darius..." Ryou leaned briefly against the stonework. He had to remind himself that barely three hundred years ago, his own country's feudal lords got up to similar things. But that was...well, that was history. The woman with the hungry eyes was someone he'd just met.

"Don't feel pity for her; she's alive and well treated."

"Your brother murdered her father and the entire country knows it," Ryou said more sharply than he'd intended to. "And she's kept a prisoner here if I'm not mistaken."

"My grandfather would have lapidated her," Darius said bluntly. "If she put her hand beneath my brother's foot, Leyam might attempt to forget who fathered her, but no, she's proven several times that she's Cassius's get through and through. She poisoned one of Leyam's concubines and nearly killed another before we realized what she was up to. Ashur's hand be over Rand forever; he's the one who caught her at it. She didn't aim for Leyam himself, mind you; it'd have been harder, but that spawn of Hecate didn't even try. Her fire burns for power, not for revenge. She was hoping to isolate him and become his queen in more than name. I told my brother time and again to either get rid of her or ship her back to Hellias, but I don't know, maybe he wants to keep an eye on her. He sits and talks with her on occasion, but he swears to me that he doesn't bed her. Enlil only knows what viper would come out of that belly."

Ryou was trying to find something to say about all this - an almost impossible task across such a wide gap of cultures - when he was sidetracked by a thought. "Wait, if Leyam stays married to her but doesn't want her to have any children, what will he do for heirs?"

Darius gave him an odd look. "What a question. He's got another wife, and he'll probably have more once this war settles."

Of course. A great number of Assyrian free men - the labourers, unskilled helpers of tradesmen, servants - struggled to have enough to maintain even one wife. Some would never marry at all, spending whatever income they could save on a cheap mistress or on cheaper whores. But the more one rose in society, more one was expected to have a proper household: one wife, but also a concubine, or more than one if it could be afforded. Polygamy proper was reserved for the great families, though; it insured a certain redundancy of heirs that could carry name and fortune.

"Heni'ata is healthy and has given the king three live children, two of which are boys. She's a nice woman, not very smart but nice. Pretty voice and friendly manner. Her youngest son is four and of sickly disposition, her middle child is a girl, but Nirar, her oldest, is eight years of age and Leyam's son through and through. "

Ryou tried to wrap his head around an eight-year-old Leyam look-alike, and then he tried to imagine Leyam as a father. Once he'd failed on both counts, he asked, "Which part of the palace do they live in?"

"They don't. They're in Allap-Etur province, the satrapy of Heni'ata's father. They're well protected there, and out of the way of all the plots and poisons." He glanced to the left at where the Queen of Assyria had crossed to another wall, still looking about. "My brother is weird, I don't mind saying it, and there's times I know exactly what he's doing and there's times I have no clue. Why keep that one here and not the other?"

Why put out to pasture the well-meaning but not overly bright one, and keep the one with a mind and will as sharp as a dagger who could eventually give in to temptation and try to kill him? Good question, and in Ryou's estimate the answer was 'Leyam'.

Darius shook his head. "Well, it is unseemly to meddle in the matters of a man and his wife, as long as he does not let her interfere in another man's affairs."

"Very wise," said Ryou, tearing his mind away from trying to imagine the King of Assyria sleeping with either of his wives, even the nice one. What did they talk about, dresses...? No, better not go there.

The garrison did okay in their footrace in the afternoon; this meant that the following morning was reserved for the troops manning the Ox Gate and the Ram Gate, who had so far been safe behind their ramparts from where they'd laughed at their city-based colleagues going through their paces. This left Ryou with not much to do, so he decided to explore the inner palace grounds and gardens that morning, and then maybe find Jexen in the afternoon to go walk around town.

Ryou admired a magnificent spray of branches and flowers tumbling down from a small tree planted, for reasons known presumably to the gardener, in a large ceramic planter attached to a point halfway up a wall of the palace. He turned when he heard the sound of conversation and footsteps on the sandy path that ran parallel to the building. Two people were coming his way, and the tallest was instantly recognizable.

"Ryou," said Rand with a polite nod as their eyes met.

"You're back," said Ryou awkwardly, instead of, "What are you doing here; I thought you'd be gone for weeks hunting down the magians who attacked Darius?" Though on second thought, discretion might not have been necessary since the young man walking at Rand's side was Nicodeme.

A brief impression of the tone of the conversation the two had been sharing rapped at the door of Ryou's memory; Nicodeme had been doing the talking, his young voice a tone lower than usual as if he'd been trying to sound older and more mature than he already was while telling Rand about some detail of his duty to their king...Ryou suddenly had the distinct impression that he'd interrupted some family time.

"It was a very short trip to Kaides," said Rand, guessing what Ryou's remark had been about. "The thread through the maze had been cut."

"...Sorry?"

Rand gave the otherwise empty gardens a quick look through his bangs. "I'd done some investigation through agents before even setting foot there, so I knew the meeting between Yrmah and Ghan had been arranged by a chain of intermediates, only a couple of whom knew who exactly had been behind the whole thing. By the time I got to Kaides, one of these men had disappeared while the other had inconsiderately committed suicide. Not entirely of his own will," he added dryly.

"If only you'd been allowed to go directly as soon as you'd heard the news," Nicodeme muttered in a way that suggested he'd said this before. "Then you'd have been able-"

"Our master put the siege of Essin as a higher priority," Rand reminded him calmly. Nicodeme's young features tried to conceal it, but he obviously thought the whole affair could be seen as a slight of Rand's ability to uncover plots, and resented the Essin siege forces for having needed their hand held right after Darius's disappearance. Since the boy was still giving the sandy path at his feet a moody look, he did not see the small smile on Rand's features as the older man looked down at him.

"You have an errand to run now, don't you?" Rand prompted.

Nicodeme turned like a soldier on parade. Ryou almost expected him to salute. "Yes, I need to go. The king will need me soon."

"Go then. We will talk later tonight," said Rand, giving the young man's shoulder a nudge. Nicodeme nodded seriously, gave Ryou a short bow and then left before Ryou could formulate a polite phrase to the essence that, if this was just an excuse, then he, Ryou, was the one intruding here and he could go on his way and leave them together.

Ryou looked at the departing boy and then up at Rand. Rand still confused Ryou, who could not conciliate the grave, thoughtful man he'd met at Essin with his former profession. Ujiie Ryou of Ujiie Standards and Trade would not want to pursue such an acquaintance, but Ujiie Ryou the newcomer to Assyria could use all the friends he could get, and he really did want to think of Rand as a friend and learn more about him. "Excuse me, Rand, I was meaning to ask you- I apologize if this is a subject I should not ask about, feel free to not answer, but something Darius said led me to believe that you and Nicodeme are related...?"

Rand looked amused at the detour in the question. "That is correct, Nicodeme is my son. This is fairly widely known now."

"I thought so," said Ryou, relieved (getting acquainted was hard when one was outside of one's normal cultural scope and guidelines). "I could see the family resemblance."

"As to that, only the Gods can know," said Rand with a half shrug. "He is my adopted son."

Ryou's polite "I see," was carefully groomed to cover the shock at both the news and the casual way Rand had admitted it. That sort of information was normally kept within the direct family-...No, no, that was the world Ryou knew. Culture gap. It was equally valid for Ryou as it was for Darius...

Rand had not caught onto Ryou's confusion, he'd been following Nicodeme's departure with his eyes as if judging the march of a soldier (despite Nico wearing a short skirt and enough jewels, makeup and body paint on his copper skin to insure him a following of Ganguro addicts back in Tokyo). "It is of course possible that he carries my blood as well, but this I cannot know. His mother was a woman for several men."

Wow, that would give Ryou's mother, and her exacting ability to precisely determine one's social status, quite a conundrum: for which reason should Nicodeme be most pitied and avoided, for being an orphan and adopted, or for being the son of-...of what, exactly? If Rand had meant a prostitute, he'd have said so. Though this was not what Assyrian families aspired their daughters to grow up to be, prostitution was seen as a somewhat acceptable career for a woman in Assyria, and outside of the priesthood, one of the only paths to independence from father or husband. In that context, Ryou was not sure where to fit Rand's description into his budding knowledge of Assyrian societal structure where women always seemed to exclusively belong to some man or profession alone.

"I gave Nicodeme and his younger brother an education; the other men their mother knew were not reliable, or were soldiers who died." He and Ryou had automatically continued to walk towards the garden's exit, following Nicodeme at a slower pace. "When Ydine - his mother - passed on, it made sense for him to take on my name . Unfortunately his brother, who also showed promise, was taken by a coughing sickness, but Nicodeme is healthy and adept. I am fortunate," he concluded with a simplicity that hit Ryou in one of his rare sensitive spots...

Ryou wondered if he should drop the subject, but Rand didn't seem to mind discussing it, and Ryou really did need to get a handle on Assyrian society. "If I may ask, when did you adopt him?"

"A few years ago, when he was ten."

"That old?"

Rand glanced at Ryou in surprise. "That young, you mean."

"What? Isn't ten quite old for adoption? I thought boys are considered men by the time they're fifteen."

"That is so, but though a man may raise a boy as a son for many reasons, he will not typically adopt him until the child is near grown, or unless the patriarch is at death's door. Like that he knows the young man has the strength and health to carry the name. But I had no doubts as to Nicodeme even back then."

"What age do people traditionally adopt at then?"

"Eighteen or so."

"That old? But...we're talking about cases like yours, right? Or where there's some other family tie?"

"Family tie? Shared blood, you mean? People don't bother to adopt in that case. A bastard fathered on a concubine just needs to be recognized, and a man would let a nephew inherit his estate through his brother's bloodline. Men who adopt sons - and sometimes daughters - often do so because they knew the children's parents, but they are not related in any way. Don't your people do that?" Rand seemed to have finally come to the realization that what he was describing was alien to Ryou.

"Uh...well, in my culture grandparents might adopt a grandchild or a grandnephew to solidify his claim and bypass inheritance laws and taxes, but to pick a total stranger- sorry, uh, no, it's not done. Not very often."

"What happens when you don't have any children, then?"

Ryou shrugged. "That doesn't happen very often either, and then there's always distant family somewhere. It's true we don't have the infant mortality rate you have in these regions of the Outlands."

"The what?"

"Our children almost always survive to adulthood, bar accidents."

Rand chewed that over like some alien dish very foreign to his palate. "Almost all...? Ei, we are not the barbarian tribes...I always thought of our children as fortunate..."

Ryou winced. "I did not mean that as a disparagement, I-" but Rand interrupted him with a casual gesture, still deep in a train of thought he was not familiar with.

"With the Grace of Hygeia and outside of bad flood years, I should say...I don't know if I've ever thought about it, but basing myself on the families I know, one child out of two grows to marriageable age."

"That's pretty good," said Ryou quickly, and it truly was when compared to feudal era Japan. What was it back then, one in three? One in four? And there were worse epochs than that in the Inland's chequered history. Assyria might be primitive, but that partly protected it; they did not have the crushing population densities that allowed rapid propagation of disease over the entire country, or that led to famine during times of war or agitation. And though the abilities of the Hygeians didn't measure up to a paediatric hospital unit, they still had a strong effect on survival rates, and kept the population healthier than it would otherwise be. Still, to know going into any marriage that you would likely bury half your children...it was not something Ryou could begin to imagine.

"If a man only has daughters, he can make one of their husbands his heir," Rand continued. "But the Fates do what they will. A man may marry late, or not be able to marry at all; his wife is perhaps barren and he will not put her aside; he can see his entire family taken by plague, or his sons fall in war before they have sons of their own...In those cases, to take a new son into his family is done far and wide in our countries, from lowest man to the highest. A craftsman can adopt his apprentice to take over his shop if there's no daughter available to seal the bond. Asor Par Leodides, a friend of mine who commands a unit of our regular army, adopted the young soldier who saved his life during an ambush by the Hellians; he'd lost both his sons in the war, and his daughter died of some long malady."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Rand gave him an odd look and then made the gesture with his fingers that tossed an invisible piece of sectioned thread to the wind; an Assyrian way of saying, it was decreed.

"The nobility don't need that sort of fallback though," said Ryou in an effort to get the conversation going down less grim avenues. "Since they tend to have quite a lot of children."

Rand snorted in amusement. "Yes, but what are they worth? Why go with the inbred puppies when you can adopt the wolf? I was thinking of the Galeos," he added, realizing Ryou would not get his reference.

"The Galeos? Oh, the Roman emperors?"

"That's right. Galeo the Older had two sons by his mistress and one by his wife. Not one of them was worth a bronze bit, I understand, so Appius Nautius Galeo adopted the son of his chief supporter in the senate, a close friend of his who'd been poisoned the year before, probably by Galeo's wife. She employs one of the best assassins in the business," Rand added with professional admiration. "The boy was sixteen. He chose the name Vibius Galeo Cassianus. Three years later he took the Eagle Throne, and the previous Galeo's sons didn't dare peep."

"He picked some unrelated man to be his son and heir at the expense of his own children?" Ryou asked, wrapping his head around that concept.

"If Appius Galeo had had a daughter, Vibius Galeo would have married her, but that did not happen. It left him free to marry the daughter of the Suffete of Karnago, an advantageous alliance that serves him to this day. It was immediately obvious that Galeo the Older had chosen his heir very well. Very well indeed. But not even Galeo the Younger can hold back the tide." Rand was looking far out across the gardens now at something Ryou could not see. "It swept out from Roma Praetorium these past twenty years, now it will sweep back in again. With luck, we can assist it into sweeping out of our lands entirely, which means that next time, when Nicodeme is a father himself, or possibly a grandfather, the Romans will have to march all the way back to conquer the Pariya and Doric lands afresh, and this time we will be ready for them...I teach him the lessons we learned during our darkest days. I just hope by then we'll still have a strong king on the throne, Ashur hear me."

The silence that followed that invocation was interrupted by a peacock venting its irritation at something. Rand looked around at Ryou. "I'm sorry, I meant to ask you how you were settling in Sura."

"Oh, very well, thank you."

"I need to go run an errand myself, so we will talk some more later about how you're doing here," said Rand with the air of one who already knew Ryou would not voice a complaint even if he had a couple of knives sticking out of his back. "I understand you're in the Noble Quarters. I live in a small room off of the barracks, ask the quartermaster if you have need of me, or send one of the slaves."

Thanks, polite bows and such followed, and then Rand walked on briskly past the bristling peacock and towards the fountain and Ashur's Hall.

Ryou looked at the gardens with something like a new eye. Nicodeme's grandchildren...Ryou would probably not be around to see them fight the new surge from the Roman Empire that was so likely to come, but he found himself thinking of Sura and Assyria as an entity now, a person he was beginning to know. It surprised him, but he found out he really did care what would happen to this country in fifty years, and he echoed Rand's hopes that there would be a strong King on the throne.

TBC...

Original Fiction: Outlands - 'Social Insurance Number'

2009-09-26T23:30:23Z

Another intermediate chapter, muuuuch shorter than the previous one.

Incidentally, I've been organizing this fic a bit and putting all the chapters in order in the 'link to all chapter' page. The overall fiction is called 'Outlands'. 'Out' is the name of the first arc. These intermediate chapters each have their own title, while each arc will also have a name. Thanks once again for all the comments! They're great fuel for my inspiration ^_^

Link to all chapters

Timeline: this is situated the day after The Talk chapter

Social Insurance Number

According to Darius, the door to the library was the one with the bronze engraving of Teraqin-Hallit fighting the Dacians. Ryou examined the metal plate inserted into the wood depicting a scene of a wide-eyed curly-bearded man in stylized armour flinging arrows at three identical foes a third his size, and supposed this was it. He pushed it open just wide enough to slip his head in and spy two bookcases of scrolls and nobody in sight. Good.

Ryou walked in and got a better impression of the room. It was a long rectangular space divided by floor-to-ceiling bookcases that acted as inner partitions. The shelves were made of wood and metal, elaborate design of diamond-shaped nooks to hold scrolls, and flattened segments reserved for the few books. The far wall beyond the bookshelves was pierced with windows high up, covered in opalescent material to protect the scrolls while letting in some light from the early morning sunshine. Sconces on the walls and shielded lamps provided further illumination. Booths beneath the windows, with cushioned benches and tables on which to unroll scrolls, invited the readers to sit down and read.

The first thing that struck Ryou was that, for a royal library that was the only repository of non-sacred texts in Sura, it wasn't very large; around two thousand scrolls at a first quick estimate, and a further tenth of that number in books. The second thing that struck him was that he wasn’t alone.

The person already present was half-reclining against cushions on one of the benches, a cup in one hand, a scroll unrolled before him. He glanced up when Ryou reached the booth area, they saw each other at the same time. Ryou got a small shock. The way the face was half lifted to the light, the frown that said the man was not pleased at being disturbed, the tawny hair unbound and falling on his shoulders...For a fleeting moment, the resemblance to Darius was striking.

Then he lifted his head further, that pleasant smiling mask slipped back onto his clean-shaven features and the resemblance was nowhere to be seen. “Ah, Ryou,” said Leyam in lieu of greeting.

“I’m sorry, your majesty, I did not know you were here,” said Ryou, already backpedalling towards the exit. Though Leyam looked perfectly happy to see him, Ryou had not mistaken that first expression.

“That’s the fourth time you’ve called me that since we met.”

Ryou hesitated, almost out of sight behind the nearest shelf, the door a few meters behind him. Would it be ruder to stay or to respond? “You mean, 'your majesty'? I’m sorry, should I call you something else?”

“Have you heard any of my people call me anything else?” Leyam prompted.

Ryou cast his mind back to the courtiers, the chancellor, Darius and the tailors he’d seen interact with the King of Assyria. “...Just ‘My king’.”

Leyam went ‘Hm-hmm’ into his cup.

“Is that the proper form of address?”

“Proper?” mused Leyam, putting down his drink and wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb. He was dressed like yesterday, and Ryou found himself wondering if the king had gone to bed at all. “Proper...well...”

Then Leyam shifted on his seat so that his feet landed square on the floor, one arm against his chest in a heraldic pose and the other pointing straight at Ryou, the gunsight for a suddenly stern and forbidding expression. “In the age of my forefathers, you would have to address me as “Great King, Light of the East, master and liege” and you would have your hands cut off if you approached me from behind, and that’s if I was feeling generous.” Then Leyam slumped back in his seat, hooked an arm over the booth's backrest and crooked a finger at Ryou to beckon him forward. “Fortunately we learned a few things from the Greeks. Our free men have liberties and a say in this city’s running that make my ancestors pound in fury at the doors of their crypts on a daily basis. All you need to do, Ujiie Ryou, is serve me loyally and call me ‘My King’. If that’s not breaking an oath you’ve already made to your Emperor, that is. Is it?”

“What? Oh, no, no oath. But-...never mind.” Ryou hesitated, but then obeyed the gesture that had indicated he should seat himself in the stone bench opposite Leyam. He’d almost forgotten, in the whirl of events last evening, that Leyam had asked him a few questions about Ryou’s home country, and had been curious that Ryou was in principle governed by an Emperor. Then a slave carrying bolts of cloth had come in, and Leyam had made a signal not to discuss it further before Ryou could go into the details of a constitutional monarchy and parliamentary government.

Leyam’s sandy eyebrows quirked, and when Ryou had seated himself, he said, “But?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You said no, you've not sworn an oath, 'but-...' But what?”

“Well...I’m not Assyrian.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Probably nothing,” said Ryou, taking off his glasses and giving them a weary wipe with a clean cloth he'd finally managed to score amongst the stacked crates, weapons, pieces of armour, maps, tablets and styluses and an old chewed beef bone he'd found in Darius's quarters this morning. It didn't matter, in final; the king might just be ‘my King’ rather than Light of the East etc, but anyone setting foot on his land was subject to his law, and by that law there was hardly anything at all that was not within the king's power.

“What’s tying your ankle? What’s troubling you?” Leyam rephrased when Ryou gave him a perplexed look. “You’ll have to tell me how the Gift of Zaratusra works, by the way, because it still seems incredible that we can understand each other as well as we do, bar a few expressions here and there.”

“As soon as I’ve figured it out, I will be honoured to tell you,” said Ryou, rubbing the bridge of his nose before putting on his glasses again. “I have...questions, but I do not want to disturb you any further.”

“One of the things you’ll learn about me, Ujiie Ryou,” said Leyam, “is that when you find me reading the annotations to the Code of Atolius at this unworthy hour of the morning, I'm in a state where I'll welcome some interesting discourse.”

That hadn’t been Ryou’s first impression, but he wasn’t going to call the king a liar. And it was true that he did have questions. Leyam, King of Assyria, had presumably better things to do than answer a bewildered foreigner’s queries, but Ryou did not know anyone else who knew exactly who he was, where he was from, and could answer to the depth required. Well, that wasn’t quite true; Ryou could ask Darius. But the kind of question he had would not be neutral when asked of his lover.

“Well...If I may-“

“Just a minute,” said Leyam, lifting a hand. “Nico, go grab some breakfast.”

Ryou blinked, then looked over his shoulder. Nicodeme was sitting two booths away, blinking drowsily. The mark of a pillow decorated his right cheek. Ryou hadn’t seen him earlier, the boy must have been sleeping on the bench when Ryou had first come in. He was dressed in a short skirt and not much else, and he looked ridiculously young with his hair tousled and his eyes sleepy. But Ryou caught sight of something small being slipped into the back of the large belt holding up his skirt when Nicodeme got up from the bench, something thin, palm-sized and that gleamed metallically in the soft light from the windows; a little reminder that, as with everything about and around Leyam, appearances could be dangerously deceptive.

Ryou responded politely to Nicodeme's parting bow and then attempted to gather his thoughts, focusing away from whatever weapon Nicodeme had bared on his arrival and more on the fact that Leyam had, without much thought, dismissed his bodyguard so he and Ryou could chat in private.

"My questions...I suppose I am trying to figure out what place I can make for myself here."

Leyam invited him to elaborate with a quirk of the eyebrows.

"Darius has invited me to stay with him," said Ryou, since Leyam was already thoroughly acquainted with his relationship with Darius - Rand would have seen to that before Ryou had even set foot in the capital - and would thus not likely expire from shock at the notion of his brother inviting another man to stay on intimate terms. "He's arranged for me to have a vacant room in the Noble Quarters, and you've clothed me and fed me, otherwise I would really have next to nothing in term of possessions. I owe a debt to the both of you which I don't know how I'll ever repay. But now I need to start looking out for myself, and for that I need to know how your society works and how I can fit into it. Is there any place that could use my kind of skills here? Can a foreigner even find work in Assyria without papers? How do I introduce myself, or prove to anyone who I am? What kind of revenue do I need for food and lodgings, how much are the taxes and am I, a foreigner, expected to pay them yearly, or are they taken off income?"

Leyam's eyes had widened in genuine amazement at each question, and then he started laughing, that snorting guffaw that had startled Ryou yesterday. “Taxes?! You want to pay taxes?!”

“...Do you not have them here?”

“Of course we bloody have them, how else do you think I run the state? We Assyrians invented the laws of taxations, as well as the rule of law itself, whatever those Babylonians and Sumerians say. But I’ve never met anyone so concerned with paying them. Your country's collectors must have such an easy job of it, may I have a twelfth of their bountiful joy.”

“What you’ve never met is someone who has not lived in any country remotely similar to yours,” Ryou pointed out. “I’m afraid this is the extent of my ignorance. Darius told me a lot about the war, religion, Assyria's history and such, but there's a lot of small details that makes every day life here possible that it never occurred to either of us to talk about.”

“Are our countries that different?” asked Leyam, snorting away a last chuckle.

“In many respects, they are.”

“Huh. Interesting, you’ll have to tell me much more. But not this morning.” Leyam rubbed his eyes. It seemed the laughter had broken the flow of energy that'd kept him going for who knew how long. He looked tired now. “To answer your question, you’re a guest of my brother's and a foreign dignitary. That means you don’t have to worry about room or board, my dearly confused friend from a far off land.”

“Foreign dignitaries have sources of income from their own countries,” Ryou pointed out, tone steady but intent blunt. “And guests are eventually expected to leave.”

Leyam chuckled again like an afterthought, but Ryou did not think he’d found the last words droll or missed their import. But all he said was, “Where is my brother anyway? He’s normally up as soon as Holy Shamash rises in the sky. Did you exhaust him so much he’s still in bed?”

“He said he had something to do with the troops around town this morning,” said Ryou, refusing to be thrown off his stride by the King's innuendos. “He left before dawn.”

“I see. Did you discuss this with him at all? Don’t tell me he gave you the impression you would have to fend for yourself from this day forward; if he was that rude to the first firm friendship he’s had in awhile, I’ll have to take a stick to the bloody mutt.”

“If you’re wondering why I’m not asking Darius about this...well, maybe it’s different here-“

“No, no, these are not the kind of questions one would ask a lover,” Leyam concluded astutely. “It’d sound too much like you were asking him how he was going to support you.”

“Yes,” muttered Ryou, who’d have preferred to not have it said out loud at all.

“I fail to see why you're so anxious about this."

True, Ryou could probably kick back and relax for at least a few weeks, or twelvedays as they counted them here. But that made him feel too much like a tourist. It just wasn't his nature. If he was going to stay here, however long, he needed to know exactly where 'here' was and how he was going to fit into it.

"I don't mean to cast any disparagement on your generosity or Darius's, but my countrymen feel very strongly about living on charity. Begging is considered one of the worst things someone from my culture can stoop to."

"Really?" Leyam interrupted, looking fascinated as always. "And what if they're about to go hungry?"

"They go hungry," Ryou said bluntly, then waved away the over-easy generalisation. "Darius is taking me to the temple of Hygeia tomorrow to make a donation for the recovery of my broken arm. It's my arm, yet I don't have even two, er, denarii to rub together. It's denarii, right?"

"No, that's Imperial currency. Though we tend to have adopted it for many things," Leyam said drily. "As for funds, you have ten talents of silver."

"I do?" Ryou blinked at the memory of Leyam's declaration yesterday. "That's right, I do. Thank you, you were once more being very generous-"

"I've got quite a lot of talents, whereas I only have the one brother," said Leyam with a regal nod. "And unless Hygeia saved your arm from the deepest putrefaction, I can assure you that you have plenty for her and whatever other God helped you survive the road riding at Darius's side. My brother is a man of superb physique who tends to forget others are mere mortals, so I think you'll have many oblations to make, but rest assured you have plenty of money to make them with."

"Oh. Good. I have to admit, I have no idea how much that sum represents. How much does a talent of silver weigh?"

"One talent," Leyam replied innocently.

"Right. Ah, how many denarii is it worth?"

"Well that depends. Which currency are we talking about? Which country were these denarii forged in? What's your coin's assay weight, is it stamped with an eagle or a king, and are the edges worn?"

Leyam was waiting for Ryou's comeback, obviously enjoying himself. The king's sense of humour was better than his suspicions, but only by so much, Ryou reflected. Very well then. Ryou had his shortcomings in sword-wielding and Assyrian etiquette, but not in economy.

"Let me phrase it another way. If I have one silver talent, how many bowls of rice will that buy me?"

"Ei? Rice? You eat that bland stuff?"

"Yes. It's a staple in my country." Leyam had probably never had anything approaching the quality. 'Bland stuff'...

"Hmmm. We only get rice imported from the Levant region, and that-"

"I'm sorry, did I say rice? I meant bread, the large flat loaves they sell in all the markets. How many of those can I buy for one talent of silver?"

"Hmmmmmm, well, for one talent of silver..." Leyam scratched his chin, eyes twinkling, then he decided to concede that Ryou had cornered him. "For one talent you'll be able to buy a hell of a lot of bread. I have no idea how much. This may surprise you, but I have never actually bought bread at the market myself."

Ryou kept his outward composure, but inwardly he smacked himself in the head. "That's right, my apologies."

Leyam gave that snorting laugh. He'd obviously enjoyed the exchange. "I can tell you that a good horse is worth two hundred denarii, a good slave with skills but no education is worth three hundred or more depending on his health and the market, and a large house near the walls of the palace can be rented for one hundred denarii a year. The houses in the Noble Quarters are not for rent and you are quite welcome to stay there by my decree; meals are provided as a matter of course, though it's polite to regularly buy a few seah of wine and a goat for the stewards. One talent is currently worth a hundred and fourteen aureii or in the region of two thousand eight hundred denarii, depending on who weighs it and counts out your coin."

With the exactitude of a cash register, Ryou's mind rang up just how much money he had to his name here and what that represented in terms of everyday life. His jaw dropped- but Leyam steamrolled right over his stuttered attempts to express his gratitude.

"That's by the Doric standard, which is much purer than the Roman standard; they've gone and watered the metal again. I'd say you'd lose five denarii out of every hundred right now if you're not careful which coin you trade in, and more if you're traveling closer to Roma Praetorium. Whichever emperor is on it, I'd advise you to have any eagle-stamped coin assayed in town by the Greeks on Silver Row to see what you're dealing with. Now, if you buy that slave I mentioned earlier, it'll cost you...ah, thirty denarii a year to keep him clothed and fed and all that, whereas paying an unskilled labourer to do much the same job would put you back nine bronze bits a day. That's not quite one denarius. And though I don't know how much they flog their bread for down at the market, Tupila tells me a grown man needs twenty four mina of grain a month, which he'll need one hundred and twenty bits to pay for; that's thirty bits for an Imperial modius of wheat, twenty five for barley, steeper than in my father's time but that's because of the war."

Ryou nodded as he memorized the information and started drawing economic equivalencies in his mind. He wasn't surprised that Leyam would not know the price of a loaf of bread yet could recite all those numbers off; from international currency negotiations which, without computers or even reliable communication, would rival the complexity of the Nikkei, all the way down to the cost of a regular free man's household including wife, children and slaves, which a good king would know before sitting down and working out the taxes.

Fast on that thought, Ryou said, "I wonder...It can't measure up to your generosity, but I would like to help you any way I can. It will take me a few months to find my feet and learn all the ins and outs of your financial system and your economy, but this was my work back in the Inlands, I am reasonably good at it, I believe I should be able to at least assist your ministry of finance in a few of their tasks."

"My what?"

"...The office that takes care of all the income? And the taxes."

"Oh, right. You actually want to do that? I'd cut off my right arm to never have to touch it again without getting the kingdom robbed out from under me."

"I find it interesting."

"Every bow needs its own length of cord," Leyam muttered, which was Assyrian for 'it takes all kinds'. "Tupila is the one who helps me manage all of that, he has several scribes who work under him, and- oh, a lot of other people too. If you wish to help me there, well, I think that at the least you might have some interesting ideas. Take them to me or Tupila, though, because you'll be giving anyone else a headache, as well as a good indication that you're from somewhere considerably further off than Ezo. We are keeping that little fact between me, my brother, Rand and Tupila at this point. As for assisting, who knows- here, if you can make sense of this," Leyam said, unrolling a small scroll that'd been waiting at his elbow and flipping it Ryou's way, "then you've got more blessed lights than I do."

Ryou stared down at the scroll for a long minute. Then he looked up. "I'm sorry."

"Heh? The screw-up in the New Athens' minting house isn't quite that bad, is it?" Leyam asked, startled by the feelings that managed to escape Ryou's struggling composure.

"No. I mean..." Ryou tried to hide just how large an abyss had suddenly appeared at his feet. "I cannot read it. The language, I don't know how to read it."

"Oh, fool that I am, that's Greek. Here, you mentioned you're familiar with the Empire's letters, god knows I get enough of those-"

"No-" Ryou cleared his throat and glanced briefly at the scroll Leyam had tendered his way, the one he'd been reading when Ryou entered the room. "It's not the letters. The Gift doesn't translate the written word." There'd been no indication that it would, yet Ryou hadn't even contemplated the possibility...

"Oh..." Leyam wrapped the scroll up studiously after one quick look at Ryou through his tawny lashes, a look that had looked faintly sympathetic. Leyam must have an idea of what this meant to Ryou, who'd always been an avid reader, though he could not fully grasp the loss. This was confirmed when the king shrugged and added reassuringly, "Well, you've just joined the majority of Assyrians then, even amongst the great families. That's why we have scribes. I'll get Tupila to introduce you to Yau-Seen of Tulloa. He's utterly trustworthy, have him read out anything you might need."

"I suppose that would work, thank you," said Ryou automatically.

Leyam made a delicate finger waggle towards the door. "If you want to talk to Tupila now, just head towards the Golden Hall, where Tupila reigns on our country's costs. That's what we call the big square building next to the Women's Gate, opposite the barracks. That's how a kingdom is run, isn't it? Soldiers on one side, money on the other. I have other duties to attend to now, I wish you the good day, my foreign friend. We will talk more later, I really want to know-" his next words were swallowed by a yawn. Ryou found himself hoping the duties included a nap. Though talking with Leyam was a little nerve-wracking at times, Ryou had found himself touched by the king's sympathy and efforts to answer his question. It gave Ryou good hope he'd be able to get along with Darius's brother after all.

Ryou got up and bowed, and Leyam left with a grandiloquent gesture that looked entirely automatic. His eyes beneath the lines of smudged kohl were sleepy. He did not seem surprised to find Nicodeme waiting for him right outside the door; he gathered the boy with one sweep of the arm and walked off down the hallway.

Ryou looked at the rows of books all around him and out of reach of his apprehension. So much knowledge contained there...Or not. Darius had occasionally mentioned the books he'd read (been forced to read, rather) when he was young and still the half-prince of Assyria being educated by diligent, long-suffering pedagogues. From what his lover had said, Ryou was ready to bet he'd find codes of law in this library, accounts of various wars, philosophical treatise in Greek and not the simplest Encyclopaedia or primer to learning Latin...

Ryou was not going to be able to rely on his abilities to conduct data research anymore; no more books, papers, spreadsheets, computers or internet. He was actually going to have to talk to people instead. Ryou grimaced ruefully. Looked like he and Tupila were about to get well acquainted over the following days. But...not today. Leyam was right, he could afford to take a little time to find his bearings and learn to allow himself to rely on others. Ryou got up and headed past the unreadable stores of knowledge towards the door and the people of the palace going about their duties outside.

end

[Edit: Little PS for history nerds and other interested parties. I blew my 10 minute research rule out of the water again, but not by too much so the Assyrian economy is still sketchy. However, note that the silver talent in modern day Outland Assyria is almost half of what the old Mesopotamian talent was. Ten talents of silver would otherwise be VERY generous.]

Ofic: Outlands extra chapter...The Talk

2009-09-13T06:58:29Z

Here it is, o readers. Warning, snuggles, smexing and haphazard research blended with pure fantasy ahead. Oh, and it's pretty huge.

Link to all chapters

The Talk (for want of a better title)

The night was soft on Ryou's skin as he leaned against the windowsill. He closed his eyes to appreciate the faint breeze touching his face, but opened them again when he felt the weight of Darius's gaze on his features.

"Yes?"

Darius still had one elbow planted on the stone balustrade, but he'd turned away from the moonlit gardens and was giving Ryou a long, slow scrutiny from head to toe.

"Do I look that strange to you?" Ryou asked dryly, shrugging his shoulders against the brocaded tunic that'd been nipped and tucked to fit him as rigorously as a tailored business suit.

"Strange? Strange. Strange, he says." Darius glanced at the ceiling and shook his head as if exchanging a few exasperated comments with the god or goddess who might be presiding over this moment. "Anyway," he said, pushing away from the window with the air of one changing the direction of the conversation, "the master of the Noble Quarters asked me to extend his most humble pardons. He wasn't expecting me to bring a guest. The other apartments aren't aired. He told me he'll have a room ready for you as soon as possible."

"A room?" Ryou asked, surprised, trailing after Darius.

Darius paused in the act of jerking off the black leather collar around his throat. "You thought you'd stay here?" he asked with a wry smile.

I guess I'm not, Ryou concluded. What was this? He and Darius had been sharing a bed for weeks now. They'd shared one in full sight of fourteen of his men. Ryou hadn't really thought of where he'd be by this time tomorrow, since this had been changing every day since he'd first arrived in the Outlands, but he'd assumed there would be no problem continuing the accommodation he and Darius had struck up while on the road. Was it because they were now in Darius's home...? Ryou was already struggling to figure out where and how he was going to fit into this society; he'd assumed he knew where he fit into this relationship at least. Well, mostly.

"I'm sorry, I did not mean to impose," he said neutrally to see if that would get him more information, while deep inside he wondered if he really wanted any...

Darius gave him a puzzled look. "Impose? I invited you. I'm the one who should have asked the man to get you a room ready right from the start, blame me if you must."

"It's fine," said Ryou automatically.

"The day you stop saying 'fine' will be the day the stars fall out of the sky," Daris said under his breath, tossing his belt over a nearby low chair.

"When did you say he'll have a room ready?"

"No idea. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow if they have to move furniture into it. Most of these other rooms have been unused for years."

"I see." Ryou gave the nearby bed a glance. It looked both big and comfortable, and maybe he'd been an idiot to assume he'd be enjoying it. "In that case, may I sleep here tonight?"

"Oh, now you're just teasing," growled Darius.

"Wh-" was all that Ryou had time to say before he was caught, overbalanced and pinned to the bed in a screech of wood and a twang of rope.

A mouth locked onto his throat. Ryou was paralyzed by surprise for a short moment, but then he relaxed, welcoming the sudden contact, the weight holding him down. Things were whirling too fast to grasp: this unknown civilization, Sura, Leyam, the royal court with all its currents and shoals, Darius and his hurry to get Ryou out of his room...This at least Ryou could touch and hold, he knew what this was.

Darius broke the kiss, his mouth hovering over Ryou's, little caresses of air. "'May I sleep here tonight', I swear..."

The question hadn't been meant as funny or coy, but Ryou liked this mood better than the one he'd been in previously, so he didn't mention it.

Darius raised himself up to look down at Ryou sprawled beneath him. "Those clothes...They befit you as they would an Assyrian prince, but it's you in them, like something out of a tale, eyes like almonds, skin like gold...It's exciting." Ryou could see that excitement tenting the dark red tunic his lover wore. Ryou's blood had also pulsed at his words, at the heat of his gaze. Darius's hand hovered, touched the brocade on Ryou's chest....a gesture built around a little pause as if waiting for a comment. Ryou wouldn't know what to say - 'thanks' sounded lame - so he reached up and touched Darius's lips.

A faint frown curled Darius's brow. He brushed past Ryou's fingers to kiss the soft part of the wrist. Those lips, hard yet sensual...Ryou's skin tingled at the memory of that mouth. It just so happened that the two of them were finally somewhere private, did not expect to travel tomorrow, and, an important yet usually neglected detail for Ryou, they were both properly bathed; maybe now they could finally take a little time to explore each other properly. For starters, Ryou hoped his lover would help him chase away this awful tension, this uncertainty, hunt it down with his fingertips and wipe it out...

As if guessing Ryou's needs, a hand fastened on his thigh, pressing the skin beneath the layers of cloth. An equally rough kiss traveled from Ryou's cheek towards his mouth. It was harder than before, and Ryou took it in.

Another pause. Darius's breath was harsher now, his mouth an inch from Ryou's. Ryou had never figured out how much kissing figured in Outland foreplay. The first time they'd fallen into bed, Darius had only briefly touched his mouth, hard and without lingering. He'd been a little surprised at letting tongues come into play. And it had been abundantly clear that kissing in view of others was not acceptable...Ryou brushed the lips near his with his mouth and then leaned back to see what was expected of him.

From this angle, he could see the length of his lover's body by tilting his head. No armor to get through this time. He reached up towards Darius's mouth with his fingers- a faint pull back made him hesitate. Apparently that wasn't wanted right now. Ryou remembered Darius thumbing his lips open back in Essin, the memory seared into his dream skin many nights in his sleep. But maybe he wasn't supposed to do it to Darius for some reason. Ryou let his hand fall back, waiting for a cue. He'd...not really wanted to have to think about this too hard tonight. Not with everything else going on.

There was definitely something off about the lack of motion. Ryou opened his mouth-

"What's wrong?" Darius asked, effectively beating Ryou to the punch line.

The words 'you tell me' wobbled on Ryou's tongue, but he wasn't sure- had he been doing something wrong? He hadn't been doing anything, nothing more than he'd done the first two times they'd made love, why-

Darius's eyes were narrowed. "I'm not blood-drunk this time, but you're still acting like you did back in Essin. After the heat of battle that was understandable, but now I feel like I'm raping you. Do you not want this?"

"Huh? No! I mean, I do want-"

"Yeah, but you just don't want it like this," said Darius, jerking his chin at Ryou beneath him, his lips curved in a jagged smile. "Looks like I should have made myself clearer three nights ago. I do not go down on my knees every time, not by your wish nor any man's. Get used to it."

Ryou stared at him, and then he closed his open mouth with a click and gave his head a shake. "Okay, that's it. Time out."

"Huh?"

"Darius, let me get up please."

Darius sat up and removed his hands in an exaggerated gesture.

Ryou shoved up his glasses and straightened himself out. "Let's get one thing straight. I don't know how things work in Assyria. For men together, I mean. So we need to take a few minutes to discuss what we expect of this." And if it ruined the mood, so be it. Ryou's inner control freak was only going to accept so much before it had conniptions.

"Don't expect much." Darius was looking at him with that unblinking, feral gaze that reminded Ryou of his lover's nickname. "I told you right from the start that I'm not to be tamed. I was never an eromenos- and I'm certainly not going to be one now, I'm too old. Hell, I was born too old."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. You may be a better man than me in more than years, but fuck, I was never and never will be a bloody puppy to mentor."

A tense little silence ensued.

Finally Darius looked away from Ryou's steady, unrelenting gaze. "I take it that wasn't what you meant," he concluded in a grumble.

"Thank you," Ryou said sardonically. "Took the words right out of my mouth. Now can you explain what you just said? Without the colloquialisms and the swearing this time?"

"You really don't have a clue what I'm talking about?"

"No, I don't, Darius, that's why we're having this conversation. Maybe everyone from here to the Roman Empire knows what you're talking about, but I don't."

Darius rubbed his face, and then to Ryou's relief his mouth twisted upward in a ghost of humor. "It's your own fault, you know; you just...you stand imperturbable and calm, watching and understand things about our countries that most people who live here their whole lives never considered. I've had to damn well break my back to get a rise out of you from day one, and the only time I caught you completely off guard was with Leyam, who'd give All-Seeing Enlil a start. It's funny, but it's almost to the point where I forget where you come from at times. Ishhara knows I've lain with people from all over the Outlands, I know the various customs and so do my bed mates. I never had someone who didn't at least know what I was talking about. I should have remembered that. My apologies."

Ryou, who knew full well that Darius's apologies were few, far between and always very serious, nodded in acceptance. "Now, can you tell me more about it?"

Darius scratched his beard, looking puzzled at having to explain something that everybody must know about. Bye-bye mood, though Ryou morosely, but this was undoubtedly for the best.

"You really don't know what an eromenos is? Okay," Darius added when Ryou rolled his eyes, "then I'll start with that. Hm. Well, it's originally a Greek thing, though it's spread. The Greeks were the standard of civilization around here for a long time. But the erastes tradition wasn't as widespread as their culture, it's specific to certain city states. Boys need education, see, so they are approached by a mentor who teaches them a lot of things, including the arts of courting and the bedchamber."

"Oh, I see. That's not that different from the way we used to do it not that long ago," said Ryou, polishing his glasses, smudged by an earlier brush against Darius's cheek, on the edge of the cover. "In our warrior tradition, a younger man in training served a more experienced older warrior, who in turn taught him to be a man, and occasionally this kind of bond was known to lead to-" But then a not-insignificant difference in wording suddenly struck Ryou. "You meant young man, right? You said boy."

"Not sure which is which in your country," Darius said with a shrug. "Eromenoi are usually courted by their mentors when they're twelve."

"...Twelve?"

"Yes." Darius gave him a savvy look. "I take it that's not how you do things Inlands."

"But-...Twelve?!"

"Don't shout at me, I never did it."

Ryou - who had not been shouting - lowered his volume a handful of decibels back to its usual levels. "No, that's not what we do back home. To start with, that'd be illegal."

"Sometimes the boys are older. But when they're sixteen, they leave their mentor and go to war - or plough a field or build a house or screw a girl, depending on which state they're from - and when they're twenty, they cut their hair, grow a beard and then it's their turn to educate another."

"This is seen as normal?"

Darius looked puzzled. "It's Greek."

"So it's not Assyrian," said Ryou, remembering Leyam's act with Nicodeme. He'd not known what to think about that - correction, he'd known exactly what to think about it, but had refused to believe it of someone Darius respected. Then it'd become obvious Nicodeme was a bodyguard, not a bed toy, and Ryou had packed away the whole idea with some relief.

"It's done here too. Not often, though. It's-...only in certain cases." Darius was still fishing around to put into words for this poor bewildered foreigner, concepts which to him were as plain as rain and sunshine. "Mainly it's painted men and those who like them who do that. It stays in its own circle."

"Painted men?"

"You know, the men who dress and act like women. Not like my brother," Darius added dryly before Ryou could stick his sandal in his mouth. "I know what it looks like, but Leyam does not actually sleep with men. Or boys. Hell, he doesn't sleep with anybody, he kicks whoever shared his bed out the minute he's done with them. He's- well, he's fine, he just doesn't like to have anyone else in the bed with him," Darius said abruptly as if Ryou might find that weird and comment on it.

Ryou was quite ready to avoid the subject of Leyam tonight. That was a fraught discussion for another day. "Darius, why did you assume I wanted you to be-...er, that? You're a grown man."

"I know, that's why I was pissed off."

"Yes, but why did you think I had that in mind in the first place? There's only four years difference between us; even back in my country at an era where younger and older might signify, that difference is too negligible to count at our age. Why did you think I wanted you to...?"

Darius frowned as if couldn't quite figure that out himself. He was silent a moment, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring blindly out the window. Ryou got a little distracted by the thought that that very same window did not have a pane, that their apartment was only one floor up and that the guards who'd been warbling away at the maids earlier might have a patrol route that took them nearby.

Darius reached out blindly until his fingers brushed Ryou's face. "Maybe...I feel at times as if I can't quite...touch you. You're here, yet a part of you is just out of my reach. It's a feeling I only ever had with-...though it's not really- never mind. It's completely different." He turned on the bed to look Ryou in the eye, shedding that odd moment. "The erastae- that's the men who court the boys - that's only in some city states, as I said. But what is widespread is the Greek ideal of what a man should be, what a lover should be. A true man should not be ruled by his appetites, not even in bed. Moderation, self-discipline, asceticism even, is the Greek ideal. That's why I thought you were trying to tell me something earlier, when you lay there like a stump. Because you have to grant me, when it comes to being all composed and reserved, you and I are night and day."

"Oh, is that why you said back at Essin that you're not an ideal lover?"

"Yeah, I've had a few lectures from my brother and others on my lack of manners, refinement and control of my passions. This was back when I was younger, mind you. I've grown some since. Now I don't care as much; not about Ishhara's little games, and not about the fucking Greek ideal either. Nine years of a murderous campaign have taught me that there's better reasons to fight a man than over something so small as who beds who, what with all the other ways there is to die. They've also taught me that when the fighting is over, you tell the Greek Ideal to go screw itself, get drunk, grab the nearest body available - drunk, horny and willing too - and drag him into bed. Assuming we make it that far," Darius added with a hard leer. "The whole restraint and temperance thing...feh. Truth be told, the Greeks themselves are divided in what they believe is ideal; I gave you the general notion everybody has of them, but I met a lot of Greeks who told me that was donkey balls, and that they'd not recognize as a Greek, or even a man, some boring piss of vinegar who wouldn't want to drink himself into bed with a comely person of whatever the age. The Greeks I knew weren't always very restrained, that's for sure. I told you I was good looking when I was a boy, right? Back when I first led a command in the Alliance, learning the trade of leadership from Terentius, I had to break a few Greek bones when some guys didn't understand that an Assyrian youth did not appreciate their courting."

Cross cultural clashes at their finest, thought Ryou, rubbing his forehead. At least Darius seemed to find the memory of those episodes amusing rather than unpleasant.

"That was rare, though. The Greeks stick to defending their homelands tooth and nail; those who leave are mercenaries who form their own units. By contrast, most of the Hounds are Ionian. Unlike the Greek erastae, Ionians consider this to be a man's business, not a boy's," said Darius, his fingers wandering down Ryou's cheek and throat in a very exact illustration of what he meant by 'this'. "For them, it's all very serious. In fact the Tibans, Doceans and Kaliceans build their army around this notion. Did you see Dionysodoros and Bareil?"

"Er, yes," said Ryou, unsettled. He'd not been sure from the start whether there was anything sexual about that, and now that he knew them both, he wasn't sure he wanted to find out anything that'd upset him; Bareil was barely sixteen.

"Dio is Ionian, from Kalicee; one of many refugees from that city after the plague and then the war. The Kaliceans are proponents of that idea. It's what you said earlier, the older warrior takes care of the younger, educates him. It means their cadets are protected and learn their trade damn well. In counterpart, the older warrior would let himself get chopped up on the spot rather than show cowardice in battle to his younger friend. It strengthens the bonds between the men and makes them fight like lions. Even the triarii are cautious when they attack a Tiban phalanx. But unity is considered important, so Tibans don't mix with the rest of the Alliance troops. Only some career officers practice it in our armies. Bareil is the son of a scribe, he can read and write, he's got both guts and a good brain; he'll be a fine commander of men one day. Dio took him under his wing last year the way someone once did with him. When Bareil is old enough to grow a beard and take a command of his own, he'll do the same to another youngster, assuming he can find one with promise."

"But from what you say, they also sleep together, right?"

"Oh all the time. Didn't you see them on the road? Especially when it's cold-"

Ryou rolled his eyes, caught the finger that was now toying with the fastenings of his surcoat, lifted it to his mouth and ran his lips up to the tip. "I meant like this, as you put it so well."

Darius looked like he'd lost the thread of the conversation for a minute. "Huh...Dio and Bareil...? Oh yeah, they've been known to. When they're not both busy chasing tits."

Rather offhand, then, concluded Ryou. The relationship would be mainly about friendship, co-reliance and education, while sex was just thrown in as an occasional pleasant bonus.

"Ryou, just so you know," said Darius, then he cleared his throat. His eyes were still fixed, unblinking, on the hand Ryou was holding captive. "When you do that- something like that, with your mouth, that's a suggestion. Hell, in Ionian terms, that's as good as a promise."

Ryou glanced from the fingers he was holding to Darius's face. "It's wrong?"

"Wrong?" echoed Darius as if suspected Ryou was making fun of them, then he caught himself. "No, no, not wrong at all, but for the Ionians and also Aksumite and just about anybody else when you do it like that, it means you're suggesting you're going to go down on me."

"Oh, so that's why earlier when I reached for your mouth, you thought I was asking you to-...I see."

"Yeah."

"Well," said Ryou, lips moving against the callused skin as he spoke, "just to set the record straight, I do not expect you to be the one to get down on your knees each time, as you put it. I don't mind doing my share."

"Is that so," said Darius, his voice lower and a little rough, eyes still fixed on Ryou's mouth while his hand slowly moved to cup Ryou's chin. A little smile tugged Ryou's lips. Who said the mood was gone...?

But then his reason kicked in again, and before his libido could tackle it to the ground it'd prompted him to ask, "But didn't you touch me like that at Essin? Was that the same thing?"

"Hmm? No, I wasn’t thinking about that back then. I just did it. Spur of the moment. Then all I was thinking was that it was the most erotic thing I'd seen, and I've seem the dancers of Sarsareen go at it in public, so I know what I'm talking about." Darius's voice was still husky. Then he seemed to come back to himself and remember his duty as illuminator of lost and confused Inlanders. He dutifully removed his hand and used his fingers to run through a mental list instead.

"Let me see, Eratery, Kaimé, Halicarnace- There's a lot of boy-lover states and cities out there, I can't list them all. Kaliceans, Doceans and Tibans pair off according to older and younger as well, though a man has to be fourteen before he can join their armies, which is where such bonds mostly stay. Then there's a lot of lesser known customs that I only came to know when I paid my respect to Ishhara. For instance, I knew a man from Xepomeles - Zozimos, he'd been named after the hero of his city. I met him back during the campaign of Ryii. He was only one year younger than I, but thought that because I was more elevated in rank, he had to act like a boy. The damn bugger was even bigger than I was, and built like a fucking rock, and- well, I try to remember him for his friendship, not for the one time we ended up in the bedrolls, that's too excruciating. Then there was- damn, I can't remember half their names. Oh, there was that guy from Thezali we called Beauty because he was anything but. He would always say it had to be the smallest man who gave way; the way nature makes the female smaller than the male. He was almost as tall as Zozimos had been, so no fucking wonder he believed that, but he swore that's how they did it in his city. We loved to bug him by pointing out that female spiders are bigger and female lions considerably more dangerous, but he stuck to his argument. Greeks, and those who think themselves Greek, tend to have very rigid ideas. Thermopilyans, Zoreans, Olympians- oh, and that one lay I had who was from Athens the New and who I do have to admit was rather awe-inspiring, though fortunately he was sixteen for my twenty three so no struggles there. Yeah, wherever they hail from, Greeks are all the same, it's just the details that change. The Ionians tend to think of sex between men as a way of forming a bond, so at least there's not all that black and white divisions. But then again, they tend to take it a little too seriously. Inder help me, I shared a cup of wine, a bowl of olives and a bed with a man from Leossia, and found out the next morning that I was on course to forming a lifelong commitment with the ass. I did keep him around for awhile; he was a good man, for all his funny ideas. He could throw a spear further than I've seen anyone throw it since. But tell you the truth, I was rather glad when he found out his wife had gotten pregnant on his last leave and this meant he had to go home and leave me before things went too far. He cried. I swear. I shouldn't speak badly of him, though, he was killed in the last thrust of the Eightieth Legion into Leossia, defending his home; a good death all in all. Melliod was his name, Melliod. All the Ionians I knew had different customs; I could recount dozens. And of course there's countries further afield where they'll go and stone you for taking a man to your bed, like Ras Dal Aran.

"But I'm wandering. What those donkey-fuckers do is their own business, and if I don't like it, I'll go sleep with my own kind. Assyrians are as split as the Ionians, mind you. Assyria is made up of Old Assyrians, Persians, a few Babylonian tribes, some Greek and Ionian regions and others. Most Assyrians sleep only with eunuchs, or men who might as well be, but there are plenty who are of my mind in the matter. We usually take after some Ionian tradition or other. The Persians do tend to be a bit decadent about it, you know, hareems and toys of different genders for the rich and powerful. The only men Babylonians sleep with are whores. The men from Carrat have this weird idea that-...never mind. But the ones I feel the greatest kinship with were the men from Aksum, as a whole. Especially those from the north. There's just, how can I say it, no fuss, no question. They call themselves shield brothers; there's no notion of one being lesser and the other greater, no cares for age- well, within limits, nine years being the most. In the capital and in the province of Diar-Arorot, it's actually illegal for a man to take a lover nine years younger, and that goes for women too. Oh, and it's a deep shame to fight another man over a third, that's their custom. Doesn't mean it doesn't happen, but they consider it a disgrace. A guy I knew from the city of Haxosterex had a saying for that, the pervert: if both men want him, then it's time to share, he'd say." Darius scoffed as if the idea was shocking in an amusing way.

Ryou had built his career on facts and numbers, and if there was one thing he'd known from day one, it was to be absolutely sure of them. Cross-reference was his motto. In this world, however, such concept was unknown. Darius did not have any encyclopedias, or even the dubious veracity of the internet; he'd never picked up a newspaper, books were rare here - most people could not read or write anyway - and stories changed with every telling. Darius's view of the world was strictly divided between those facts which immediately surrounded him and affected his unit and his country, and then everything beyond which existed in some woolly limbo full of weird, interesting and totally unverifiable stories. This way of thinking drove Ryou ever so slightly crazy, which was why he'd learned to distinguish when Darius was talking of one or the other.

...What he was talking about right now had a feeling of being the former. It sounded like facts he knew about intimately. Intimately being the key. "...Um, Darius," he said, while Darius was still shaking his head at the notion of threesomes, "I suppose all this is common knowledge?"

"Hmm? I don't know about common, most people do not travel and only know such things through hearsay, if at all," said Darius, his eyes on the finger he'd sloooowly wound around the gold and brown ropes of Ryou's surcoat. "But leading the Hounds, and fighting with the Alliance army all over this region of the Outlands, I got the chance to gather all this first hand."

"All of it?" were the words that escaped Ryou's throat before he could constrict it.

"Yeah. What- oh, what are you thinking?" Darius burst out laughing, his hand dropping away.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to imply- I didn't mean to offend."

"Offend? I'm flattered!" Darius had to lean back against the bed he was laughing so hard. It broke that hard set of his eyes into a heap of smile lines, it also showed the gap of two missing upper back teeth on the left which Darius had said he'd lost from infection when he was younger. Laughing like that was something that Ryou thought Darius should do more often, because it suited him.

He finally stopped with a gasp, and spoke with a chuckle still running through his words. "By my father's blood and seed, man, I may have embraced many in my life, but I also had to fight a lot, and, you know, sleep. And eat. And tie my sandals and other sundries. Besides, if I'd spent that much time in Ishhara's pursuits, Leyam would have neutered me long ago. No, when I said I got it first hand, I meant talking to my men or my friends on those long cold nights when swapping such tales was the next best thing to having a bed warmer, and the only thing keeping us from freezing our cocks off. Don't ask me to tell you what nations I have known in the ways of the flesh, though, because damned if I remember. I was drunk half the time too, I think I mentioned."

"Were they all younger?"

That stopped the last few ripples of laughter. Darius's eyes flickered towards the corner of the room as if he expected to find something or someone there. "Yeah, as it happens. Not counting women - who cares about them - I've only had two lovers who were older than me, and you're one of them."

Ryou hadn't thought Darius was the kind to be the younger partner in the Greek sense, or even the Japanese one. He opened his mouth around a question starting with 'Who' when Darius turned towards him briskly. "And you?"

"Me? I've had lovers who were older and younger. Who was it-"

"Really? But that's not what I meant. How is it in your country?"

...Okay, so apparently the other older lover was not a subject that was going to be discussed tonight, if ever. Ryou forced himself to drop it with some effort, and scrubbed his hair as if that could help massage his thoughts into some order. "In my country, it's...complicated."

"Everything is complicated where you come from. You're even worse than the Ionians."

"You may be right. It's complicated because our society has been changing rapidly these past hundred years. In old times, we were more like the Kaliceans, if I understood you right; we also had our, ah, painted men and those who paired up with them. They were frequently prostitutes back then, though not always. Now it's not quite so defined. As for the way two men behave together, age is frequently a factor, yes, if all else is equal, which it rarely is. Experience is more important, really, some guys can hit forty before they're ready to come out of-...um, decide they might want to sleep with their own gender. If age and experience are on par, then it's up to individual preference; most men know quite soon if they prefer to be passive or active as a rule. Some are still open to the idea of switching on occasion, or at least they say they are, though the few tachi I'm acquainted with would simply lead from the bottom-"

"Wait, switching what?" asked Darius, mystified.

"Roles. Take turns being passive and active, I mean."

"Passive...? Active? I don't understand. You're not talking the more experienced and less, here, right?"

"Oh." It was Ryou's turn to scratch his head and ponder explaining something that was hard to properly put into words. "I suppose you could say we match the way men and women behave together. I don't mean one of the male partners acts womanly," Ryou added quickly, knowing Darius's stellar opinion of women.

Darius snorted as if that'd been abundantly obvious from the start.

"But in bed, sometimes even in the relationship, at least to start with, one man will be the one to-" Ryou paused, because the instinctive words - attack and surrender - would give entirely the wrong idea. "One will engage, the other accept. The former will then lead. Most times. While the one who accepted - the woman in normal relations - receives that affection and the pleasure. Is taken care of, in a way, doesn't have to do anything. This is just generalizations, it depends on each person really, but it's the...what you were saying about the Greeks, the overall image we have of relationships. This is true only for my country, I understand that other countries are different, and in some instances it's still illegal I believe. I'm not all that sure, really, I've not traveled very far. Until now," Ryou added with a pale attempt at humor.

Darius's eyes narrowed. "I think I'm starting to get it. This is what you were doing. This is what men do in your country? One just lies there?"

"...Not quite that passive, necessarily. I...it's been a long day, and I...wasn't sure what you expected of me tonight, once things got off on the wrong footing," Ryou admitted. Which was sugarcoating the truth somewhat. In reality, Leyam had frightened him earlier, and Ryou had realized how complicated and potentially risky his future could be now that he was firmly committed to staying in these very foreign lands. In these dangerous waters, Darius was the only rock he had and for an instant he'd thought it'd shifted, and so he'd done what he instinctively thought was right: lain back and waited for an indication of what he was supposed to do. Ryou frowned, not liking that on several levels, only one of which was a tachi's automatic reaction to the very idea he could turn pliant and surrender up control like that.

Darius chewed that over, then nodded to himself, leaned over and captured Ryou's mouth with a harsh kiss, his hand gripping the back of Ryou's head. Then he tore away and whispered in Ryou's ear, "You are the only man I will say this to, but if I make you feel that uncertain again, punch me, call me an ass and remind me of this conversation."

Ryou smiled, obscurely relieved. He'd not wanted to feel like he had before, not with this man. "No need for violence, but I would like you to teach you two little words," he whispered into Darius's ear, cheek brushing cheek.

"Restraint and courtesy?" Darius asked with a touch of irony.

"No. Culture gap." He kissed his lover before the latter could ask what that meant. There'd be time to learn.

The kiss turned into a muddle of rough caresses and a roll onto the bed. Ryou looped an arm around strong shoulders, a hand tangling in brown hair for the pleasure of hearing the disks clink. He felt more than heard a subvocal hmm of pleasure, so he let his fingers play, tousling the hair and gripping the hard cords of the neck. Darius's strong fingers stroked down Ryou's chest, dragging the tight linen across the latter's skin until he reached Ryou's thigh. He'd hooked the loop of one of the brown and gold cords with his fingers on the way, pulling the knot loose. The other fastening was somehow already undone, and Ryou hadn’t even noticed. Then Darius's hand rose up between Ryou's legs, making Ryou tense and swallow a gasp.

...Something even deeper inside burned under the touch; a fire that'd sparked into life the very first time he'd seen Darius smile, back when the guy was just a crazy foreigner killing monsters with a sword. It scared him at times, to feel this deeply about this man, this stranger from out of an obscure history book, whose values were so different...but then Darius would reach out, with those blunt words and warm look that Ryou was one of the very few privileged to know, and Ryou would remember why the fire kept burning hotter and hotter...

"So," whispered Darius against Ryou's collarbone. "This passive stuff...you really like that?"

Ryou ummmed, not sure he wanted to go into his past on that score. For starters, despite Darius's words just before, it still might queer this hot, melting moment if Ryou admitted that he'd always been the seme until now, and a control freak specimen at that. He also didn't want to talk about his streams of empty relationships and practically-whores in this night they were sharing. Darius didn't fit that mould. Hell, he exploded it. What the two of them shared had nothing to do with anything Ryou had ever known before, in bed or out of it.

"Because I can't imagine you like that at all," said Darius.

"I don't think it really applies to us," admitted Ryou, who had to agree he did not like to think of himself on the bottom, but who could not imagine Darius in that position either. At all.

"You know," said Darius into Ryou's neck, beard prickling the skin. "I told you the best time I had was with the men of Aksum, right? Two men, two warriors of equal ages with the same kind of metal in their hearts, and nothing to prove except in a friendly wrestling match beforehand. Two lions, they call those men."

"You're not asking me to wrestle, I hope...So what you're saying is, ah, both of us would be active?"

"That's the idea."

"...How does that work? Don't you get your hands mixed up, or bump into each other?"

"Only on purpose," said Darius with a leer in his voice.

"Oh. Well, looks like you have something to teach me, then."

Darius looked at him from the corner of his eye, a moment's pause before he realized Ryou actually meant that and also did not mind. Then he smiled. It was a smile Ryou really, really liked to see, crooked in its inability to totally let go after years of threats and hardships, but warm beneath it all as it tried...Then Darius pulled off Ryou's surcoat and put his hand on Ryou's thigh beneath the dark tunic. Ryou retaliated, getting a grip on that dark red tunic. Ryou couldn't wrestle to save his life, but in this sort of battle he had an advantage; Darius didn't wear trousers and had already taken off his belt.

The bed creaked happily. This wasn't the easy, no-thinking sex Ryou had thought it'd be when his back had first hit the mattress, before twenty minutes of discussion and a whistle-stop tour of the Outlands' sexual practices. It was exciting, though, in a way he wasn't used to...But it was damned hard, a difficulty he suspected was uniquely his own. Darius seemed to be enjoying himself, but for Ryou it was hard to reach out, touch a hip or a thigh, and not immediately pull back and stay still when his lover reciprocated. Hands did indeed get mixed up a bit, and overall it just felt...weird. And he also had to fight himself to not stop and pick up the clothes that were being slowly stripped off and dropped onto the floor. He'd always been careful of his business suits, but now that he knew how precious a thing clothes actually were, he wanted to treat his only decent piece with respect. Hopefully he'd have more soon, and a place to hang them - or rather, a chest to put them in.

That reminded him of another question. He didn't necessarily want to talk. The mood was damned resilient, but this was pushing it. But neither did he want to stop talking, now that they'd finally broached the subject of this relationship.

"Darius- oh!"

Darius snickered at the reaction, the sound echoing through Ryou's bare abdomen.

"Hm, Darius, about the room-"

"What room?" asked Darius in a totally disinterested tone, his concentration elsewhere.

"You said you were going to get me my own room."

"Oh yes. One not too far away. And I hope I'll be welcome in your bed on a regular basis."

"Yes, I guess."

"You're supposed to say, I'm counting on it."

"I will be, but it was the room I was wondering about," said Ryou, squirming away from those hands and that mouth that were not helping him concentrate. "I don't want to impose on your space, but the way you mentioned it earlier- is it wrong for two men to share a room here?"

"A room or a bed?" Darius purred, reaching for him again.

"A room. Focus."

Darius smiled sensually but desisted. He rolled to one side and propped his head up on one hand to look at Ryou comfortably, just one hand doing lazy circles on Ryou's stomach. "Yes, a room; you will have one, of course."

"Okay, I had a question about that. I do not want to impose on you-"

"You're not, you ass."

"Thank you, but beyond that, does sharing a room violate some Assyrian custom? Because I don't see anything wrong with it."

Darius's expression went from lustful to blank. "...You don't? Really? But-"

"Darius."

"Huh?"

"Culture gap."

"...Men live together in your country?"

"Well, lovers do, some of them."

"Really?" Darius looked intrigued. "Well, here I'd only be living with you if I was your eromenos."

"I find myself forced to point out that I'd be the one living with you."

Darius swatted the air like he was chasing away all those previous pesky misunderstandings. "That’s not how it is between us anyway. Boys stay with their mentors until they're ready to move on- and even then, they have their own room. Once grown, a man must have his own dwelling. That's the norm, anyway. I did hear that the Ionian poet Cessalee lived for thirty years with his lover, who happened to be the general of the army of Ambroxes. That was odd, but nobody from Ambroxes seemed to find it so...The Free Cities are such a patchwork of ideas, I don't think anyone keeps track. In Aksum, shield brothers will often live in a house side by side, sometimes joined by a courtyard and encircled by the same wall, but each has their own chamber. Hell, even the women have their own chambers unless you're a peasant and living in a shack."

"I see. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind having a space of my own. Won't anyone mind if I move into a room here, in the Noble Quarters?"

"Did I mention this palace belongs to the king? Did I mention the king was my brother?"

"That is certainly convenient," said Ryou dryly, making Darius grin. "Very well, then. But what I was getting at was, do we have to stay discreet?"

Darius cocked his head to one side. "Discreet?"

"Is there any reason you don't want others to find out about our relationship?"

Darius snorted and rolled away, off the bed. "Personally I don't give a damn if the whole of Sura knows we share our blankets. There'll be talk, of course. There always is. Some of the nobles from Persian lineages will potentially throw a few jibes your way. You can handle that. Give them one of those looks of yours. They'll figure out soon enough that you're not some ball-less pussy I'm bedding. If you get any serious hassle-...where the hell did Peistrasos put my stuff?" he muttered, ferreting around a drawer of a decorated wardrobe near the bed. Darius's room was a reflection of its owner; there was an inbuilt regality in the luxurious surroundings, which was otherwise completely invaded by weapons, maps, pieces of armor and crates stacked here and there. Darius was opening a few seemingly at random and poking around anything from clothes and old sandals to objects that looked quite precious and were probably the result of a commander's right to choose his own pick of the loot.

"I was only gone six months...A man can't find his own things in here. I'm sure it was here...About the courtiers, Ryou, if someone really insults you, make sure you walk around with Jexen as an attendant, like that you have his word to add to yours later as to what happened. You are allowed to defend your honor, though do try not to kill anybody. I will back you up if you do, but that'd not be the way to make friends, and it can make a big mess out of Leyam's tortuous little plots to keep all these fighting dogs balanced out against each other."

...Because the Assyrian court could get even more fun and friendly, it seemed.

"You're not serious, are you? You don't really expect me to-...they actually have duels here?"

"Oh, we do, but it's rare," said Darius, glancing up from a deep chest. "It's rare because we all know who we are, where our place is, and even newcomers know the rules. You will really confuse them. Then again, fifteen years of my brother's reign has made them cautious about dismissing someone based on looks or apparent prowess. Leyam has greeted you and approved of you; that will protect you from a lot of trouble, though it will procure you as many enemies as friends. Ah, here it is." Darius picked out a flask from a series of bottles in the bottom of a short chest that opened from the front, and then he turned towards the bed, naked, aroused, resplendent. It was terribly distracting.

He crawled onto the bed again, eyes raking over Ryou's body. The open window, the singing guards, the royal court, the somnolent dogs watching them from the blanket near the doorway and the whole press of the immediate future slipped from Ryou's mind. He reached - still a bit hesitant, damn it, but he hid it by moving slowly - to place his palm flat against Darius's bare chest. It was a little too warm in the room for this, even without clothes. Ryou could feel a bead of sweat run down his back. And he wanted to feel more, he wanted the lust in those dark eyes to open him up and dig everything out...If this was one of his one night stands back in Japan, he'd know exactly what to do, he'd be in control, already deep in another's body, a pliant, willing body...and it would be nowhere near as exciting and scary and wanting as this moment right now.

Darius uncorked the flask with one thumb, sending the stopper flying. "Do you mind?" he said, holding it up. His other hand tightened on Ryou's thigh, which clued the latter in. Ryou nodded permission, though this reminded him of something else he'd wanted to ask, something that was really going to be quite pressing in the next minute.

"Darius, just one more question-"

"Aaaah, no more talking," said Darius with a corner smile that looked as hedonistic as a leer.

"Do you always do it...ah, here? Like this?" Ryou asked, watching the drizzle of oil snake its way around his thighs, up to the crook and onto his balls - he shuddered and closed his eyes briefly. Darius made a noise that was amused and full of desire. Ryou could feel the viscous liquid run down his skin like a warm tongue. Oh damn it, they'd hardly done anything yet and he was already this hard-...

"Others embrace from behind," said Darius, voice so low even those bloody mutts by the door would not be able to make out the words, not that the tone left anything to the imagination. "But I like it better this way; especially with you, I just have to be watching your face when you spill-"

"Yes, but," said Ryou, then had to fish around in his memory for what he'd been about to say. Darius's hand was tight on his knee and sliding upwards, the sheer pressure of his fingers as exciting as any caress. "You don't...do penetration?"

Darius's momentary blank look turned into a frown, and his hand stopped. "Ryou, I would never treat you so. You're neither a woman nor a ball-less non-man to rut into like an animal."

Ryou extended a mental apology to the female gender at large and to eunuchs everywhere, but he was not going to fight that one, he was just going to let that slide for now. "I take it men don't do that here."

Darius lay down beside him, chin level with Ryou's stomach. At least he was taking this 'culture gap' notion in stride now, and was not getting too surprised or put off by some of Ryou's questions. "Of course not. I mean, not voluntarily; rape is another matter entirely, as is prostitution. But not between friends, no. A man who'd accept that might as well be a woman. The Greeks believe it threatens the male spirit. Boys who begin to like that sort of stuff turn girly."

The Greeks again. "Is that so."

Darius caught a trickle of oil making its way down Ryou's thigh with his fingertip, and slowly escorted it back up, dragging the nail lightly across the skin. "Well, that's what I was taught. But I hear some Ionians practice it...And then there's Emperor Cornutus Caesar, the predecessor of Galeo the Older. I have it on firm evidence that he used to buy the best hung slaves at the market to service him. Romans, huh? Yet the man could ride a horse, lift a spear and father bastards until he was well past fifty. Terentius knew him personally, he swears to it. So maybe the Greeks don't have the right of it. I guess I never thought it about it much. But I hear some big-headed Roman philosophers spoke in denouncement of men getting ploughed like women. A denouncement they made after Emperor Cornutus passed away and Galeo proved he was only interested in fighting his wife, screwing his mistress and raping other countries. Still, I'd say most Romans consider fucking that way to be degenerate, and if they think that, that's saying something. Besides, the very thought of it- feh."

Feh indeed, thought Ryou, tracing a scar across Darius's shoulder. Well, he'd not been in that much hurry to get taken that way, in truth. And though a little curl of honesty forced him to admit he'd miss that tight, sliding thrust into another body, he preferred Darius - vibrant, stubborn and with those unreasoned prejudices - to some mere sexual sensation...Though perhaps doing it the Greek way had some similarities? Particularly when one had a lover with quite a lot of leg muscle...

"As a whole, I think the better Romans are opposed to what the Greeks do - the erastae, as well as the systematic pairing of the Tiban soldiers. They say it corrupts the youths and is uncouth for the men," said Darius, half his mind on his lecture and the other half on spreading the oil over Ryou's thighs and other, even more sensitive areas. "They're pretty weird over there; a lot of Romans believe in the same asceticism as the Greeks, and they live by that too. They even have Brides of Aten, men as well as women, who stay virgins all their lives. So-called men who voluntarily live as eunuchs and are okay with being called brides; that's pretty weird, but they're proud of it. Every free Roman, from the poorest to the senators, are forbidden from wearing anything other than a tunic and toga, or the long tunic for women. They're quite strict that way. But then while one man's living in this rigid sobriety, his neighbor right next door-"

Ryou made up his mind, reached for the oil and pushed Darius back while the latter was saying something about Romans and goats. Darius looked surprised, then intrigued. Ryou knew himself well enough to realize that he was either going to be the seme or he was going to be virtually immobile again out of cultural conditioning and sheer information overload. The best way of learning about this mutual participation was to let Darius show him what it entailed...And for starters...

"I believe I made a promise earlier," he said, pouring the oil onto Darius the way he'd seen his lover do it. They were making a royal mess of the coverlets. Ahhh the joys of having free labor to do the backbreaking task of washing sheets by hand. Ryou made up his mind that next time, he'd badger Darius into using a towel or blanket they'd keep on purpose and wash on their own, giving some poor slave a little less work and fewer juicy details to talk about.

"Promise? What prom-...ahhhh."

Ryou smiled at that exhalation that was only partly to signal understanding. The way that made his lips move around his lover's sex also produced an appreciative follow-up noise.

"You...don't have to," Darius said after a few seconds, very reluctantly because at this point Ryou had gotten his hands well and truly oily and had gone exploring with his fingers. The scent of the bronze skin and the thick brown hair tickled Ryou's nose. The oil on his hands was plain unscented olive oil, no surprise there; Darius was not the kind to like prissy fragrances. It was almost certainly comestible, which was good, things were undoubtedly going to get messy soon. Ryou lifted his head, letting his mouth draw back sloooowly, and gave his handiwork the assessing look of a perfectionist. That was a start, but surely he could do better.

"Let me," he said without looking up when Darius touched Ryou's hair and started to reiterate that this wasn't necessary. "In my country, keeping an oath, even unspoken, is considered the height of a man's honor."

"...You are teasing me this time," growled Darius in a tone that reminded his audience that teasing Ghan the Beast, leader of the Hounds of Assyria, was probably not something that should be done.

"Just a little. This may be something the younger partner does in your culture, but it's not that clear-cut in mine, so it's not like I mind. We've both got things to learn and unlearn. We might as well get started, unless of course you wanted to talk some more."

Darius's hand was a hard pressure on Ryou's neck, quite an adequate answer. Ryou felt a smile tug his face. He let his fingers slide down from the uncut tip of Darius's erection and travel south, followed by his mouth. Darius made a kind of voiceless sound that was pure sex to Ryou's ears. His own hard-on was starting to ache...Damn, he'd forgotten to ask where sixty nines featured in the sexual landscape of Assyria. But if he broke off for a question now, Darius would probably punch him.

His fingers caressed their way down again, a barely-there pull on the foreskin to let his tongue caress as well. The hand on his neck convulsed but quickly returned to a warm, gentle grasp, and Ryou found that for once he didn't mind, almost found that contact, that shared control, exciting...He swallowed the little foretaste on his tongue. His hand curved, caressed testes, let his fingers trail further down on sensitive skin. Darius's breathing was harsh and all over the map, and his muscles were tensing, strength that rang and shuddered beneath Ryou's palms. Ryou almost pulled back at that point; he was barely getting started...but then again, tiredness was lurking behind his lust, and Darius was going to get up early tomorrow to give the Sura troops hell, so maybe the more involved lovemaking could wait for another day. Ryou let his tongue play one more time in the creases near the tip, and then he slowly moved his mouth down, taking his lover's erection in. His fingers kneaded Darius's thigh and then swept to the balls that were starting to tighten, the caress oily and a little rough; Darius would undoubtedly like his caresses like his lube, unvarnished.

"Uh-..." Darius made a noise that suggested an attempt to remember how to vocalize. "Do you-...ah-...do you swallow-"

Ryou made a sound of affirmation, which was quite enough. A word - Assyrian and untranslatable, but one Ryou heard a lot around soldiers - squeezed out of Darius's mouth as he bucked. Ryou put both hands and mouth to the task of making sure his lover got the most out of the wave rocking his hips and body, swallowing and licking and dredging the pleasure out just that little longer.

Finally Darius's grip moved to Ryou's shoulder and nudged him away. Ryou let the sensitized organ slide from his mouth with one last shuddery lick, and glanced up. His lover was panting, magnificent body spread out on the bed...a sharp ache made Ryou's hand fall to his own erection out of sheer reflex. Damn, but he could come right here and now just looking at this.

Darius's eyes flickered open and he reached down. "Come here," he growled like one of his dogs. Ryou found his shoulder caught in grip that could not be denied and he was hauled up to half fall onto his lover's body.

Ryou could have said at this point that he'd be quite happy to jerk off on the tail end of that short but very appreciated blowjob, like Darius himself had done back at Essin. He could have said that, but the full body contact of hot skin on skin, and the way his dick found itself dragged up against oiled flesh, tripped Ryou's into a new realm of desire and lust and a slow meltdown of self control. With a deep groan he pushed himself down- into- on- oh! Darius's hands were on his lower back, gripping him and sliding up and down, the strength of the fingers against Ryou's skin as strangely erotic as the thrust of his dick into slick heat and pleasure. Ryou knew Darius's spent erection had to be rather sensitive right now- but the man didn't say anything about the weight and friction Ryou was applying to his body, and even used those hands to egg Ryou on, a mouth fastening on Ryou's shoulder in a bite before-

- before pushing him away to half an arm's length, to be able to see Ryou's face.

Ryou shook away the hold with a frustrated noise because now the touch of hot, wet skin was like a drug high and he needed more. Darius laughed, a low sound of approval as he held Ryou up with insolent ease, watching Ryou's face to his content as the latter gasped and felt his body shudder. Ryou's gaze bounced around the bed's headboard, Darius's hungry gaze and then down at their bodies where he was thrusting against his lover's inner thigh. This sensation- it was nothing at all like anal sex and Ryou decided instantly that he didn't mind and this was damn good as it was and he didn't want it to ever stop. Ever. But at the very thought, his traitorous body gave an inner lurch, a start of release that took him by surprise because surely, surely he could have gone on longer, felt that hot sliding touch longer, done it better and with more intent- no- no not yet wait dammit-

Now said another part of him. Now! And now and now and...hmmm, now...

A finger wiped the sweat from his eyebrow, ran teasingly down his nose. Ryou thrust one last time, instinctively chasing the fading tremors of orgasm. He shivered, opened his eyes and blinked into focus. When it didn't come, he remembered his glasses on the floor along with his clothes. It felt like a bit of a comedown somehow, but then Darius let him sink forward until they were lying body to body. Ryou's common sense informed him it was really, really too hot for that sort of thing, but most of him loved it, just like he loved the arm Darius had snaked around his waist to hold him tight.

"So," Ryou eventually murmured against the warmth of Darius's shoulder, "will I be welcome in your bed too, in the coming days?"

"Counting on it," mumbled Darius from somewhere near Ryou's right bicep.

"I'll be sure to have plenty of new questions by then."

That earned him a slap on the rump and then a good natured shove to roll him off. The bedroom felt almost cool for a few seconds as sweat evaporated, and then the heat leapt back on him again.

"We made a mess of your covers," Ryou said, reaching off the bed for his glasses.

"Fuck the covers," said Darius with great conviction, using a corner to wipe off and then leaning back, one arm folded beneath his head. He closed his eyes, but then one cracked open and he frowned. "Damn, forgot the candles."

"I'll get them," said Ryou, standing up and noting with satisfaction the wonderfully languid feel in his body and the lack of stress in his mind.

Darius grunted his thanks. Ryou stretched, arms over his head, and then he walked over to the tall candle holder Darius had brought into the room with him earlier. He blew out the five flames, put the cap onto the oil lamp he himself had been using before Darius showed up, and turned back towards the bed. His lover was already asleep, stretched out naked on the covers in the grey-blue light from the stars and moon outside the windows. Ryou looked down at him in wonder. This...this right here was one of those moments in life that stayed self-contained and vibrant in one's mind, a memory he'd look back to much later and think, whatever else happened, at that particular moment life was really good. An immortal moment. Though one without a camera which was a pity, because damn...Ryou smiled at the thought. He'd been smiling a lot these days. He'd probably smiled more in the last month than in the whole previous year. Hopefully there wasn't some kind of quota.

He went to bed naked too because he didn't have any bedclothes yet, and also because it was hot and it really did not seem to matter much anymore, a good feeling all in all. Completely relaxed, he slept five solid hours without twitching, that faint smile still on his face and one hand resting on Darius's thigh, until the first ray of light broke across the sky.

End

Note: Now, I was constrained by my ten minute research rule, but a lot of this is researched nonetheless, if not cross-referenced (Ryou would be disappointed in me). The two varieties of Greek slash, erastae and military, the huge predominance of intracrural sex, the greek ideal of men and lovers, what the Romans thought of all that - kind of mixed, from what I could tell - the presence of cross-genderism in ancient cultures, etc. Then there's also a lot I changed on the fly or made up to give more detail and accentuate that these cultures have changed and evolved over the thousands of years. I urge anyone who's curious to do more research, because even if some details are unpleasant *doesn't like the idea of eromenos, no, not at all, even with the blanket excuse of 'it's a very different culture'* it's still all quite fascinating and a needed change from the idiocies we come across in our own sad society on the subject of LGBT in general. Mind you, it's very hard to find out more details and cross-reference for reliability, as the matter has suffered from lack of historical research and also centuries of various form of censorship...

Now, Mal is going to bed, because Ryou curling up next to Darius like that is making me sleepy. Next solo chapter should be out in two or three weeks.

Ofic: Out, part 26 - End of the first arc

2009-08-30T05:00:55Z

I can't believe I've actually finished this...So many ideas barely strung together that I managed to beat into shape in amazingly short time (by my standards). Not only is this finished, but I have the rest coming along pretty well. Big thanks to all you wonderful readers who reviewed, found typos and told me which parts made you laugh/cry/call your local psychiatric clinic. I know from previous experience that I would never have gotten this far if I hadn't had people cheering (and occasionally threatening) me on.

Link to all chapters

Part 26

Ryou waited until the sound of his lover's footsteps faded, then he hoisted himself out of the bath. He didn’t feel like wallowing in luxury just now. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but he didn't want to stay alone in this ringing open space with the occasionally echoing drip of condensation as only punctuation to his thoughts. He walked over to the alcove where the bath attendants had placed towels and Ryou's dirty, travel-worn clothes. It was a shame to slip into that after finally getting thoroughly clean, but it wasn't as if he had much choice in the matter. Ryou currently had two pieces of clothing to his name, that and the tunic Darius had given him, which was in a small pack last seen tied to his horse; who knew where it was now.

The bath was rich with the scent of oil, water, wet stone and soap, but a new smell made Ryou wrinkle his nose in surprise; a heady fragrance like incense.

"I can see what he sees in you."

Ryou spun around, shock a heavy weight in his chest.

Leyam Sirrian, King of Assyria, was standing two meters away, leaning against the pillar of the alcove and looking Ryou up and down with the disinterested appreciation one would give a marble statue. He was wearing an embroidered wrap of yellow silk, loose sleeves high up the arm, carelessly belted in front so that Ryou could see that the only thing beneath it was the same short skirt as before. A woman's style but quite informal, especially when contrasted with what the Bitch King would consider formal. He'd come to have that further word with his brother, Ryou immediately guessed. That meant he might have overheard part of their conversation about him. The thought compounded Ryou's vulnerability at finding himself alone in the presence of the king of this land without Darius acting as a buffer, and Ryou naked and dripping wet to boot. The only way he could feel more exposed and defenseless was if his glasses had gone missing.

And what was worse, Ryou was intimately convinced that Leyam knew it.

Leyam moved towards Ryou, bringing one hand out from behind his back, and Ryou got another nasty surprise when he saw the king was holding the bracer Darius had given him.

"These were costly," said Leyam, looking down at the piece. "Not just in money; I had to personally pray at the altar of Hygeia for three days and make many a sacrifice for these to be done for my brother. Such objects cannot be bought with mere coin alone, and they are worn by heroes and legends. As for this," Leyam added, tilting the bracer to glance down at the circle symbol of the moon, "only members of the immediate family can wear this crest etched in bronze, gold or silver."

Ryou wet his lips with his tongue. His mouth was dry despite the humidity of the baths. "I didn't know-"

Leyam interrupted him by holding out the bracer in a careless manner as if nothing had been said. But he was watching Ryou's face out of the corner of his eye. Ryou did not look away and kept his expression set on neutral as he slowly reached out and took the piece of armor from Leyam's hand.

The king didn't say anything. Ryou knew this was some kind of statement or test, but he could not tell if he'd passed or failed. Leyam's smile was as breezy as before, maybe a tad more artificial as if he did not care as much to make it convincing. What was beneath it, though, Ryou could not begin to tell. This mask, mobile and pleasant as it was, was more adept than Ryou's. Both he and Leyam had hid their feelings since roughly the same age, but while Ryou had lived with nothing but constrictions to reinforce it, Leyam had survived several years of death threats with the fate of his country hanging in the balance.

"This is my first time meeting an Inlander," said Leyam conversationally. "And a powerful magian to boot."

Here we go, thought Ryou. "Whatever your brother may have implied, I'm not really a magian. I have some abilities, but I have no idea of how to use them and my control is very sketchy. I was extremely lucky to make it so far."

"Hmm, I doubt that," said Leyam, taking a lazy step forward as if he wanted to look at the baths through the arch of the alcove and hadn't noticed Ryou was partially blocking his way. Ryou, once more acutely aware that he was naked, shuffled back half a step. He discreetly reached down for one of the towels on a nearby bench- but Leyam turned towards him so suddenly it made Ryou instinctively straighten and turn to face him once more.

"Soldiers are great believers in lucks, gods and such not," said Leyam, stopping right in Ryou's personal space to look at a detail of the mosaic over Ryou's shoulder, a fish with the face of a dog. "But you and I are not soldiers. We are clever men who live by our wits and not our muscles. The results of our actions may sometimes look like luck, but it's always calculated risk and we have a way of getting the odds on our side."

"I suppose," said Ryou, taking a half step to the left this time.

The fragrance of incense doubled in strength as the king was suddenly at his side, leaning terribly close.

"Let me tell you a little secret," Leyam whispered conspiratorially. "I distrust clever men. The cleverer they are, the more I distrust them; a Greek mathematician could probably make an equation out of it."

Ryou found himself backed against the tiles of the wall.

Leyam took a step away and held up one finger as if bringing it to Ryou's attention. "Let me show you why I distrust intelligent people. I only arrived for the last three stanzas of the tale - and what a tale, yes?"

The silence stretched until Ryou opened his mouth to say something, and then Leyam rolled right over the first syllable. "Darius told you that I'd asked him to never dissemble, did he not? That's the part he always brings up. My brother thinks it's because I respect his nature and wanted him to stay true to himself and be my guide. But what do you think my reasons were?"

"What? I don't know, how could I-"

"Oh of course you do," said Leyam laughingly as if Ryou was being purposely coy to tease him. "Come on. Tell me." The grin widened, just as Darius's had before he cut off Prince Yrmah's fingers. "Now."

Ryou could have repeated that he didn't know. And he didn't. Though it was true that an uneasy supposition had crossed his mind while listening to Darius earlier...But it wasn't the kind of thing he'd want to discuss, even if it wasn't complete guesswork. No, reiterating his complete ignorance would be the wise and rational thing to do.

'I distrust clever men,' was what Leyam had just said...This was Darius's brother, Darius loved him and trusted him. Maybe this was an occasion where being honest and straightforward would be more valuable than being clever.

"I imagine it was a gamble," Ryou said, voice a little tight. He cleared his throat. "It was a gamble for you, to play a, er, a-"

"Decadent Roman girly-boy," Leyam provided helpfully.

"Right," Ryou croaked. "It got your uncle to drop his guard and take you into his inner circle where you could core it from the inside, and bring about the downfall of the men who'd sold out your country. But it was a gamble whether you would still be able to convince your own countrymen you weren't totally, uh-"

"Degenerate," suggested Leyam, still being helpful. Ryou wished he wouldn't.

"So it occurred to me..." Ryou gripped his bracer in his hands. He couldn't believe he was about to say this to his lover's brother, right to the man's face; Ryou had no proof of what he was about to advance, this wasn't a fact in any way, shape or form. But it was a reasoning, it made sense, especially with what he now knew of Leyam. He'd learned a lot from Darius's tale, and he'd learned even more in the past two minutes. What he did not know was how Leyam was going to react to his words. Ryou was just going to have to trust that behind that flashy mask was a man he could reach out to and convince and who still knew how to trust in turn...

"It occurred to me that if the loyal Assyrians could not accept you as their King, you had another man of your father's bloodline who could step in and replace you. A man you'd shaped into a warrior-prince, who would always have been seen as defiant despite all the humiliations and punishment inflicted upon him. A contrast to what you'd, that is, what you had appeared to have become. A last resort if you were losing control of the situation, since for Darius to take your place, you'd have to be-...Of course this is just a theory, I apologize, I know absolutely nothing about this country or the situation or-"

"Yes, but you are quite right, which just goes to illustrate my point about clever men," said Leyam with a toothy smile. "There are very few people in the known world and beyond who have guessed what you've just told me. My brother is not one of them, and I wish to keep it that way. Yet you, who have only just arrived, heard this secret through his unknowing words. I don't like men who can think at my level. You can see that, right? If Cassius Leius had thought at my level, I'd be dead by now or worse. Do you think it was a good plan?"

"What?" Ryou asked weakly.

Leyam took a final step forward. Ryou backed away- and had to catch himself against the tiles as his knees pressed back into the stone bench and nearly tripped him. "Would Darius have made a good king? Better than I?" The smile was suddenly gone and what took its place was ugly and shrewd and right in Ryou's face. "Would it be better if I suddenly dropped dead and my brother took the throne? Answer. Now."

"I can't answer a question like that! How can you possibly say such a thing?" Ryou said, reining in a reflex flicker of anger at the preposterous demand, the insistence and the fact that he was not being allowed to even pick up a towel. "You're his brother, he loves you- we should not even be talking about this. He'd not be a good king anyway, he can't sit down three days to besiege a city, he's not got the patience to- not that he's- I meant-" Ryou's brain finally caught up with his mouth and put a stopper on it. The full import of Leyam's question had just struck Ryou and he was suddenly aware he'd snapped at a man who could have him killed in any number of barbaric ways without a trial, and who apparently found him suspicious enough to indirectly accuse him of plotting against him.

But instead of calling for the guards, Leyam had leaned back with an odd quirk to his mouth as if Ryou had poked him. The threatening veneer was gone as abruptly as it had appeared, leaving Ryou's head spinning.

"So that's what you think?"

Ryou just stood there, naked and dripping, and looked at Leyam helplessly.

"You people don't have kings, do you."

"...What? Well, as a matter of fact, we do. Have an Emperor. He's...it's different."

"It must be, if you do not realize that being a good monarch or a bad monarch is pretty much irrelevant. Oh, the country might suffer some, but in the end the important thing is to have a King, and Darius would fill the role adequately enough." Ryou was favored with a long, hard scrutiny. "Rand was right about one thing."

"...Rand?"

"Yes. He put together a detailed account of your interaction with my brother and what he himself thought of you. He did find the balance of his trust weighing in your favor, you know, which is pretty good since you have to admit that the train of events that led you to associate with Darius is weighed down by at least one massive coincidence, while the rest of it sounds well-nigh insane. But he concluded by saying he wasn't sure of anything because he found you extremely hard to read. You are. Fortunately your words are not as guarded as your face."

"I'm sorry if I offended you," said Ryou, hoping a blanket apology would suffice because right now he wasn't sure anymore which part of the conversation he was apologizing for.

"It takes considerably more than that to offend me, Ujiie Ryou," said Leyam, pronouncing the name perfectly. "And what your words told me was that you really are clever, dangerously clever, but that you don't seem to have much of an agenda here and that you're so enamored with my brother it's embarrassing to watch."

Ryou's eyebrows twitched upwards at the tone, and Leyam grinned as if Ryou had formulated his objection to that out loud. "No, no, you have to concede my words. Here I am, proposing my sudden demise to let the man you're bedding become King of Assyria and head of the Alliance against Rome. There were so many pitfalls waiting for your answer, so many assurances of loyalty you should have made, so many blessings to ward me from harm you should have called down upon my head...and all you could think to say is that Darius would hate it because he'd be bored?"

Show them nothing, thought Ryou grimly, calling up his full control to hide the wash of feelings - some of them quite irritated - as well as to keep a flush from invading his face. "That is not what I said."

Leyam burst out laughing, a snorting bray that didn't suit his appearance or character at all, yet sounded more real than anything Ryou had heard so far from the Bitch King of Assyria. "But that's exactly right and you know it! Well, well, of all the people I was afraid the mutt would one day drag home, he chooses an intelligent man of distinction, sensibility and restraint. What is the world coming to? The Veil and the Grand Design must be unraveling."

"I know the account of my arrival here must seem truly amazing," said Ryou, discreetly grabbing a towel and some control over his part of this conversation along with it. "But it's the simple truth. And really, if I'd had any bad intentions, I would have found a better story to allay suspicions."

"Oh? I find that the more stupendously crazy the story, the easier it is to fool everyone," said Leyam brightly.

He'd be the one to know, Ryou conceded dourly. He shoved up his glasses and forged on ahead. "Look, I don't think there is a way for me to prove myself at this point, not if Darius's account couldn't convince you, but given time-"

He was interrupted by an effeminate flap of Leyam's wrist. "Oh, don't be so tense. I've decided to trust you."

"...Really? You'd trust an intelligent and powerful magian who's become entangled with your brother under such strange circumstances?" Ryou challenged bluntly.

Leyam's eyes gleamed. "Hell no, I wouldn't trust you worth a damn on the strength of that alone. But Darius trusts you. It's not the kind of reliance he has in that motley pack who follow him like faithful dogs; he trusts you," said the king, raised fist pressed into his chest to underline what he meant. "I haven't seen him do that in a long, long time. Damn, he trusts you even more than that dead Greek of his, or at least he treats you considerably better. You and I are clever men, and clever men trust nobody. Darius is not clever. Oh, he's not dumb; you can put away that frown. Though I'm glad to see you make an expression, I was beginning to feel like I was talking to the bath's statuary. Darius has had no formal education since the age of eight, but one does not need to be able to recite the Codex and the Gathas to be able to think, plan and destroy an enemy army. Darius does not rely on his reason to trust someone, though; the mutt goes entirely by instinct. My sense of reason would not give you the benefit of whatever slim doubt there is, it would have no cause to do so, but if Darius trusts you that much, I'll rely on his judgment. I've done so before on a few occasions and it's never led me wrong. And you'll trust me for the same reason, right?" Leyam added, speaking loudly and fast as he grabbed a startled Ryou by the arm and pulled him energetically towards the exit to the baths. "My little brother is terribly blind to all my faults, but he does love me, may Ashur give him some guidance, and so you must love me too eventually."

"Wait- where are we-"

"To get you something to wear." They were already out of the marble and tile refuge and walking along the covered portico outside. The warm evening breeze blow-dried the last drops on Ryou's back in passing while the towel, not big to start with, was slipping from its position around his hips. "Those rags back there are not fit for one who has become close to my family. Isn't this wonderful? I feel like I've gained a second brother!"

"But I'm not dressed!"

"Yes, that's the point."

"I'm naked."

"In this heat, so should we all be," said Leyam without any hint of the answer being meant as flip, reminding Ryou that nudity was not a taboo here. "Come on, we'll roust the clothmakers and see you fitted out. They won't have time to make much tonight, but I'm sure we can get you decently clothed before the sun god once more rides out into the skies. Nope, this way. Come!"

Chamrosh and Zuru, who’d been curled up on a blanket near the entrance, suddenly perked up and leapt to their feet. Seated in a window alcove on the other side of the room, Ryou turned from his study of Sura's night to also watch the door. He could hear footsteps and the mutter of instructions from the hallway outside, punctuated by the occasional, "Yes sir." Then Darius opened the two-paneled fretwork door and pushed aside the tapestry with one last nod at the departing underling.

The dogs were up and panting happily, waiting for attention. Darius glanced around as he rubbed their ears. "Ryou? Ah, there-...what the..."

Ryou followed the direction of Darius's stare and glanced down at himself. The last hour had been very instructional. For instance, Ryou now understood how very modern the idea of clothes retail was. Everything in Assyria was made to measure or modified to suit, even the linen skirts of the slaves or the rough tunics of the laborers. On the other hand, Ryou had learned how amazingly fast a unique creation of couture could be made when it was the King of Assyria who commanded it. Back in Leyam's chambers, the King had clapped his hands, given an order and ten minutes later a naked Ryou was getting measured with knotted ropes. Then he'd been practically sewn into a set of trousers and short linen tunic of a green so dark it was almost black, all taking shape around him and for him. Silk ribbons of golden material embroidered with green and brown thread were stitched right into the hem while Ryou stood there. The ribbons also crossed around the knees and thighs of the trousers to fit them to his legs and cinch in the waist.

The tailor had apologized, bent deeply at the waist, for the simplicity of the garments due to the lateness of the time and one of his workers being dead drunk; tomorrow morning first thing he would beat the man and then get Ryou a few more additional essentials. The only thing that did not get made from bolts of linen on the spot was the knee-length sleeveless surcoat, because nothing the tailor had on hand would be fine enough for the King's guest. Cloth would have to be made to order. In the meantime, Leyam had one of his servants fish a couple of decorated tunics out from wherever the royal clothes were kept. The tailor left his two sober assistants to finish Ryou's tunic while he took the hand-me-downs apart and redesigned them from the ground up. Ryou was looking down at the result now. When Leyam had said Ryou was to be clothed in purple, he'd not messed about; it was a rich, deep color, linen woven so fine it almost felt like silk, sturdy yet light. Dark brown brocaded panels inset with onyx and gold squares were sown onto the chest, where the garment tied shut with two brown and golden ropes. The king had been there the whole time, needless to say, giving additional instructions to the tailor with the glee of the truly fashionable Assyrian, and then grilling Ryou about the latter's home country whenever the servants, slaves and hired hands wandered out of earshot.

Ryou had been dropped off at Darius's quarters by two of Leyam's personal guard, after having been given the royal order to have a good night with no bad dreams. That was ten minutes ago. His head was still spinning a little.

"Darius, your brother-..." Is phenomenally smart, machiavellian and weird to the point of being manic. That gaudy, giddy mask of his is so thick that I'm not sure even he knows where it begins and ends any more, but he uses it with undefeatable assurance. Beneath all the panache he's bloody scary, and his enemies are right: the dresses and the makeup and not knowing how loony he really is only makes him scarier, not less. "Ah, your brother is an interesting man."

"Leyam, huh? I should have known." Darius joined him at the window, looking him up and down slowly. "Well, whatever he chooses to wear, you have to concede he's got good taste. You look...different. Assyrian. Why are you still up? The moon has been out for nearly a qa, I thought that lucky bastard Morpheus would be whispering in your ear by the time I turned in."

"I wasn't sleepy just yet," Ryou lied. In truth he was exhausted, but the uncertainties of the day and Leyam on top of all that had wound him up and he did not think he could sleep if he tried. Fortunately none of this made it through his restored composure, so Darius took it at face value and nodded.

They both turned as one to watch the night outside. The Noble Quarters were in a wing off of the main royal building. They were at the top of the hill that was the royal enclave, so though Darius's chambers were only a story up, they could see the wall surrounding the palace and the steep fall of the city below. Lights glimmered here and there, a warmer reflection of the stars above. The Taibor was a faintly luminescent shimmer at the near horizon. Ryou wondered if boats poled up and down it even now, heading towards the Paths of Zaratusra and other alien lands.

"So what do you think of my home?" Darius asked, staring out into the night.

"It's beautiful." And dangerous, but at this point it was what Ryou had come to expect of the Outlands. He did have a considerable ally, though, standing at his side and watching the stars above the city. And though Ryou expected Leyam to scrutinize him very carefully over the next few weeks, it seemed the king was at least halfway ready to give Ryou the benefit of the doubt. Since there was very little Ryou could do here that was suspicious, innocent and lost as he was, Leyam would eventually see that he was harmless and would hopefully accept him as well.

Maybe then Ryou might feel a little less...foreign. He hadn't traveled all that much outside of Japan; three times to the US, once to Norway. He'd been struck at how alien those places were, the little details as well as the large ones. He really hadn't had a clue...Assyria and the Outlands weren't just some foreign tourist location, either. Ryou watched the night outside and finally confronted the thought that, if he stayed here, he was going to have to think differently and become a different person. He already had, of course, and some of the changes had been for the best and long overdue, but it wasn't going to stop there. He was going to have to get tougher, more decisive, and his moral compass was going to get quite a change in direction too. This world was brutal and didn't have any of the safety nets a modern man took for granted. A lot of it also made his civilized instincts recoil. And the sheer otherness of this society was like a constant pressure; he just could not imagine himself ever getting used to it, of walking through these palace halls or dusty streets a year from now as if he belonged...

A breeze shook the palm trees, a dry rattle like bones. Ryou had to grimly admit that he was scared. He just wasn't sure what scared him the most; of changing too much, turning into some amoral mercenary who did not care about anything beyond the safety of his own little coterie of lover, friends and family...or of not being able to change at all, of always being a stranger in a strange land until he couldn't stand it anymore and had to leave.

Ryou snuck a peek at Darius's profile on the heels of that thought...His lover was scowling faintly, leaning far out of the window and looking to the right. Ryou turned that way, twisting in the window seat and leaning out to see what had caught Darius's attention. That's when he noticed someone was singing; he'd been ignoring it so far with the ease of a long-time apartment dweller used to tuning out televisions and radios. But it wasn't some impersonal machine out there...Ryou searched for the singer, but caught sight of something else before he could pinpoint the location. Thirty meters away, in the garden with the peacocks near Ashur's hall, three girls were bathing in the waters of the burbling fountain. Ryou looked away immediately, but he'd still caught sight of them; teenagers, bodies young and lithe but womanly already.

It was while he was trying to find something else to fix his eyes upon that Ryou found the source of the singing. The palace had series of flat roofs, some pillared and covered to make patios, others open. On the highest of the latter, two soldiers were standing near the balustrade. One was leaning over it, the other had just one arm planted there. Ryou could see the pair quite well at this angle thanks to the moonlight. Not well enough to make out their faces, but from their posture and the voices, he could guess they were both pretty young. Boys were taken into the army as young as fourteen, Ryou knew from his time with the Hounds. If he had to make a guess, he'd put those two between sixteen and eighteen; only a little older than the girls bathing right below the spot the guards had just happened to pick to stake out their watch and insure the security of the royal palace. The girls washed as if they were completely deaf to the singing, but Ryou doubted people really washed off that gracefully if they were just intent on getting the day's dirt off quickly before going to bed.

The garden was quiet bar the splashing and the chirp of insects. In that hush, the two young voices, simple and untrained, sounded strikingly beautiful. But warbling away was almost certainly not what these two were supposed to be doing...Ryou felt his lips twitch as he glanced from the unfortunate guards to the commander of the Hounds at his side. Oh dear, he thought, catching sight of the expression he rather expected on Darius's face.

"Tomorrow morning before the sun even rises, I'm rousting every single officer in this garrison and giving them a talking to. Then I'm conducting wholesale training in full armor and battle conditions throughout the whole goddamned afternoon. Racing, wrestling, target throws, the works. Nineel the Tezalian is in charge of the city defenses," he added, misinterpreting Ryou's glance as a question. "But it's well understood that, illegitimate get that I am, I still have precedence by right of blood, and fuck if I'm letting that kind of laxity spawn worse ones. They’d let the goddamn Roman army march right through here if they got dancing girls to precede them." He grumbled something else under his breath and looked ready to shove away from the balustrade to go have a word right now...but instead he stayed leaning against the windowsill next to Ryou, who was listening to the notes in the darkness.

Ryou settled back, obscurely reassured. He was still tense and worried deep down, more than he'd ever been since the age of thirteen. He was also more alive than he'd ever been since the age of thirteen. He had to trust himself in the face of these dangers and unknowns. If the past few weeks had shown him anything, it was that he was more resourceful than he'd previously thought. Besides, not everything here was strange and unquantifiable. He knew Darius, to start with. The Hounds he'd met were not like anyone he'd known back home, but they were straightforward men and he'd gotten along well with them. He even had a bit of a grasp on Leyam, which was undoubtedly more than a lot of people could say. Ryou found himself smiling as he listened to the young men singing under the moonlight. At the end of the day, these Outlanders had strange and obscure customs, but people were people...

The girls soon finished their bath, dried off, wrapped themselves in long robes and departed with a swing of the hips that might have been meant as tempting and mature, but merely came off as young. The soldiers stopped singing and started circling their station once more, and Ryou and Darius looked out into the warm night, side by side for a little longer.

End of the first arc

So what's next? Well, I have 3 chapters, one-shots in a way, that I'll drop in here over the next two months. They could have been added to the first arc, but they stand better alone. Plus the chronology might get dicey if I decide to push back writing the third of these chapters. Then there's three more arcs which are all approx. 20% written. They're not as long as the first arc, but that's still quite a lot of writing to go through. I don't know when I'll start posting those, but hopefully not too far in the future.

Mal over and out for now.

Ofic: Out, part 25

2009-08-23T20:31:43Z

Next chapter! This one is a departure from the norm, as it includes flashback sections (which will hopefully read clearly). Enjoy!

Link to all chapters

Part 25

Though the style was wildly different, the principle of Sura's royal bath was similar to onsen, and Ryou found himself oddly reassured by this small familiarity. The light supper served on the benches of a warm anteroom was excellent; fine bread free of grit, meat that didn't taste a little funny, fruit that was not even slightly withered. The wine was almost as good as the one Ryou had barely tasted in Leyam's chambers. Urtupati took great care in shaving Ryou and anointing him with various fragrant oils, and then he gave Ryou a massage that felt like that Roman deserter, Gaius, working him over again. It wasn't for the faint of heart, but once Ryou cleaned off the oil, soaped, rinsed off and then slipped into the large basin of warm water with Darius, he felt just about as good as he'd ever felt since coming to the Outlands.

The basin walls had tiers so that bathers could sit and recline with the water up to their chests. Ryou sank down in the warmth with a groan of relief.

Darius smirked. "Still doing fine, I take it?"

"Better than fine now. Thanks."

The sun was setting outside of the large open balcony. It must never get cold here, Ryou concluded drowsily. Right now the temperature was hot but agreeable with the evening breeze, particularly in conjunction with the bath itself, warm from the hypocaust. Ryou soaked in bliss, watching the faint current chivvy around packets of herbs that'd been tossed into the water to perfume and purify it. The water came directly from the aqueduct, Darius said, and was heated and piped into the various baths before flowing outside and making its way through what the locals called 'the scented gardens', due to the fragrances, oils and soap that soaked the soil.

They were alone now, to Ryou's relief. Three men, two with slave marks, had been hovering around them all the time while they ate and washed off. Ryou hadn't felt comfortable with their subservient presence, just a minor part of the greater moral discomfort of the notion of slavery in the Outlands which, he had to admit, was probably what bugged him about this place the most, even more than wars and killing. It was also an intrinsic part of life from here to the Maurya Empire and beyond, so Ryou was trying to drop his qualms into the same oubliette he was putting a few other things such as animal sacrifice, women's rights and absolute monarchy. But with Urtupati and his brethren hovering around obsequiously and calling him My Lord, it wasn’t quite as easy...

Darius muttered a curse, and Ryou cracked open an eyelid, glad of the distraction from his increasingly sterile thoughts. The two of them had settled in one of the corners of the square pool so they could sit on the underwater tiers at right angles and talk easily, rather than across the four meters of the basin’s width. Darius was removing the disks braided in his hair and attacking the latter with a comb, with mitigated success. Darius had ignored the presence of the slaves and servants throughout the evening with the habit of a lifetime, though he'd oiled and scraped himself, refusing a massage. Ryou wasn't surprised, Darius was self-reliant by both nature and necessity, not having these amenities on the field of battle. He could have used some help with his hair, though. It'd probably not been properly shampooed and combed since the hospital in Tokyo, as Darius would not have taken time out for that much barbering on the eve of the battle of Essin, and he and Ryou had been on the move ever since.

"Need some help with that?" Ryou asked.

Darius just gave an amused snort as if Ryou had made some ridiculous and even slightly indecent joke. Apparently a man did not take care of another man's hair, not unless the first man was property and thus did not count. Ryou did not insist.

Ryou watched him for awhile, mind wandering back over the earlier part of the evening. He had a lot of questions...and he was waiting for Darius to say something, Ryou realized. He was afraid of touching on some sore point if he just asked straight out 'so, how long has your brother been cross-dressing?' Ryou shook his head, sending a drop flying from his hair before it could put another streak of moisture on his glasses. Right, maybe he should wait until Darius said something, and Darius would wait until Ryou asked, and then they'd be back where they were in Essin with something desperate going on and Ryou would have to jump through dimensional hoops in order to get his answers. Waiting for an auspicious moment to talk about cultural differences like animal sacrifices were one thing; but if Ryou was going to be cautious regarding important and personal details concerning his lover, the man he was forging a relationship with, then he might as well have returned to Japan and gone through with his marriage to the proper, intelligent and mother-approved Misuko-san.

Darius tossed down the comb and submerged briefly to rinse his hair. Then he shook himself like Chamrosh coming out of a stream, leaned back and picked up the wine goblet on a tray one of the nameless slaves had left within easy reach before discreetly disappearing.

Ryou cleared his throat. It sounded loud in the baths after the short silence. "Darius, I wanted to ask you, ah, your brother-"

Darius burst out laughing, sending raucous echoes bouncing around the tiles.

"You should have seen your face back in the Hall!"

"His appearance did catch me off guard," Ryou said stiffly. His faint undertone of accusation made his lover laugh even harder. "Great, I'm glad you find it amusing. Do you think I offended him?"

"With that golden mask you wear? No, I don't think anyone who doesn't know you would have noticed anything out of the ordinary in your behaviour. And even if he did, Leyam would expect that kind of reaction. Hell, he courts it."

Darius splashed water over his shoulder, still grinning, and then without preamble or change of expression he said, "My father, king Narseh-Allit, was murdered seventeen years ago in front of the temple of Enlil by five men, two of whom were supposed to be his guards. We never found them or who was behind it, though it's pretty obvious in hindsight. The motherless bastards also killed Queen Sophrone who was with him, and our little sister, a babe in arms, the merciless fucks. That left the reins of power flapping in the air, and blood flowed thick that day. Leyam and I were out in the practice grounds at the time, training our archery. We were found there by some soldiers from Sophrone's personal guard and isolated for three days while their officers decided who they should follow, who they could trust and who was likely to pay them their wages. When we emerged, Leyam was king, though nobody would stand to his banner because of his age. He was eleven. I was eight."

Ryou was silent. Nothing he could say would measure up to that, and Darius's straightforward tone did not require any sympathetic background noises.

"Tensions had been growing between a lot of factions the year before, mainly between those who wanted to put all our army into helping the Alliance push the Legions out of the Free Cities, and the cowardly jackals who wanted to insure we became an ally and protectorate of the Imperium so we could be the strongest, Rome-supported power in our region. When the king was murdered, all hell broke loose; like fighting dogs dropped into the arena. Dozens more were dead before the priests of Enlil had even the time to lay my father out on a bier. Things were real messy that year as first one camp then the other gained the support of the noble families and the provinces. I didn't really perceive any of this," Darius added dryly as he scrubbed his beard in fresh water. "I'd been brought up to go into the army, so my father never bothered teaching me much about politics. All I knew was that our tutors tended to disappear without a trace every three months, and new ones appear; some would give us our lessons in Assyrian, others in Latin, and none would let us out even as far as the gardens. I made their lives miserable; I don't do well locked indoors. Leyam was the one who had to live with the knowledge that at any moment a faction might take power that would see the benefit of not having a prince and a bastard of the old king walking around...Then that motherfucker Cassius Leius won the political game and took over."

"A Roman?" asked Ryou, surprised.

"No, a Ionian from the city-state of Hellias. I think his name of birth was Castor Liex, but he was so pro-Roman he made Emperor Galleo look lukewarm by comparison. As he was the younger brother of Queen Sophrone, he couldn't take my father's throne, but he was blood-related to Leyam and had lots of powerful cronies, so he could be regent. He had to reign through Leyam, which meant he was only going to be able to do it for a few years. Unless by then Leyam could be persuaded to have Cassius continue on as his deputy."

"I see."

"The day after he took power, we became a Roman Protectorate, rot his heart. He exiled any who were too vocal about it, then he invited a contingent of Legionaries into the 'difficult' provinces and even in Sura to keep the peace. Which I have to say, they were very good at. Nothing like the crucifying a few opponents and their families along the highways to insure that people stay quiet. Bar that, the Legions are disciplined and always behave with restraint towards the inhabitants of occupied territories, which is what we fucking well were to all intents and purposes. Good thing my father was already dead, or he'd have died at the humiliation...

"At that time I was separated from Leyam and dropped out of sight into the barracks. It did me a world of good. I told you I was a little piece of work when I was young, right? Well, some old veterans of my father's campaigns protected me for his sake, but they sure didn't put up with any shit. I tasted leather on a near daily basis for a long time. I was a cocky little fuck, tall for my age, strong, well trained by the best since I was old enough to walk, pretty good looking - I take after my mother that way, I'm told. Let me tell you, I'd made my sacrifice to Ishhara by the time I was thirteen, with a temple-street girl of sixteen who thought I was older than she was and who gave it to me for free. So yeah, back when I was nine, I was doing okay. But Leyam had been taken into the palace to become a perfect Roman-style ruler under Cassius's thumb. And I was starting to hear funny things about my brother. Some said he was cowed by the king's murder and the threat he was living under, and it was warping him. Real Assyrians said that what was warping him was that Roman-loving jackal teaching him to be a degenerate; that's why he spent all his days indoors playing with dolls, behaving like a deviant with the slaves and dressing like a girl."

Ryou, startled, paused with his own wine cup near his lips. The whole drag thing suddenly sounded considerably more sinister...

"Yeah," said Darius, catching Ryou's change of expression. "You get it. But at the time...I was young, I saw things no further than a child does. I never wondered, never questioned, I'd just thrash the hides of cadets two heads taller than me for rumor-monging about my brother, our king, the fickle swine. I was waiting for Leyam to grow a couple of years older and kick Cassius out of the country, and then things would be the same as when we were children. They called us the prince and the half-prince of Assyria back then. Leyam has the presence and the mind of a future King, I had the brawn and the courage to become his general; we were the pride of our family, of our country. That was the future we'd once had before us, the one I thought we still had; we'd be the prince and the half-prince once more and we would not be touched or tainted by what was going on in the world.

"I learned. So did the world. It learned to call us by two very different names by the time we were grown."

***

"Hi Leyam," said Darius, leaping to the ground from the window. "Nice dress."

"Go hang yourself," said Leyam without bothering to look up from the scroll he was reading. He was always reading. He'd pretend to read De Historia Imperi, but he really read the texts Darius filched for him from the library and temples. Boring stuff to a nine-year-old, all about past politics rather than wars, and mostly in Greek, which Darius had never mastered much beyond the alphabet.

Leyam was wearing a pink affair and two red skirts adorned with silver tassels. Darius didn't think about it much anymore, beyond noting that his brother didn't look all that good in that color. He knew the dresses were a way of bullying and punishing his brother for refusing to be turned into a nice little Roman. If he had to choose between dressing like a Roman boy or an Assyrian girl, it'd be just like Leyam to choose the latter. Darius obscurely approved, though he didn't know why Leyam put up with it at all. But Leyam had always been like that. He'd not get into an undignified scrap outright, he'd just take twice the revenge later. Darius had good cause to know; before they'd lost the king last year, the brothers had already been close, but half their interaction had been a running battle of astonishing ferocity that would only be set aside if a tutor or an older boy from the court proved to be a greater, common enemy.

That was behind them now. They had the greatest common enemy of all times. Fucking 'uncle' Cassius.

Darius repeated it out loud, just for the pleasure of it.

"Please come up with other words," said Leyam snidely as he tilted the scroll to the lamplight. "You spend too much time in the barracks. He's not here, anyway, he's in Thezali province until tomorrow."

"Nah, he got back shortly after sundown, me and Barodor saw him from the gate," said Darius, looking for the plate of candied fruit and sweetmeats that was frequently on his brother's writing table.

The scroll hit the floor as Leyam shot out of his low chair. "He's here?!"

"That's what I said- hey!"

His brother had grabbed him by the arm and was hustling him towards the window. "Leave."

"What? But he just got in. It's the first qa, the night watch has already turned out, why would he bother to come here at this time-"

Darius's mouth went dry as he realized that, over the sound of Leyam dragging him towards the window, he could hear footsteps outside.

Leyam shoved Darius up to the window sill- then yanked his brother back down with a bitten curse. Leyam's chambers gave out onto a flat roof a story below, that and the decorative tilework was how Darius got up and down to regularly visit his brother. And the night patrol's first stop was always that roof, faithfully watching over the royal suites. Darius knew their routine, they'd move on in a few minutes to go inspect the gardens.

Leyam made a noise of something like pain, and shoved Darius behind the drapery.

"Promise me you'll leave as soon as the guards are gone, whatever happens. Promise!"

"Huh-" said Darius and then he had a mouthful of drapery.

The door opened, the curtain over it was pushed aside and the regent to the Assyrian throne came into the room.

"Oh, uncle Cassius, you're back," said Leyam neutrally. He'd positioned himself furthest from the window he could manage.

"That's right, the subsidiaries of the Taibor were quite passable, we didn't have to go out of our way to ford them." Cassius was dressed in Roman garments as usual, and he'd taken the time to bathe after his journey. He had one arm looped around a girl of perhaps fourteen made up in pretty colors and jewels, and without much light in her eyes.

"I heard from Maximus that you did well in your studies while I was away. That is good." Cassius always sounded easy and urbane, even when he was reading out a death sentence. "I brought you some more to study tonight. And a treat," he added with a smooth smile, though his hands were empty other than the one on the girl's shoulder.

Leyam said nothing and just stood there like a pillar.

Cassius looked surprised. "Now what?" There was an edge of sharpness behind the easygoing tone. "This isn't going to shock you now, is it? Aten help you, child, if you arrive at Caius Octavius's house with that kind of attitude."

"Can we...I was busy, Uncle. Can we..." Leyam was looking around the room at his writing table, his scrolls, his maps, his carved wooden soldiers and mathematical tablets for siege engine elevations, anywhere but at the window. "I was going to go to bed."

"Well then that's perfect," said Cassius, pushing the girl towards the screens that split the study from the bedroom. He followed, reaching for Leyam in passing, fingers brushing the tawny hair.

At which point Darius sank his teeth into the man's thumb.

Cassius shouted and jerked- and screamed as Darius only ground down more and hung on, flesh ripping beneath his eyeteeth.

The door burst open, and Caeso Atius ran in followed by a guard. Atius's sword was already drawn- but Leyam threw himself in the way of the bodyguard with a shout.

"Let go!" Cassius tried to pry Darius off, then he smashed his fist against the boy's head. The second time, Darius's mouth jerked open. He staggered back and sat down heavily on the ground.

"You-" Cassius was no longer suave. He stared at his torn and bleeding thumb and then at the child. "You little-"

Darius shook his head once and then shot up from the floor with no warning.

Atius brushed past Leyam and caught Darius mid-air just as he was about to latch onto Cassius again.

"Got you, you little whoreson," the bodyguard grunted.

"Hold him!" gasped Cassius.

Darius's face was a snarling mask, blood all over his chin. The hate in his eyes burned with the passion and purity only children could conjure. Cassius stared, then he grimaced angrily and put his hand on the dagger he wore at his belt.

"No!" Leyam shouted, moving between them, arms wide.

"Leyam, step aside," said Cassius, still working on getting back to suave.

"I'll do it, my lord," said Atius, getting a better hold on the struggling nine-year-old and turning towards the door. "We should have gotten rid of him from the start. I'll-"

"No," said Leyam.

Atius hesitated. The command, and that was what it was, had not been directed at him, but it covered him nonetheless.

Leyam and Cassius stared at each other. Nobody said anything for a while; the only noise in the room was Darius's panting and the occasional drip of blood falling onto tile from the drops escaping Cassius's toga pressed to his injury. The other soldier who'd followed Atius was gaping instead of doing anything constructive. The girl Cassius had brought had sunk back against the wall and was staring at the blood pouring down Cassius's fine tunic as if she did not know what it was but thought the color was pretty.

Leyam put down his arms and stood like a pillar again, looking away. Cassius smiled. It was the smile of a reptile. "Very well, my King. We will spare the by-blow if that is your wish." But his attitude said it was a wish that was being bought at a price.

Darius once more made a spirited attempt to get away from Atius and hurl himself at the regent. The latter smiled as if he now found the child's efforts amusing. "It is true that a monarch should exercise some mercy, Leyam. But you are aware that by assaulting me - in your presence no less - he has committed a crime against your sovereignty. That cannot go unpunished."

Leyam shrugged. It looked horribly artificial on his stiff body, the girl's top now askew on his thin shoulders. "Fine by me. Beat the idiot. He's used to it. He's just a blockhead, he's not worth your time, Cassius."

"Uncle," corrected Cassius. "How old is that deva, anyway? Aren't you the oldest?"

"He's nine," muttered Leyam, who'd been the same height as his half-brother ever since he was ten and Darius seven.

"Damn." Cassius looked at Darius again, and then he laughed.

"My lord?" said Atius, startled. .

"It's fine, Atius. I know exactly what to do with the little beast. Follow me."

Atius didn't hesitate, he threw Darius over his shoulder and walked out of Leyam's apartments, ignoring the child snarling and pounding on his armoured back with his fists. Cassius, followed by a suspicious Leyam, strode through the palace hallways and down the marble stairs. He paused to take a cloth from a startled slave heading back from the baths, and wrapped it around his thumb as he made his way out into the gardens. Darius was trying to twist around to hit Atius about the ears and neck despite the jostling he was getting when Cassius veered from the path and took a shortcut to the wall and the royal stables.

"If you're going to have him horsewhipped, do it in front of the whole garrison," said Leyam suddenly. "It would be good to make an example of it, and it would shame him the more."

"In front of your father's veterans, you mean?" asked Cassius approvingly. "That's very good, Leyam, particularly the bit about making it an example. Most persuasive, and had it been what I had in mind, it might have swayed me. But you are mistaken if you think those grizzled old cowards would make me hesitate to do anything permanent to the little wretch. That was a miscalculation on your part. Try to do better next time."

"I didn't mean-"

"Of course you didn't, child, of course you didn't."

Darius's brother didn't say anything else, and a few seconds later they were in front of the kennels. The dogs inside were barking at the approach of so many footsteps this late at night. The door opened just as Cassius reached up to bang on it. The elderly man in charge of the hunting pack rubbed the sleep and surprise out of his eyes as he looked out.

"My lord?" he gasped, startled and anxious. Cassius walked right past him, looking around.

"This will do fine," he said, then he glanced at the kennel master. "Do you have a- no, wait, this is even better. Atius, over there."

"Yes, my lord," said Atius in the satisfied tone of one who'd figured out the plan and agreed with it wholeheartedly. He carried Darius to the wall where the larger hounds were tied and where an empty ring with a chain and collar lay on the ground. He swung the boy down and shoved him into the wall hard enough to knock the breath out of him, and had the reinforced leather around his neck before Darius could do anything about it. He had to hike the collar tight and make an extra hole with his knife to get it fit around a nine-year-old's throat. "Don't move," he whispered viciously as he punched through the leather, "or I'll accidentally cut off your ear, and your nose too while I'm at it."

Darius shot back a few breathless words he'd learned in the barracks until Atius shoved him hard against the wall again.

As soon as the adult stood up, the dogs that'd been cautiously crouching back moved in, sniffing at the scent of blood.

"They'll hurt him," said Leyam tightly, then he corrected himself, "they'll kill him, he's too small. We were going to let him live."

"Nonsense," said Cassius, "they'll get along fine. It's the best place for the animal." He approached the wall and gave his handiwork an approving glance. Darius looked up quickly- but Atius brought his leg down and back, pinning the boy against the wall, head smacking into the wood.

"That's right, Atius, keep the dog down. Hmmm." Cassius looked at the boy, and then focused on the collar. "What's this? It has a name. Ghan. That means 'strike', if I remember my ancient Avestan. A dog's name; that's perfect. Leyam, you'll make it a decree, will you not? "

"What?" asked Leyam, confused. Behind him, the kennel master gaped.

"That will be the little cur's name from now on," said Cassius as he made his way towards the door. "Ghan the dog. He'll answer to that name alone, he'll live in this kennel until he's ready to crawl to his masters, and if he bites again, he'll be getting more than a kick in the teeth," he added with a pointed look at Leyam as he drew near the young king. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," said Leyam through clenched teeth.

"Good. Come on, Atius. And you," he added to the astounded kennel master, still without bothering to look fully in the man's direction, "you will give him the same food as the other curs. If you show him preferential treatment, I will see you whipped, castrated and tied up next to him." He didn't wait for the master's frightened acquiescence before striding out of the kennel and back towards the palace.

Leyam followed in his incongruous finery, stopping near the master to mutter, "See that he survives or I will have you quartered." Then he left the panicking man behind him and followed the regent. Atius left last. He didn't give the master any advice, just hooked a hand beneath the latter's elbow and hauled him out of the kennels. The man didn't dare protest.

The door closed, hiding all but a sliver of the light from the torches burning along the garden path for the first watch of the night. Darkness and the snuffling of dogs ensued.

The two nearest went to investigate the new arrival, ears and noses pricked. These were the large hunting dogs meant to hound bears and lions, and a few were trained for warfare as well; children were not allowed near them until they'd neared a man's height and could handle a whip.

The largest straightened, approached stiff-legged, eyes focusing on the boy's face. Darius continued to stare at the door. The hound closed in, faint growl of dominance at the ready, and then Darius looked around, hauled back and punched down on its muzzle with all the venom that could not reach its target.

The hound yelped and staggered back, shaking its head. It snarled and looked up- met Darius's gaze and decided to go back to its own little territory.

They left him mostly alone after that. Darius went back to staring at the door.

At the start of the fifth qa, as the night grew darkest, a scratch at the other side of the wooden wall made him stiffen. The chain around his neck clinked as he turned around. When the scratch came again, he rapped his knuckles softly on the wood.

With a creak, one of the wooden planks started to shudder. A knife's blade appeared in the crack, levering and sawing. Darius reached for his belt, and realized Atius had relieved him of his own dagger. This was the first time he'd thought of it all evening. It had been a small one, fit only for eating, but it would have helped get that plank off easier; as it were, he got splinters as he pried it off.

The wood gave way with a loud creak, and Leyam looked through the opening.

The brothers stared at each other through the gap. The kennels backed onto the paddock near the stables, to get the horses' used to the smell of dogs and vice versa. Leyam was in a servant's tunic that was a little too big on him, a cap on his head.

"I couldn't do anything," he said. "For what you did, he could have you killed. Nobody would raise a hand."

Darius stared at him, a set look that did not waver. "Is it like the Greeks?"

Leyam opened his mouth, but didn't say anything, and Darius continued without waiting for an answer anyway.

"Because that would be-" there was a hole in that sentence where the word 'alright' refused to dwell "-but that's not what it is, because maybe you're at the age where a Greek boy might be- might be courted by a mentor, but they'd never do that, he makes you wear a dress, Sopartes told me back when he was still our tutor that it is a great wrong to turn a boy into a girl, men are men and women are women. Okay, we have the painted men in Sura, sure, but they're not warriors and some of them are whores and you're the king of Assyria. I am going to kill him."

The last was added in the same intense child's whisper, it took Leyam a second to react.

"You'll do nothing of the sort."

Darius's lower lip thrust out, an expression that made him look stubborn as well as ridiculously young.

"Darius..." Leyam sighed and propped his chin on his fist, his eyes dark in the half-light of the moon above, the only illumination. "He wants to send me to Roma Praetorium."

Darius's mouth opened around an unvoiced cry of pain, expression suddenly lost.

"Don't worry. I'm not leaving. I'm not going to get educated in Rome, I'm not going to become Roman and I'm certainly not going to live with Cassius's pervert master."

"I can kill him," said Darius as if continuing the first argument without a pause. "If you distract Atius, I'll sneak up behind the son of a whore and put steel in his liver. I've learned how to do it, I'm strong enough. I can do it, Leyam."

"Yeah, and then what?" asked his brother tiredly.

"They can kill me! I don't care!"

"They will kill you, I care, but that's not the point," said Leyam in the same tone. "The Roman faction is much too strong and they're now backed by triarii in the provinces and even here in the capital. There's Romans everywhere you look, overseeing the construction of the roads. If you kill Cassius, another like him will take his place."

"Five hundred Roman shitlickers won't stand up against a thousand free Assyrian men. Two thousand even! They'll protect you! Leyam, you're their King, if you give them one word-"

"I didn't see them last year," said Leyam in a voice that sent chills down Darius's spine. "Darius, you have to understand how it is. Cassius is smart. He's making me wear a dress, and his friends spread rumours about me, so that the Assyrians won't want to stand behind me. Without a King to unite them, there's too many factions, one for each noble family too stubborn to set aside their differences. Not unless someone forces them to. Someone-"

"That's why he makes you wear a dress?" Darius interrupted in a muffled voice. He was chewing on a thumbnail and looking at his brother and then away again.

Leyam paused. "Yeah. I have to do it if I don't want to accidentally fall off the highest tower with my hands tied behind my back. It's how Cassius knows that I'm under his thumb, because I allow it. In turn, it insures I'm even more under his control because I'll need the muscle of his troops to hold the country even when I'm grown. This kind of politics is what he's been teaching me this last year. He can't have me helpless; he wants me to grow up like him, to be his ally. He will need my support as much as I'll need his one day if the Alliance truly unites and decided to put pressure on my country. But he's not bedding me, if that's what you're worried about. I may be young enough but that means nothing since I am King, and he cannot afford to undercut me that much."

Leyam said it very straight, looking Darius right in the eye. Darius should have been reassured. But something deep inside of him flinched. His brother wouldn't lie about that. Would he? The reasoning was sound to Darius's ears, so surely Leyam was telling the truth…Right? And there couldn't be anything worse than the earlier hypothesis that'd sent Darius barrelling out from behind the curtain to plant his teeth into the regent's thumb.

At the far back of young Darius's mind crawled a mostly unperceived image of Leyam and the dead-eyed girl and Cassius watching and teaching- but that was too alien for the boy's mind to fully grasp...He fastened his eyes on Leyam and decided to trust.

"You have to get into your head that Cassius is not an idiot. He could never afford to be. What else he became...He was sent to study with that man, his master, Senator Caius Octavius, when he was your age. All because he was the fourth son of the second wife of the Hellias king and nobody could care less if he was made a hostage as a consequence of border tensions in that region. He was seen as dispensable from the start, and then his own father sent him to that man-" Leyam interrupted himself as if sensing that what he was trying to say wasn't getting through Darius's hostility. "Well, that's what happened; his father wanted a few of his spare sons to learn Roman ways while the others learned from the Greeks, like that he'd make good with both and get his milk from two different cows. And Cassius learned damn well. Two dozen years later he's back, and the one brother of his who did not die fighting the Legions just happened to eat some bad food at a banquet where nobody else even caught a cramp, and died screaming the next day. Cassius is now Tribune-Consul of Hellias for life. Not that he cares, he's sold out his home land to the Imperium and set his sights much higher. Hellias is a city and a small region; Assyria is a whole empire. He's got his priorities straight. Make no mistake, Darius, Cassius needs me to reign if he wants to do so with ease, but if he can't do it the easy way, him and his Roman allies will slit my throat and bathe our land in blood and fire until it can no longer fight back."

Darius gave him the same look of helpless pain as before.

"I don't care about dying," said Leyam in passing, as if it hardly was worth mentioning, "but I will not let my land in the hands of these jackals. They'll rip it apart."

"But what are you going to do?"

Leyam was silent for what felt like a long time. The bitch at the left side of Darius managed to stretch to the end of her chain and poke her nose out the hole. Darius pushed her back absently.

"I am going to learn."

"Learn what?"

Leyam didn't answer directly. "We are going to have to be patient, Darius. We have to pretend he's won, that I'm becoming Roman like he wants me to; that I'm becoming everything he wants me to. I'll just learn slowly enough where it won't ever be quite the right time to send me away. I won't let them bundle me off to the Imperial capital. A king does not leave his country, not like this. Do you get it, Darius?"

"What?"

"I'm going to have to pretend to be a Roman ruler. In a way, I'm going to have to really be the thing he wants me to be," said Leyam slowly. "But I swear to you right now, Darius. By the blood that runs through both our hearts I swear that whatever it looks like, whatever it seems I've forgotten, I'll remember who I am. Do you understand?"

The clouds of rage leaked out of Darius's mind. He knew. He was nine, and though politics had always bored him, he knew enough of them and of the ways of the world. He knew what his brother was saying, what was going to happen in the next few years. "Okay. Okay. I'll help. I'll go and-" Darius made a hacking noise in his throat, and then he muttered, "I'll go apologize. Then I can-"

"No."

The bitch barked and then whined when Darius shoved her away again with a shush.

Leyam pressed his fingers together against his lips, eyes fixed on a point of the wall beneath Darius as if looking for the words he had to say. "No," he finally said. Darius, staring at him, wondered when his brother, perpetually skinny and a little small for his age, had become a man, one who could think and talk and act like this. "Darius, I want you to make me a promise."

"Yes," said Darius immediately. Because though this man surprised him, Darius still knew him; this was his brother and his king.

"I want you to be yourself. I never want you to pretend like I will."

Darius blinked. "Huh? But Leyam, I can help-"

"You can help, Darius, but not in this way. Cassius has seen the truth about you, he won't forget it in a hurry. If nothing else, he'll have a scar on that thumb to remind him. If you suddenly become all nice, he won't believe it, and that'll get him suspicious about me. So don't be nice. Show him you hate his guts. Do it for both of us. You've always had a bit of a brutal side when you wanted to, bring that out. But don’t ever fake it, little brother. One of us has to stay himself, do you understand? I'm relying on you to always be yourself. Like that I will too."

Darius thought that made sense, mainly because he was nine and used to the ways boys talked. "But I have to do something more to help you."

"You will. And what I'm asking you isn't easy. For starters, do you want to apologize to him?"

"I'd rather be a eunuch," said Darius in an older, dangerous voice that could have been borrowed from the man he would one day become.

"Don't give the bastard ideas," muttered Leyam. "But that's what I mean. You'd have to cut your heart into pieces to apologize to that lech, so don't. But that means you'll be living in this kennel for awhile. For quite awhile. He may not look like it, but he's smart, and he doesn't forget fast."

Darius chewed that over, then he shrugged and gestured at the mutts behind him. "That's fine by me. I like these guys better than his courtiers."

"Yeah, I wish I could join you," said Leyam under his breath.

"Are you sure I can't help?" muttered Darius miserably after a short silence between the brothers.

"You will be helping me. You'll be my decoy. I'm asking you to get into lots of trouble, brother; the kind of trouble you used to cause when you were seven and didn't like our tutor. That will give Cassius leverage over me when I have to intercede on your behalf. It'll just make him think he has us both under control. Cassius won't be suspicious of a chained and collared beast who shows his hate openly; hell, it'll titillate him. He'll be more suspicious of the smiling one with the knife behind his back, which is why I'll have to be very careful. But I'll learn. We're both going to learn. I need you to become a warrior, Darius. You're training hard already, I know it, but you have to be better, you have to be the best. One day, I'll need you. When I've rooted out Cassius's sympathizers, when I've determined who is still Assyrian and who is a Roman in disguise, when I've learned all that he and his ilk have to teach me and I'm the master...then I'll need you."

"I’ll be there."

Leyam put his hands through the hole on either side of Darius's face, drew him forward and kissed his brother. Then he left without a further word.

Darius sat facing the hole for a long time. His brother had been wearing a servant's tunic, but he'd smelled of perfume.

Darius sat there, savagely wiping away the tears trickling down his face and turning his mask into a swirl of blood and dirt, the last time he ever cried in his life.

***

Darius shared the scraps from the kitchen with the other mutts, augmented by a few discreet additions thrown in by the kennel master when the latter thought he could get away with it. The boy slept with the other hounds, was made to run after game during hunts, and stayed in the kennels whenever he was not training in the barracks. He snarled at any who offered sympathy. He bit Cassius's soldiers who taunted him. He did considerably more if they weren't careful. They gave him a belting for every injury he caused. He ignored it and did it again as soon as he was healed. People soon lost the looks of scorn or pity and traded them in for disquieted expressions and sometimes fear. That was good. But it wasn't enough.

When he was ten, Darius decided that a warrior on a battlefield was not going to be of any use to Leyam, not for years to come. The more he learned about the world he and Leyam lived in, the more he realized how hard this battle was going to be, and it was not one that required phalanx formations or the perfect arc of a javelin throw. That was useless. He needed to learn another way to kill. Darius crept out nightly of the kennel through the broken planks he'd carefully arranged as a hidden exit, and went to the training fields to practice what he thought was the art of murder.

One night, the perfect opportunity to apply what he'd taught himself was in his grasp. One of Cassius's soldiers was sitting alone on an embankment near the artificial stream, the swirling waters breaking up the reflection of the half moon above the palace gardens. Darius would not stand a chance in a fair fight with a grown man yet, but if he could creep up behind the bastard, slit his throat and then make it look like a drunken fight, it'd throw confusion in the ranks, especially when the officers looked for a suspect. That was the kind of warrior Leyam needed now to fight the Romans and pretend-Romans infecting their country. Like that one, dressed up in gear that shamefully copied Legionary armour, drinking from a jar of liquor, watching the moon and occasionally laughing to himself in a silent fashion that shook his shoulders even as Darius approached him from behind.

"You've never seen me," said the man.

Darius, knife in hand, froze a man's length away.

The soldier tilted his head to look up at the stars. "You’ve seen me many times, but you've never seen me."

Darius hoped the idiot was totally drunk, though the cold feeling in his stomach told him the man sounded way too lucid.

"In the same way, you know me but you have no idea who I am. Can you answer that riddle, overly-young bastard prince?"

Cold feeling confirmed. Darius crouched, hidden as much as possible by darkness and a bush growing on the top of the embankment.

"That's good. Don't move. I might be talking to myself, or just playing a hunch," said the soldier, getting to his feet. He was a huge brute, large across the shoulders, towering high in the night. Darius had seen him many times, the guy was a foot soldier in Cassius's personal retinue; twenty-two years of age, hailing from a far-flung and barely populated province. He was often used as a courier by his master; people didn't interfere with men of his build when he took to the highways by himself.

The man turned with a last leisurely look at the moon and moved a step towards Darius, who clutched his knife. The giant looked down as if something in that step had caught his attention. He went down on one knee and reached for his sandal strap. But only one hand touched it; the other hand was flat on the grass, the gesture of fealty. The eyes beneath thick bangs met Darius's amongst the interlaced branches of the bush.

"My real name is Rand. I served your father from the shadows. You never saw me without a mask, young prince, but I have seen you many times, and I have been watching you this past year, you and my king...I wasn't sure how to approach him."

Darius's instincts, keen as a blade after a year in this harsh world, prickled and wondered if what Rand had been unsure of was Leyam himself, rather than the approach to take. Leyam was fully into the role of Cassius's apprentice, and most were deceived.

He said nothing, waiting. Rand's lips twitched into a dour smile. "You have some promise. I don't think this trade is yours, my Lord of the Kennels, but I will teach you enough of it to stay alive when Cassius finally decides your entertainment value is not enough to keep you alive, not if he can make your death look like an accident. In exchange, I want you to take a message to your brother next time you have one of your, ah, secret meetings."

A wave of alarm tightened Darius's hand on his knife's hilt...though he also felt faintly ticked off at the indulgent tone that reduced his and Leyam's precautions in seeing each other to a children's game of Hide. "The only thing I do when I meet my brother is complain about his uncle," he finally said, still within the bushes in case he needed to make a run for it. "And then he mocks me and tries to get me to admit I'm jealous of his palace life when I live in a kennel. I wouldn't go see the prick at all if he didn't give me his leftover meals."

"An almost believable lie for someone who has not watched the two of you grow up together," said Rand gently. Then he stood and turned around. "I'm glad to see you can dissemble when you have to. Fine, you will not bring a message to your brother. Very wise, it could be a trap. You will not tell him that King Narseh-Allit's former strangler, Pyon, is dead, but that Pyon's younger brother survived the cull and has infiltrated Cassius's guard. You will definitely not tell him that I am keeping an eye out on who in the noble families are working with Cassius, and who are merely being threatened into obedience instead, and above all do not mention that I am at his service as long as the Fates gives me life to defend him and his throne. Make sure you don't tell him any of that," he said, sitting down once more to watch the moon over the Taibor far below.

"If you're our servant, are you supposed to talk to me like that?" Darius finally had to ask. Though he'd often been at the receiving end of harsh words and actions, there'd always been a kind of begrudging regard behind it, even from those who hated him and wanted to belittle him; regards for his bastard parentage, for his promising strength, his abilities or his looks. He'd never been teased like a little kid before.

Rand did the silent laughter again. "If you manage to become the fearsome warrior you obviously aspire to be, young Darius Bher Polenius, then that day I will speak to you as politely as I would a great lord. Run off now, and don't try to kill anyone until you've decided to trust me and let me teach you how. Or at least do not sneak up on them from upwind when you live where you've been living this past year. Good night."

Muttering childish imprecations, Darius ran off.

***

Darius was thirteen, striding across the courtyard in the light armor of a courier. The reinforced tunic added harsh lines to a young body that was already shaping into a weapon. He was carrying his helmet under one arm, the sun falling on short dark hair with a faint curl. Many men and women turned to watch him pass, and he didn't even notice.

Leyam was with Cassius amongst the colonnades, out of Darius's line of sight. Cassius had grown soft in the last four years, pudgy and ill as heavy responsibilities along with his various vices caught up with him. His gaze followed the boy-man striding under the sunshine like one of the gods Cassius professed to no longer believe in.

"Strike me blind, Leyam, is that your brother?"

"Oh, that's right, you haven't seen him in almost a year," said Leyam disaffectedly, lifting the wine cup which a well-bribed slave pretended to fill much more often than it actually was.

"Hmm, no, I haven't. Damn those rebellious provinces, keeping me from the charms of Sura, hmm?" He'd picked up that oily hmmm along with a few pounds of extra flesh and red veins around his nose. "Darius."

The young man continued to walk as if he'd not heard anyone call out his name.

Cassius lost the smile. "Darius." There was a warning in his tone.

Before it could become an order, with a need of reprisals dictated by the presence of watching courtiers, Leyam called out: "Ghan."

Darius stopped and turned.

"Oh, that's right." Cassius walked towards him, smiling once more. Leyam trailed him. "That's right, it's Ghan. You've grown up well; the kennel must suit you."

Darius said nothing. He was looking at Leyam as if waiting for an order.

"So, Ghan," said Cassius, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. Darius was only a couple of inches shorter than he was now. "We were discussing sending your brother to blessed Roma Praetorium after this year's flood; it's high time and more. Tell me, would you be interested in going too? You could, hmm, learn a lot."

Slowly Darius looked down at the hand on his shoulder. Then his lips twitched back, a jagged expression revealing eyeteeth. Cassius instinctively snatched his hand away from that ugly, feral expression that would befit a wolf better than a man.

Darius's eyes lifted to Cassius's. "Woof," he said. Then he turned and walked away.

Cassius stared after him. "Leyam, is your brother insane? Does he realize-"

"You raised him in a kennel, Cassius."

"Uncle," corrected Cassius automatically, still staring after Darius.

"So yes, I'm afraid he is a little unhinged, but he's so amusing. I love him dearly." Leyam emptied his cup with a graceful gesture. "I have him sit at my feet some evenings and scratch his fleas. Don't worry, he doesn't bite anymore. I whipped that out of him eventually. Shall we go on inside?" he added as his uncle stared at him, halfway between suspicious and reluctantly impressed. "This heat and sun are doing nothing for my complexion."

***

An adult Darius idly swished the waist-deep water of the bath around him, looking up without really seeing the mosaic of an unrealistic dolphin near the ceiling.

"It was shortly after that that the regent tried to have me killed again. It was the third time, though this attempt was actually serious. Two stranglers, not just a soldier who'd been given a jug of strong liquor and a hint. I didn't need Rand's help to dispatch them that time, though. But that was the beginning of the end; things couldn't go on that way. It was time to cast our fate in front of the gods.

"Six months later, he was dead." Darius's smile full of fangs was the one he'd showed 'uncle' Cassius. "Leyam killed him and I threw his body to the dogs."

That ugly expression hitched and crumbled when Ryou, who'd come up behind him, slipped his arms around him and rested his forehead on Darius's shoulder.

"Feh, did I sound that pitiful?" Darius sneered. "Save your tender sympathies, Inlander; we fought a losing war with the weapons we had, we turned all the tables and took our revenge. That's to celebrate more than anything. You can let go." He shrugged his shoulders, but Ryou held on and didn't say anything.

After a few moments, Darius's frame loosened. He didn't speak, but he leaned his head against Ryou's and put his arm along the one holding him around the waist. "Well," he muttered and didn't add anything, but there was a whole sentence in that one word. Ryou held him tighter.

Finally Darius shook himself and patted Ryou's arm. "If you're going to embrace me like this, maybe we can do something more interesting than taking a bath."

Ryou snorted, letting Darius draw away and grope Ryou good-naturedly in passing as he made his way to the edge of the baths.

"After that, it was a mess again. The pro-Alliance camp and the pro-Roman camp fought for control over the weak, wastrel King. They didn't realize Leyam was a poison in their midst. With Rand's help, he'd discreetly pruned Cassius's side over the years, leaving the truly vicious and stupid ones alone but killing the moderates and the smarter ones. And those he knew he could trust - because Cassius had not - he showed them the truth. Or rather, some of it. My brother has as many plots and layers as he has dresses, and he loves them all despite what you might think. 'Keep them guessing' is his first plan of attack and his best defense, and he sure does enjoy it. He wields it as well as I wield a sword, yet as carefully as I use my shield, too. Even at his worst, he always keeps the aura of Kings about him; royal excess is eccentricity, he says, it's awe-inspiring if done well. Just look at the king before our grandfather who'd flay people he didn't like and drape their skins before his throne. The halls must have stunk like a charnel house, but I bet nobody said anything. So yeah, those whom he trusted...they knew the truth. They learned what his plans were, what he'd done to get that far already, and hell, if that wasn't enough to impress them, they hated the Romans like poison and didn't need an excuse to oppose them. Six months after Cassius was sent to Hades, a lot of his friends had followed him. The others broke and ran to the provinces and Imperial-controlled city states, and we've been at war in stages ever since. Leyam's plan kept reaping benefits. They had a hard time taking him seriously; they let him pick them off one by one while they desperately searched for the power behind the throne that was directing this young King so ably. Even now, our enemies don't know just how crazy he is or which way he'll jump. It's funny, isn't it? They fear him more than if he wielded armor and spear and draped skins around the Hall."

Darius hauled himself out of the bath, padded across the tiles and reached for a towel.

"So my brother was raised in danger and depravity while I was raised in a kennel, and for good and bad, that's all you need to learn about us to know us, Ujiie Ryou. Well, now I've got to go and get the men sorted out in the barracks, and Inder cudgel me, I've got to make sure they released Dela and that he's okay. Just stay here and recover from the road, I'll send someone to fetch you and show you to your quarters, okay?"

"Okay," said Ryou. He'd have been happier going with Darius, even if it was to the quartermaster and then to jail to free Dela, but from the way Darius was briskly drying off and not looking fully in Ryou's direction, his lover needed a little space after that tale that'd revealed so much about the two Princes of Assyria.

TBC...

Ofic: Out, part 24

2009-08-16T06:08:08Z

I'd say something intelligent and witty here, but I'm asleep on my keyboard...Tomorrow I'm busy all day and well into the evening, too, so I'm posting this now. Enjoy!

Link to all chapters

Part 24

As they made their way around the dais to the rear door, Darius and Ryou were intercepted by a good number of men who wanted to talk briefly with the former, congratulating him on the battle's outcome and asking for some of his time the next day. Darius got out of each conversation with a minimum of time and courtesy, which nobody seemed to be surprised or too offended at, but it still took the pair twenty minutes to reach the exit.

"Inder's balls, that's better," Darius muttered, giving the room behind them one last look over his shoulder as if expecting the whole pack to follow him, tugging at the corner of his tunic. "I love Sura, I swear, but five minutes back here and I want to go to war again. Ashur's Hall is one of the public places; from here on out, it'll be quieter. Cham, Zuru," he added, looking down at the dogs. The pair perked up at the sound of their master calling their name. "Home. Wait there."

The two hounds turned and trotted off to the right. Darius didn't watch them go, he led Ryou straight ahead to a paved path that led off between palm trees. Peacocks strutted around, yelping when Ryou got too close, and birds and insects sang in the foliage as the sun sank slowly. The heat, oppressive in Ashur's Hall despite all the servants waving fans around, was bearable in the shade.

Darius detoured around an elegant courtyard ornamented with a fountain burbling a bare two feet high. The palace proper started there, taller than the previous structure. It was plainer, without colonnades or painting, though the yellow stone carved with regular symbols had a sober beauty of its own. The palace was older than the feasting hall, Ryou gathered, and from what Darius had said, it had already stood here several hundred years. The hallways inside reminded Ryou of Essin; tiled, rich with paintings, mosaics and occasional tapestries. And quite empty except for guards and servants who bowed to Darius in passing.

"Here," said Darius. They were in front of an entrance decorated with mosaics and alabaster pillars. Through it they entered a little lobby opening onto a balcony on one side. Cedars waved in the breeze outside, a cool rustle.

A broad-chested man stood in the center of the balcony as if he'd been waiting for them there all along. Entirely clean-shaven, even his hair and eyebrows, he was dressed in a calf-length skirt and decorated chestpiece like an overgrown necklace; a style that would have worked better on him if he wasn't getting a little pudgy. He bowed to Darius, bowed a little less low to Ryou and then clapped his hands twice. The door behind him opened. A young man and an equally young woman passed the lintel; they were dressed the same as the man who'd summoned them - even the girl, her breasts bare. The simpler designs of their chestpieces must indicate some kind of ranking system, Ryou surmised. They were carrying shallow bronze bowls and pitchers with the neutral, courteous smiles of waiters approaching their designated table.

"Here, sit," said Darius, pointing to a long low bench that ran the length of the lobby, opposite the balcony. "And take off your shoes."

The thick-set man, a majordomo it seemed, picked up their footwear. Ryou was ready to swear he caught a disparaging look at his own worn shoes, bequeathed to him by some soldier from Darius's Hounds. The two young servants poured water into the bowls, knelt and held them out. Ryou followed Darius's example and washed his face and hands. Then the boy and girl leaned down and washed the guests' feet.

"Do you wish for a change of clothes, Lord Ghan?" asked the steward after placing their shoes in a little cubby near the entrance. His voice was surprisingly high for his frame. "And for your noble companion as well, of course."

"Let it rest, Sharmo," said Darius with a heavy look. "The king will be fine with us the way we are; he's seen soldiers fresh off the road before."

"I am sure you are correct, Lord Ghan," said Sharmo a tad too obsequiously, then he pushed open the doors with a deep bow.

Darius strode through. "Ball-less git," he growled under his breath as they reached the end of a three-meter corridor. "Always looks like he can smell dog shit when I'm around. Ah, good evening, Nicodeme. Your father sends his greetings."

They'd entered an antechamber filled with long couches and cushions. A couple of the girls who'd been with the king earlier were sitting near the window, playing a board game with thick pegs placed in holes. Next to them a young boy was dozing on a pile of pillows. The fourteen-year-old the King had seemed to favour earlier was sitting on a chair by the door. He got up and bowed to Darius, then he grinned as he lifted his head. "Is he coming back soon?"

"Hell if I know, it depends where the master of all of us sends him next. He should have arrived in Aksum by now, and I know he's got business in Kaides after that. Can we go in? He's with me," he added when Nicodeme's eyes flickered over Ryou. It hadn't been the look of a bed-toy, rather the sharp gaze of a soldier on patrol, whatever his age and clothing. That expression on his square face collided in Ryou's mind with the mention Darius had made of the kid's father being in Aksum and then having business in Kaides. Ryou opened his mouth to ask, but he wasn't sure if he should...If this boy was truly Rand's son, and considering Rand's former profession, well-

"If that's Ghan, let him come in already," someone shouted from the other side of the door. Nicodeme immediately stood aside and let them pass.

The interior of the huge room was draped in gaudy veils and brocaded tapestries strung between gilded pillars, turning the space into a maze. The few furnishings and decorations Ryou could see were even richer than in Essin, though displayed a lot more haphazardly; a golden statue of an armoured man in the stiff style of Assyria, shoved against a pillar; small marble works in the more fluid and realistic style of the Greeks, perched on a box rather than on a nearby wooden table full of maps; a splendid necklace dangling rakishly from a warrior's spear in a frieze carved out of a nearby wall inset with alabaster.

"Finally," someone muttered, ducking under a tapestry.

King Leyam had discarded the dress. He was now barefoot, clothed in a stiff linen skirt - the kind men wore - and an embroidered brown silk vest as long as the skirt, hanging open over his chest, loosely tied with two golden ropes crossed over the abdomen. He still wore the jewellery including the brace on his thigh, but the wig was nowhere to be seen. His real hair, a tawny brown verging on sandy and thinning a little at the temples, was tied sharply back. He walked in with a strong stride full of coiled energy. The only way Ryou would have been sure this was the same man as before was the red stain on his lips and traces of makeup he'd not been able to remove.

"My King-" Before Darius could say another word he was grabbed and subjected to a rough hug that made him stagger. It quickly degenerated into what Ryou, now familiar with the activities of soldiers at rest, could recognize as the start of wrestling match, with the King trying to apply some antique Assyrian version of a noogie. Seeing them side by side and without the high sandals, Ryou realized that Leyam was an inch shorter than his brother. Without the makeup some family resemblance was finally visible, particularly around the eyes and nose.

"You bloody cur, I thought you'd gone and gotten yourself killed," growled Leyam. "Goddamnit, Darius, what the hell happened-" He broke off when he spotted Ryou.

Darius squirmed out of his brother's hold and gave him a shove. "Let me go and I'll tell you. What do you think I spent three hard days riding for?"

"I see you brought your friend," said Leyam, hands falling back to his side.

"Oh, yeah. Ryou, this brute is my brother Leyam, King of Assyria. Leyam, I already told you who he is."

Ryou bowed.

"Yes," said Leyam, and then he stepped away from his brother and made a refined gesture with the grace of royalty receiving foreign dignitaries. "Welcome to my country, Ryou, if that's how you'd prefer to be addressed."

"Thank you, your majesty."

"Come this way, the both of you. I have something to drink in the back."

Darius headed that way on cue. Ryou waited for the King to precede him, but Leyam gestured him on, so Ryou followed Darius through the labyrinth of veils. Hopefully turning his back on the King of Assyria wasn't some form of lèse-majesté.

Leyam followed him at five paces in silence. Ryou felt a little chill run up the back of his neck that he was hard set to explain.

Off to one side, Ryou glimpsed a bed behind a large hanging tapestry. He was slowly getting an idea of the room's size; it would have easily swallowed his whole apartment and that of his neighbour back in Tokyo. Darius headed towards a table near a large rectangular window a few meters from the bed. The walls here were decorated with figures, all bearing symbols and implements to designate which god they represented. Smaller figures, men and women, bowed around them in worship, or else ignored them and sat at tables to eat, walked through the tempera scenes to visit others, slept in beds, partied or indulged in intercourse that was, on closer look, startlingly pornographic. Ryou would have said it was in character for the Bitch King of Assyria, except that the small cracks and the presence of fading in the corners most washed by sunlight indicated they were considerably older than Leyam could be.

"Ryou? Beer or wine? Anything to eat?" Darius asked, hands poised over pitchers. The table was also set with fruit, pastries and bread.

"Oh..." Ryou glanced from the King to the table to Darius. "Whatever you're having."

"What's up with you? Ah, Ashur love you, no need to be tense," he added, squeezing Ryou's shoulder. "Ceremony stays on the other side of those doors back there. You intimidated him with your display earlier, Leyam."

"Did I?" Leyam's eyes flicked from Darius's hand on Ryou's shoulder to Ryou's face, and then he smiled easily. "That is what it's for. But Darius is right, I do not stand on formalities in my bedroom. Protocol would only make the nights complicated, drawn out and way too boring."

From the way Darius snickered, that remark was intended to be faintly lewd. Ryou for his part produced a polite smile with the practice of one who had entertained drunk CEOs inordinately proud of their store of dirty jokes.

Darius handed him a cup of wine. "Here, this will be much better than anything we ever found on the road."

"Thank you." The wine certainly wasn't as sour or sedimentous as the stuff Ryou had had to swallow up until now, though Ryou's stomach was too knotted with tension and fatigue to enjoy it. He would kill for some green tea at this point...

Leyam didn't drink; he elected to lounge in a low chair, leaning heavily on the leather strap at the back, one knee bent. Even sitting like that, there was a feeling of restless power about the man. Ryou, culturally habituated to the image of rigid royal etiquette at all times, had been as startled by the current trend of informality as he had been by the previous display in the Hall. But even with Leyam half dressed and sitting back in a chair, there was an aura of ironclad self-assurance about the man that said, this is a leader.

"So talk," he said, gesturing at his brother. "Just the first few verses, not the whole epic," he added as Darius took a deep draught of beer.

Darius gave him an acid look over the rim of his cup. "Isn't that what you got from Rand already? I'm sure he sent you a courier the instant I brought him up to speed."

"Yes, but now I want to hear it in your own words."

Darius leaned his thigh against the edge of the table. "Fine, the short of it is, after we trounced Sezerena's forces on the fields of Dessiopian, some men from Kaides approached me with a proposal of mediation. I was going to meet a representative of Essin to see if we could get the city to turn on Sezerena without all this mucking about with a siege. I hate sieges," he muttered into his cup.

"So what happened?"

"We passed the col on that high road, you know, on the frontier. I had twenty men with me, Dela from Kush riding on my left hand. Rand told me Dela did his job and brought the others home safely in my stead. I want him back, by the way, and I hope he's okay."

"This man escorted the king's half brother off to Kaides and came back without him, bearing a tale that suggested he'd been hitting the qunubu a bit too heavily. He's lucky to be alive at all," said Leyam measuredly. Yes, thought Ryou, finalizing his conclusions; whether he wore a dress or not, this really was not a man to cross...It was confirmed when Darius gave his king a hard look in return but did not argue the point.

"We passed the col, half expecting some kind of ambush. I knew what Kaides thought of me, for all they're neutral in the Imperium's wars. I'd spread riders ahead and behind. But instead of some armed forces, these three guys appeared right on the road ahead of us."

"Appeared," said Leyam, stressing the word.

"Yeah, they were just standing there, and my scouts hadn't spotted them. They were dressed in white robes and brown over-cloaks, with the symbol of the wheel and the wings on their tunics."

Leyam's eyes narrowed. "Per Gathas."

"Yeah. That's just it. A little too much." Darius rubbed his chin. "Sure, when I first saw him, that's what I thought. Actually what I thought was, what the fuck are three Sons of Zaratusra doing in this godforsaken arsehole of a kingdom. It's only later, while I was recovering, that I started to think...They had their hoods drawn up so that I could barely see their chins, but there was still something...strange about them. There were three of them there with no guards or attendants. I've never seen that in my life. And since when do the Per Gathas take that kind of interest in a dog like me?"

"Good question," said Leyam, absently tapping the leg brace around his thigh with a fingernail. "When we heard the news, Rand came up with two or three reasons why they'd want to put you down, cur. For instance, there was the theory that the Per Gathas have given up their age-old neutrality and have decided to aid the Imperium. Maybe in exchange for Rome no longer building roads. You've sure been a thorn in the Imperial backside in this region. They'd love to make you vanish in a way that'd cause doubt and confusion as to your death, maybe even make people wonder if you're not chained up to a galley somewhere. That's the most widespread and popular rumour going around, and seen as a good reason to take out one of the notable figures that was about to besiege the Imperium's strongest supporter in the Alliance territories. I personally believe it farfetched, and I will pray to Ashur daily that it remains so, yet it cannot be discarded. But Rand said, and I'll use his exact words, 'Only real idiots would act in such a way while bearing their own crest and then let all the witnesses get away'."

"They didn't all get away," Darius said sombrely. "The scouting party doubled back, and they overtook the pricks just as we approached. One of those cocksucker magians did something with his hands, and it was like the air turned into invisible swords. Poreltes the Greek fell, may the Furies leave that goat-banger well alone. So did Maithris and Agonennon, cut right in two like a sausage-"

"If the Per Gathas had wanted to, they could have conceivably caused the entire Kingdom of Kaides to disappear back into the Veil," said Leyam, still in the same conversational tone. "And eventually someone would have noticed it was missing. The point is, they let most of your men run away like hares while getting rid of you in the most spectacular way imaginable. There is definitely a reason for such a display; it cannot have been done on a mere whim. If I'd wanted you dead, little brother, had I all the might of the Per Gathas on my side, I would still have opted for something simpler and surer such as a few drops of poison in your beer."

Darius finished his beer in one long draught as if he was making some kind of point.

A faint smile touched Leyam's expression and then was gone again. "So, what did these three magians say to you?"

"Nothing much, but then again we were hurtling javelins their way. Our weapons went right through them, though. How's a man supposed to fight that? One of them lifted his arms - let me tell you, we flinched so hard we almost fell off our horses - and shouted at me that this was the judgement for one who broke the age-old laws. He said more, but I couldn't hear, my horse was kicking up a storm. The air was funny, it smelled like hot metal, and it was driving the animals crazy. Even the dogs bolted. So I dismounted to charge the enemy on foot."

"Of course you did," Leyam muttered, rubbing his eyes.

"If I thought they'd let us run away, I'd have taken the chance. But they weren't, that much was obvious," said Darius with a shrug. Ryou wasn't any more surprised than Leyam; he'd seen this side of his lover all the way back in Tokyo. Darius might play up his reputation as The Beast, but in reality he was a calculating warrior, a seasoned commander who would not waste his troops or his own life on a suicide attack unless his back was to the wall. However, if his back was to the wall, he was certainly not going to hesitate...Ryou could just picture the scene behind the blunt words. He could see Darius tossing away the reins, gripping his sword and advancing on the magical maelstrom ahead of him with a certain grim smile on his face...

"So they opened a rift and shot you through to the Inlands," Leyam concluded.

"Not quite there, but close enough. Then they left me with a friend to play with. The Bher Rajiin."

From Leyam's faint hiss, he'd not had that detail from Rand's account.

"I dispatched the first of her spawn, but the bitch came back and squeezed out another. That's where Ryou comes in. You should have seen him, he-"

"I heard something of the rest. We'll discuss the epic of your Inland adventures later. Let's stay on these three who tried to kill you. What do you think?"

This was addressed to Ryou, completely unexpectedly. "Me?"

"Yes, you," said the King with an amused smile. "You're a magian, Rand informs me. Did Darius tell you this tale before?"

"Yes," Ryou said cautiously. "He told me last night, when we stopped to sleep at the outpost."

"Did he?" Leyam murmured, resting his chin in his palm, elbow planted on the chair's armrest. "There was a time he wouldn't bother with talk at all in those circumstances, let alone sleep."

"Hey," said Darius sharply, looking up from the apple he was cutting. He was frowning a warning, with maybe a touch of defensiveness thrown in.

Leyam smirked and shook his head. "We'll let the past lie, shall we, dog? Though it's refreshing to see you actually care about it for a change; I sometimes think you enjoy scaring people a bit too much."

"You also enjoy your games a bit too much, my King," Darius answered steadily, cutting the apple in two with one sharp gesture.

"He only calls me My King in private when he's mad at me," said Leyam for Ryou's benefit. "So, Inlander, what do you think of the incident that led you to cross my brother's path?"

"It sounds like misdirection," Ryou said, a conclusion Darius had reached long before and which Ryou had agreed with when they'd discussed it last night. He wasn’t sure why he was being asked. "Someone wanted you to think the Per Gathas had acted against you."

"They certainly wanted something, if they removed my right hand in a way any gapped-toothed crone of Hecate could determine was done via powerful magic."

"Right."

"They weren't very subtle, but why should they be? Most people think I'm a frivolous wastrel with his brain in his cock and his cock into just about everything," Leyam mused. To his left, Darius snorted around a mouthful of apple. "Part of their plan certainly went off without a hitch. Your common soldier is both gullible and talkative. The men who came back spread the story before Rand could put a stopper on them. Rand was his usual reliable self; squashed as many rumours as he could and made sure that look-alike Ionian filled Ghan the Beast's boots to avoid a lot of people panicking. But of course he couldn't fake out Terentius and the rest of the high command; they were getting distinctly nervous at Essin, Rand had to delay an important trip to stay there and keep them calm. As for myself, my brother, the person I trust most in the kingdom, vanishes and was beset by monsters; that might make even a wise man forgo reason and jump to conclusions...How fortunate he ran into you. I cannot thank you enough for bringing him back to me," the King finished with a pleasant look at Ryou.

"He helped me survive here, I was a great burden to him," Ryou pointed out with inbred civility.

"And any thoughts about that attempt at misdirection?"

"...What thoughts?"

"Leyam, Ryou's an Inlander, and he's got natural talent to rival Zaratusra himself," Darius interjected. "He doesn't know that what happened to me was practically impossible except for someone from the Per Gathas."

"The Per Gathas, yes, as well as some exceptionally talented magian that are rumoured to exist on the fringes of the Outlands," Leyam agreed, nodding wisely.

Ryou's mouth went dry as he suddenly glimpsed a nasty angle to this entire conversation. But surely- Darius had surely vouched for Ryou by his very presence, and Leyam had treated him quite cordially in turn-

Leyam was looking at him brightly, expecting some kind of response. Ryou's mind fumbled over what might be the least suspicious thing he could say, and then fumbled some more as he realized this in itself would be suspicious.

"Um...If only a few people could do that, that'd give them another reason to blame the Per Gathas," he said, hoping his pause hadn't been too long. "They'd be easy to trace otherwise."

"I hope they are, because Rand's looking for them and I do really want him back before the New Year," said Leyam, getting to his feet. "Brother, I have another meeting right now; we will continue this conversation later tonight. Show your new friend to the noble quarters and then for the love of every god in our pantheon, go and take a bath. You smell like the rear end of a horse."

"Don't you start. I already got the treatment from Sharmo."

"He's supercilious and overzealous, but in this case I think his sense of smell was the worst offended. Go. Ryou, I'll leave you in my brother's, ah, care," Leyam said with a regal nod and a leer that clashed together. Ryou made some kind of polite noise in return and got out of the royal presence as quickly as he could.

"These are the noble quarters, where people of the royal household have rooms," said Darius with a casual wave at the sumptuous surroundings. "I use it for the space and the balneum, though I'd have been just as glad to get a room in the barracks; I don't have the retinue to fill this place, and nobody else lives here at this point in time."

Ryou nodded absently at what Darius was saying. His lover hadn't made any comment about their interview with the king. Apparently he'd not noted anything out of whack with Leyam's behaviour. Neither had Ryou; Leyam had been friendly, in the formal way of royalty. There was nothing odd there, but for some reason Ryou was remembering Darius saying, a good while back, 'you and my brother will get along'. Ryou found himself doubting it. He didn't think anybody got along with Leyam, not in a manner of getting close, other than Darius.

And all this didn't explain the thing with the dress...

Ryou had walked by walls covered in paintings and mosaics, tapestries and fretted wooden screens, without paying too much attention to his surroundings until Darius led him out a short portico to a room tiled from floor to ceiling, and started to strip.

"We're seriously taking a bath now?"

Darius raised an eyebrow. "Royal order. Besides, he's right, we probably do need it. It was a long ride. Will you need the lights of a priest for that?" he added, pointing at Ryou's arm.

Ryou had almost forgotten about it; he'd perfected the ability of riding one-handed the past three days, which, for a man of twenty-first century Japan who'd not seen a horse outside of TV this time a month ago, wasn't too shabby in Ryou's opinion. "It's fine."

"Huh-uh."

"No, really. It's sore, but no more than that." Ryou unbuckled the bracer and started to unwrap the bandages in illustration.

Darius barely glanced at the arm, and gave Ryou a piercing look until he judged that to not be an exaggeration, and nodded shortly. "Good, we'll leave it for today then, but tomorrow we will go to the temple. If nothing else, we owe Hygeia's altar a couple of doves or a rooster for keeping that bone from grinding or swelling too much during the trip."

"In my culture, we give money or rice," Ryou said through the folds of his tunic.

"Yeah, that'd be interesting," Darius mused, tossing down the metal shin guard from his left leg. "Let's try giving Hygeia some cereal and see if your arm falls off."

"Ha ha. I'll follow your advice on the matter, Darius, but won't the priests take money instead?" It seemed a waste to kill a couple of birds just to toss them on a fire. Ryou had never bothered thinking about food shortage or the provenance of his next meal before, until that time in the Broken Lands where roast squirrel was the epitome of fine cuisine.

"I wasn't going to buy a chicken at the market and hew off its head on the doorstep," Darius said with a crooked smile, sitting down to take off his sandals. "We buy tokens of the animals at the temple, and the sacrifices are made away from the sick people. It's something the Hygeians insist on," he added with a bemused shake of the head. "Inder, Ashur, Enlil, they're proper Gods; every equinox Leyam has to strip down to a skirt and hew off the head of a black bull in worship of the deities protecting our lineage. I stepped in for him three years back when he caught the flux, and I gained a new appreciation for my brother; not only will the purification rituals before and after drive you to seizures of boredom, but do you know how hard it is to chop through a bull's spine?"

"I can honestly say that I do not have a clue," said Ryou, folding his clothes neatly on the nearest bench. "So we're just going to give the priests of Hygeia some money after all."

"No, we're making sacrifices. They perform them at another place. It's got something to do about blood attracting bad sickness demons."

"The priests would actually go out, buy two doves with the money you gave them, and burn them out in the back yard?" Ryou couldn't help but ask.

"If your life was dedicated to the Goddess of Blessings who keeps you from catching the plague, the great sicknesses and all of the lesser agues, would you try to scam her?" Darius countered.

Ryou opened his mouth to retort in his turn, when he happened to catch sight of a man bowing deeply at the entrance to the baths. Ryou had the unnerving feeling the servant had been there for awhile now, bowed and waiting for them to notice him.

Darius didn't seem to think it odd when he turned to see what had made Ryou jump. "Is anybody else in the baths this evening?"

The servant finally straightened with a sonorous, "No, my lord."

"Food and wine, then. Towels, of course. Oh, do we have soap?"

The slave had bowed again at each request, but that one stopped him halfway down with a look of surprise. "Soap? Oh yes, we do," he added, eyes darting down again and finishing the bow.

"Good, my friend here doesn't like the strigil. Is that Thracian the King bought still here? Urtupati, I think his name was."

"Yes my lord."

"Call him over. We were on the road for three days, we need some muscles unknotted."

Ryou leaned forward, past the bowing servant, and took in a glimpse of several rooms rich in tile, marble and mosaics, with baths, basins and an actual swimming pool. 'Take a bath' did not mean 'sit in a tub' in Assyria, he concluded.

TBC...

There really wasn't a good place to cut this chapter, so it ends off fairly quickly and will resume in the next chapter. Thanks for all the typo spotting and reviews ^__^ You guys rock harder than a heavy metal compendium.

Ofic: Out, part 23

2009-08-09T22:11:46Z

Next chapter. I'm struggling a little bit with some of the upcoming chapters after this arc, but only a little bit - mainly trying to get all my ideas and plots in a row, which is like herding cats at the best of times - and man, am I still having lots of fun. I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it!

Link to all chapters

Part 23

"That's the island of Mooncrest," said Darius, pointing at a meniscus of green ground parting the waters of a slow, wide river. "It's the border to which Zaratusra himself brought my ancestors several eras ago. That's where I'd hoped to go directly from Essin, if the stars had been on our side instead of intent on dicking around with us. If we'd have come through here instead of the Tanatoria border, we'd have been only a couple of hours away from home."

"It was longer, but it was a nice ride," said Ryou, belying the state of his backside, and indeed his whole body. "And you did tell me that the mountain road was the pretty way of approaching Sura."

"I never said 'pretty'. I said it was pleasant enough," said Darius with the dismissive air of one who was more concerned with well-defended rather than easy on the eye. But behind the gruff and tough attitude, Ryou could tell Darius was fiercely proud of his home country and didn't particularly mind this opportunity of showing his land to his lover in its best light, in the hopes Ryou would approve of it. It would, after all, be Ryou's new home for awhile, who knew how long.

Darius grumbled another acerbic 'pretty' under his breath and gave a nearby slope of flower-strewn rocks a belittling glance. Ryou only smiled inwardly. 'Beautiful girl, come to my country, where the river is flowing, my land is beautiful, when the grain is ripe...'

As Darius had predicted to Rand, it was now the afternoon of the third day after leaving Essin. They'd made good time along the mountain road yesterday, it was only late afternoon when they'd reached the provincial military outpost maintained at Tanatoria's frontier. The outpost hadn't been much to look at; a collection of tents, dry provisions, fresh horses and a one-room way-station held by an old soldier and his two sons, who were peremptorily turned out of their house and put up in the stables in order to afford Darius and Ryou a fireplace, beds and privacy. Ryou had thought it rather high-handed of the Hounds, even if Darius had seen the hosteller well rewarded for the night. But now, with three days and more of fatigue clamping down on his lower back, Ryou was glad he'd gotten a good night's sleep last night. He could look forward to a good bed tonight as well, and a day without traveling tomorrow.

The mountains they'd traveled through defended the northwestern approach of Sura. Their party had in part skirted them and were approaching from the west, riding on the crest of a series of tall foothills. The mountains had scattered small hills throughout the river plain that spread out for hundreds of kilometers before them. The broad, slow rivers Aksosot and Taibor underpinned the land, splitting and weaving around the knolls and plateaus, trailing reeds, trees and rich vegetation in their wake. So different from heavily urbanized Japan...Yet on closer inspection, all of the hills Ryou could see were taken over by agriculture; fields on the bottom slopes, vineyards on the steeper sides, the dry grass of the tops left for goats and sheep to crop. Darius had said it didn't rain much here, in the original Outland Assyria; life was born and concentrated around the rivers. Priests called the Aksosot and the Taibor the two hearts of Assyria (the Hounds and other soldiers called them the Two Tits, which was a little more irreverent but a rather better metaphor when one thought about it...)

Ryou turned his attention from the horizon back to the isle of Mooncrest, surrounded by reeds and bathed in the Taibor. He had a good view of it from this height. The green mound was split in two by a meandering arm of the river that'd been too lazy to go to one side or the other and had opted to go straight through instead. The inn, a grey stone building, was near that gorge, and Ryou could tell with his sixth sense that the bridge that stretched over the water could lead one much further than simply to the other side of the island.

"I see, they use fluvial transport for the trade they bring in along the Paths," said Ryou, studying the assemblage of pontoons and barges on the downstream side of Mooncrest, protected by the island's crescent-shaped arms. There was also a wooden bridge spanning the lake to the left-hand side. The Hounds were two hundred meters higher and a couple of kilometers away, still in the foothills; from here, tiny ants that must be mule caravans advanced across the stone span of the bridge, while the river was busy with barges like water beetles.

"That's right. Their destination is Sura, we'll see it shortly." Darius was kneeing his horse a little faster, eyes on the road up ahead.

"Why was it not built nearer the border?"

"It was at one point, when my ancestors were first led to this land by Zaratusra. But then the Babylonians and Persians invaded it one time too many, and the ancient King back then said he'd had enough of paying tribute to keep them away, or getting his capital stolen out from under him at the risk of becoming some Satrapy. He moved the entire city further away, to a more defensible spot. You'll see," Darius added, pointing to where the scouts had stopped up ahead and were waving excitedly. Darius picked up the pace. Ryou, sitting astride one more docile animal that'd been especially chosen for him, followed more sedately.

Their party rounded the crest of the foothill and Ryou saw the reason for the excitement.

One of the large mountains to the north extended two foothills like a set of arms encroaching into the fertile plains; the Taibor swung by and touched them as it meandered that way in a long arc. That left a triangle of ground several kilometers wide caught between mountain and river, rippled with a few domed hills but otherwise flat enough, and that was where that King of old had decided to relocate Sura.

The city climbed the slopes of the tallest prominence; square buildings that were grey to start with, and grew bigger and more colorful - ochre, green, blue, yolk-yellow, caramel brown - the higher up the slope they got. The houses were very close together and colonized the slope with the disorder of a termite mound. On the flat top of the knoll, however, a ring of fortifications cut off the clutter below, and the King's palace was in a sumptuous, orderly space of its own, gardens framing a dozen rectangular buildings, white and yellow walls topped with deep blue tiles.

Much lower down the hill, at the level where the buildings were still drab, a huge stone walkway higher than the surrounding houses jutted out across the plain, as if providing the city of Sura with a tail. It connected the hill to the river half a kilometer away. Though Ryou could understand why a road would be useful, the height of this one was a mystery...Other slimmer walkways, some on pillars, joined the main hill to other, smaller knolls closer to the mountains. All the way to the mountains, houses had clumped together in groups of a hundred around tall buildings; temples, Ryou was ready to bet, knowing more about these ancient towns now. The flat ground between the city and its offshoots was cultivated, to Ryou's surprise; barley, maybe.

Above everything else stood the most eye-catching structure of Sura: a tall, graceful aqueduct leading all the way from the mountains, across the plains and to the same level as the palace. Ryou could guess the course of the water that must flow down the hill, as there were tiers upon tiers of small gardens cascading down the sides, some built on balconies to accommodate more space, all the way down to ground level.

Ryou's horse had stopped of its own volition as if feeling its rider's need to properly take in this odd yet magnificent city, its waterway and walkways and bridges and winding hill paths all providing loops and curves contrasting with the colorful squares heap of its houses.

"It's beautiful," said Ryou, awed for all of five seconds before reason kicked in and he added, "But why do you need an aqueduct when you've got the river nearby? Couldn't you divert some of the water?"

Darius smiled faintly as if he'd expected something that prosaic from his lover. "The Taibor floods yearly. Not as badly as the Aksosot, but bad enough. It can reach the foot of the hill, sometimes further. It's great for farmers, not so much for the rest of us. Flood season always brought disease in the old days. At that time, we did not have enough people to spread out as far as we do now; whenever we tried, Namtar would descend upon us and strike us with sicknesses that would wipe out any expansion. Then several hundred years ago, King Qelbarri, called The Builder, had a dream sent to him by Hygiea. Under Her guidance he built the aqueduct, as well as the current palace and the Walk of Ashur; that's what we call the big walkway. Since then, Blessed Hygiea's had Her hand over our heads, and Namtar had to go plague somebody else."

Darius said all that with the straightforward candor of one who'd actually talked with those two deities personally and heard it all from them. Superstition and faith both had a large place in his mental makeup, Ryou had long since realized; it didn't stop Darius from cursing the Gods quite vilely when they put obstacles in his way, of course, but that was all part of his relationship with them. In Darius's mind, the version he'd recounted was a factual history. Ryou's skepticism suggested King Qelbarri had simply seen what aqueducts could do for population growth in Imperial town, and had decided to adopt the same approach. But the aqueduct idea sounded undoubtedly better when brought to the Assyrian King through the intervention of a Goddess rather than borrowed from another empire which was already being seen as something of a rival at the time.

"Come on," said Darius, though he didn't move right away either. He was studying the home city he hadn’t seen in over half a year of campaigns as if newly appreciating it through Ryou's eyes. Finally the two dogs near his horse whined, eyes fixed on their destination, and Darius turned and gestured. "Come on, boys, let's go bunk down before night falls and the foxes start yapping. More than three barks bring bad dreams," he explained for Ryou's benefit.

The troop moved down the hill at a slant, then they followed a swell of land rising twenty meters or so above the Taibor, half a Roman mile from the river; a paved road that stayed dry even during floods, presumably. Though they were alternating walks and gallops, they still felt like they were crawling across the massive plains beneath the large sky, its horizon crowned on Sura's side by the mountain range, the Malakel. The more they descended, the more the heat, already considerable, became more humid and oppressive. Most of the Hounds took off their tunics and shirts and rode around in nothing but the thick belts and padded skirts warriors wore for protection. Ryou would have been tempted to imitate them, but that would mean unwinding himself from the sling arrangement Jexen had constructed for him to keep his right arm immobilized against his body. It was a clever setup that allowed Ryou to free his arm with one jerk of the elbow if he needed to make an emergency two-handed grab for his saddle's pommel. Ryou liked the arrangement a lot, it kept him stable on his horse and his arm from hurting too much. And if the idea of having his healing bones flopping around wasn't deterrent enough, the sunshine roasting his neck would do it.

Darius leaned over in the saddle and draped a scarf he'd gotten out of someone's backpack over Ryou's shoulders and then lifted it like a shawl over his head. "It's not always this hot; it's the season before the flood. It'll break soon."

"Yeah," muttered someone in the back of their small group. "Right now it's like riding in Nusku's crotch-piece." The resulting snickers were muffled when Dionysodoros gave the tail end of the troop a Look over his shoulder.

Since they were arriving via dry land rather than by boat, they were riding towards the spot where the foothills met the Taibor. A thick wall and a stronghold had been built at that strategic position, forbidding the entrance into the valley beyond. A smaller fort matched it on the other side of the river, with siege equipment to pepper with stones and fireshot any force invading by boat. Walls stretched further up into the steep foothills, presumably at key strategic points, and there were other fortifications directly around Sura as well (the hill-city itself was called Sura, Darius told Ryou, the lesser settlements were Sura-Upan, Sura-Qelbar, Sura-Higezandu etc). Another stronghold could be seen in the distance at the other corner of the valley where the foothills arched back to once more meet the Taibor before the river continued on its journey through the plains.

"The closest fort is The Ox Gate, where merchandise from the Paths of Zaratusra is checked and levied," Darius explained when they slowed once more to a walk, their horses moving side by side. "The furthest one, downstream, is the Ram's Gate." There was a port at the spot halfway through the valley where the walkway, the Walk of Ashur, touched the river. The Taibor's flow was so slow and lazy that boats could be poled up the river to Mooncrest as well as down; two of them were passing by at the moment, the breeze over the water bringing the Hounds the echoes of a faint rhythmic chant.

Ryou measured the arc of the river, the stretch of flat grass where no trees grew near the Taibor, and the location of the Ox Gate and its walls. "The water rises that high? All the way up to the fortifications?"

"And around them too, at times."

"But that'd mean attackers could bypass the fort by boat during the flood season. Aren't you at risk of invasion then?"

Darius gave him an odd look. "Inder keep us from an enemy crazy enough to attack us during the floods; don't say such unlucky things. The last man alive to drag himself to our walls would unleash every plague upon us. They might make it past the river walls and gates," Darius added more prosaically. "But the water’s not deep enough for heavy fleets. The whole plain is marshy during the month of the floodtide and ebb; people touched by the shaking sickness get ill again, and an invading army couldn’t move for the muck. Sura itself is on dry ground unless the flood is particularly bad, and then the first tier of houses get their feet wet. We call those Seasons of Nammu; they're a bad omen. Some very bad years follow them; disease, war, famine. It happened the year after the former King was killed."

Ryou went hmmm absently before abruptly remembering that this was Darius's father they were talking about. Darius himself had said it without any particular inflexion, though, only as proof of what he advanced. People in the Outlands tended to talk of death as a fact of life rather than a tragedy.

A walkway of bricks and gravel rose from river-level to halfway up the fortifications of the Ox Gate; the bottom part of the fortress was solid embankment so that it could resist the rising floods and carry the living quarters of the fort above water level. The gate into the fortress looked appropriately formidable. A group of soldiers on horseback waited there, presumably for them. Darius's advanced scouting party was with them. Ryou took a deep breath as discreetly as he could, tension climbing. Riding with the small group of Hounds, whose names he was starting to know, had been...controllable. Sura, Darius's home, was only an hour away at most, and the future with all its complexities was now as real and solid as the Ox Gate itself.

This was really brought home when the officer in well-crafted iron armor and plumed helm saluted Darius with a crisp motion and said, "Lord Ghan. My hand beneath your foot. I've sent news of your arrival. It is good to have you back in the capital with the wreath of victory in your hand."

Oh boy, thought Ryou as all the other men saluted respectfully, a synchronous clap of hands brought to breastplates.

Darius exchanged a few words with the officer, addressing him and a few of the soldiers by name; he had this amazing ability to remember faces and details. Ryou, phasing out on his horse, found his mind split between worries of the indeterminate future and more immediate expectations of a warm meal, a bath, a good bed and no more horses.

"Tired?" Darius asked him privately, rejoining his side with a twitch of the reins. The Ox Gate troops were all going to ride them to Sura it seemed. Their officer, Talix, was ahead. Ryou caught a quick, inquisitive glance his way, but then Talix was once more all incurious proficiency in getting the show on the road.

"I'm fine," Ryou answered, which earned him a soft snort from his lover.

"It'll be getting late by the time we get to Sura, and I have to take care of the men and talk to Leyam. I'll leave you in Jexen's care when we get there, okay? We can show up in court tomorrow, when we're both rested."

"Sounds good," Ryou answered, because 'Oh thank god' would have sounded a little pathetic.

Since it wasn't flood season, they rode across the plain straight towards Sura instead of taking the paved road that ran alongside the hills to one of the walkways. They were passed without question through one of the gates around the city. Then they were climbing haphazard streets rising sharply up the hill. The place looked deserted to start with; the inhabitants were eating and resting in the shade and would come out later to take advantage of the coolness of the evening to conduct the last business of the day. But word spread ahead of their group. People started to gather alongside the climbing narrow road, kids running to keep up with the horses, men saluting, women shouting welcomes and waving their red-colored palms and bangle-laden arms. Cheers started. Ryou tried to take in the multi-colored houses, the bright awnings, the signs of businesses and homes and people-...the heat and fatigue was making the scene more and more dreamlike. Ryou would not remember getting up the hill later; at some point Jexen and Dionysodoros moved forward to ride on either side of him, isolating him a little from the noise and the crowds who were focusing on Darius, riding with Talix up ahead.

Ryou came out of his trance when the road flattened out and led them to the last line of Sura's defenses, the cream-colored stone wall he'd seen ringing the palace.

Jexen, who seemed to have adopted Ryou already, pointed at an opening cut into the wall, with two gates, one of wood and one of iron, both lifted in welcome. "That's not the main gate," he said, leaning over to talk to Ryou over the clamor. The cheering crowds were being outbid in the noisy welcome department by soldiers, gathering in the nearby plaza and on the top of the wall, all shouting victory slogans. "The big gate is to the east. This is the Women's Gate."

"Oh?" Ryou looked up at the thick stone arch above his head. "Why is it called that?"

"...I don't know. Hey, why's it called the Women's Gate?" shouted Jexen back at Bareil riding behind them - one of only five Assyrians in the troop. But Bareil just shrugged in ignorance.

"Since we're part of Lord Ghan's private guard, we're privileged with rooms right here in the royal barracks," Jexen continued, pointing at something Ryou couldn't see for all the horses and soldiers and general commotion around them. "Otherwise we'd be staying lower down the slope, or at the Ox Gate."

"I see," said Ryou, and wondered how many times he'd said that today. It was funny, neither Jexen nor Dio were from Sura, but they both looked pleased when Ryou showed interest or appreciation in the city.

Finally Ryou was allowed to get off the bloody horse and walk around on stiff legs. One of the Hounds, Hamado, silently took his reins, allowing him to join Darius's side. Darius pointed at a building nearby and started to say something about it, when he was interrupted by a servant who knelt before him; actually knelt on the ground in his white linen knee-length skirt, a hand out before him in the gesture of fealty.

"My pardon, Lord Ghan. I have been asked to send for you. You are to appear before King Leyam in the Hall of Ashur as soon as you and your party arrive."

Darius looked down at the servant wordlessly for a couple of seconds. Ryou had the intuition his lover had been caught short by the summons.

"Oh. Now? Well, let me-...what did he say exactly?"

"You and your party, as soon as you arrive," said the servant without hesitation, head still bowed.

Darius rubbed his face, his hand muffling a muttered, "Bugger. Okay," he said out loud, "change of plans. Dio, you deal with things here, I'll come later to square it away with the barrack's master. Ryou, I'm afraid 'your party' means you too."

Ryou was still owlishly watching the servant, waiting for the latter to move. It took him a moment to react, and then he had to run to catch up to Darius, walking through a path of trees in blue glazed ceramic planters as high as his head. Chamrosh and Zuru were trotting on ahead as if they already knew where they were going.

"Wait, wait," Ryou said as he reached Darius's side. They were alone now, the servant was still kneeling behind them and Talix and Dionysodoros were talking together, heading away towards the left. "You want me to meet your- the King like this?" Darius hadn't had that many spare clothes; not many people in the Outlands did, clothes were expensive, oft-repaired items tailored to the wearer. Ryou was dressed for traveling in the tunic he'd taken out of Sezerena's wardrobe, grubby from three days on the road. Darius wasn't all that much better, though at least he was in armor so it wasn't quite as obvious.

"We've been summoned," said Darius with a practical shrug. "And anyway..." He gave Ryou an oddly sly glance from the corner of his eyes. "I've been looking forward to the two of you meeting."

"You mentioned that before. Why exactly-"

"Just don't be surprised at anything that happens," Darius added in a murmur. Well-dressed people were gathered around the entrance of the building they were approaching, bowing to Darius and then giving Ryou curious looks. "It's going to be...There's reasons, okay? Don't say anything unless he asks you a direct question. You'll be fine," he added with a quick pat on Ryou's shoulder. Then he schooled his features and picked up the pace, striding past a group of heavily painted women as if he hadn't even noticed them.

Their destination was an L-shaped building at the end of the garden's path. Stairs led up to a large patio of twisted columns painted in primal colours. Its roof protected two enclaves on either side, inhabited by statues twice the height of a man; incense, plates of offerings on low tables and the solemn look of the stylized statues suggested some kind Gods. Household Kamis, or possibly dead ancestors, Ryou automatically assumed, but Darius strode through the entrance between them without a glance their way.

It turned out the building had only one large room and one function, a hall for feasts and celebrations. The other smaller arm of the L-shape, without patios, gods and columns, must be the kitchens.

Two guards stationed on either side of the entrance saluted as Darius passed, but there was no other announcement. The hubbub in the room diminished only by instalments as Darius walked the length of the rectangular hall, Ryou at his heels. People - all men, to Ryou's surprise - were seated on low chairs or half reclining on couches, with low tables and servants holding plates here and there. It seemed Darius and Ryou were interrupting a banquet. Cushioned benches, chairs and couches lined three of the walls of the room; there was nothing in the middle bar a magnificent mosaic of a man, ever so slightly cross-eyed, lifting a sectioned winged circle in one hand and a moon symbol in the other. All kinds of unidentifiable animals gambolled around him. The tiny tiles composing the winged circle were picked out in gold, the moon in silver and gems; it was magnificent. Darius strode across it without a glance, heading towards the fourth side of the room. The dining area there was elevated on a three-step dais covered in furs and rugs, with one elegantly carved low chair in the middle. The seat was adorned in gold, a throne despite its lack of height.

"GHAN! Finally!" shouted a figure standing in the center of the dais.

Ryou's mind faltered to a stop.

All the courtiers had gotten to their feet and now formed a respectful half circle around the space Darius and Ryou occupied before the throne, in front of which stood- Ryou resisted the urge to rub his eyes - in front of which stood a magnificently dressed six-foot-tall drag queen.

"Approach!" cried the man on the dais. There were other men and a few women around him, seated on the floor or kneeling. They were dressed in short tunics and soft pants with a lot of skin and jewellery showing, but Ryou couldn't pay the pageantry much attention when the King of Assyria commandeered all of it.

He was a well-built man of a good height, though his sandals with thick wooden soles made it hard to tell how artificial that impression was. And he was wearing a dress. Oh yes, a dress. Ryou's grasp on period clothing was still wobbly, but he knew enough to say with confidence that this man was dressed as a woman. A sweeping rectangle of rich green, tasselled in gold and decorated with jewelled pendants, wrapped around his lower body and was cinched in with a golden belt to form a floor-length skirt, the parting artfully situated so that Ryou could see a long, hairless leg with the aforementioned sandals and a gold brace like a garter around his thigh. His midriff was bare, and though Leyam wasn't as muscular as his half-brother, he did have a faint outline of pectorals above which he sported a green bolero-type top that struggled to suggest cleavage he was otherwise quite devoid of. The top had tassels that swished around as he gestured, counterpointed by bangles on his wrists and a magnificent necklace around his throat. If there was anything about this outfit that might have been ambivalent as to gender - and there wasn't, because it already clashed and fought tooth and nail with the more sober knee-length tunics every other man present wore - then the way Leyam's face was painted was certainly the tipping point. He was clean-shaven to start with, which put him and Ryou in a small minority, and then the heavy make-up went and put Leyam in a minority all of his very own. It wasn't ceremonial, as someone familiar with Kabuki might have considered; it was entirely decorative, from the solid green on his eyelids extending all across his face in a bar, to the exaggerated doe eyes in khol and the clashing red of the lips. The elaborate coif of red curls that rose on his head and fell down his shoulders to his middle back was as fake as a wig could look and not be made of plastic.

No, there was no possible doubt about it. The King of Assyria was dressed in drag.

In Ryou's stunned mind, the memory of an insult he'd heard a few times bubbled up. Leyam, the Bitch King. Ryou could finally see where that was coming from, though now that he thought back on it, the term had always been used with disquieting or spiteful overtones rather than in jest...

Darius had obeyed the command to approach the throne but now he stopped, took a step back and gently dragged Ryou forward by the elbow. Ryou started at the contact that jogged him out of his daze, and he glanced at his lover...who had a small, private smirk on the corner of his lips.

"You should see your face," Darius mouthed in a near-silent whisper. The bastard who'd failed to warn Ryou that his brother was a cross-dresser was enjoying himself.

Ryou let himself be led forward to a meter before the dais, and stopped where the pressure from Darius's fingers told him to. Cham and Zuru immediately went down on their haunches as if they'd received the same signal, tongues lolling and not at all intimidated by the grandness of the room which would have, in most people's opinions, precluded the presences of dogs here in the first place. Ryou's gaze was bouncing around, down to the floor out of respect and back up again with the inevitability of a train wreck. He did notice that the King was looking at him, particularly at the hand Darius had on his arm, and the expression behind the heavy makeup and the artificial smile was completely unreadable.

Darius took one last step forward by himself and went down on one knee, one hand flat on the first step of the dais. "My king," he said, head bowed.

Ryou stood there, waiting for any indication he was to do the same, but the king was no longer looking at him, nobody was. He made a deep bow just in case and then waited to see what was going to happen next.

King Leyam made a magnificent turn a catwalk model would have envied, sending the skirt sweeping out and around as he stepped back and sat down once more on the throne. A boy who could be no more than fourteen, dressed in a short skirt, body paint, jewels and nothing else, leaned forward to slip a gilded stool barely two inches high beneath the king's sandals. His master lifted a hand and beckoned with a gesture of studied grace. "Come, Ghan, come here. Come to my lap."

Lap...?

Darius stood and walked up the steps, to kneel again at Leyam's knee. There was the oddest half-smile on his face, matching the intensity in his eyes as he looked up at his brother.

Leyam's hand fell to the dark hair and scratched. The disks in Darius's hair clinked. "So, my faithful dog, did you hunt down my enemies for me?" Leyam mused.

"And ripped their throats out," replied Darius immediately.

"So savage, my beast. But it was well done. King Ka, my noble counterpart, has better to do than go around smiting pissant little Imperial lackeys, as do I. Roman wolves who badger our flocks are best left to the shepherd's dog, I always say. That'll protect the sheep that stray, and allow them to return to the bountiful, protected herd. All is well and good then, as long as they don't step out of line a second time."

With a synchronicity that was pretty creepy, both brothers looked to the left at a small group near the throne. A man at the center stiffened and paled, then he quickly handed his cup to a kneeling servant and bowed.

There was a tense little silence in the large room. Grown men looked away as the king's painted eyes finally left their initial target and swept the assembly. To Ryou, finetuned to gestures, the depth and timing of the bows beneath that gaze spoke of a wary respect and high regard; this ridiculous man in the center of the room commanded from them the dread and deference accorded to Emperors. The contrast between what Ryou was looking at and what the Assyrians seemed to be seeing was pretty stark...

"And this is?" Leyam asked, flicking a finger at Ryou. His other hand was still on Darius's head.

Ryou was instantly the focus of every gaze, him and his dusty clothes, dirty hair and unshaven face. Great. Ryou, face set, bowed with the same gesture as the rest of the Assyrians, with a tad more depth thrown as apology for his appearance.

"This is Ryou, his patronym is Ujiie," Darius said, actually getting the pronunciation right this time. "He is from a distant country. When I was ambushed shortly before the Essin siege and had to retreat alone, Ryou selflessly risked his life to come to my aid and assisted me in my return to the front line."

"With nothing to gain?" asked the King in a tone that suggested he knew damn well what was going on, before making a sweeping regal gesture. "Then he shall be clothed in purple and receive ten talents of silver with my stamp. Tupilla, take note of that."

"Yes, my King," said a stony-faced man kneeling a meter away from the throne. He had a portable scribe's table on his knees and he'd started making prints on a clay tablet as soon as Leyam had finished speaking.

Ryou bowed again, since he didn't know what else to do. Should he kneel? It was hard to remember that this man had the power of life and death over anyone in this country, including Ryou himself.

"You are welcome back amongst us, Lord Ghan," said the king in a flowery formal way. He'd stood up in a silvery shower of clinks and tings from his bangles. "Let this be a day to rejoice. Assyria and the Alliance are once more triumphant. Tomorrow night we will hold a feast in honour of the Ashur, Inder and the Hound of Assyria who brought down the city of Essin. Drink, my friends, and hold your cups high in honour of our returning champion. I myself shall retire for the night. In this heat, the only thing a man can do is lie down and eat fresh fruit," the king added, reaching back without looking to run a finger through the hair of the boy who'd brought him the footstool.

And that was it. The king made a theatrical wave over his head, and every person in the room immediately bowed, Ryou a second after the rest. By the time he looked up, King Leyam Sirrian was walking out a door behind the dais, preceded by two massive guards and followed by a gaggle of young, beautiful servants. Leyam's hand was on the shoulder of the boy he'd touched a minute before, his other arm wrapped around the waist of a scantily clad girl not a day over sixteen.

Ryou was almost as shocked by Leyam's departure in the middle of his own banquet as he was by the youth of his entourage and the innuendo as broad as a barn. It was hard to believe this person could be related to Darius. Well, no, it wasn't that they were related that was surprising, every family had its black sheep; it was the way Darius spoke of his brother with affection and respect. Cultural gap aside, Ryou did not think he and Darius could see things this differently. But what exactly was all this then-

"Come on," said Darius, rejoining Ryou. "The audience is over."

"Yes, of course." Then Ryou took his mouth off automatic and focused a bit more on the here and now. "Wait, didn't you need to talk to him some more?"

"Of course, but not in the middle of the royal court," Darius murmured for Ryou's ears alone.

Ryou flashed a quick look around the room, taking in the faces of those turning towards them. A lot of artificial smiles of welcome, a lot of hidden thoughts behind them. The man who'd been grilled by the king's jab earlier was talking to three others, stony features not entirely hiding a grim look. There was a little island of space around him and his cronies; even to a brand new foreigner, some of the currents here were obvious, while others would be invisible until the last unfortunate minute. It was like the finance sector's Big Ten summit, thought Ryou; only this time the term 'cut-throat' was probably not a metaphor.

A strong hand on Ryou's elbow was moving him in the direction of the exit through which Leyam had left. "Come on, I want to introduce you to my brother."

"Didn't you just do that?" Ryou muttered.

"No, you just met the Bitch King of Assyria," said Darius in that near-whisper and with that smirk again. "Now we're going to go meet my brother Leyam."

'Just don't be surprised at anything that happens', Darius had told him. Right, it was obvious there'd been more to all that than met the eye. Ryou set aside all judgment for now and followed his lover, making their way through the chatting, scented, curly-bearded throng.

TBC...

Now, I don't think 'Out' can be accused of having been heavy on the description up until now, but I did have to put in some details on the city of Sura and Assyria in general. Hopefully it was both clear and not too boring to plough through.

Bits and bobs for 'Out'

2009-08-05T04:44:31Z

At the request of a couple of readers, here's some visual guides of Ryou and Darius. They're guides only, and if you already have a good visual pic of one or either of them, please stick with it, because I think that'll make the story better for you.

Darius:
Strangely enough, that was harder than Ryou, because I have a very firm idea of Darius's looks (and also because I got insanely lucky with Ryou's pic ^^;) Instead of one picture, then, here's three, and it's up to the viewers to choose a compromise between them.
Though not exactly the image I had in mind, Eric Bana from Troy is fairly close (http://www.bloggang.com/data/caramellatte/picture/1196322641.jpg), though Darius's beard is darker and his chin a little wider. He's also not so beefy/meaty ^^; The Hector character gives a good idea of armor etc. at the time. Darius's hair is not blow-dried by a professional hollywood hairdresser, though, particularly during the entire time he was riding to rejoin the army (I haven't even seen Troy but I have to admit I have seen nothing that'll persuade me to watch it, other than Mr. Bana and we know what happens to his character...)

Completely out of left field, but I found some elements of illustration I was looking for in Jack Sparrow (remember! This is only the visual aspect! Not the character in any shape or form!) http://www.filmedge.net/potc3/images/0514/JackSparrow.jpg and http://artsvariety.files.wordpress.com/2009/03/jack1.jpg for eg. So take this kind of pic of Sparrow, remove the braids from the beard, the khol and the borderline lunacy, add it to Eric Bana, and you've got an idea.

Of course keep in mind that Darius is Assyrian/Persian, which means his features are considerably stronger and darker than any of the above. I just couldn't find any good model of Iranian or Greek men with beards and the kind of looks I want, but here's the Picture of Random Greek Guy Possibly Related To The Eurovision Contest (just to really give you nightmares) who does have the sort of features, if not the copper skintone, I had in mind.
http://www.eurovisionfamily.tv/save-files/user-images/fe/d9/18bd20489c274884646c0da8b424/greek%2520selection%5B1%5D-RESIZE-800-450-fit.jpg

To give all of this wild flailing a basis, I have to add that the genesis of Darius, indeed of my recent passion for bearded guys in general, comes from Lucci from One Piece. One has one's obsessions...Add a little bit of Lucci to the mix when Darius is in one of his Scary Moments (and also one of his Smiling Nastily moments, too)

Ryou:
Here's the pic for Ryou (taken from a yaoi manga from Naono Bhora, appropriately enough, as she is my Yaoi Goddess of All Times) Note that this pic is not freely available on the web, I cropped it from a downloaded pic, so I'll be taking it down in a week or two once people have looked at this post.
http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b47/Maldoror_gw/Ryou2.jpg

The hairdo in the pic is more modern than Ryou's, but the face and glasses and expression match what I had in mind quite well, as well as touching his face in that way to check if he's smiling (that is actually what he's doing) which is a complete coincidence; I did not remember this pic or this character at all when I thought of Ryou.

(I wanted to find a bearded yaoi manga or anime character to match this Ryou pic rather than actor pictures, but unfortunately there is no manly male bearded character in yaoi manga, period. Unless he's evil. Not entirely true, there are two bearded characters that I can think of, but they have shonen ai small features, while Darius has the strong features and dark skin of his country, and, yanno, he's all guy. I'm just glad I was able to find a fairly decent pic of RYou that didn't make him look wussified. Needless to say, the guy in the RYou pic is the top in that story, hence the fairly manly features. Suits Ryou, he's always been top until now too :P)

In other news, I'm putting together the last chapter of the first arc of this story. At this rate, we're 3-4 chapters away from the end. After that, I'll be putting out one-shots of various lengths every 2-3 weeks, or so I hope. It'll be chronologically free at that point. I'll be working on the other arcs in the meantime. I may eventually be posting the last arc before the other ones, simply because it's almost entirely written in my head and only requires a lot of typing now ^^; If I let it hang too long, it'll grow stale. It won't be too spoilery, and who knows, my inspiration may poop out before I can finish the other two arcs...Well, we'll see! As long as it continues to be fun!

Mal out.

Ofic: Out, part 22

2009-08-02T22:14:17Z

Woot, part 22 already. I can hardly believe it.

Incidentally, since it wasn't super clear (will poke that passage again in the future when I can, maybe), the reason Ryou chased the creepy out of his mind was because his instincts suggested that thinking about it too hard was a way of helping it find him. He's in a place where the mind can bend space and time, who knows what kind of beastie can evolve in those conditions; maybe it uses thoughts and nightmares like some sort of mental echo-location *evil smirk* Sleep well tonight, dear readers...

Link to all chapters

Part 22

The next day started out wonderfully. Ryou's sleep was not plagued by any more scary visions, which his burgeoning instincts suggested was a good sign. Better yet, he woke up next to Darius, and despite the complexities of his situation here, the pitfalls that might lurk between them, virtual strangers that they still were, Ryou felt a rare and pure moment of happiness as he watched his lover sleep. Sleeping very soundly indeed, one arm thrown up above his head, eyes closed, face relaxed. He'd wrapped his hair in a twist of cloth tied at the nape to avoid having the disks braided into the ends clink against the roll of blanket that served as pillow; with his hair pulled back like that, Darius looked different, younger, and a little less fierce.

A dog yipped in the main part of the pavilion, followed by a soft mutter of "Shhh, Zuru."

Ryou, who'd glanced around automatically at the noise, jumped as he realized Darius was now sitting up beside him, bleary eyes fixed on the partition giving them a semblance of privacy.

"Rand, is that you?"

"Yes, sir." Rand slipped between the tapestries before Ryou could think of anything to say that'd stop this man from finding him naked in bed with Darius for the second time in twenty-four hours.

Darius rubbed his eyes. "What is it?" he asked. By the sound of it, he'd have liked to enjoy another couple hours of sleep. According to Ryou's watch, it was only a little past six in the morning.

"You wanted me to tell you as soon as the Essin border had a passer again," said Rand. He'd graced Ryou with a small nod of greeting on entering and otherwise didn't seem to find anything noteworthy about their sleeping arrangements.

"Already? That was fast," said Darius, sleep banished. "And? Can we get to Mooncrest any time soon?"

"I doubt it, my Lord."

"Bugger. You got my hopes up," Darius muttered, shoulders slumping. "I really need to talk to Leyam as soon as I can."

"I agree. As for traveling, the Path to Tanatoria will be open all morning."

"Tanatoria? That works just as well." Darius threw back the coverlet in an excess of renewed energy and regardless of his nudity, not that it'd ever bothered him before. Ryou, for his part, kept the thin cover conservatively curled over his lap. "Put together an escort, I'll go square things with Terentius after I break my fast. I'm as hungry as a lion. Make that two lions," he said with a faint smirk back at Ryou which suggested there'd been some undertone to that remark that'd been both culturally significant and ever so slightly lewd.

Rand for his part did not even blink. "Yes sir. I've taken the liberty of waking Dionysodoros already."

"Good. When you see him, tell him it's his last chance to change his mind; seeing how he directed the Hounds for over a twelveday in my absence, he can continue leading the main guard in Teratiqa's place while the Hounds are still in Essin and beyond, if he wants to."

"I already discussed it with him," was the answer, with a hint of sourness that suggested the conversation had not gone according to Rand's wishes. "He reaffirms that he prefers to head your personal guard until Dela comes back. I tried to explain why it would be useful if you and he were not in the same group-"

"I'll make damn sure you don't need a look-alike taking my place again, Rand, so it's Dio's choice to turn down a promotion and ride the harder road," said Darius with a shrug, though beneath it he sounded pleased. "Go find our crazy Ionian, tell him to put together that escort and get his commander some food."

"Yes, sir," said Rand, already beyond the tapestries.

Dressed in one of Darius's two spare tunics, Ryou joined his lover in the main part of the pavilion for a meal of unleavened barley bread, honey, dates, dried figs, strips of jerky and milk. Cow's milk, to Ryou's surprise and delight. Raw and thick, it would have made him gag in anything other than his latte two weeks ago, but after struggling with goat's milk for awhile, Ryou knew a good thing when he tasted it.

The pavilion's flap was tied up; beyond it the camp bustled with soldiers in good spirits going about their business in the early morning sunshine. It was a wonderful day, a wonderful breakfast, which Ryou and Darius had exactly five minutes to enjoy before Rand stuck his head back into the tent and said, "My lord Ghan?"

"Yes. But call me by my name when it's just the three of us," Darius said in passing, giving Ryou a warm glow.

"Yes sir," said Rand, in what may or may not have been an example of poker-faced humor. "The escort is nearly ready, and General Terentius's aide said his master is up and can see you shortly."

"Good." Darius dropped his slice of bread on his plate and brushed off his hands briskly as he got to his feet. "You're off to Aksum capital today as well, yes?"

Rand nodded. "King Ka's emissaries are returning to their master this afternoon, I will join them."

"I'm sure those pompous asses will enjoy your company," said Darius with a nasty smirk. "Can you give Ka the usual salutations for me? I don't have time to muddle around with a tablet. Ryou and I will leave before the sun is too high, a qa at most. That will take us to the Path before mid-morning, and from there we can be in Sura in three days time."

Rand looked surprised. "Sir, it's four days ride from Tanatoria to Sura, at least."

"No, no, the road's should have been clear of snow for over a month now, we can make it in three days if we ride hard and change horses at the provincial outpost on the second night."

"It's four days or more riding normally," said Rand, his eyes flickering towards Ryou.

"Oh, don't worry on his account," said Darius, clapping Ryou on the shoulder hard enough to make the latter drop the fig he was holding. "I know he doesn't look it, but he's as tough as Kalkal's doorknob. He'll be fine."

Rand gave Ryou a sympathetic look and then left to presumably get things ready.

Ryou wasn't particularly looking forward to spending the next three days peering at the road ahead between the ears of a horse, but it didn't occur to him to complain. Darius needed to see his brother; there was a war on, the king of Assyria would expect his commander to report back now that Essin had fallen. But it was nice of Rand to be concerned for him. Ryou liked the man more and more.

"Darius, what does Rand do?"

Darius had been giving the rest of his bread and some jerky to the dogs. He looked a little perplexed at Ryou's question. "Do?"

"I mean, what's his job? He serves King Leyam, right?"

"That's right."

"What does he do? He seems very...organized. And he's been very helpful to me."

Darius scratched his chin. "Hmm. It's hard to put into so many words, really. Rand came to Leyam and me back when our lives weren't worth a pinch of sand. He swore fealty to Leyam and risked his life many times to help us get rid of my brother's regent. Since that messy business at Algmar, he can't work from the shadows anymore, too many people know who he is, so now he's Leyam's factotum. He's...let's just say, Rand's the kind of man who can find out about something before it even happens, and if that something is dangerous to Leyam, then it's got a noose around its neck whether it knows it or not. But he has an official role too, he bears a tablet with Leyam's seal and speaks with the King's voice when Leyam needs something done with a fair degree of seriousness and urgency. He's very good at that, too, it's amazing how well people listen to Leyam's word when it's Leyam's former strangler who bears it."

"His what?"

"Strangler. Oh, your kindly Inlands won't have anything like that, I wager. Strangler is a misnomer to start with, since a strangler will use anything, even poison if that's called for, to insure your enemies can talk over the error of their ways with the Furies. Every great clan has them. But compared to the kind of dispensable fools who carry a garrote around until they're killed off themselves, Rand is something else altogether, and he's become a lot more. Leyam has always had the knack of using a man to the best of his abilities. I have to go, I've got to organize our journey and break the news to Terentius that he's taking care of Essin after all." Darius looked pleased at ditching his obligations and leaving now. He strode out of the tent, the hounds trotting at his heels, leaving a motionless and silent Ryou behind him.

Ryou had wanted to ride at Darius's side again and share a campfire beneath the stars; it'd been one of those wild wishes that'd pushed him to take that leap of faith and magic yesterday to get him back into Essin. Today he'd gotten his wish, though not quite the way he'd envisioned it...Ryou watched the organized commotion around him, bemused. For some strange reason, he'd subconsciously assumed the escort would accompany them to the border, and then it would be just him and Darius again. An idiotic notion that would surely insult the fourteen men of Lord Ghan's picked personal guard who'd packed up at double speed and ridden off with them.

To Ryou's surprise, it seemed he possessed a tiny romantic fiber in his body - half an inch at most - that would have liked to be alone on the road with nobody but his lover for company. But Ryou's much greater practical side easily outvoted it to decide this could only be a change for the better. An ambush was no longer a concern, for starters. Four scouts ranged ahead and behind the main group at all times. A small force attacking their party would not survive the well trained battle-hardened Hounds, while a larger force could be outrun and outmaneuvered. Since they had extra horses for baggage, Ryou could look forward to a night in a proper bedroll on a bed of strewn bracken, his stomach full of lamb stew that had been a cut above the fare he and Darius had made do with these past two weeks. The men bustled about, setting up guards on the perimeter, maintaining the fire in the pit they'd dug out, warming water from the creek for their Lord and his guest to wash up in, and doing all the horse-related chores Ryou had once done himself. All Ryou had to do was sit down and rest after the hard slog. He'd have been ready to pitch in, since he did not want the men of Darius's unit thinking badly of him - and god only knew what they thought at this point. But as soon as he picked up a bucket, grabbed a brush or unfolded a blanket, a soldier materialized at his side with a faintly pained look on his face to relieve him of it with an apology and a 'do not disturb yourself, sir'. After five minutes of this, Darius, probably operating on a hint from Dionysodoros, had walked over and told Ryou to sit down and take it easy if he didn't want to hobble himself. He was referring to Ryou's arm, which had started to ache midway through the fast-paced ride and was now telling Ryou that Darius might have a point.

"Here you go. Drink this," said Darius, sitting on the fallen tree trunk a couple of Hounds had drawn up near the fire, apparently for Ryou's exclusive benefit and to the latter's surprise.

"Thanks." Ryou accepted the cup of warmed spiced wine, steaming in the cold air, and took a long draught in the hopes it would act like an anesthetic for his aching arm and stiffened muscles. Darius had said it contained herbs that would help. They didn't hurt the taste at any rate. The local wines wouldn't be used for vinegar back home; discerning Assyrians sweetened their drink with palm sugar or honey, same as the beer. All of it, of course, safer than the water...This cup was quite good in comparison, Ryou decided, taking a smaller second sip; it'd also been filtered with a cloth to get rid of the heavy sediment.

Ryou put down the cup, making sure the goblet was stable on the ground, and looked back down at the map he was supposed to be studying instead of woolgathering. Tanatoria was an Assyrian province, the closest to Sura, the capital. They'd been traveling through Darius's home country since before noon, on a paved road that cut through the rough terrain separating the various provinces. Darius had given Ryou the map, drawn with black ink on sheep's hide, when the latter showed some interest in the area. It wasn't precise, but it gave Ryou an idea of the geography of the northern part of Assyria, assuming his tired mind could gather enough of his concentration to study it.

A curious plonk-plonk-plonk noise made Ryou glance up again. One of the soldiers had drawn a bizarre instrument from his baggage and appeared to be tuning it. A sealed tortoise shell served as the base, two animal horns fixed into it. A stick near the top joined the two horns together. Four strings ran from the stick to the shell, completing an odd-looking hand harp or lyre, though it wasn't anywhere that melodious.

Men gathered around, talking in quiet voices and laughing. Ryou watched them discreetly. Most of them had been in the group that'd ridden out after him to save Darius two days ago, faces burning with determination and ferocity that’d unified them in intent. Now that they were walking around chatting in the light of the fire, Ryou could see them as individuals rather than as a scary group, and he could already associate some names with varied features from all over the Outlands, as well as scars, tattoos, various skin diseases and warts (the devotees of Hygiea saved peoples lives, not their looks, and in the local culture it was considered unseemly for a grown man to worry about the latter). One thing Ryou had quickly noticed was that none of these soldiers could be more than a year past the age of twenty, the exception being Dionysodoros, currently making his way towards Ryou and Darius. The Ionian officer was closer to Darius's age, twenty five or so. Ryou concluded he was the oldest man around by half a decade and wasn't sure what to do with that thought.

"Sir," said Dionysodoros, drawing up in front of Darius. He gave Ryou the same bow, hand pressed against his chest, that he gave his leader, to Ryou's surprise. "The men would like to do an honor dance for our return to Assyria, with your permission."

Darius nodded. "Just tell them to watch it, though. We're not finished with this campaign."

"Yes sir," replied Dionysodoros, before gesturing at the men behind him, his fist waving back and forth as if about to throw a lasso. Gestures, unlike words, were fully subject to the Curse of Babel, but Ryou gathered from the enthusiastic rise in the voices and the sudden outburst of directed activity, that Dionysodoros had given the men the go ahead.

The man with the tortoise harp started plonking on his strings, the dull sound almost percussion more than harmony, yet it did have a modulated thumping appeal to it. It was expanded upon when another man sat down next to him and started blowing into pan pipes that could have come right out of an interactive museum exhibit on ancient European countries as far as a bemused Ryou was concerned. The music was simple, repetitive, quick-paced enough where the disparate sounds blended together in an effervescent whole. The men gathered in a loose half circle, leaving space for both the bonfire and for Ryou and Darius to see. They were hooting and laughing and already clapping their hands in time to the rapid beat, looking off to the left where some of their numbers were busying themselves around the baggage.

Two men ran into the circle and got down on one knee, facing each other over a meter of empty space. What they were doing there wasn't clear, even less so when they unwrapped the objects they held in rough woolen blankets to reveal a pair of swords. They drew the weapons and held them at ground level, gripping the hilt so that the cutting edge was straight up. The blades were parallel, two feet apart. A third man had followed them into the circle of firelight; as soon as his friends had knelt down, he leapt into the space between the swords and started to dance.

Ryou's eyes progressively widened as his gaze bounced from the man's sandaled feet to the edges of the blades glinting in the firelight.

The soldier had cast off his hauberk like many of the others who weren't on guard duty, though he’d kept the black scarf around his neck; it fluttered around his shoulders as he leapt back and forth, playing a crazy kind of hopscotch over the blades and back again in time with the music.

"Isn't that a little dangerous?" Ryou couldn't help asking once the power of speech returned.

"That? No, that's fine," said Darius, a grin in his voice.

The moves were so fast Ryou could barely keep up, succeeding each other without pause. The soldier jumped forward and one foot hit the ground before the front blade. He jumped back, and his left foot landed in the middle of the square. A spin, right foot behind the back blade - there was also movements side to side, limited by the presence of the men on his left and right, holding the swords and grinning up at him.

"Go, Romrama!" someone from the laughing, hooting crowd shouted, encouraging the dancer. Romrama grinned, he was looking down but not with the concentration Ryou would have thought was required. His feet looked so light, he could almost be floating. The men had started to shout, something like 'Hey hu! Hey hu! Hey hu!' in time with the rhythm, and Romrama danced between the blades like it was effortless.

"Come on!" shouted the man on the lyre, and the plonking took on a new intensity.

The men burst into song - Darius too, singing and clapping along with them, words as fast as the rhythm. And the blades-

- the blades beneath Romrama's feet began to sweep back and forth at the same cadence.

Ryou's jaw sagged. The fallen map rolled up unheeded at his feet.

The lyre's rhythmic plonk was now joined by the percussive sound of the blades clashing together. Their owners were moving them from one side to the other while keeping them straight, so they met together blade to blade in the middle - clash! - before sweeping out again and thudding - clack! - against the tips of the worn-out scabbards. The swordsmen had propped the latter upright next to their knees to help them delimit the square. Obviously, thought Ryou; if the width the swords traveled changed, it would change the tempo of their sweep, and then the dancer- It was precision work, one on which their comrade's feet depended, but the grinning soldiers didn't make it look all that hard.

"Now that's a little dangerous," said Darius with obvious amusement once the first stanza of the song finished.

And it probably was, but Romrama was grinning like victory incarnate to the encouragement of the others, a fearless joy in his every step between the blades that were now dancing with him, in, out, spin, right foot landing where the forward sword had been but a moment before-

Ryou, watching him, found himself gaining a seed of understanding of the kind of man who could enjoy this unreasonable pursuit, as well as join the Hounds with their dangerous reputation, their brand-new off-the-cuff guerilla tactics and the risks they incurred; the bloody-minded joy of men who'd chosen to live intensely rather than live long...

The second stanza started, still fast yet melodic in its harmony of men's voices rising together. The Gift that Zaratusra had left Ryou was splitting his perception, like it did every time he listened to someone singing or reciting poetry, any activity where the shape and cadence of the words had just as much import as their meaning. So even as Ryou watched and listened to his lover and the others sing out in alien words that melded into rhyme and rhythm, he could also 'hear' the meaning, penetrating his brain at its own pace and with its own wordings. '- beautiful girl, come to my country-...where the river is flowing-...the sword is sheathed now-...my country is beautiful-...when the grain is ripe-...' Ryou did not like the sensation the schism caused, so with some effort he tuned out the meaning and listened only to the melody and the flowing, laughing words.

Then suddenly- Ryou didn't see what happened, but right in the middle of the third verse Romrama leapt clear. The swords clanged together disharmoniously as the sword bearers looked up and around in surprise. Romrama stumbled forward, fortunately uninjured and laughing along with the rest of the boisterous cheering crowd.

"Give the kid some beer!"

"No, don't give him any, he's drunk already!"

"Hey, Romrama, are you that clumsy with a sword?!"

"No, no, how agile he is! See, his father was a goat!"

Romrama gave the last speaker the double-fingered gesture which Ryou knew full well by now was the Assyrian bird. Then Dionysodoros cleared his throat so loudly it could be heard clear over all the noise, and the men toned it down with sideway glances at the log.

"Doesn’t anyone ever get injured?" Ryou asked weakly.

"Hardly ever," said Darius, idly testing the warmth of his wine with a finger. "You don't do it if you don't know how. Besides, they keep a couple of old blades the blacksmith has given up on for that purpose, and wear proper sandals. I used to do it barefoot."

"You? You used to do that?"

"Oh hell, by the time I was sixteen there wasn't any idiotic risky thing I hadn't done," Darius snorted. "I forbid them from taking too many chances while we’re at war. Beyond that, I let them play. Things like that are good for morale, and it makes a stronger unit because you have to trust everyone, the musicians and the sword wielders as well as everybody else who can clap out of turn and throw your rhythm. But mainly it's a good way for young dogs to show off," he added with a tolerant look in the direction of the next dancer who'd taken Romrama's place. "In this instance, they're showing off for you."

Ryou almost spilled the wine he'd been finishing. "Me?!"

Darius looked surprised at Ryou's reaction. Then he smiled and leaned forward until he was talking into Ryou's ear, which didn't help Ryou's sudden struggle with his composure. "You have no idea, do you. Look at it through their eyes. There's rumors all over the Alliance about you already. It’s said you fearlessly charged into camp two days ago as if you were going to attack it single-handedly and fully expected to win."

"Well actually-"

"Yeah, I know. Trust me, I know. Hearsay carries enough crazy things about me, so now it's your turn," said Darius wickedly, his shoulder warming Ryou's. "As every man in the army is now ready to swear, having heard the truth of it from the friend of the friend of his cousin who was on guard duty that day and not even all that drunk at the time, after your thunderous arrival you stalked up the hill to Terentius's praetorium and ordered him to send out the Hounds to help me. Your eyes may have shot lightning bolts at this point."

"Oh good grief."

"Rand, Leyam's signet-bearer, immediately mounted a rescue party of twelve-score men on your word alone. They charged out, cut to pieces the thousands of enemies I had not yet defeated by myself, so on and so forth. And that was just the start. The next day you were sent to oversee the battle from a height above the city, where you made the sun stand still to give us the victory in an hour."

Ryou buried his face in his hand, to stop from laughing or groaning or maybe both. Darius chuckled against his shoulder, obviously enjoying this.

"Then it was revealed that you were a powerful magian who'd foiled a secret plot to exile me to the Void and the Furies. On hearing the trumps of victory, you broke through the Veil to appear before me and- well, rumor didn't get the next bit all that wrong, though it embellished it with lyrical words neither of us would ever say, and it didn't elaborate on what happened on the bed afterwards."

This time Ryou did groan. "You're kidding me."

"I may be exaggerating a little, but not by much."

Ryou took his hand away and looked around the camp as discreetly as he could. "Do you think they, um, mind?" he asked before he could properly reflect on the question.

Darius snorted. "If there's a man amongst them who minds his commander getting laid, be it with Angra Mainyu himself, let him come forward. I'll teach him a little dance with swords that are not blunt."

Ryou had by then remembered that this world had a very different perception of men sleeping together. So he was reassured on that front. Now he just had to worry about this perception of being some godlike figure with the power to bend space and alter time with a snap of his fingers.

"Most of them have at least as much sense as an ox," said Darius with a hint of an indulgent smile belying his low evaluation as he watched his men. "They'll know not to believe all the nonsense, not when they hear so much about me. But that means they don't know who you are, just that you're different, powerful, and important to me. So like the mutts they are, they're doing this whole song and dance to show you respect, for my sake and your own, and to make sure you know they’re not to be discounted."

Because Ryou was in the habit of regularly discounting heavily armed soldiers all around him, right. Ryou dismissed that notion with a shake of his head, but he absorbed the rest...Having Rand walk in on them twice had only been embarrassing. Suddenly realizing that their relationship was widely known...that was breathtaking. These men - hell, the whole of the Alliance it seemed - knew he and Darius were lovers. That nobody seemed to particularly mind was an immediate bonus, but more than that; Ryou was no longer a random stranger transiting through. His presence, and his relationship with Darius, had caused ripples of actions and consequences around him all throughout the day, it was now as real and solid in this world as the bracers around Darius's left arm and Ryou's right. Yes, it was breathtaking. And a little nerve-wracking, the tension of a salaryman caught in an unexpected social situation and afraid of making a faux-pas. Beyond whispering in his ear, Darius had not made any gesture in Ryou's direction that he wouldn't make with any other man. Was there an etiquette as to how much affection men showed in public, even if everybody knew they were together? This would be a new situation to Ryou back home, here in the Outlands he was twice as much at sea. Better play it safe and take his cues from Darius in the meantime.

And talking of cues, this was the third time Darius had stifled a yawn. He'd only had three hours of sleep last night and had ridden hard all day. Ryou was swaying a little on his log as well, and he did not particularly want to fall asleep on Darius's shoulder and start drooling in front of the men. Time for bed.

It seemed Dionysodoros had reached the same conclusion, as he loudly clapped his hands after the next dancer was finished and the evening quickly wrapped up at that point. Darius shook himself, went over guard rotations with Dionysodoros, and then rejoined Ryou just as the latter was noticing there were now two bedrolls on the bed of bracken.

"I see we're sharing," Ryou said, trying to hide his surprise. Now he was really confused.

"Yes, no more night vigils for either of us," said Darius, mistaking the meaning of Ryou's comment. "And a good thing too; Tanatoria is a lot colder than Aksum or Palis once the sun is down, you'll see. Keep your tunic on, but you can take your shoes off; I'm sure Chamrosh won't mind sleeping at your feet."

Ryou looked down at the one he thought of as 'the slightly less large dog' which was lounging nearby, tongue lolling. The hounds had kept pace with them remarkably well despite the ride alternating between fast walk and stretches of gallops; it was clear these were not cherished pets, they were used to pulling their weight and making their own way in the army.

Darius, already stripped down to his tunic, stopped near Ryou on way to the pile of blankets. "You don't mind, right?" he asked in a low voice meant just for the two of them, tilting his chin to indicate the arrangement.

"Mind? No, not if you don't. I'm sure it'll be warmer that way."

Darius looked at him in silence for a few seconds as if he expected Ryou to add something more relevant. "I meant that I'm taking the right-handed side," he finally said. "Don't the men in your country-...but I guess that wouldn't apply to a magian anyway," he added, rubbing his eyes tiredly, which stopped Ryou from saying 'What do you mean?' "You know there's no disregard intended, of course. My young mutts expect it to be their commander's hand on the sword, while you, my good friend, are not even armed in a way the rest of us dungheads understand."

"It's fine, Darius. Let's get some rest," said Ryou, giving Chamrosh, busy scratching at some fleas, a resigned look. This wasn't the time for explanations; they needed to get some sleep and recover before the next day of hard riding, and if Ryou started to quiz Darius on all the things he did not know about the Outlands, they'd still be sitting here in Tanatoria a week from now. Soon, soon they'd be in Sura. Ryou felt as if he and Darius had been both running full tilt ahead ever since the two of them had first set eyes on each other, but soon it would be time to stop all this traveling, get some real rest and take stock.

Ryou curled up beneath the blankets, suddenly aware of how nippy it was now that Jexen had banked the fire. But he kept his eyes open over the rim of the cover, alternating watching the stars prickle the sky above the line of dark pine trees, and the tail-end of bedtime preparations around the camp. The guards replacing those on the perimeter were bundled up in cloaks with sheepskins thrown over their shoulders. Tanatoria was a northern province, and the road between its border and Sura traveled through a mountain range at high altitude. Of the men who were getting ready to rest, some of the others were also rolling up in pairs; presumably for warmth, unless there were a surprising number of couples in this unit...Ryou couldn't make out many details in the fading light of the fire, but he did pick out Dionysodoros, bedded down on the other side of the embers, amiably shoving at Bareil, one of the youngest of the Hounds who was apparently hogging too many of the blankets. On the left side, Ryou noted, eyes narrowing; Bareil was on the left side, Dio on the right.

He lifted his head a few inches and looked over his shoulder. Darius had Zuru curled up on his side near his knees. His right hand was clear of the blanket and resting straight down his side; his sword, unsheathed and laid on his scabbard, was a couple of inches away from his extended fingers, same as Dionysodoros. Well that rather explained that pre-bedtime discussion, then. Ryou slipped off his glasses and put them on the folded square of Rand's cloak near his head. He did not particularly mind the possible implications of their sleeping arrangements. If they came under attack, it'd definitely be to everyone's advantage to have Darius up and swinging his sword rather than Ryou waving around his table knife.

Darius was already asleep. Ryou felt his own eyelids grow heavy as he watched his lover breathe in and out, slow and deep. The small chain of reasoning and deduction had reminded him that he wasn't completely helpless in this strange land he was becoming a part of; he had his eyes, his powers of observation and his brain, which was still functional and pretty decent by local standards. And he had warriors who didn't mind him being their commander's lover standing watch or sleeping all around him, as well as a dog snoring on his legs, which was considerably warmer and more comforting than Ryou had foreseen...

Ryou was asleep by the time any half-baked conclusion wound its way through his mind.

TBC...

Ofic: Out, part 21

2009-07-26T21:47:22Z

I'm still catching up with reviews, but I do have to say one more time, a great thanks to all of you who read and comment on my fics ^__^ It's what makes me stick to my writing schedule and post once a week when possible (I'm a great procrastinator usually) For me, writing is a little like exercising. It's fun, but only after I've been doing it for ten minutes and the energy is starting to flow and feel easier. Then the endorphins kick in and I'm on cloud nine for awhile ^^; But to kick me into motion in the first place...I sometimes need to twist my own arm behind my back ~~or let the yaoi entice me~~

Link to all chapters

Part 21

The room Ryou fled to was long and narrow, barely two meters wide. Ryou quickly pulled the tapestry back into place behind him. A bit of light snuck past it to illuminate rows of decorated wooden boxes, the larger ones on the floor, smaller ones lining two long shelves. The room smelled of sandalwood and dried flowers, a relief from the charnel stink in the other room which Ryou was getting a little too good at not thinking about...Ryou ditched that train of thought. It looked like he was going to have to reassert his moral compass here in the Outlands rather than in a shrink's office back home, and the result would undoubtedly be different, but one thing was certain: now was not the time to do it.

He'd stepped further into the room without thinking. He could barely see the chests anymore. At the far end of the walk-in wardrobe, another curtain was pulled aside, leading to yet another room, but that one was darkened and provided virtually no illumination. A sconce barely seen in the darkness held a candle, its creamy white wax a symbol of luxury in the Outlands, but Ryou had nothing to light it with, so he didn’t venture further. From Sezerena's room behind him, he could hear Rand moving around near the marble desk. A shuffle of papers confirmed that Rand was otherwise occupied, so Ryou dropped the heavy blanket and looked around for something to wear.

He flipped open the closest chest and found it filled with folded cloth. Ryou pulled out the top one, but it was just one large rectangular piece. So was the next. He opened the box to the right and pulled out yet another one, though his fingertips could tell this one was a richer, smoother material. There were symbols embroidered on the hem. A cloak or a toga, Ryou surmised. The chests on the top shelf were too small to hold clothes. He flipped open one of them out of curiosity, a lacquered box thirty centimeters wide for only a few high. It was filled with shallow clay pots, some open and revealing colored powders. It could be a cosmetic case or a medicine cabinet for all Ryou knew. He closed it and investigated a large chest on the other side of the narrow room. Ah, finally some real clothes, Ryou could tell from the way a hem caught his fingertips.

"Do you need assistance, sir?" Rand asked from right outside the dressing room.

"What? No," Ryou shot back, snatching up the article of clothing and fumbling it hastily, trying to find the way to put it on. He discerned the edges a large hole at one end, and slipped it over his head.

"Allow me to come in," said Rand, lifting the side of the tapestry.

"I'm fine," Ryou answered from the folds of fabric he was pulling over his face. Fine linen slipped down his bare skin, unfortunately not fast enough to hide the mess all over his lower body.

Rand was silent for a short moment, his head silhouetted in the hand-span of light from the main room. Then he pulled the curtain completely aside and walked in. "My pardon, but I think you do need my assistance."

"No, I can manage-"

"Since that's a woman's tunic you're putting on, and I'm fairly certain that was not your intent," Rand continued gravely, opening the first chest in the line.

Ryou looked down at what he'd slipped into. No, that hadn't been his intent. Besides, his selection was a soft tube of linen open both at the top and the bottom; he hadn't the faintest idea how this was supposed to be worn or held up.

"Did Darius tell you, ah...where I was from?"

"Yes, sir, from the Inlands." This seemed to perplex him not one iota, no more than finding Ryou undressed and alone with Darius in the first place. Ryou was trying to shake off the mental image of an imperturbable English butler...

"You can call me Ryou. If that's okay." Ryou didn't have a clue where Rand featured in the Assyrian political landscape; he seemed to behave like a manservant, but armed soldiers jumped to obey him like he was a general. Rand also knew Darius's real name and could use it alongside the King from what Targuta had said. Ryou had the feeling there was a lot of power in this man's unassuming hands. Having Rand call him 'sir' like he did Darius made Ryou nervous in an ill-defined way.

"If you wish," said Rand politely, holding up a plain brown tunic with long sleeves and a hem stitched in red thread. "This will do; there are a lot of Imperium-style clothes here, and I don't think that'd be wise to wear right now. I'll look for something better for you at a later date, now we need to get out of here and back to Ghan's praetorium. The city has been declared safe by the General, but that makes the citadel fair game, and once precedence is sorted out and the tithes removed, things are going to get noisy."

"Noisy?" Ryou had taken off the woman's dress and was holding it against his body. "I can't hear anything. The fighting is over, isn't it?"

Rand studied Ryou in the dimness, eyes sober. "I've heard myths about the Inlands that recounted terrible wars, slaughtering numbers that would have decimated the Empire several times over. Is that true?"

"What? Well I don't know about the numbers, but we've had wars of course. My country hasn't seen war on its soil in my lifetime, though."

Rand looked like he was contemplating that, eyes beneath the bangs wandering from Ryou to a shelf loaded with belts and shoes. "I see. My country has been at war all of my lifetime. Now I really do want to get you out of here." Rand didn't explain what he meant by that, he just pulled the tunic over Ryou's head. It was probably meant to go under something more decorative, it was all but unadorned and smelled of old oak. Rand grabbed an item from a small chest seemingly at random and looped a belt of metal links and the buckle inset with gems around Ryou's middle. Ryou didn't know about Aksumite or Assyrian style, but it was still pretty obvious this was the equivalent of putting a Rolex over the sleeve of a dirty sweatshirt. Rand's hand on Ryou's elbow steered him out of the dressing room and back to the bed before Ryou could decide whether it made sense to say anything or not, about either the style or the absence of britches.

Ryou found himself sitting on the high bed before he could put together any comment. Rand's cloak, still with him since yesterday, was handed to him without a word. While he sorted that out, Rand kneeled and laced up Ryou's shoes for him. Ryou was really going to have to find a way of asking the man who he was and what position he held in King Leyam's court.

Rand marched him just as ineluctably through the corridors and down the stairs of the citadel. There were soldiers in groups of six on every floor, eyes hard and weapons ready as if they expected an enemy attack still. There was a clamor from somewhere outside of the building. Ryou couldn't make anything of it out, it could have been a market-day brouhaha or the prelude of a counterattack.

Rand seemed to know the citadel like his own home; he led Ryou without hesitation to a guarded side door. The men posted there stopped talking amongst themselves in eager whispers and saluted hastily when they saw Rand. Rand did not pause. He opened the door and led Ryou out onto a fortification. It was a walkway built into a wall, sided with wooden waist-high palisades. Ryou glanced over the left side to see a plunging view of the city. He hadn't had that good a look at Essin until now. The buildings near the palace looked Greek to Ryou's untutored eyes, but further down the street they changed almost abruptly to become the sandy stacked squares he'd seen in Palis. The three streets he could see were deserted. Near the wall, a canvas awning had been torn down and trampled along with broken pots and a shattered stool, immediate signs of recent violence, but no people. Maybe they were hiding in their homes. Hadn't someone mentioned the city was to be kept safe?

"Tell me about the Inlands," said Rand, pulling Ryou forward so fast Ryou staggered and had to hop to catch up.

"What?"

"Lord Ghan was recounting a few anecdotes last night. It sounded fascinating."

'Who the hell are you, how much did Darius tell you, and aren't you the least bit surprised I showed up in bed with your boss after you saw me off in the opposite direction this morning?!' Ryou internally ranted, a fine thread of patience snapping at too many rapid changes in his situation accumulating since yesterday. Caution, ingrained composure and courtesy stopped him from showing any sign of his inner thoughts, of course. He wasn't really angry at Rand or at anybody, just...tired. He felt drained, now that he had the time to catch his breath after talking to Darius. It was an odd, internalized sensation of tiredness that was not physical. Of course, Ryou suddenly realized; it was the way he'd felt after he'd moved the Honda through the dimensions, even though it wasn't anywhere quite as drastic after today's small hop. Made sense.

"How do your Inland chariots work? He described them, but he didn't know more about them."

"...You mean the cars?" Ryou glanced around as he heard someone shout a couple of streets away, a raucous cry that ended in an odd tremolo-

"Yes, those." Rand walked even faster; Ryou was having to trot to keep up with the taller man's strides.

"The border crossers had cars. I don't see why this place is stuck in antiquity when-" that probably hadn't been diplomatic to say out loud.

"Border crossers? Oh, those, yes. They stay in the no man's land, though. What they use there won't work elsewhere for the most part. The Gods discourage those who seek answers outside of the confines of their own soil. So do the Per Gathas," Rand added dryly, the tone telling Ryou whose strictures were more consequential. It seemed Rand was not an overly religious man.

"But Darius mentioned the Alliance has cannons." The wooden poles of the palisades rose and fell regularly, and sometimes came together to form little guard posts, empty at present. Ryou wondered how far they could go this way. From his view on the hillside, Ryou did remember the city of Essin had been divided into section by internal walls, doubling around the palace.

"Oh yes, but we make those weapons in Assyria. The Gods also encourage us to fight to the best of our abilities," Rand said with a touch of ironic humor.

"And the Per Gathas?" Ryou couldn't help but asking in much the same tone.

"They're either pretending we don't have them or that we invented them on our own." Rand's creased cheeks twitched, almost letting slip a smile. Ryou still wasn't sure about this man, but he thought he'd be able to get along with him.

They talked about cars, Gods and technology while the thin battlements gave way to a major one at the main wall. They walked along that until Rand lead him down into the fortifications and to the main gate, and from there on back to the camp Ryou had left behind only a few hours prior.

It was looking for him.

It scratched at the walls of that flimsy thing called reality. The more it dug and insinuated itself towards him, the clearer he could see it with this sense that did not involve vision. It was a ridged grey sac larger than a beach ball, sprouting projections in every direction. Like a nerve ganglia in a nest of neurones, but these jointed protrusions, thick as a man's wrist, sprouted out over an area that would cover the size and volume of a house and were tipped with hard bony black chitin. They scratched-scratched-scratched. The ganglia at the center pulsed. Ryou could sense it. It was intelligent in a way so totally alien to the human mind that he could not gauge it. And it was looking for him. It knew him. He'd crossed its territory, left a trail, and now he was prey.

Ryou huddled in a dark corner. He was thirteen and hiding in his room from what he'd done. No, he was twenty-nine and hiding from a monster out of nightmares. Nightmares- dreaming? He was dreaming?

Scratch scratch scratch.

It wanted to find him. It was going to find him, invade him from a direction that should not even exist and lay its children in his brain.

It was getting closer. It was nearly here. People moved around it, even walked through it since it was still not close enough to intersect their reality; men clinked past it in armor, sang and laughed as it insinuated its way towards them no more than a shadow's width away.

More noises nearby. A few hushed words in a familiar voice softer than the scritching sounds. Ryou's ears pricked. Clinks, a thud. Darius muttered an imprecation- Darius?!

SRATCH SCRA-

"Watch out!" shouted Ryou, bolting upright in bed.

Darius jumped, hands frozen in the act of giving his sword to an attending soldier. His subordinate was already holding the red and black hauberk and armor, though he dropped the helm in shock. The two large hounds scrambled to their feet where they'd been sitting near their master and stared at Ryou with much the same expression of astonishment.

Ryou gaped, looking around for a monster that did not exist. But the shadows, flickering from the light thrown by a set of candles in a holder, were empty.

"Sir?!" The tapestries partitioning the private quarters from the rest of the pavilion were jerked aside and a guard poked his head in. Another hovered at his shoulder.

"It's fine," said Darius, still watching Ryou. Then he took his hand away from where it'd instinctively gripped his sword's hilt and turned towards his men. "It's fine. He's just got a case of nerves; his first battle. Leave. You can keep watch out front. You too," he told the soldier attending him and who was still staring at Ryou in slack-jawed amazement.

The guards obeyed immediately. The attendant bobbed at Darius and followed them out with the armor, presumably to go and clean off the smudges of blood.

Darius waited until the men had left, then he propped the sword against an open chest of clothes, crossed the space between them and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Are you alright?"

Ryou had had the time to sort fantasy from reality. Reality was already knotted, complex and thorny enough, he didn't need imaginary monsters to deal with as well. At least he thought it was imaginary...Though he could not explain it in words, that fledgling ability that had allowed him to feel the Rajin Bher's arrival so many days ago and sense the dog-creature's presence back in Palis was now stretched to its limit, and he could not feel anything suspicious stirring.

"I'm sorry I startled you, it's nothing," he said, scrubbing his face and trying to rid himself of the memory of that ugly alien thing by sheer willpower. "Just a nightmare."

"A bad dream?" Darius looked at him searchingly. "Should I call for the augur?"

"The what?"

"The augur. Bad dreams of that scale should be properly interpreted."

"Ahhh, no, that's okay."

Darius was frowning. "If this is in any way a forewarning of disaster, we need to know, especially if we're about to be attacked. A few years ago, my friend Shahram woke up like that after a dream of a bull getting killed by a pack of wolves, and three days later half our unit were slaughtered in a Roman ambush, including him."

"It's okay, Darius, it was just a dream." One he would have no hopes of describing. And though he could not feel anything hostile coming near, Ryou instinctively felt that it was probably dangerous to talk about that thing, or even think about it too hard. It would be...it would be like sending up a beacon. Once more Ryou could not even find the words in his own mind to describe what he was sensing, but in a world of multiple dimensions where the human mind could use maths to pierce the map of reality, it somehow held a kind of logic. And if there truly was something out there, Ryou felt he was better equipped at handling it than the local shaman.

A furry feeling made him glance down. One of the large hounds had put its head on the bed over Ryou's hands, and was looking up at him soulfully.

"Good doggy," he muttered, mind still mostly elsewhere. There was slobber on the back of his hand. He pulled it away without making any sudden movements and wiped it discreetly against the covers.

Darius looked unconvinced. "Are you sure? You were awfully white in the face."

"Don't worry, I'm feeling much better," said Ryou briskly, glancing at his watch. "Three o'clock? Rand had someone bring me lunch and then he said I should rest, but I didn't think I'd sleep three whole hours. I'm sorry I invaded your space without asking," he added, gesturing at Darius's pavilion and the bed, a frame strung with ropes holding a rag-stuffed mattress. "Rand said it'd be best if I stayed here, because the tent and things I used last night were being tithed, whatever that means."

Darius was silent for a spell, gaze not wavering even when the dog put its head hopefully beneath his hand.

"Tithed means being distributed as part of pay-out after the battle, all tribute and capture being split according to rank and merit, as well as that portion set aside for the gods. Rand was right that it is best you stay here, to make it clear who it is who protects you, as you are a stranger in our lands. As for the time, I never got my head around your 'watch', but it's the middle of the night, the fourth qa, so I really do have to ask," Darius added with an unblinking look that drilled right through Ryou, "considering that you slept the equivalent of a whole day without realizing it, are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," repeated Ryou a little weakly, stupidly glancing at the edges where tent met ground - with no hint of sunlight peaking through - and then at his watch again. Darius knew what clocks were, though he didn't use them himself. He'd told Ryou that the countries that did use them started their 'day' when the sun rose. This meant that the clocks had to be reset each day at dawn, but that was okay, they were so inexact they'd probably have to be reset anyway. Darius had been curious about Ryou's watch and had borrowed it for twenty four hours while traveling through Palis, but he still didn't get the concept of a day that started arbitrarily in the middle of the night. So it was up to Ryou to figure out that his Seiko was informing him it was three in the morning. He'd slept fifteen hours without stirring.

"I'm just a bit tired," he added diplomatically, avoiding Darius's gaze.

Darius said nothing, absent-mindedly scratching the mutt's ears, which resulted in a thump-thump-thump of tail on the beaten dirt floor covered in carpets. Finally he made a grumpy noise. "I'd be a hypocrite lecturing you on your use of magic earlier, when I cannot deny that I am glad you came back. Just swear to me that you will not do that again. You-...I can't believe you managed to do that without training, but you might not get so lucky next time. And it's not just that. The Per Gathas might-...Just don't."

"I shouldn't need to anyway," said Ryou, an evasion Darius fortunately didn't catch. It wasn't that Ryou thought he'd need to do something like that to talk to Darius again, at least he certainly hoped they'd be able to discuss future misunderstandings without any grandstanding or need for extremes. But Ryou's ability might come in handy in the future. If a monster from the realm of nightmares managed to track him down, for example. He wouldn't know how to fight it, but he was certain that this 'magic' of his was the way to do it rather than waving a dagger around.

Darius looked willing to put the subject aside. He lost his serious scowl and put more attention into rubbing the hound's head and neck.

"Do you like dogs?" he asked over the ecstatic writhing and whimpering that resulted.

"We never had any," answered Ryou, instead of 'I've always thought they were dirty, noisy and not very bright; I'm not really that good with animals, I prefer computers.'

Darius looked like he had something to say, but didn't know how to go about putting it into words. "I never bothered with them much when I was a kid, but then-...It's not that I like them all that much; dogs are for warfare, hounding prey and guarding the house. But then I spent a lot of time with them, and I found them to be better than most men are." He stared at the hound, then made a dismissive gesture. "That'll be a tale for another day. Cham, Zuru, out."

The dogs rubbed against his legs and then turned without fuss to slip beneath the partition and head towards another part of the tent. Darius watched them go, elbows propped on his knees, a slump in his shoulders. Ryou studied him with growing concern, which peaked into a worried "Are you alright?" when he noticed a slit in the russet linen tunic near Darius's shoulder blade.

"Fine," Darius answered, rubbing his eyes. "Oh, that," he added, when Ryou touched the hole in his top. "Someone hit me from the back with an aclys or something before Dyo could nail him; a glancing blow, no harm done, but the impact on the armor tore the tunic. I'll have it repaired." The last words were muffled as he pulled it over his head, unconcerned that he was naked beneath it.

There was a nice deep bruise forming where the 'glancing blow' had landed. Ryou wondered how he'd failed to notice Darius was injured earlier. Then again, they’d been busy.

Darius shrugged off the injury along with Ryou's suggestion of medical care. "The devotees of Hygiea have more than enough to deal with tonight. Ugh, talking of which, that's why I'm so tired. That son of a sick goat, Terentius - whom I otherwise love like a brother - had the good idea of making me the one to talk to Essin's Holy Seer. He said I'd scare her into submission. Yeah, right, she was awfully scared. The woman has a voice like a dozen harpies, and she talked about every - single - detail. Assurances we wouldn't take anything from the Temples. That'd we restrain our soldiers so they wouldn't help themselves to more than the allotted tribute. My personal word that every bloody donkey in Essin would still be in its stable by the end of the month. We haggled over access to the wells, over the donations to make to each temple and the price to pay any father who saw one of his daughters knocked up. I damn well agreed to everything she asked for by the end just to get away, and just as I was standing up to leave, she starts talking about the provisions we are going to bring the temple while we're here, to feed the priests, Romans and the women hiding out there. The gall of the bitch; every single bloody temple in her town is decorated with the Sun of Aten, and she wants me to bring her a basket of bread and a bottle of wine. Fuck. I told the Fury she was lucky I didn’t rip them all down and bury the cowards inside beneath the rubble, and that clammed her up long enough for me to get out the door. Damn, sometimes I wish we were back in the old days when women were only charged with the temple of Ishhara and otherwise shut up and did what they were told."

Ryou had never thought of himself as an ardent defender of women's rights, but the words "Why would a male priest have asked for anything less?" still slipped out by reflex, a knee-jerk demand for common sense.

"No reason, but I could have threatened him more," Darius grumbled. "I swore to my brother back when I was seventeen that I'd never mistreat another woman again, and every female in the Outlands from here to the Maurya Empire somehow knows it. Never mind, I finished that and my other duties for today, I even managed to drink the cup of victory with the men and eat a bite, and now I have a few hours to spend on my own pursuits," Darius finished with a crooked smile. "That reminds me, here. I was keeping this for you."

As he said that, he reached towards the only thing he was wearing at this point: a golden brace clasped around his upper arm. He twisted and pulled it off, letting his hand sink once as if gauging the weight and, finding it sufficient, passed it to Ryou. The metal was warm beneath Ryou's fingers from the heat of Darius's skin. It was studded with large round semi-precious stones of a deep black, onyx Ryou thought.

"What is-"

"A gift," said Darius, leaning back, one hand propped against the sheets.

"I don't need anything," Ryou said, bewildered. "I mean, you already gave me-" he gestured at the bracer around his right forearm.

"That was for protection. This is a gift. It's something Sezerena had, so it's not like he's gonna miss it."

Oh boy. Ryou stared at the jewel. He was already grappling with what Darius had meant earlier about swearing not to mistreat 'another' woman again, and how Ryou was going to ask about that and if he should. Now he had another moral quandary to add to that.

Darius looked puzzled. "What's wrong?"

"Um." Ryou knew that the line he was drawing was completely arbitrary, but accepting what had happened today and the violence that would surround him in the future was one thing. Receiving war plunder obtained from the bloodied body of the man he'd seen dragged away by the heels earlier just seemed like going too far past the point of no return.

But how to explain this to Darius, who was looking at him quizzically and, beneath the blunt exterior, seemed just a little disappointed at Ryou's reaction?

"My grandfather-" started Ryou and stopped in sheer amazement that he was even contemplating saying this. But he was free to do so now, he realized. That was an upside to burning one's bridges; it put a certain distance between oneself and the past.

"My father founded Ujiie Security and Trading after selling off my grandfather's firm for a lot of money," Ryou said, staring at the golden jewel cupped in his palm. It hardly seemed to matter that Darius might not understand all the words and notions he was using. "My grandfather built his fortune up from scratch after a terrible war that...I can't tell you what it did to my country, I don't think you have the concepts. Suffice to say that populations four times the size of Essin's were wiped out overnight during some of the attacks, and it went on for months. Yeah," he said in acknowledgement to Darius's look of shock and superstitious sign to ward off evil. "It left my country devastated...My grandfather had friends in the new government, and he used them to obtain contracts and build up a transport and reconstruction business to help the worse hit areas. It made him very powerful politically, and very rich. He was proud of the fact that he'd bettered himself that much; he was just the third son of a minor Kyoto family before the war. When I was young, I thought it was a great story, and a great thing for my grandfather to have done. I did not understand why my father didn't like to discuss it. It was only later, during my schooling, that I learned a bit more about all this. How many of the men who were involved in the rebuilding made money by skimming off the funds that had been earmarked by the Allies for aid, to the detriment of people terribly afflicted by the war. My father took me and my brother to a war museum when we were young, and-...it...stuck with me to this day. I don't think even my father knows for certain if our family was implicated in those kind of deals. My grandfather can't tell us now, he's in a home, dementia, he can't even speak anymore, and of course my father would never dig deeper. We've never even discussed this out loud, but I think he suspects..."

Ryou looked down at his hands. Somewhere in a far-off land possibly several dimensions away from this one, his father must have woken from a sound sleep with the knowledge that his eldest son had just done something irremediable to their family name. Ryou did not think he'd managed to adequately express his feelings on the matter anyway. He could barely remember his grandfather as a healthy man, and their family name had never been attached to any scam or scandal that'd been investigated decades later, to everyone's relief. In fact Ryou was convinced his grandfather was guilty of nothing more than being at the right spot at the right time with the right idea and the will to make a lot of money, with perhaps a little hedging on the bills and hiking a few prices thrown in. Not that much all in all, and if their family had any bad karma still attached to them, then Ryou knew his father was working on that. He had to give the president his due on that account; he always kept a close eye on UST's dealings, and the company made charitable donations to various causes. It didn't feel particularly charitable when his father did it, Ryou conceded, more a matter of personal expiation for the sin of having made money the smart way rather than the honorable way, but he still did it. So would Ryou, even if it was for the same, flimsy personal reasons.

"It's just something I believe in, that most of my countrymen believe in very strongly. War is something that must be avoided at all cost, and never, ever profited from," he concluded.

Darius digested that in silence for a moment before pointing out the obvious. "Ryou, we're at war-"

"I know, I know. But that's justified. Even pacifists - people who believe in peace back in the Inlands - even they agree that resisting invasion is permissible," said Ryou, bending the truth a little.

Darius gave him a pointed look. "You do remember this is not Assyria, right?"

"...Well, King Ka is one of the founders of the Alliance and he did invite you and Terentius to help him pacify a province that was risking the stability of the whole region...you're sort of a peacekeeping force."

"A what?"

"Never mind. Um, thank you for the gift, but I don't think I can..."

"Well as long as you're with me, you won't lack for bread and wine," said Darius prosaically, picking the brace from Ryou's fingers and tossing it from hand to hand. "I'll give it to tithe to someone."

"Could you give it to Targuta and his men?"

"Who? Oh, those lame sheep who let you slip loose so you could go and nearly get yourself killed."

Ryou took it from Darius's tone that he did not like the suggestion. "That was my own decision and my own doing, you know. And you said you didn't regret the result. Don't hold it against them."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll see to it they get half a share," Darius grumbled. "But damned if I'm showing them favor beyond that; discipline would go to the dogs." The bracelet described another arc through the air.

"The tent I was in last night," said Ryou, watching the golden hoop dance before his eyes.

"Huh?"

"Rand said the man who owned it had died."

"Yeah? Oh yeah, Dionysodoros told me. Teratiqas, one of my officers. A lucky shot from a bowman up on the wall while his party was scouting the river fork. It's a damned shame, he was a good man."

"Did he have a family?"

"Yeah, several by the sounds of it, the horny goat," Darius snorted, then he glanced down at the jewel with understanding. "Oh, you want them to have this?"

"If that's all right."

"Sure, I'll get Jexen to get it to them." Darius tossed the jewel onto the end of the bed, then he put his freed hand on Ryou's cheek. "Ah, my gentle, selfless magian, a better man than I would have marched you to the Paths and kicked you back to your kindly country. But that man is not me..."

Ryou knew damn well he wasn't selfless, since all he was indulging was his own skewed sense of ethics which he was compromising anyway, but it didn't seem to be worth discussing further.

The hand on his cheek dropped to touch Ryou gently on the left arm. Ryou glanced down and noted with some surprise a new set of bruises appearing. Oh yes, from where he'd fallen off the horse after his jump through space. As if the sight was a reminder, Ryou suddenly realized he felt sore and stiff all over.

Darius's finger traced the mark so gently it didn't hurt. His gaze was tracing something else, Ryou's bare chest. Darius reached down and twitched the blanket back. Ryou managed not to reflexively cover himself, though from the hedonistic way Darius smiled, he'd not have been allowed to anyway.

"I'm out of clothes," Ryou mumbled. His usual willpower banished any trace of blush that might have been tempted to invade his cheeks. It wasn't quite as effective at keeping the heat from creeping down to his loins and causing his dick to twitch and stir beneath that gaze like a hungry caress. "I just have that tunic over there-"

"We'll do something about that tomorrow. What you're wearing now suits my tastes just fine," was the foreseeable answer. "Tell me, Ryou, are you tired?"

"No," said Ryou after clearing his throat. "Aren't you, though?"

"Oh yeah, but I still have some energy to burn," answered Darius, that smile now near Ryou's ear. "You told me much about your home, even if I'm too dumb a mutt to understand it all, but there's one thing you didn't tell me. Do they suck cock in the Inlands?"

Ryou felt a smile twitch at the corner of his mouth. "Yes, as it happens, we do," he answered very seriously, sliding his arms around Darius's neck.

The deep, searing kiss that followed blew out the last dregs of weariness Ryou might have felt, while Darius's hand dropped between Ryou's legs and completed the job of getting him fully erect, fast and without much subtlety. Ryou tore his mouth away with a gasp to avoid accidentally nipping Darius's lips. Assyrians must not be big on foreplay...Especially not this one and not now; Ryou could feel a tension in the shoulders he gripped, a fitfully burning force as Darius captured his mouth again. Darius had gotten up early this morning, had fought until noon and had spent the rest of the day and night sorting out details and other sundries without the benefit of Ryou's long hours of sleep. He was currently burning up the last of his strength. It was a given that this was not going to last long again.

Ryou ran his hand down the strong back, avoiding the injured shoulder; chasing with the pressure from the heel of his palm the dying waves of tension that'd stop his lover from collapsing and sleeping like the dead as soon as they were done. Darius made a contented noise deep in his throat, a rumble like a big cat's purr. Ahead of his palm, Ryou's fingers explored the dips between muscles, the bony bumps of the spine and tripped over the etch of scars he'd only seen up until now - the memory of Darius bathing in that stream was going to haunt him until the day he died, or at least Ryou fervently hoped so.

"What's this?" he whispered, his fingertips feeling out tiny dips and dimples across his lover's lower back and bare thighs, losing themselves in the dark hair peppering Darius's legs.

"Hmm, a plague that spread from Kalicee when I was young," Darius said, talking into the skin of Ryou's throat. "Killed one of my royal siblings yet left me virtually intact. The Gods are either blind or have their very own sense of amusement." Then Darius slid off the bed, dragging Ryou's legs around and apart so that the startled Ryou found himself sitting on the edge of the bed with Darius, hands on Ryou's thighs, looking up at him with that heated gaze.

"What?" croaked Ryou, overly aware that the only walls separating them from a camp full of soldiers were made of canvas. He cleared his throat and kept his voice low. "What are you doing?"

Darius gave him a lopsided smirk. "Seriously, Ryou, what do you think?"

Ryou shook his head ruefully. "Right. But I thought..." For some reason, he'd thought the positions would be reversed. Not that he had any problem with this.

"As you learned earlier, I'm far from the ideal lover," murmured Darius, still looking up at him unblinking. "Half the stories of Ghan the Beast come from the bed sports of my youth. And don't mistake me, I'm not that much older and wiser now. But I'll do it properly. This time."

Ryou tried to put into words how much he'd really liked what had happened earlier that day and how he did not understand why Darius was suggesting he'd done something wrong, but this time had been said against a very delicate and sensitive piece of skin, followed by a flick of tongue, and Ryou forgot how to put words into sentences. Darius gave him an evil smirk from where he was kneeling between Ryou's legs. He brushed his hair out of the way and leaned down once more. Ryou decided that words were not really that important after all - he could live perfectly fine without them for the next few minutes at any rate - and he relaxed and let the surging pleasure banish the last shreds of his nightmare vision back to the abyss.

TBC...

Ofic: Out, part 20

2009-07-19T22:27:51Z

I iz back. Two-year-old was two, but not too terribly two, and the sun, sea and sand entertained and wore her her and allowed mom and dad to take regular breaks. All in all a good time was had by all, and I had the time to go through this chapter last night and today for posting ^__^ THanks for all the reviews for part 19, I'll answer them during the week, I thought you'd all appreciate having the chapter posted asap instead of letting Ryou hang around in midair a few more days...

Link to all chapters

Part 20

In the split second during which reality vanished and then reappeared, Ryou remembered the Honda falling a considerable distance through the air last time he'd tried to move through space by cheating his way past the usual three dimensions. And horses did not come equipped with airbags. Oh shit-

His horse screamed in panic- but its hooves hit solid surface an instant later. The animal skidded and slid to its rump, legs splaying out until it was almost flat on the ground, at which point Ryou lost whatever support his stirrups gave him and tumbled off.

He picked himself up dazedly. Nothing broken this time, though his left side was now as bruised as his right. He instinctively felt for his glasses and felt a little more centered when he found them to be still on his nose.

The surface onto which he'd fallen then took up all of Ryou's attention. Tiles. He and his horse had skidded over tiles. They were cool beneath his fingers, a beautiful deep blue with black edges in a honeycomb pattern. Ryou stared at them, frowning. The tiles were trying to tell him something, something important-

He was in a building, in a long, large corridor. And though he could not see it, his unnamed sense told him that he was at the top of a tall structure and that on the roof right above his head floated a red banner. He'd done it. He'd actually done it. Ryou took a deep, shaky breath of relief and looked around.

His horse had fetched up against a wall a few meters away from a double wooden door decorated and reinforced with wrought iron. They were thrown open, a dead body serving as a door wedge on the left side. Ryou tore his gaze away from the curlicues of blood marring the blue of the tiles, to concentrate on the picture framed by the doorway. Four armed men were staring back at him as if he was the most extraordinary thing they'd ever seen; behind them, standing near the far wall, was Darius, looking at Ryou as if he'd expected this all along.

While all the humans stood about in silence, Ryou's horse got to its feet, its hooves making a jarringly out-of-place clippety clop sound against the tiles.

The closest soldier to Ryou snapped out of his shock, gripped his sword and took one step forward.

"Hold it," ordered Darius. "I'll deal with this. All of you, leave."

"Wha-aat?!" the soldier shouted, astonishment temporarily robbing him of respect for his superior office. "But- but sir, he-"

"Out. And take this with you."

The subordinate's jaw moved helplessly, then he gave Ryou one last bewildered, fearful glare and went to get 'this' from where it lay right next to Darius. He grabbed one heel, one of his companions grabbed the other, and they dragged the body out, leaving a smear of blood on the tiles and rugs. Ryou, who'd gotten to his feet along with his horse, glanced briefly at the body as it passed by; an Aksumite man in his late forties, face frozen in a death rictus beneath the thin golden circlet around his brow. He was dressed in a toga and gold-edged tunic, but no armor or weapons. Sezerena in all likelihood, and it seemed he had not even tried to defend himself once his city and guards had fallen. Ryou couldn't find it in himself to wonder why.

The last two men took care of the other bodies; a man Sezerena's age in decorated armor and the guard who'd died by the door. Darius waited in silence. His gaze did not waver from Ryou. He looked much like he had when Ryou had last seen him, which was only three hours ago even if it felt like much longer. His sword was drawn, the edge a mess of blood, fibers and other unidentifiable particles. There was a splash of blood on his left side, black against the red of his armor. His jaw was clenched as he stared unblinking at Ryou. The latter wasn't sure what that expression meant.

A clatter in the stairwell made Ryou look around. Half a dozen Hounds rushed up the steps with weapons drawn, alerted by the sound of Ryou's horse. The one in the lead took one look at Ryou and stopped so abruptly that one of his friends barreled into him and then staggered back swearing. The first soldier whipped off his helmet to get an unimpeded wide-eyed view of Ryou, at which point Ryou recognized him as Dionysodoros. The Greek soldier stared at Ryou for three long seconds, then he took in the rest of the scene, the corpses being hauled out and the look on Darius's face, and he promptly turned and started to do crowd control, shooing all but two other Hounds back down the stairs.

The man who'd objected to Darius's order earlier, an Alliance officer by the looks of his decorated breastplate, gave his hold on Sezerena's ankle to one of the Hounds and then he marched back to the end room with a deeply suspicious look on his face.

"Bahador," said Darius without looking his way, "make sure Rand gets the body. He'll know what to do. Dionysodoros, set a guard on the stairs up to here. I'm not to be disturbed." Then he lifted one hand and crooked the fingers at Ryou in a short beckoning gesture.

Bahador had a lengthy objection scrawled all over his face, but Dionysodoros and the other Hounds had moved instantly to obey and that left him alone in the hallway with his unspoken apprehensions, the source of which was looking right at him. In the end he bowed curtly and left, passing Ryou as the latter stepped through the door frame, avoiding the trickles of blood.

The room Ryou entered was large, the width of this end of the citadel's rectangular tower. Unglazed windows pierced three of its sides, with tapestries hanging from poles to act as sliding curtains; decorated wooden slats leaned against the wall next to each, ready for servants to board them up in case of rain or wind or the owner's whimsy. Darius stood near a large marble desk full of papers and now liberally splattered with blood. His metal helm was perched on top of a bunch of leather-bound books, scarring the covers. Two thirds of the room had been a study, a library and place to lounge on couches and eat. To one side stood the bedroom portion of the room, separated from the rest by a wooden partition heavily pierced with fretwork. Several panels had been knocked down. From the pool of blood beneath them, that was where the second man in Sezerena's room had died. The bed, draped with a rich green coverlet, was on a platform with rugs and skins spread all around it. The walls were covered in symbols, geometrical patterns and figures done in earthy, vibrant colors, highlighted by draperies, statuaries and shelves with various weapons and precious objects. The room was large enough where the effect was resplendent rather than cluttered. It was a light year away from anything Ryou had seen so far in the Outlands, the diametrical opposite of the crude dwellings in tiny farmland villages. The air, redolent with the scent of incense, now mostly smelled of smoke wafting in from outside. And blood, of course, that meaty, copper tang of blood and bodies that Ryou had been blissfully ignorant of this time last month.

Ryou didn’t give his surroundings more than a cursory glance, despite all the things that could catch the eye, before he brought his focus back on Darius who had yet to move or say anything to him.

When their gazes met again, Darius spoke.

"You came back."

"Yes. I-..." Ryou fished for words to explain his behavior that didn't sound like something out of a teen romance. It was embarrassing and more to the point, the triteness of it could not explain the abysmal insanity that was moving him right now. "You didn't actually ask me if I wanted to leave this morning. I don't, I want to stay. We've been through a lot together-" but that didn't have any bearing on his decision. Ryou mentally stumbled as arguments, counterarguments and burnt bridges rushed through his mind, but he caught himself and faced without flinching this man who'd brought him here. "Forget it. I'm here now, so it's your move; if you want me to go away, then look me in the eye and tell me so."

"I thought dismissing you in public earlier and then having you escorted to the nearest border under guard was pretty much the same thing." But Darius was still looking straight at him unlike this morning, and that intense stare told Ryou that no, it was not the same thing.

"Do you want me to leave?" Ryou challenged.

Darius snorted. "Don't play coy, Ryou, you're not some simpering eunuch. You know damn well what I want by now. If you expect me to court you like a fucking Ionian, you're going to be disappointed."

Ryou felt suddenly breathless as his view of this conversation shifted. It was as if he'd thought he had a tall mountain ahead of him to climb, only to glance down and see clouds beneath him. He'd been wondering all morning how much Darius's occasional come-ons had been lies to manipulate him and how much had been teasing. Looks like it'd been neither. It was obvious Darius teased him because he liked to get under Ryou's skin, but beneath that he'd been perfectly serious about both his desires as well as the reason for not acting upon them, and he'd expected Ryou to understand that. Ryou was just not used to anyone being quite that upfront and casual about men sleeping together; the cultural gap had caused him to misread the situation, along with all those other reasons that'd been circling around his head this morning, trying to convince him that, beyond a little impersonal lust, there was nothing between two strangers from different worlds who could barely understand each other and who'd only known each other a short, dangerous, painful time.

In the same way the dimensions had opened before him - beyond description and comprehension, yet understood anyway - Ryou felt a rush. Ever since he was thirteen and let reason guide his behavior when it came to love, he had never been able to touch that pulsing, fragile, indomitable feeling again. Now he remembered why. Love was a territory where reason did not dwell and would not allow one to reach.

"I don't want you to court me," he said, and was mildly pleased when that came out in a steady voice as straightforward as Darius's.

"That's good, but you're going to be disappointed anyway." Darius moved towards Ryou slowly, propping his bloodied sword in passing against the arm of a low chair. "Other men and women have tried to advance their status by bedding Ghan the Beast, Uchee Ryou, and better men than you have tried to tame me."

"I am not trying to-"

"You saw what I did to Sezerena?" asked Darius, interrupting Ryou's cutting objection.

"It'd have been hard to miss," Ryou said sourly, once more noting in passing his moral degeneration.

Darius jabbed a finger at a red curtain lined with beadwork, half torn from a rod, which was to one side of the entrance, a side passage paralleling the corridor and leading to the room before this one. "His women are next door, as dead as he is."

That did give Ryou a jolt. "They killed themselves?" he asked, giving the side door an upset look despite himself.

Darius's slow advance hit a pause. "How did you-...you think I'm incapable of slitting the bellies of a couple of dumb ewes?"

Ryou forced himself to look away from the red curtain. "Well I don't think you'd do it personally, no, since you told me back when I got you out of the hospital in Tokyo that you don't strike women."

"You-..." Darius pressed his lips together and then he growled, "Didn't anything else I say about myself get through your head? Or are you only going to remember the few good points I mentioned?"

"That's not exactly what I'd call 'good', Darius, and no, I remember everything equally, the good and the bad, that's my nature," Ryou answered, nettled. "But in my country, back when we fought feudal wars, Sezerena's concubines would have stabbed themselves as a matter of course rather than be taken alive, so I didn't really think about your involvement one way or another."

Darius stared at him as if weighing that. "It looks like they went traditional and took poison, which is a little less messy," he finally said. "But they wouldn't have done it if Terentius was taking the citadel; they did it because they feared what Ghan the Beast would do to them."

"The effects of that reputation you mentioned a few days ago," Ryou said caustically, "the one you told me was overrated but useful for scaring your enemies into submission."

Darius gave him the usual irritated look when Ryou remembered something Darius had forgotten he'd mentioned. Then he crossed the distance between them in five swift strides. Before he could even blink, Ryou found himself caught against the opened door, his wrists pinned back against the decorated wood at shoulder height.

"What I am saying, you stubborn gods-blinded fool, is that you have no idea who I am. Haven't you figured that out by now? I would think-"

"Why, are you a liar?"

Darius's eyes blazed in sudden fury. "You dare-"

"The amount of things you failed to tell me is pretty abysmal, Darius," Ryou said and felt a little vindictive satisfaction when the steely gaze that'd never shown fear or remorse before twitched away from his for a moment. "But even if I've only known you for a few weeks, I can tell you weren't putting on an act all that time, if at all. You told me yourself that you don't dissemble, and I don't think you do, I think you're damned proud of being open, direct and blunt to the point of callousness. It'd have been easier for you to lie during our voyage, make up a fake name and some harmless history about yourself and leave it at that, but you didn't. The few personal things you did tell me were the truth. I do have an idea of who you are; what I've known of you these past weeks was your good side-"

"I-"

"-and your bad side is what you've been showing me since yesterday in spades, and maybe I still don't know- Ow- Ah, Darius, stop! That's my broken-"

Darius let abruptly go of the wrists he'd been gripping. Ryou cradled his broken forearm to his chest and tried to get his breath back. The limb had been no more than sore all morning - for reasons that might or might not be related to the intervention of the goddess of good health - but the sharp searing pain when Darius's fingers had angrily tightened had reminded Ryou that he did have a fairly serious injury he should be treating with care.

"Ryou," said Darius in the warning tone of one struggling for self-control, "it was a short battle but I've been killing half the morning and my blood is high. Don't provoke me."

Ryou moved the wrist gingerly and didn't bother to comment on that.

"Look at you," Darius sneered, gesturing at Ryou's arm as if this was just one more proof of Ryou's voluntary blindness. "You told me about your life back there. You're a peaceful man with a family to return to, and since following me you've been injured multiple times and nearly killed. You're smart enough to have figured out by now the kind of enemies you'd make by my side. How can you consider staying here and risking more?"

Ryou straightened and pushed up his glasses. "I'll try to avoid getting anything broken in the future."

Darius looked like he didn't know quite what to do with that answer, so he just glared.

"It's true I don't know-...I don't know all that much about you, anymore than you know all that much about me. Maybe there can't be anything more between us." Because there might be too much of Ghan the Beast in this man, which would eventually kill the feelings Ryou had developed for Darius. That was Reason voicing its opinion again, and Ryou might have slipped out from under Reason's thumb for now, but he was still going to listen to it and see things without self-delusions. "But in the name of what there is, don't just chase me away if you're only doing this for my own benefit. If I'm wrong and you don't want me here, just tell me so instead of putting on this- this display of your less loveable qualities." Darius's eyes went wide as if he couldn't quite believe he'd just heard that. "I'll go if you tell me to and why. What the hell would I do otherwise, camp outside your tent until you change your mind? That'd be ridiculous. I am just not going to leave without setting the record straight between us. I don't want regrets. Not this kind."

Darius's nostrils flared. "You make it sound all very reasonable."

"Trust me, reasonable is the last thing I'm being right now," Ryou muttered.

Someone was shouting one floor down, it sounded like orders though Ryou couldn't make them out. In the top tower everything was silent. Darius was glaring at a corner of the room as if the statue of a plump woman holding a deer had offended him. But as Ryou watched the face that'd become so familiar, the emotions shifted, changed. Darius glanced up at the ceiling, apparently having a brief, personal conversation with whatever gods had put him in this present situation, and then his focus was on Ryou again.

"And tell me, Inlander: if it turns out that you are a fool and I am a liar, and that there's nothing here but the beast they all talk about, what will you do?"

That sounded dire, but it wasn't a threat. It was a blunt question and a bit of a challenge, and it harked back to the clashes of will they'd been having since the moment they met, part of what had drawn them together across the amazing distance of cultures and backgrounds that separated them...

"I'd leave," Ryou replied without hesitation, because it was the truth and also what Darius wanted to hear.

"That's what I'm talking about," said Darius, moving closer, placing his hands slowly, deliberately on either side of Ryou's head and boxing him against the open door once more. "Maybe I won't let you leave even if you want to."

"I don't think you're that kind of man."

"And if you're wrong and I am?"

"Did you see how I got here?" Ryou shot back, looking Darius right in the eye.

A moment of sizzling silence and then Darius's lips twitched up in a smile he was obviously trying to fight, however unsuccessfully. "I do remember how you got here and I'm going to be very angry about it later, but right now, I have to ask: you took that insane gamble with your life just to come back here and ask this bastard half-Roman soldier if I want you to leave?"

"I-"

"You can't possibly think I'll say 'yes' and let a man like you walk away from me twice," said Darius and then his mouth crushed Ryou's hard enough to knock his head back into the door.

After a motionless moment of surprise, Ryou squirmed his left arm out from where it was pinned between Darius and the door to loop it around the armored shoulders and instinctively pull the other man closer still. The scales of the lamellar got pressed between them, hard and sharp, but Ryou didn't care because Darius's lips had parted in a silent 'hah' that caressed Ryou's mouth and made his body pulse beneath the pressure. Ryou's fingers clinked against the disks tied in Darius's hair and tangled in the rough curls. Darius was now applying that rough kiss to Ryou's jaw and neck, a haste and loss of control that shook Ryou through and through. He gripped harder, a huge, hot feeling expanding in his chest, trickling down the roughed-up skin, pooling in his stomach and slithering lower.

Darius's hand dropped without hesitation to Ryou's crotch and Ryou flinched at the hard squeeze and the explosion of sensation and lust that nearly blew him off his feet.

"Looks like you don't need courting at that," Darius said with a near-silent laugh that tickled Ryou's ear. "That's good, I'm terrible at it. Come on, we don't have much time."

Ryou went huh-uh or some other sound of non-objection, though Darius's words could have been in their original ancient Assyrian for all he'd really paid them any attention. His hips were pressing lewdly forward into Darius's hand. It'd been a few months since his last trip to Shore, while Darius's presence these days, his heat, his scent, the touch of his skin when he handed Ryou the reins or joined him naked beneath the blanket at night, had been a growing frustration that Ryou was only now starting to fully measure.

He clung to Darius when the latter moved away from the door. Darius curled his arm around Ryou and led him across the room, simply lifting him up over the fallen wooden partition without breaking stride or letting more than half a dozen undesired centimeters between their bodies.

Ryou's thighs hit wood and he was flat on his back on the soft mattress before he could gasp for air. Darius hooked an arm beneath Ryou's legs and shoved him further as if he were as light as a pillow.

"Whu-" Ryou bit his lip accidentally as Darius slipped his hands beneath Ryou's linen shirt and lifted it off of him in one rough movement. Seams cracked as Ryou found his head and hands caught in rough cloth. Darius gave an impatient jerk. Ryou twisted to free himself and with one last wrench the shirt came off.

Ryou winced. His glasses had tumbled onto the bed, and the bindings over his right arm had been jerked loose and were now unraveling near his head.

Darius made a low noise in his throat, a sound of satisfaction and hunger as his eyes fastened on Ryou's bare chest. He shoved Ryou further up onto the mattress, a knee landing between Ryou's spread legs with a thump that jarred the heavy bed, and then his hands ran down Ryou's body in a quick preliminary appreciation before jumping straight to Ryou's belt.

Ryou gasped, a deep intake of startled air resembling a yelp. "Wait- you want to- you want to have sex now?!"

"Hell yes," came the snorted response, Darius's concentration on what his fingers were doing. "Do you know how many days I've desired this?"

"But- but now?!"

"Especially now," said Darius, lifting his head and giving Ryou a smile that was dangerously feral. "Gentle magian, that's what the shedding of blood does to one of Inder's sons. You really think you're up to the truth that is Ghan the Beast, Ryou? Before you showed up, I was going to find one of Sezerena's catamites who hadn't done himself in and would be looking for protection from the garrison, and then I was going to push him down on the nearest surface and pretend it was you."

Ryou gaped. Then he reached up and punched Darius on the shoulder. The gesture had more impact than the blow through the armor. Darius gave Ryou's fist a scowl.

"That is barbaric and it doesn't impress me, Darius."

"No, it takes a lot more than that to impress you," Darius whispered and pulled him up with a jerk into a seated position to kiss him hard. Ryou was helpless, Darius's hand gripping the back of his skull, the other pressing him against the metal scales of the armor. Ryou clung on to what he could, his injured arm around Darius's shoulder and the other hand catching a leather strap holding the upper armor in place.

"That was truly what I was going to do, though," Darius added as an afterthought in the crook of Ryou's neck.

"I guess it's a good thing I came back then," Ryou muttered, defeated by his own lust as much as by the intuition that it'd take a stick of dynamite to derail Darius now. As for what Ryou thought of Darius's bright plan...god help him, even as he recoiled at the implications, a breathless, sordid corner of his soul had shivered under a pulse of lust at the words 'pretend it was you'. At this point, was Ryou still counting the number of things he had to bury along with his ethics and his prim and rigid personal standards anymore? One day there was going to be a reckoning, but it was not today, and so Ryou was going to take all that this day had to offer and more. It was part of his brand new off-the-cuff philosophy of burnt bridges and radical insanity.

His back was being ground into the mattress again as they both sunk down once more. Ryou got his hands on his trousers and beneath Darius's fingers before they hurt him; Darius was as rough as Ryou's hidden fantasies had guessed he would be. And Ryou ached for it. Still high on the rush of madness that'd brought him here, it buried like an avalanche all the reasons to wait for a better time and more emotional commitment; it even carried off Ryou's worries about being on the bottom for the first time in his life, as well as his long-standing rule to never have sex without a condom involved (though this later concession was due to evident practical reasons as well as lust-induced madness).

Darius leaned back, glanced down at Ryou's hands with an expression that sent heat searing through Ryou's entire body. "Take those clothes off," he instructed, pushing himself away from the bed and turning away.

Ryou really did need to get out of these breeches. The cords holding the front shut were digging into his erection to a painful degree. He had to toe off his shoes, then struggle with woolen material to free his legs one-handed.

Darius was back before Ryou was finished. He got rid of the breeches still clinging to one of Ryou's legs with a brusque gesture, shoved Ryou back against the finely woven blanket, and dumped the contents of a cylindrical flask right over Ryou's legs and crotch.

"Hey!" Ryou sat up with a gasp. Oily liquid ran down his thighs with a smell like roses and pungent olives, making a mess on the blanket. Darius pushed Ryou down again, this time deliberately with a provocative smirk, and he held Ryou down by that single hand on his shoulder while brown eyes raked Ryou's body up and down.

"-waiting for this," was the half-shaped whisper that slipped out of his mouth.

Ryou's hands hovered near Darius's chest; he was used to getting his partners naked rather than the other way around. Though Darius would never accept a passive role - the mind balked at the thought - nothing in his attitude suggested he'd mind if Ryou took a few matters into his own hands. But Ryou's intentions were being defeated by the armor. How the hell was this going to come off?

"Straps on the side," said Darius, guessing his thoughts; he was already jerking at them, his eyes never stopping their detailed examination of Ryou's body.

That was a start, and Ryou fumbled and pulled at the buckle near Darius's left hip while Darius got the one at the shoulder, shoving his hand beneath the armor covering his upper body from throat to chest.

Darius pulled the lamellar open with an impatient gesture. Underneath he wore a short tunic and a skirt of linen cloth folded so many times it was several centimeters thick, held in place by a wide belt high up the waist. Darius tugged the belt buckles and let the whole thing fall past the metal leg-guards protecting his shins. In the meantime, Ryou's fingers touched the upper body armor, attached by leather knots to the lamellar at the shoulder and down the back, and wondered how the rest was going to come off.

The next instant, Darius's weight was crushing him down again and Ryou realized that the armor wasn't coming off at all.

The open lamellar was poking Ryou's sides with its metal disks, the upper armor jabbed him in the chest. The solid feel of Darius's body on his own was making Ryou's blood throb. A part of him had been waiting for this too- waitingsolong-

Darius moved his body against Ryou's as if he wanted to get as much of that contact as possible. His mouth searched blindly up Ryou's collar bone and throat. Ryou shuddered. He grasped Darius by the shoulders, gripping the strong neck beneath wild locks clinking with disks. Darius propped himself up on one elbow to take some of his weight away, and his free hand traced Ryou's body, his ribs, his hip, ending in a heavy caress kneading Ryou's thighs. Ryou's skin was a rush of sensation; the solid weight, the small titillating scratches along his ribs and legs from the armor's scales, the rasp of the linen tunic against his chest, the heady touch of bare skin on skin, and the hardness of Darius's sex against his own.

Darius lifted his head; his expression was intense, concentrating everything on Ryou and on this moment. "You’re older, wiser - a well-bred better man than me altogether - but right now I really don’t care. Do you?"

Ryou didn’t know why Darius was mentioning his age, much less Ryou’s wisdom which had currently devolved to a state where the only answer it could come up with in response to Darius’s incomprehensible question was "Huh?"

"That’s what I thought. I'll take the lead, then," said Darius, voice low and rough. It sent waves of lust running over Ryou’s skin. He nodded without even knowing or caring what he was agreeing to, and Darius's hand reached between them. The bracer on his arm scraped against Ryou's lower rib, but Ryou forgot the graze when fingers slicked with oil closed on his erection.

Pleasure rang through Ryou’s body like a shot. He stiffened and snatched away the hand gripping Darius's shoulders to muffle the sound that tried to escape from his mouth. He wasn't- he didn't usually- he was always the one in control- and the bloody door was open!

The fingers stopped their winding trip from balls to tip and back again; they left his erection all together and reached up to where Ryou was blinking in dismay at the cessation. Darius caught Ryou's hand - gently, since it was the injured one - and, with a small tsk-tsk-tsk, pulled it away from Ryou's mouth. Ryou's gaze flickered to Darius's face and the teasing lopsided curve of his lips. Darius caught his gaze and shook his head as he let go of Ryou's wrist.

Ryou’s fingers, left to their own devices, trailed down his cheek as if his fingertips could reassure him he was not blushing as furiously as he was inwardly...but he didn't attempt to cover his mouth and face with his hand again, and Darius's fingers returned to their initial task. His face was so close; a flush darkened the bronze of his cheeks, eyes intent as when he fired his bow, focusing on what his fingers were doing to Ryou- it was too tempting, Ryou couldn't close his eyes on the sight, but he was too enslaved to habits of reserve and modesty to keep them fully open either. His eyelids fluttered as desire crawled up and down his skin...Darius allowed him this small concession, or maybe he hadn't noticed; Ryou could feel his dick rubbing against Darius's in the loose grip of those strong fingers. Flashes of Darius’s face caught through a veil of eyelashes; his mouth was open, teeth catching the lower lip briefly as he pressed into Ryou, quick hard gestures like a reflex grab at a sudden jab of pleasure- Ryou managed not to make a sound, but he was sure breathing noisily.

Darius shifted, putting a few inches of cold air between their bodies, a growing purpose and urgency to his movements. His fingers stopped tempting and teasing, and closed on Ryou's erection with an obvious goal in mind. The left hand Ryou still had on Darius's shoulder convulsed into a death grip on one of the plates covering the upper body, rough leather beneath his fingertips another sensation in the deluge. Two weeks - more than that - a flash of Darius pulling his sword from the Rajin - smiling in that fashion - Darius bathing in the river, the water running down his back- ah!

One knee between Ryou's legs to bear his weight, one hand still destroying Ryou's restraint, Darius moved his other arm, pivoting from the elbow planted deep in the mattress near Ryou's head to shove away the hand that had instinctively gone over Ryou's mouth again to catch that cry. Ryou blinked away the moisture that'd gathered when he'd screwed his eyes shut too hard, and obediently let his arm drop down to the coverlet again. Darius's hand stayed where it was, a callused thumb brushing Ryou's lips and then pushing them apart, a rough, sensual gesture. A finger followed. Ryou shuddered and his tongue licked at the taste of Darius's skin. Darius's breath, heavy and curling up into an unvoiced 'hah', brushed Ryou's cheek.

Lust was thrumming along every one of Ryou's nerves, pulling his legs apart by primal instinct from where Darius's erection was thrusting into him. It was the most natural thing in the world, it was the only thing in the world. The feeling of that hardness sliding against his skin and digging into the achingly sensitive spot behind his testes-

Darius moved abruptly, rolling to cover Ryou fully again. His weight and strength held Ryou down, armor poking him in various places. He gripped Ryou's legs and shoved them together with one undeniable push. Ryou blinked. Hands were holding his legs down now, bearing most of Darius's weight. Ryou shuddered with arousal, feeling Darius shove into the crook of his thighs, thrusting hard, so hard it had to be almost painful. Ryou's mouth opened in a soundless moan, control slipping.

"Wanted to see you like this-" Darius said, words slipping out between heavy gasps and rolling over Ryou's skin. "See that golden mask come off, come off for me."

The pressure building in Ryou skyrocketed, and suddenly nothing mattered anymore except obeying that basic primal urge. His left hand fought its way through folds of cloth and metal - got nowhere, and in the meantime the brush of Darius's abs against his erection was going to drive him insane. He squirmed, a strangled groan parting his lips. Darius glanced down, then shifted and one hand stopped crushing the skin of Ryou's thigh and grasped Ryou's dick instead.

Ryou's breath stuttered. He couldn't look away from Darius now, face so close, the eyes fixed on Ryou's expression, the serious set of Darius's lips- they parted with a short exclamation as he found the rhythm they both needed, nothing fancy, just thrusting into thighs and hand, primitive needy lust-

- tripped the fuse and Ryou's back arched and vision whited out as the pleasure - finally! - released and flooded him.

He was too pinned down to properly shove into Darius’s hand, but Darius, watching his face, knew; knew to move his fingers in those deeplonggood gestures that spilled the pleasure out, adding the gooey slick of semen to the contact between their bodies and leaving Ryou a boneless, breathless mess on the bed.

Darius let go of Ryou's fading erection to grip him by the shoulders and used his whole body to thrust- once- twice-...A ragged 'uhn' stirred the hair over Ryou's ear. Ryou gripped the man in his arms as well he could with his injury and the armor and all the rest of the details. Warmth was seeping through his body, following the fading waves of pleasure.

Ryou, panting, stared up at the ceiling painted with complex geometric patterns he was only now noticing. That couldn't have lasted more than ten minutes. The intensity, however...no complaints there. Maybe it was more exact to say it'd lasted nearly three weeks, ever since he'd held this man, strong, solid, so vibrantly alive (though also heavily bleeding at the time) in his arms on the front seat of the junked Nissan. That was quite long enough to hold in an orgasm.

Darius blew out his breath in a satisfied way and propped himself up on one elbow to gaze down at Ryou. Ryou looked back with none of the distance and discomfort that'd stained the afterglow of many past encounters. With Darius looking down at him, a contented half smile on his face, and with Ryou's sense of restraint still mostly missing in action, there really didn't seem to be anything other to do than wrap his arm around Darius's shoulder and pull him down for a kiss. Darius's hand, gentle now that the urgency was spent, settled on Ryou's bare hip. Ryou tilted his head against the coverlet and coaxed apart the lips meeting his. From Darius's response, he wasn't used to doing this, but neither did he seem surprised or turned off...Ryou's erection was spent, but prickles of lust still ran up and down his skin as the kiss deepened, explored...

"Wait-" Darius gasped, breaking away. "Wait. I do have an army waiting for me downstairs," he added with a quirky upturn of the lips. "Terentius is an old fox. Our respective ranks are too uncertain to have him pull orders on me, but if I piss him off too much he'll be sure to tell my brother I ditched him to go screw my lover instead of properly securing Essin, and then Leyam will have my balls cut into squares and play dice with them."

That brought reality back at a gallop.

"...That's right, your brother. Rand told me."

"Yes, Leyam, my king and master," said Darius, brushing a finger over Ryou's lips.

Ryou didn’t know what was going through Darius's head right now. Ryou for his part was once again staring at a deep gap between them, a world of unknowns.

With the sigh of a soldier pulled away from warmth and comfort to do his duty, Darius pushed himself up and got to his feet. Ryuou sat up as well, absently cradling his right arm. It was all very well to talk about having no regrets; saying so didn't make it so. Not that Ryou had any regrets at coming back and laying his heart bare and having amazing sex, no. Ryou didn't have any regrets at all (yet) but he certainly had a growing list of things to worry about. His previously sacrosanct sense of reason was keeping a meticulous tally. So many unknowns, so many worlds between them, so many ties that Ryou could barely see anchoring Darius to these primitive countries, while Ryou only had this one intangible feeling gripping his chest, hurting him whenever he thought that he might have ridden off to Aksum like a self-disciplined idiot and never seen Darius again...Indefinable but undeniable feeling that swelled and blew away old repressions, and warmed him all over as he watched his new lover, totally unabashed, wipe off his lower body with a corner of the protective skirt he'd worn before. Darius tossed it back to the floor with a contented smirk, then he quickly and a little haphazardly did up the lamellar again, a gesture of unstudied ease and grace in Ryou’s eyes. Ryou's sense of reason was still there and doing its job - it was too ingrained in Ryou to ever discard - but beneath it, Ryou's feelings had fully slipped their leash and were running wild. He'd not felt this terrified and euphoric since puberty.

Darius scrubbed his hands covered in oil and semen on a corner of Sezerena's blanket, then he moved his armor around with a contented roll of the shoulders, leaned forward and lifted Ryou's arm by the wrist and elbow. He removed the bindings gently and examined the arm. "Hmm, it'll be okay. Still needs a few days in a splint, and a twelveday before you can use it."

Ryou looked down at the swollen, bruised limb. It looked pretty bad actually, but considering he'd fractured it yesterday - good god, only yesterday - it was almost miraculous that it wasn't a whole lot worse. There was nowhere in Ryou’s world of abstract geometry and dimensional physics where he could fit in healing prayer, so he decided piecemeal that he was going to just put this down to the fact that it seemed he healed quickly, and leave it at that. He had enough to concentrate on these days.

Darius wrapped the linen back around the splints again while Ryou's mind went hiking over the last twenty four crazy hours. Ryou didn't pay attention until Darius tightened something around the arm and over the linen bandages with a metalic clink. Ryou looked down and saw Darius strapping his right bracer onto Ryou's forearm.

"What are you-"

"Is that too tight?" Darius asked, slipping a finger beneath the leather cord zigzagging back and forth across the linen wrapped over the ulna. "This will help. The sigils on the metal will take the place of the ones that were painted on the wrappings."

"I could have gone back to the priests of Hygiea."

"They'll be busy," said Darius. Then Ryou found himself pinned by a hard look. "Wear this, Uchee Ryou. Wear this until you decide it's finally time for you to go home. Until then, this crest means that you are under my protection, and not a man in this army will dare lift a finger to harm you."

Ryou stared at him, speechless.

"My enemies will treat it like the fabled beacon of Alexandria," Darius added dryly, dropping Ryou's wrist to turn and head towards where he'd left his sword, "but you're smart enough to know what you're getting into by now. I'll do my best to protect you from them. Look in those chests through there," he added as he headed towards the door, gesturing at a tapestry that was the mirror opposite of the beaded curtain leading to the concubines' room. "I think I tore that moth-eaten shirt you were wearing, so go change. You'll find some of Sezerena's clothes through there. Don't wear anything with his sigil, that'd be of bad taste, but feel free to take anything else that grabs your fancy."

"Er..."

"I need to go," Darius said, settling his sheathed weapon back on his belt. "I'll send the first man I see up here to keep watch over you and help you get back to camp."

"That won't be necessary, Lord Ghan," said someone from the corridor outside.

Darius jumped and looked around. Then he sighed noisily. "I should have known you'd show up, Rand, you always seem to know when I have a conundrum I can't order a cavalry unit to charge at."

"Well put, my Lord," said Rand, still politely staying in the corridor while Ryou scrabbled for his fallen glasses, gathered his clothes about him and made his hurried way to the curtain Darius had indicated.

TBC...

I'm hoping to write a small intermediate chapter at some point where Darius and Ryou are confronted with the differences between their cultures when it comes to rolling about in the sheets. Now that they've gone ahead and become an item, there are other differences and matters of perception that are going to come trickling out in little bits and bobs...I hope you all enjoyed that, please point out the typos, this got polished at the last minute and in unseemly haste ^^;

Ofic: Out, part 19

2009-07-11T01:44:10Z

Next chapter, one that was hard but masses of fun to write ^__^

Link to all chapters

Part 19

In the mind's eye, the last hour of the Siege of Essin looked like a Kurosawa's historical movie blended with a Westerner's peplum. Imagination was all Ryou had to rely on, though. He could hear a deep sustained booming sound that could be felt through the ground; the tromp of feet, the clash of weapons, war cries and screams and possibly cannon fire all so blended by numbers and distance that they formed a homogenous background noise that sounded like an earthquake. But all this was happening on the other side of the hill on which the forces had been camped; half a kilometre away in a dell near the river, Ryou couldn't even see the city's tallest towers.

The rear guard was composed of a few hundred men watching the dam, presumably to stop the defenders from making a sortie to destroy it and drown the troops invading them over the marshy ground where the forked rivers had flowed. Riders regularly came and went, stopping near a group of three men with plumed helmets. They didn't spread the information on how the day was going, though, so Ryou and the rest of the infantry were left in ignorance to listen to the noise of battle like continuous rolls of distant thunder.

The sun climbed higher. Ryou had kept Rand's cloak from yesterday and been thankful for it this morning, but now he let it drop off his shoulders onto the ground he was sitting on. His horse, cropping the grass phlegmatically, tried to eat it until Ryou pushed its muzzle away. He and his escort were a little off to one side, away from the river. The rest of the troop was also sitting down in small groups, shields propped against their backs. Only the men on the outer edges kept watch, patrolling. Some of the men laughed and joked, but most of them kept their eyes glued to the thickening palls of smoke on the other side of the hill.

A rider rode over the lip of the dell with a shout. A metallic rustle ran through the assembly as every man looked up and put a hand on their shields, helms or pieces of discarded armour.

The rider galloped up to the commanding officer. The leader of Ryou's little escort, who'd been introduced by Rand as Targuta, was instantly on his feet and then on his horse, trotting towards the officer corps.

As he got there, one of the plumed helmets turned and waved. A ragged cry erupted, men got to their feet, plucked their javelins out of the earth and slung on their shields. Ryou caught many grins of fierce anticipation as the troops streamed past him. Soldiers near the front of the lines shouted instructions which quickly got the men heading towards the hill at a rapid step in a phalanx of twenty men in three rows.

"Well?!" said one of Ryou's escort as their leader returned.

"Lucius got through like a breeze. They say some citizens of Essin helped a maniple over the wall to capture the gates; did so on the promise that it would be General Terentius who would be in charge of the city's surrender and not Lord Ghan." Targuta was smirking.

His fellow Hound burst out laughing; Ryou had caught his name earlier as Opiashal, a small man with a tonsured head. "As if Lord Ghan cares about those eunuchs! He'll have thundered through their streets before they could finish saying 'mercy', heading straight for the fortress."

"It's given us the day either way," Targuta answered, looking back over the hill with an air of longing. "The citadel will fall now. But they'll be desperate, they'll fight Ghan and Meromeidon every step of the way. Lord of Thunder, how I wish..." He busied himself with the set of his reins without finishing that sentence or looking at Ryou.

"We can be at the border quickly enough if we ride hard," said Opiashal in a hopeful way.

"Rand the Khinite told me the odds of the passer having already returned were worse than tossing dice and getting nine," Targuta replied, a remark that wouldn't have made much sense to Ryou if he hadn't been watching the nearest group of soldiers tossing oblong stones and half-heartedly betting on the outcome for the last hour and change.

"Well-"

"And then we have to go to the palace in Aksum. You remember what it was like when we rode that way with Dela the Kush, and getting through those streets during the day."

Opiashal's face fell.

"Anyway, since it sounds like Essin surrendered and we've not been here all that long, the General will put a seal of safety on the city by the time the fortress falls; no loot beyond tribute. And they'll have stashed the women in the temples as soon as the attack started."

"Fuck," muttered Opiashal as he turned to mount his horse.

"Shall we go now?" asked the third soldier who'd been mostly silent up until now. He didn't seem to care about Ryou, the war or the situation either way.

"Yes, let's move. Sezerena's troops won't be making any sorties now, they'll be too busy running from the Hounds." They were treating Ryou like a package, the latter noted. They weren't part of the party that had rescued Darius yesterday, they might not even know Ryou had all that much to do with that, so that just made him the weirdo foreigner whose escort needs had inexplicably dragged them away from a much desired war. Ryou had been a little nonplussed at all this eagerness and frustration; patriotism was all well and good in his modern mind, but not as good as the chance of not getting a limb or a head chopped off. Targuta's mention of loot and women went some way in enlightening him...

He followed his escort as they rounded the hill and headed away from the city, leaving behind them a small group of twenty disgruntled men still guarding the dam. This was it, Ryou realized as they crossed swathes of thoroughly trampled fields; this was the first step on his journey home.

The nervous tension of the men around him all morning had distracted him, but now Ryou's mind broke the muzzle of his self-discipline and started chewing over his memories of the past two weeks. A sterile occupation, but it was that or watch the butt of Opiashal's horse ahead of him.

So the entire town had surrendered at the mere thought of Ghan the Beast rampaging through their streets. Ryou just couldn't quite square that away with the man he'd traveled with and who'd teased him, listened to Ryou's fairy tales and given him his shoes back in the Broken Lands...Not that these things necessarily matched up. Darius had practically admitted, at different stages in their journey, that Ghan's reputation was exaggerated and useful that way. The citizens of Essin might have surrendered regardless of that incentive. A wind of liberation was blowing through these lands as the Imperium's hold weakened. Smart people would perceive that their ruler was backing the wrong horse and would try to get out of the situation without too much loss.

Hearsay and inflated reputations were not the way to tell how much of 'Ghan the Beast' was fact or fiction, and Ryou did not need such unreliable sources; no, he just needed to remember what happened to Yrmah yesterday. Ryou frowned as he remembered, sudden and jarring, the sight of finger stubs tumbling to the ground and the sound of summer rain...Good god, what had happened to that poor bastard anyway? Ryou's store of sympathy was rather short for the man who would have killed Darius and undoubtedly Ryou as well, but it was a fact that the prince of Kaides had or was soon going to be tortured for any information he might have, by Darius's orders.

...Ryou was fundamentally honest with himself, because he'd never had the capacity for fuzzy self-delusions. It was the sad, confounding truth that Yrmah's fate wasn't really horrifying him half as much as it should. His ethics were giving a few knee-jerk twitches, but when he thought of Darius, it was that curt dismissal that stuck most in his throat. Ryou had never thought of himself as a bad person before; he'd been a target for bullying for a variety of reasons, from his glasses and reserved nature to his intelligence, wealth and sexual orientation, so if someone had asked him this time last month, he'd have said he was a moral person who felt for those more unfortunate. Right, thought Ryou with an inner snort; I'm such a moral person that Darius chopping off someone's fingers weighs less than the fact he doesn't give a damn about me now that he's safe with his army again. At least I didn't sleep with him or I'd really feel used.

That thought hurt ten times more than it should, a sick sort of wretchedness that felt familiar, if out of place...

"Everything all right, sir?"

Ryou glanced up at Targuta who'd held his horse back a little until he was riding at Ryou's side. "I'm fine."

"We're climbing up to Essin's border," said Targuta, gesturing at the path ahead which had started to slope upwards shortly after leaving Essin's surrounding fields, and which was getting steeper. Essin was situated in a large river valley, with hills rising on either side. The border was automatically nearby, since provincial or country capitals were always built as close as was feasible to their source of international commerce and travel. Zaratusra in his wisdom had placed the Essin border up on a hilly pass at the end of Targuta's pointing finger, and so that was where they were going to go.

"If the passer is back, and if the Paths are favourable, we'll make Aksum city by evening," Targuta added. He seemed to have taken his exclusion from the war with dutiful philosophy and was now making sure the package was alright.

"I see," said Ryou, and since it was well past time he got his head out of its cloud of misery and into constructively planning his return home, he added, "What are we to do in Aksum exactly? Darius mentioned the King would help me deal with the Per Gathas. Do you have some kind of letter of introduction?" Ryou doubted that his business card would do the trick, even though he still had a few along with his wallet tied to his belt in a leather pouch.

Targuta gave him an odd look, and Opiashal, riding point up ahead, glanced back at Ryou with a frown.

"Rand the Khinite gave us a sealed tablet for Mlimar Par Saer, our emissary in Aksum. We're to contact him and wait," said Targuta.

"I see. I'm sorry to be an imposition on you," Ryou added.

This simple phrase, which Ryou would have expected hours ago if the positions were reversed, plunged his small escort into silent confusion.

"Um, that’s okay, we have our orders," Targuta finally said.

"I know. Thank you for your protection. I'll be traveling on much further than Aksum, but I think Darius only asked you to-"

"Hey," said Opiashal, twisting around in his saddle. But before he could say more, Tartuga barked "Eyes front!"

"Who's Darius?" asked the third man behind Ryou.

Opiashal had been turning away with a scowl on his face, but that got him twisting around again so fast that Ryou would have fallen if he'd attempted the same manoeuvre. "Don't you start!"

"Shut up, both of you," snapped Targuta.

"Huh?" said the third man.

Ryou glanced at the members of his escort. "Did I say something wrong?"

Targuta's diplomatic hesitation said as much as the set of Opiashal's shoulders up ahead.

"I understand you were the one who warned Dionysodoros and Jexen about Lord Ghan's arrival yesterday. You were traveling together, right?"

"That's right."

"You see, uh..." Targuta seemed to be fishing for a way to say something. "Our commander's name is Lord Ghan."

"I see," said Ryou, drawing his own conclusions from facts and Targuta's constipated attitude.

"He's talking about Lord Ghan?" The third soldier wasn't very quick on the uptake. "Is Darius his real name?"

"Shut the fuck up, Cregan," said Opiashal without turning around, his shoulder blades still reading Ryou the riot act.

"Whether it's his real name or not is not the point," said Targuta, leaping on the occasion to lecture his underling and thus avoiding having to do so with Ryou directly; Ryou's position in the Assyrian political spectrum must still be a total mystery to these grunts. "He's called Lord Ghan for a good reason and that's the name we fight for."

Because Darius Bher Polenius, with its reminder of illegitimacy and half Roman descent, was probably not good enough for King Leyam's half brother, Ryou surmised. He was a bit annoyed with himself that it’d taken him this long to even wonder why the man he’d known as Darius was going around as Lord Ghan in the first place.

"But is Darius his real name?" asked Cregan with the persistence of a mule.

Targuta seemed to be having an internal debate. Finally he nodded shortly. "Yunder was with the search party yesterday, and he asked Dionysodoros afterwards. Dionysodoros was pretty sure that was right, though he wasn't going to swear to it, and he has no business to. There are only two people alive who would use Lord Ghan's name, and that's King Leyam and Rand the Khinite, who's earned that right years ago."

A kernel of silence formed around the party, digesting the fact that Ryou was still alive and well after shouting Darius's real name over half of Essin province. Targuta looked even more constipated and glared at Opiashal up ahead as if this was all his fault.

Clop-clop-clop went their horses' hooves up the paved road, the animals huffing as the ascent got steeper. The path was well-maintained despite leading straight up into the hills. This was a road of commerce to other countries via the border perched somewhere above their heads. Ryou's mind paralleled their course, rising above the fruitless circling he'd been indulging in. The bit about Leyam had blotted out the rest to start with, but now the whole import of Rand's last words were coming back to him. Darius Bher Polenius...Rand, whoever he was - Ryou still hadn't figured that out - was not the kind of man to say things accidentally. That'd been a lot of information in that parting shot, as if Rand had thought it important that Ryou should know about it even though he was leaving and would never see Darius again. Rand had even given Ryou Darius's name back; his real name, the one even his Hounds did not know. Darius Bher Polenius.

A breeze caressed Ryou's hair...Just call me Darius...

Memories, intimate and intense, twisted up in Ryou's chest and fell on him like a blow. No, worse. That was what felt so familiar about this leaden, desperate feeling inside, this near-panic that could go nowhere. It was The Blow That Hadn't Landed...

At thirteen, Ryou had been the golden child, the eldest son. He'd never had to struggle to achieve; manners, scholastic merit, discipline, they all came to him naturally. He was the pride of his strict yet esteemed parents, and Ryou had completely taken all of that for granted until he'd fallen in love with the housekeeper's son, a boy two years his senior, and Ryou's father had found out.

The most frightening thing in retrospect was how Ryou had been so single-mindedly infatuated that it never even occurred to him how his parents would react. He and the other boy had kept it a secret because that only made it sweeter, more intense. Adult Ryou could only conclude that the hormones common to that phase of life had driven him temporarily insane. Though it was true he'd still been a child back then, and children do not think much about consequences, or wonder if their parents' love is conditional...

His father had convoked him to his study. President Ujiie Tsukasa had looked at his rows of books on corporate law rather than at his son while he lectured the latter on restraint, responsibility and why someone with Ryou's future would do well to grow up quickly and forget about these childish ventures.

In the midst of mortification and panic, Ryou had felt his heart freeze. "Are- are you asking me to break up with him?"

His father had turned around as if he could not believe his ears. "Are you mad? Of course you're going to break- to cease this puerile distraction of yours."

For the first time - for the last time - in his life, something unexpected had surged through Ryou, and the unmeasured words came out in a rush. "But I love him!"

Up to that point his father had registered only mild distaste at his heir going through an adolescent crisis and getting stuck on someone of the same gender vastly beneath him in social status. But at those words, his eyes had gone round, his jaw slack; Ryou had never talked back to him before, much less raised his voice. There could only be one result. His father's hand had whipped up-

...It'd stayed poised there, an aborted gesture that could not measure up to the infraction. Fingers slowly curled into a loose fist as self-control returned. But the look of disillusionment and disgust on his father's face made Ryou fall to his knees as if the blow had actually landed.

His father had slipped his hand back into the sleeve of his yukata as if he did not want it contaminated. "You-..." he had to take a breath, as well as several steps away. "You. Get up. Go. We will never talk about this again."

They never had.

The other boy had been made to apologize in front of everybody, including his own mother, for his inappropriate behaviour and his bad influence on the son of the household. Ryou had not looked at him, staring straight ahead, expressionless, instead. It was the only thing Ryou could do to protect him. His father had been watching, and he could do more than not strike a blow…The housekeeper had had no other choice but to hand in her resignation, but Ryou's mother - who was also Very Disappointed, as his father had made sure he was aware - found her another position. Yet there was always a conditional flavour to the arrangement in Ryou’s perception...Tokyo's upper families were closely connected. A rumour here, a word of advice there, a single phone call from Ryou's father, would do it. Ryou had been weak, and now his father was making sure his heir would have the incentive to strip this weakness out. If not, further punishment would be required to teach him the price of failure. Ryou understood this, the logic of it, and he would be damned if the boy and his mother were further harmed as a consequence of his failures; it was much more effective than punishing Ryou himself, and his father knew it. So president Ujiie watched his heir for any sign of a relapse, and Ryou showed nothing. That's where it came from. 'Show them nothing' was only an extension of it. Show Him nothing. That's when it'd started.

He'd never seen the other boy again, which was only for the best. He probably hated Ryou, and the only reason he didn't come over and punch him was because Ryou's father would have made sure the housekeeper would never find work again if anything to remind him of this episode ever happened. Ryou had forced himself to move far beyond that childhood stumble lest it trip him up again; it'd sunk so deep into the depths of his mind that to this day he could no longer remember the name of his first crush, or even what the boy looked like...

Damn it, why was he thinking about this now? Ryou removed his glasses and rubbed his face hard with his good hand. His horse chose this moment to shift its shoulders; Ryou nearly dropped his glasses as he made a one-handed grab for the saddle girth to keep from falling. He stuffed his glasses back on and looked around. They were climbing steeply, and the ridge of the pass between two hills was in sight.

"We're here," said Targuta, spurring on his horse to move on ahead past a decorative pillar.

"Is the passer there?" Opiashal shouted after him, but Targuta was too far up ahead to make out his answer.

Fifty meters further up, Ryou, Opiashal and Cregan could examine for themselves a circle of stone similar to the one Ryou had already crossed twice.

"Bugger those Per Gathas cocksuckers," muttered Opiashal.

"No passer?" guessed Ryou.

"No bloody sanctuary, is there," said Opiashal, pulling his horse away.

So the inn indicated the presence of a passer? Ryou's mind went back to the old woman who'd disappeared back in Palis. Because he could manage to feel worse, it seemed.

...That made him think of how Darius had tried to cheer him up after that incident in his own very unique way. Slapping Ryou on the shoulder, increasing the pace to keep their minds off things that could not be changed, but dropping a silver coin they should probably have saved in a temple altar in passing...

A medley of shouts and cheers shattered Ryou's reflection. He twisted around in his saddle to see his escort gathered to one side of the hill, looking down at a spot marked by a pall of smoke.

"What's going on?" asked Ryou, pulling his horse around and nudging it in that direction.

The three men were grinning at each other. Targuta graciously turned to share the expression and news with Ryou. "It's the banner, sir! The red banner of the Beast is floating over the citadel."

Ryou passed that through indifferent history lessons and his movie knowledge. "You mean Darius captured the fort already?"

They were so elated they didn't even pick up Ryou's gaffe on the name. "Like an arrow's flight, I tell you, like an arrow's flight," Opiashal was saying, leaning over to slap Cregan on the back. "Nobody stops Lord Ghan. Sezerena's head is on a pike right now or you can have my nuts in a bag."

"Is D- is your leader alright? Can you tell?" asked Ryou.

"What? Oh hell, sir, don't worry about Lord Ghan," Targuta answered. "He's invincible. Best sword in Assyria. Inder himself has His hand over that man's head."

Ryou studied their wide grins; they were completely confident in what they were saying. They really believed Darius was some kind of- of mythical figure of demigod proportions. Ryou had seen Darius chew on a squirrel when there was nothing else to eat, he'd seen the man covered in mud and sweat, seen him laugh and worry in that sombre way of his, he'd held Darius's bleeding body against his own after saving his life; Ryou knew Darius was just a man.

Just call me Darius.

And of course, once Ryou allowed himself to see the whole picture instead of dwelling on the personally painful bits, things suddenly looked quite different. Sure, Darius had told Ryou next to nothing about himself on the face of it, as Rand put it so well. Except for the tidbit of information, right off the bat, that he, Darius, was trouble, and that he didn't want to get Ryou mixed up in it. So he hadn't told him about Ghan or anything, no. But what he had done was share with Ryou his name, his real name which only a handful of people were even familiar with. He'd avoided mentioning his lineage, but he'd talked intimately about his family, his past, about getting Ryou to meet this brother he looked up to...And just before that bloody Yrmah came down on them, Ryou felt pretty sure that Darius had been about to tell him the truth, give him an explanation to all this, and yeah, now that Ryou cast his mind back past the shock of getting shot at with an arrow a few seconds later, he remembered Darius saying that he'd trusted Ryou for a long time now, but that he'd not said anything because he liked...liked what? Liked a friend to see something other than Ghan the Beast's reputation, maybe. Liked to see how he measured up as just a man in Ryou's eyes.

"Oh look, there's Meromeidon's banner. I think it is. Cregan, you've got the sharpest sight, is that the Lion's Head?"

"Yessir, and those are his men, see the way the sun catches their armour? Different than ours."

"But it's Lord Ghan who got Sezerena's head, personally and with pleasure, I warrant."

Darius...

The banner fluttered from the fortification, tiny yet clear in the dry air; the smoke from the burning gate was drifting the other way.

Why couldn't Darius have given Ryou a reason for dismissing him like that...? If Ryou only had a reason- it'd make all these things in his head make sense. It'd joint facts like, 'you've known him less than a month', 'you have nothing in common', 'you've been in danger or in pain or both since you've met him' and 'maybe what you feel for him is just a form of emotional dependency formed under the effects of stress, isolation and the reliance on his protection for survival'. If only he knew what Darius wanted.

If only Ryou himself knew what he himself wanted. Instead he was way out here sitting on a horse, thinking of the last time he'd felt something this achingly deep inside, back when he and someone he loved were in the same room, within touching distance, but not looking at each other as they cut all ties between them and walked away for reasons of duty, family and the safety of the other.

Ryou took a deep breath, pushed up his glasses and made the sudden but necessary decision. "Excuse me," he said to Targuta.

"Hm?"

"Can we go back down?"

"Oh, sorry, sir. We were just- come on, lads, we need to get moving. We have to go to the Anwat border; it'll take us a couple of days. I hope there's some kind of hostel on the road."

"There isn't," said Ryou, who had good cause to know having made the journey the day before yesterday. "But I meant, can we go back down to the Alliance camp? I need to talk to D- to Lord-" oh to hell with it. "I need to talk to Darius."

All three soldiers stopped manoeuvring their mounts around to stare at him.

"Uh, what?" asked Targuta.

"I need to talk to Darius," repeated Ryou, who had the feeling something under considerable pressure was breaking down inside him. Probably his sanity.

"But-" Targuta looked around in the apparent hope common sense could be conjured up from his two colleagues, the captured citadel below, the empty stone circle or his horse. "No, sorry sir. We've been ordered to accompany you to Aksum. Come on, men," he said sharply, as if putting the blame for this random and unreasonable demand on the dawdling of Ryou's escort.

"I understand that, but I really need to go back down. We can go to Aksum afterwards. Probably. I mean-"

Up until now, Ryou had been the package to bring to Aksum, and Targuta had obviously not considered too hard what his orders implied. Ryou could see himself in Targuta's eyes, vacillating between the man who'd been rumoured to have helped Lord Ghan, and the weird-looking foreigner taking liberties with Lord Ghan's name whom Rand the Khinite had ordered them to escort to King Ka's capital. In short, Targuta was now forced to wonder if those orders meant that Ryou was a V.I.P to be protected, or someone that was being marched to Aksum under guard.

Ryou should have helped sway that verdict in his favour, but his mind was whirling too hard to come up with any persuasive argument. His silence and dead-set expression tipped Targuta's decision, unfortunately.

"Apologies, sir," said Targuta with a curt gesture towards the road leading down the other side of the col, away from Essin and the circle. "We have our orders. You can't see Lord Ghan even if you wanted to, he's in the midst of a battlefield and too busy for details. Stay in Aksum until Rand the Khinite comes, and you can discuss it with him. Sir."

"You don't understand, I need to-"

- to talk to Darius, or Lord Ghan or whatever, and not just to get his version of events. Because whatever had been going through Darius's head this morning, it wasn't the only thing that mattered here. It would influence what Ryou eventually got from him, but it should not influence what Ryou desired in the first place, which was something he'd yet to figure out. Damn it, Ryou had been like this ever since he was thirteen; 'I know I can't have it so it is wiser not to want it'. Now he was going back to that same mould like the- the obedient office drone he was, and he didn't even know what he wanted. What the hell was he doing here in the first place? What did he want?

He wanted to sit by a campfire and get teased and laugh and hear stories. He wanted to ride through sunshine and through rain with a goal ahead and nothing left behind. He wanted to do something crazy based on instinct and desire rather than duty or logic, he wanted to burn his bridges and smile like he had no regrets.

He wanted Darius back.

If Darius didn't want him around, well then he was going to have to tell Ryou to his face, tell him as Ryou's friend Darius, not as bloody Ghan the Whatever surrounded by a dozen men who knew nothing about the two of them whatsoever.

Targuta had moved his horse forward to Ryou's right side; Opiashal had followed his lead and was boxing Ryou in from the left. Ryou's horse, not the brightest of creatures, took this as an indication that it was time to move on again and followed their lead, docile.

Ryou glanced back, past the soldiers herding him towards the road to distant Anwat and eventually Aksum. The path back to Essin would be patrolled by troops of mounted riders looking for escaped enemy soldiers. That road led to the besieged city behind its high walls, now full of Alliance soldiers possibly still fighting their opponents street by street around the citadel, which was also full of soldiers likely to strike first and ask questions later. In that respect Targuta was perfectly right, Ryou was never going to be able to see Darius that way.

Cregan gave Ryou a warning look and jerked his horse's head to the right to close the gap, ready to leap forward and intercept Ryou should the latter turn and try to bolt. But Ryou was looking beyond him, at the fortress in the distance, the blood red banner floating over it.

Then he looked at the circle of stelae they were skirting.

To him, it was no longer a simple strip of ground with a bunch of upright stones planted around it. Ryou's inner sense was stronger after walking the Paths behind two passers. He could sense it now, this small circle which was a crux of possibilities, constantly shifting and malleable to the human mind. The stream running through the circle was a mighty river of flux in his mind's eye, leading to a multitude of other planes. Not that he needed to leave Aksum at present, no. All Ryou needed to do was to go from here to over there, from this circle of beaten sod to that tower where a blood red banner floated, close enough in the still air where it seemed Ryou could almost lean over and touch it...

He'd just been thinking he wanted to burn his bridges and do something crazy; this undoubtedly counted. But it was that or loose two days going to Aksum, with the risk Rand would not listen anymore than these men, and then where would Ryou and Darius be?

Ryou kicked his horse's flanks and whipped the reins. The animal, the most placid critter in the entire army that Rand must have picked out purposefully for him at Darius's request, snorted in shock and bounced forward, more like a bunny than a steeple-chaser.

Cregan shouted behind Ryou. Opiashal made a flailing grab at Ryou's reins and missed.

Ryou's horse got the picture, sorted out its legs and cantered forward, away from the three escorting soldiers and right at the circle.

"Hey!"

"Oh shit!"

"No! Come back!"

Ryou ignored the dizzy feeling as he passed the border delineated by the stones. He pulled on the left rein, slowing his horse and tugging its head around. The circle was on a slope; the stream came from a natural spring that burbled up just beyond two of the stones and trickled across the empty space. But Ryou didn't want to cross the water. He didn’t want to leave this plane, just simply be in another spot of it. In Euclidian geometry - the local geometry of choice, no doubt - the shortest distance between two points was a straight line; in this instance, a straight line only a bird could fly. But that axiom only held true in the three rigid dimensions it was born in; not only were those dimensions influenced by other factors the Greeks could not have known about, but if one went further into abstract geometry and plunged those three dimensions into a higher space, they could be bent like a napkin and then the shortest distance between here and there was really no distance at all.

His unnamed sense stirred. Ryou didn't know how, but he knew he could do this. There was certainly some risk. Quite a lot of it in fact, and Ryou's bypassed common sense was busy calculating it and throwing up all sorts of red flags at each imponderable. But it was possible and that was all that mattered at this point.

Oddly enough, the thought that flashed through Ryou's mind as he kicked his horse into a run was of the president, his father. This, what he was doing here, was exactly what the president had seen in Ryou back then, during that shameful incident. The old man had known somehow that his otherwise disciplined son had this madness deep inside him, that he was capable of doing exactly what he was doing right now (well, not in any detail of course-) It was an oversimplification to say his father felt no affection for Ryou, or that he'd not operated in his son's best interest. He had forced Ryou down the narrowest path and held him on a tight leash because he was - they were both - afraid of what Ryou might do one day if he ever let his feelings take over fully and threw away all that he had accomplished.

Then again, since he was in the Outlands in the first place, hadn't he done that already?

The air around Ryou changed and his horse's hooves no longer touched ground.

TBC...

Next chapter should be out next Sunday, though I do have a bit of work to do on it yet and not much time to do it in...*ducks flying objects* but I'll try!

Question + schedule

2009-07-08T03:32:30Z

Could someone on the f-list acquainted with classic Latin please tell me what the translation of the title of a book called 'history of the empire' would be? I hate getting those kind of small details wrong if I can help it.

In other news, I'm off on holiday next week, starting Saturday. This means that IF my packing schedule is not too insane, I'll post part 19 of Out on Friday evening rather than on the WE proper. And I'll hopefully post part 20 on the following Sunday if I'm not too exhausted from flying too many hours with a two-year old who is two. So very, very two.

...Considering how part 19 ends, I should probably make an effort, though. I'm evil, true, but that would just be mean.

Out, part 18

2009-07-04T19:52:01Z

Next chapter! THanks for the reviews, everyone! They're great fuel for my inspiration *feeds a few more to Inspiration, which starts to purr*

Link to all chapters

Part 18

Ryou woke up in a comfortable bed. It was the size of a couch, a carved wooden frame with ropes strung across it to hold a cloth pallet. Rand had informed him in passing that he could make free use of the bed, the tent and everything here; they'd belonged to some officer of the Assyrian army who'd died during the first part of the siege. Despite that somewhat morbid provenance, it was much better than sleeping on the ground in a blanket.

Rand had not taken Ryou right back to the camp on the hill the preceding afternoon. He’d taken a detour to a small encampment in a copse of olive trees, where wagons and tents had been set up in a clearing by a stream. There’d been pallets under every tree and in every tent, with injured men or soldiers who were visibly sick. Ryou counted approximately two hundred. Young men and women, sometimes barely children, were caring for them. All the attendants wore the same knee-length undyed linen tunics and a serious air as they bustled around, changing bandages, beddings and buckets.

Ryou’s injuries were treated by a matronly woman dressed in the same tunic but with a blue robe, open down the front, pulled over it. She’d rolled up her sleeves in a businesslike manner when Rand deposited Ryou before her and explained the problem. Ryou had been swaying by then, and could not tear his eyes away from the snakes tattooed in a circle around her beefy biceps. The priestess of Hygiea held Ryou's forearm for a good ten minutes while she muttered prayers and intercessions on his behalf, before splinting it up to the fingers with polished sticks and stiff linen on which she painted sigils. He’d have to keep that on for three days, after which he’d be fit to throw the javelin in a week according to her. Then she informed Ryou that he needed a bath and a shave.

Rand, who’d been standing behind Ryou during the latter’s consultation, had taken her at her word. First he led Ryou to the camp barber, who happened to also be the butcher and cook. Face newly scraped clean of bristle, as well as oiled, Ryou ended up in the dead man's tent with some water to wash in and the bed. Ryou had to admit that all these ministrations had left him feeling considerably better this morning. His broken arm still ached, but nowhere near as badly as it had yesterday, and he could move the wrist beneath the bandages by a few degrees with only some twinges.

The tent, too low for a man of Ryou's height to fully stand in, was a square of three meters by three, one side stacked with a couple of crates and some javelins. An oblong had been cut out of one side to form an entrance; the hide hanging there in lieu of door was askew. From where he sat, Ryou could see a slice of camp life through the slit. Armed soldiers bustled around. He was in the middle of an army, and the safest he'd been since he'd first seen the Rajin over two weeks ago. Forget the likes of Gex and Gaius, he was even safe from mysterious enemies from Kaides and further afield. He'd eaten his fill of a simple but filling barley and goat stew last night, served to him by a soldier who seemed to think it important that Ryou be kept safe and comfortable. Rand had even shown up just before he went to bed to see if his arm was doing better and if there was anything he might need. Quite a difference from a mere twenty four hours ago.

Ryou, sitting on the bed, let his head sink into his left hand and fought an irrational little wish that it were still yesterday, when he was just a wanderer on a road with a companion he thought he knew...

"Excuse me?"

Ryou looked up. A shadow was hovering near the entrance to the small tent. "Yes?"

The same soldier who'd served him last night poked his head in. In the light of day and without the veil of pain and fatigue, Ryou noted that his helper could be no more than sixteen. "I beg your pardon, sir, but Lord Ghan would like to see you."

"Oh." Lord Ghan. Right. Ryou wished he'd had more time to get used to the idea. On the heels of that thought came the realization that all the time in the world would not be enough. "Fine, I'll get dressed."

"Yes sir."

"...Could I please ask you to wait outside?"

He waited until the tent's flap fell behind a puzzled-looking young soldier, then he got dressed in the clothes he'd pillaged from dead deserters who'd tried to kill him. He pulled on the short woollen pants and linen shirt, but didn't bother with the tunic that he usually wore over them. After all, the weather was warm, he was presumably safe here, and he didn't fancy pulling his still-aching arm through the leather-reinforced sleeve. He slipped it instead into the scarf the Priestess had given him as a sling, dropped Rand's cloak on his shoulders and headed towards the new day.

He followed the young soldier to the large pavilion he'd seen yesterday, the crimson banner in front now unfurled by an early morning breeze. The possible permutations of the conversation he was about to have ran through Ryou's mind with every step. None of them led to a happy place where what was broken would be fixed. Ryou felt tired just thinking about discussing any of it, even as the questions he needed to ask lined up in his head.

"This way," said the young soldier, lifting the tent flap, then added "please" as if remembering a set of instructions.

Ryou blinked at the sudden passage from the early morning sunlight to the dimness of the tent's interior. A flap, cut from the canvas near the highest peak of the tent, had been hauled back and tied into place like a crude sun-roof; on the other side of the tent squatted a metal box containing a surly fire, a pot smoking on its grill. Those two sources of light were the tent's only illuminations.

A rustle and a few mutters surrounded Ryou. He stared without comprehension. There were over a dozen people in the tent, most of them armoured and armed, all of them staring at him. Ryou stood in the tent entrance, wondering what the hell was going on.

At the far end of the tent stood two large men with spears, armour, shields, and the word 'guard' written all over them. One of them turned to a set of tapestries slung over a pole hanging from two of the pavilion's pillars, cordoning off one section. The guard lifted the tapestry an inch and murmured something.

"Coming," someone said from the other side. A few words muffled by the thick cloth, then the corner of the tapestry swung aside to let someone through and Ryou's expectations were further punctured when he recognized the tall figure, which was still not Darius.

"Good morning," said Rand, coming up to him without bothering to glance at the others in the tent. "I trust you slept well? Couldn't that young whelp I sent to fetch you find you anything else to wear?"

"I'm fine," was all Ryou said. The surroundings, these unknown people and the situation made him cautious and unwilling to ask any question.

Rand stood there with the ease of one who at least knew what they were both waiting for. Ryou wondered if he could find it in him to be annoyed...but it seemed counterproductive. Anyway, it was nice to have a slightly familiar face next to which to feel confused and adrift.

"So we agree then. Come on, let's do this before I die of old age," someone on the other side of the tapestry said in a crotchety voice Ryou remembered well. Operating on some unknown signal, the two guards each pulled aside one of the tapestries, and General Terentius stepped through followed by the man Ryou had known as Darius.

A small, dull shock registered in the pit of Ryou's stomach. Darius was dressed the way he'd been when Ryou first saw him; his beard was trimmed, his hair clean and knotted with small disks once more, and he was wearing a knee-length dark red tunic sewn with small scales of blackened steel, with finely tooled leather armour strapped over his shoulders and upper chest. The whole was complemented by a black leather neck-guard around his throat that reminded Ryou of the scarves worn by his men. He looked both archaic and striking, as if he were once more the foreigner killing monsters with a sword in the middle of a deserted replica of Tokyo.

General Terentius preceded him, walking briskly even as he leaned on a cane. He was dressed in armour straight out of a history book, copper breastplate emblazoned with a fearsome face, red epaulettes, a copper helmet with a horse's mane falling from its peak, an embroidered velvet skirt, greaves and covered sandals of white leather.

Darius nodded at the men as he made his way towards the entrance to the tent, and addressed someone dressed much like the General. "Lucius."

"Yes sir."

"We talked it over. Your unit will be at the axis of the attack against the main gate."

The man, eyes gleaming, saluted with a fist pressed against his heart. "Thank you sir!"

"Thank the General, it's ultimately his decision," said Darius. "I'm just here to explain to the citizens of Essin what to expect if they oppose us."

Men around them snickered.

Terentius had a smile on his face that was almost as nasty. He looked younger today, his eyes shone with tension and anticipation. "I hear those Essinian goat-fuckers have an Imperially trained unit that call themselves a Legion. Lucius, you and I have renounced our heritage, but hearing them say that personally annoys me anyway. Go show them what a real formation is, will you?" Then he laughed, a mighty bellow startling coming from his old frame.

"Keitos, Arsipal-Safa, you'll flank Lucius as we discussed," he continued. "Keitos, make sure you're ready for any outing from their cavalry into Lucius's side."

"Meromeidon, your men are with me and my Hounds," Darius added.

"An honour, my lord," said a burly man with an elaborately curled beard down to his belt. "The fortress won't know what hit them. But you'll be wanting Sezerena for yourself, I warrant."

"Damn right," said Darius with a vicious smile that made the men laugh again. They were putting on the helmets they'd been carrying; younger soldiers behind them hoisted up decorated shields. The atmosphere was electric in a way that made Ryou's nerves prickle with tension.

Darius was nearly at the tent's exit now. He stopped near two men dressed in long robes with only decorative pieces of armour on chest and shoulders. His eyes skipped ahead, rested briefly on Ryou, then his attention was back on them. "Thank you, noble emissaries, for attending us this morning. If Inder has His hand over us, you'll be able to bring back a wreath of victory to your master, King Ka, by late afternoon."

Both men bowed. "It is an inestimable pleasure to have you back, Lord Ghan," said the one in front with a touch of coldness that didn't match his words and elegant gesture. "Not that we'd been warned you were ever gone in the first place."

"And don't you like it better that way?" Darius said dryly. "Think of the report you would have had to write to your master otherwise."

"Your words are rich with wisdom," said the emissary in a tone that Ryou, fine-tuned to all sorts of business discussions rife with subtext, interpreted as 'You're full of it, your men lied to us and hid your disappearance, my report to the king is now going to have to be carefully written to avoid making me look like a gullible idiot, and I am not going to forget that.'

The sharpness of Darius's smile said he was well aware of the undertone himself, and didn't give a damn. He half bowed and moved on, stopping in front of Ryou.

"Thank you for bringing him, Rand," he said to the taller man. "As you might have guessed, I'm going to be busy this morning, Uchee Ryou, but I did want to see you and thank you before you were on your way."

"No thanks are necessary, I was the one who was a burden to you," said Ryou, the civility bred into his bones kicking in automatically.

"Essin is not a place for a civilized man such as yourself." Darius wasn't even looking at him, he was studying the camp outside and the hundreds of soldiers already assembled at the bottom of the hill, gauging their readiness. "I've detached some men to escort you to the capital of Aksum; it's the safest route, according to Rand. From there, King Ka will contact the Per Gathas on my behalf and oversee your journey. If the fortunes of war are with us, Rand and Dionysodoros will be only a day or two behind you. I've tasked them to insure you get back home. Godspeed, Uchee Ryou, in my name and that of King Leyam Sirrian."

Ryou bowed, a curt gesture that should have been a tad lower in deference to the offered protection of a king, but something had stiffened his neck at the words 'in my name'.

When he lifted his head, Darius was out of the tent and facing his troops. Ryou looked at the dark curls caught in the disks. That had been very proper and had avoided any eye contact or messy words; the president would have approved. So did Ryou, on second thought. What good would it do to hash it out? What had been done, was done, what had been hidden had been revealed as much as required, and at least Ryou now had safe passage to the Per Gathas guaranteed.

The other leaders had filed out as well. Outside the tent, Terentius was being helped onto a stolid horse by two aides. Once there, he drew his short, straight sword and swept it over the assembling troops and towards the city of Essin.

"You all know why we're here!" he shouted, once more startling Ryou with the strength of his voice. Below, the movement of men consolidated into disparate groups. Gleaming legions were already in position at the foot of the hill, standing in rigid square formation and listening stony-faced to their General. On either side, the troops were also in ordered lines, rigid and disciplined enough but their proximity to the General's picked troops made them look a bit slovenly by comparison. Ryou's rough headcount estimated the square formation at eighty men wide and as many deep; it was harder to count the others, especially when the front lines, bearing pikes, went down on one knee so the back lines could see as well, but it looked to be even more than the Legionaries. On the far side of all the tents, yet more soldiers were already marching away in a rectangular pattern, presumably to advance on the city from another angle. To one side, horses were being lined up and mounted; Darius had glanced that way as the General had started speaking.

"For too long has that pissant Sezerena let the Imperials through his border in dribs and drabs, gather on his land and then prance into ours. He's a bleeding traitor and all of Aksum knows it." A ragged noise of assent from the sidelines; the men in square formation said nothing. "But he's a powerful bleeding traitor, untouchable, with friends in high places. Right?”

A few laughs from below, but mainly an anticipatory hush as the General breathed in deeply and shouted: "Unfortunately for him, we don't care!"

The roar shook the earth beneath them. People around Ryou laughed. Terentius's horse, which must be thoroughly trained, flicked an ear.

"I won't make any long speeches because we all want to be in Essin before too long!" Terentius gestured with his sword again, a conductor modulating the pitch of an orchestra with thousands of instruments. "At every turn, the Imperium and their friends tell us the same thing: we can’t form an army without their training, their unity, their god. And what do we do?!"

The multi-throated roar was almost impossible to make out, but Ryou gathered that the answer was something like 'We kick their asses!'

"This way," said Rand in Ryou's ear before ducking beneath the tent flaps. Ryou followed him around the back of the tent while all eyes were on Terentius.

"Let's go let these Essinian sores know what the Alliance army is worth!" shouted the General. "Let's show them how much a mix of good steel is better than pure Imperial gold!"

Rand led Ryou to where three men and four horses waited. The soldiers had a carefully neutral look on their faces as Rand looked them over.

Rand had started to give their leader last minute instructions when a sudden clamour made the group turn. The pep talk must be over. After one last shout that rattled the heavens, the men started to stream out of the camp around them. The core of it was the forces Ryou could not help thinking of as the Legion. They marched in the same rigid lines in which they'd stood. The other troops moved in a different formation, moving with intent on either side of the main strike force with remarkably good coordination for units that did not have radio communication, or even a country and a native tongue in common. Dust was rising from their march, a heavy grey dust torn from the vegetation clinging to the soil, and the ground vibrated faintly beneath Ryou's feet. Other clouds gathered around Essin as other forces moved into position.

Ryou's gaze wandered from the marching troops back towards the command center- and for a moment his stupid, traitorous feelings shook as he saw Darius run towards them. But it wasn't Darius...

He was no longer dressed the same as yesterday, when Ryou had mistaken him for Darius's brother. Today he was wearing the same clothes as the rest of the hounds; black scarf, a hauberk of metal scales, metal greaves and arm protectors. With his hair tied back, the resemblance wasn't as striking as before.

"Sorry for the delay, I was getting the guard ready," he told Rand as he drew near. "Is that enough of an escort? Lord Ghan said-"

"It's fine. Ryou, this is Dionysodoros. We'll be traveling to Aksum a day behind you to make sure Lord Ghan's will is properly expressed to the Per Gathas."

"Thank you, I'm under your guidance," said Ryou with a bow.

This seemed to surprise Dionysodoros, but then he smiled cheerfully - further dispelling his resemblance to Darius - and bowed in return, a hand against his heart. "It will be an honour. I wanted to thank you before you left. Lord Ghan told us how you saved his life and helped him get back to us. I would have escorted you personally to Aksum, but with the battle this morning, I'm needed in Lord Ghan's personal guard. If the Fates will it, I will see you in two days time in the capital."

Then he put on his helmet and left at a quick walk, in the direction in which resounded crude horn blasts. The camp was emptying at a remarkable rate. Ryou glanced at Rand.

"I will walk you to the outer fortifications," said Rand in response to the unvoiced question. "My presence is not needed until the walls are breached. That won't be until mid-day at best. You and your escort will wait with the rear guard for a few hours. The enemy might attempt a sortie. Once the fighting has gone past the riverbed, they'll lead you to the local border. Last I heard it was still void of a passer, but I haven't had a report yet this morning. That'd see you in Aksum by this evening, and spare you two days of travel and a night on the road."

While Rand was talking, Ryou glanced at his escort. They were trying to keep the neutral look going, but behind it he could see they were disgruntled. They'd wanted to join the battle, it seemed.

Rand picked up the bridle of the extra horse from one of the soldiers and gestured Ryou to follow him. Ryou fell in by his side.

"I apologize for making you ride again so soon after your journey here," said Rand. "And for the haste. Especially as you’re injured."

"There's a war going on. I understand," said Ryou.

They were silent for a few paces. Beneath Rand's curtain of sharp bangs, Ryou could feel the taller man studying him.

"Lord Ghan asked me to answer any questions you might have," Rand finally said. "You probably have a few."

"Not really, no," Ryou answered with a faint vindictive feeling.

"... Dionysodoros's appearance seemed to confuse you yesterday," Rand said, apparently fishing for those questions he was supposed to be answering.

Ryou shoved up his glasses. "I take it he's Darius's double. In my country, military and political leaders have also used them in the past."

There was the singular pause of one reorganizing his thoughts. "You're right. Dionysodoros is a Greek refugee who joined Ghan's Hounds, but when we noticed he looked so much like him, we put him on Ghan's personal guard to serve as stand-in should the need arise."

"Convenient. I'm sure it would have caused quite a stir if Darius's disappearance had been known."

"Yes, it would have," Rand conceded.

"Particularly since the Alliance army is here in Aksum with only the faintest nod from its King, to attack someone who has a lot of pull in this country. The campaign has to go as smoothly and quickly as possible, and suddenly losing the Assyrian commander in such a bizarre way would surely throw the whole army into confusion."

Rand snorted, eyes hidden by his bangs as he lowered his head. "Good thing he warned me."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Lord Ghan specifically told me that you would have figured most things out by yourself. He gave me some forewarning so that I wouldn’t listen to my more cautious instincts; they would otherwise bid me wonder how a stranger to our lands could know this much."

Ryou looked at him curiously. "Who are you?"

"Oh," said Rand with a small smile, "so you do have a question."

"You're not a soldier. But-..." Ryou stopped himself mid-speculation. Rand had no uniform, true; no title, no name Ryou had heard of, no pomp or prestige. But he'd been with Terentius yesterday during the strategy meeting, he seemed to be in very close with Darius and men throughout the army leapt to obey his orders without thought or need of explanation. Ryou wasn't sure what all these contradictory facts added up to, except to a man who might not like to be questioned too closely..."I'm sorry, that's not the kind of question you're here to answer, and it's certainly none of my business."

"I thought you might have some questions about Lord Ghan," said Rand, politely sidestepping the whole question about himself.

No, I figured out exactly where the barrier between us is and mapped the distance between us, thought Ryou.

"I understand that, to keep rumours of his reappearance from circulating, he told you as little as he could about himself. What is it that you do know?" Rand asked after a few seconds of a ponderous silence.

"I know he's a lot more than a simple soldier," Ryou muttered.

"Not at all, I believe a simple soldier describes him fairly well," said Rand contemplatively. "General Terentius is the real leader of the Alliance forces. Ghan is good at striking fear into his enemies and firing up the men he's formed into units, but he's always been better at scrimmages and small battle tactics rather than large scale. Did he say anything else?"

Ryou couldn't figure out Rand's angle and didn't much care to guess. "No. He didn't tell me much of a personal nature, just that he's lost both his parents and has a brother."

Rand's step faltered and he looked around suddenly at the soldiers behind them.

"He mentioned his brother?" he asked, voice lower.

"Yes. Darius looks up to him a lot. Is he someone awfully important as well?" Ryou wished that unsaid the second it left his mouth. To start with, he'd stubbornly decided that he didn't want to ask Rand any questions. And Yrmah had mentioned Darius's brother in a moment of spite yesterday, so obviously this brother existed and was someone important enough to be known by Darius's enemies. More than the question, Ryou wished the undertone of acerbity taken back. Even if the questions and answers would have been fruitless, a small part of Ryou had still wanted to exchange them with Darius, and maybe find out why it'd been necessary to hide so much from him. He'd expected to have this conversation with Darius, but now he wasn't even sure Darius existed, and he didn't know what to think of Lord Ghan.

"It does seem as if he told you very little," mused Rand.

Yes, thank you for rubbing that in, thought Ryou, not bothering to look up from the sodden, rutted ground that was trying to strip him of his stolen shoes. They were at the level of the river now, and heading in that direction.

"On the face of it, anyway. Here, we're at the edge of the camp. The rear guard is half a mile away, near the dam. You'll ride from here. Let me help you onto your horse." There was a deep clamour somewhere behind their party, coming from the direction of the city of Essin. With a sense of surrealism, Ryou realized he was a few cannon shots away from a war. Getting out of here now was the best thing that could happen to him. What the hell did Rand mean, 'on the face of it'?

The other soldiers took Rand's words as a signal to leap onto their horses. Ryou couldn't have imitated them at the best of times. He struggled even with Rand's help. While he got into his saddle without too many jolts, his escort rode past him with covert glances of curiosity and a little condescension.

Ryou looked down at the withers of yet another damned horse. His right arm ached; he really hoped he'd be able to be in Aksum by tonight.

Rand made sure of Ryou's feet in the crude stirrups, handed him the reins and then reached up and tugged on his good forearm to get Ryou to bend down. The man was so tall that Ryou could look Rand in the face even from this height. Rand's eyes behind the sharp dagger of bangs were lined with crow's-feet, he was older than Ryou had initially thought, mid to late thirties. His gaze was hard, direct, and Ryou suddenly remembered how frightening and single-minded this man had been yesterday.

"His brother is my master, King Leyam Sirrianus," Rand said conversationally. "Darius Bher Polenius is the by-blow of King Narseh-Allit, Leyam's father. Though he's not officially part of the royal lineage, Darius has been faithful to his brother through difficult times and is now Leyam's right hand in many matters. I've known them both since they were children, and Darius is very important to both King Leyam and myself. Thank you for bringing him back to us."

Then Rand stepped away, giving the horse a clap on the flank to get it started before Ryou could ask a question, or even close his mouth.

TBC...

Some questions answered, as you see, but not all, and there's still some knotty issues unresolved...Next chapter, Ryou has time to think a bit, and he's going to give his head a shake and not take this quite that easily, fear not.

Ofic: Out, part 17

2009-06-28T04:39:55Z

Back again with the next chapter, since even I'm not evil enough to let you hanging from a cliff more than one week.

Not that you'll feel all that better at the end of this chapter, mind you.

Link to all chapters

Part 17

"Tell me where," said Rand, and then he and Ryou were hurtling through the camp, past tents, men, and horses and heading towards the river.

"Th-th-th-" Ryou couldn't even talk for the mad pounding rush, but pointed in the direction in which he'd arrived. Rand twitched the reins and the horse veered that way, still at a dead run. To either side of them, stern-faced armed men followed their course.

They'd galloped for a few minutes when Rand made a gesture. Ryou craned his neck and saw two soldiers from the column of twelve peel away and head away from the river. A few minutes later, the same happened again. Spreading out in a search pattern, Ryou realized with sudden relief. They were not only relying on Ryou's directions, which was good. Ryou's memory of where he'd left Darius was precise, but in the time elapsed, Darius could have gone anywhere. Or be-...No, Darius was not suicidal. He knew what he was doing. If he'd made Ryou go on ahead, it must have been the best solution to avoid both of them getting run down by a larger group of armed men.

"Here!" he shouted. He was getting used to the jarring rhythm, and by now his arm had gone mostly numb around the large ache. Now that things were finally happening, now that he was bringing help to his friend, the pain was ignorable.

Rand pulled the horse up hard, gesturing sharply for the others to stay back. Ryou briefly wondered where this man was situated in the Alliance army chain of command. He was dressed plainly and wore nothing more than the usual belt-knife which was the Assyrian utility tool and eating utensil that every man wore. Outside of his height, there was nothing about him that would have made Ryou look at him twice, yet these men obeyed him without hesitation.

Rand shortened the horse’s free rein, forcing the temperamental animal to circle around the stretch of meadow Ryou had indicated. He was leaning forward, staring at the ground.

"This way," he finally said, and the world dissolved once more into shakes and jerks as the horse surged forward, at a tangent to the river, in the direction of rolling hills.

It took them only a few minutes to find the body.

Ryou's heart stopped when his jumbled vision coalesced into the picture of a horse up ahead, forefoot folded back in obvious pain, a few feet away from a man sprawled in the grass. He instinctively leaned forward and nearly got shaken off for his troubles, but Rand's hand on his shoulder kept him in place.

"Looks like he's blazed the trail for us," Rand commented in a tone that suggested finding a dead man on his path was an everyday occurrence. "This one of them?" he added, reining in his horse right at the foot of the corpse.

"Er- I- I didn't get that good a look- yes, he's got a horn with him." The man also had a cut across the upper chest near the throat like an obscene second smile, flies buzzing around the face and the staring eyes. The dogs were sniffing at him and making muffled yapping sounds. Ryou didn't bother registering that this was now the sixth dead body he'd seen in the entirety of his previously peaceful life. All that mattered to him right here and now was that this wasn't Darius.

"If these addle-brains don't know enough about their quarry to hunt him in a pack instead of straggling out, they'll all be dead by the time we get to the field of battle," said Rand with grim satisfaction.

Ryou twisted around to look at Rand's face and see if the man really meant that, but Rand shouted and kicked the large horse into motion again, and then Ryou's job was to hang on one-handedly again.

The ride became a succession of still shots for Ryou. Fields, many gone to seed; a sheepherder path; the grass ahead of them ploughed up by hooves, the tracks Rand was following. The men behind Rand and Ryou rode in complete silence, as did the two dogs that still kept up with them, racing low to the ground, tongues hanging out with what looked like the same determination. For people who hadn't known Darius's name, they seemed intent on finding him now to the point of single-mindedness.

Ride, ride, ride...Ryou kept his gaze fixed on the horizon, hoping to see Darius up ahead, fearing to see another dead body, recognizable this time. How long had it been now? He'd lost track. How long could Darius hold out?

A twinkling of sunlight on water caught his attention. The river was to his right again, a couple of kilometers away, glimpsed between trees and fields. That meant they were heading back towards the large sprawling camp. But from the way Rand was leaning forward and scrutinizing the ground, they were still following the tracks the enemy's horses had left in soft earth and meadows.

Above the sound of pounding hooves and the singular way the blood was beating in Ryou's ears, he heard the ululating note of a blown horn.

Rand pulled the horse up so hard that it sat nearly back on its haunches, hurling Ryou back against the man's chest. He heard Rand grunt, but the arm that caught and steadied him could have been hewed out of oak for all the give it had in it.

Rand looked around as if he could track through the air the sound that had already faded. Then he gestured at the men behind him. "Jexen, follow the tracks. You and you, come with me."

The group split apart as smoothly as that. Rand's horse huffed and ploughed up an incline, away from the tracks which had so far stuck to the path of least resistance between fields and valleys. Three men followed Jexen, two men followed Rand; their forces had dwindled as other pairs of riders had broken off to search. Ryou hoped they'd be able to help once they met up with Darius.

Three minutes later they crested a rise and the so-far desperately empty landscape finally revealed their objective.

Ryou caught it all in a glance. Their rescue party was at the top of a steep valley plunging down, too abrupt for horses to negotiate at any speed. At the bottom of the abrupt grade the ground flattened out into a vale. Darius was eighty meters away, sword drawn, holding his seat bareback on the baggage gelding and facing two other riders. A third man sat on his animal twenty meters further away, a horn in one hand, a drawn weapon in the other, but he wasn't joining the fray. There was no sign of Darius's original horse or of the fourth man who'd been after him.

Even from this distance, Ryou could see the faces of the two men who were trying to corner his friend. They looked furious and frustrated. One of them surged forward to cut Darius off, but Darius plunged away at a tangent and slid past him, angling to keep from getting caught in a pincher movement. The man pulled abruptly on his reins and circled again, obviously wary of Darius's drawn sword. Ryou realized with some amazement that his friend must have deliberately turned to fight, and he was trying to get at the two men one by one.

Then Rand's horse whinnied, the two hounds bayed. A click of wood on wood made Ryou twist around in the saddle. The two men who'd followed Rand had whipped their bows off their backs and notched arrows.

In the valley below, the tableau had frozen. The three attackers were staring up at the lip of the valley. Darius, though, did not turn around. It was as if he already knew who was there. He said nothing, just lifted his sword and pointed it at the third attacker some distance away.

"Shoot the horse," Rand ordered curtly.

Clack - the distinctive noise of wooden arrows leaving the bow.

Down in the valley, the observer's steed staggered, arrows protruding from haunch and chest, and fell over on his side, pinning its rider.

"Shit- get the Prince away!" ordered one of the other two men. His companion immediately whirled his horse around in the direction of the fallen man.

Darius struck. He kicked the gelding into motion, surging forward. The first man saw him coming but he was awkwardly oriented to defend, and he hesitated, pulling back on his reins. Darius didn't bother with him, he cut at the horse's face. The animal screamed and reared, throwing his rider to the ground. Darius had already reached the second man, and ran his horse full tilt at the other. His mount checked and tried to stop- but it had too much inertia. It buffeted the second animal's flank with its chest, stumbled and fell, taking the other horse with it. Both men leapt clear.

Darius got to his feet and headed towards the man with the horn who was still struggling to clear himself from the stirrup of his injured animal. But the soldier Darius had just unhorsed shot to his feet and ran to intercept him, putting himself between Darius and the man they'd called a prince. The soldier lifted his sword. Darius, however, did not; he went right on walking as if the armed enemy three sword's length ahead of him wasn't even there.

Two black shapes rushed over the ground of the dell. The dogs leapt past Darius and took the soldier by the arm and the throat, bearing the man down. Darius did not stop.

"Hamado, stay here and keep watch," Rand ordered, turning his horse to take the slope at an angle.

"Yes sir," said the soldier. His brown skin and features looked Aksumite, he must be a foreigner like Jexen and others Ryou had seen. All of the same mold though: the same hauberk, the same black scarf around his throat, the same hard, intent look on his face other than a short flash of white teeth as he loosed a second volley from his bow. Down in the valley, the first soldier who'd picked himself up to run after Darius staggered and fell with an arrow in his thigh.

Rand and the second archer made their way down, shouting at their horses to force them to take the steep incline. The horses picked their way carefully, and snorted when their hooves were on flat ground again.

Darius had stopped a few meters away from the prince, who'd managed to get to his feet and draw his sword. The man looked helplessly at Darius, at Rand and the other archer, then he twisted around at a thud of hooves on sod. If he was hoping for reinforcements drawn by the sound of his horn, then he was going to be disappointed; it was Jexen and the other three men coming down the easier slope of the dell, following the tracks that had led to this battlefield.

Rand drew his horse up with a hard jerk of the reins. Ryou gasped and fell right off, but his fall became a dismount as Rand slid to the ground alongside him, an arm around Ryou keeping him from landing in a heap. The other archer had dismounted as well, so had Jexen and the other three. They stepped away from their horses and immediately knelt, head bowed.

Ryou, barely standing on trembling legs, looked at them uncomprehending. Then he glanced around in surprise as he registered the absence of Rand's towering presence beside him. Rand had also sunk to one knee, one hand extended flat before him on the turf cropped by sheep and goats, head lowered.

"My Lord Ghan," he said.

In the sudden deferential silence throughout the dell, the only man still standing was Darius, straight as a sword. And a stunned Ryou, of course.

Darius looked around, gaze going without surprise at the men kneeling before him, but it stopped at Ryou. He looked away again before Ryou could read his expression.

There was a curse from the last unharmed enemy. He wasn't standing either, though that was only because he'd stepped back defensively from the half-circle of armed men and tripped over his horse's hind leg. He was now trying to get his feet under him again and away from the animal kicking weakly in the grass.

The two hounds, licking their chops, trotted up to Darius and slipped their large heads under his hand. Darius looked down and Ryou saw him smile.

"Did Rand bring you too, little brothers?" he said, rubbing a set of ears.

The biggest of the two, blood still on its muzzle, looked like it was going to drop down and roll around the grass in sheer happiness at its master's attention.

"I'd have had to kill them to stop them," said Rand, in a tone that might have been intended as sardonic and exasperated with the fawning mutts, though it wasn't really trying that hard.

"So it was for the rest of us, my Lord," said Jexen with a fierce grin. "Shall I get rid of those other two?" He was referring to the two soldiers, one with an arrow in his leg, the other down with unknown injuries from the dogs.

"Just secure them for now. We'll see how cooperative the master is before we take it out on the curs."

"Ghan..." The man in question had finally managed to extricate himself from his horse. Gripping his sword, he staggered towards Darius. The kneeling men leapt to their feet and their hands fell onto hilts, but Darius waved them back, even though the man was staring at him with such murderous venom that it seemed he would attack even though it'd cost him his life.

"Greetings, Yrmah," said Darius replied, voice dripping with a heavy parody of courtesy. "I must beg your forgiveness; I know we were supposed to meet over a twelveday ago, but as it happens I was ambushed on my journey to the talks you'd invited me to. Can you believe it? I was quite surprised myself. And here you are, in such a hurry to finally parley with me that you left Kaides and came all the way into neighboring Essin to pursue me. Will you ever forgive me?"

Yrmah glanced around at the ring of hostile expressions, ranging from glares to derisive smirks, but it only made him angrier. He was holding himself straight, though he kept his right arm close to his body, his sword in his left hand. His high conical helmet had fallen off and there was a contusion slowly swelling up on the right side of his face, from the edge of his curled beard all the way up to the temple. He was dressed in a knee-length garment of small interlocking metal plates, slit at the thighs to allow him to ride; Ryou, with his budding knowledge of antiquity and ancient warfare, knew this sort of quality armor was expensive, but to his modern eye, Yrmah still didn't look much like a prince.

"You-..." Yrmah struggled with the words, and then they came out like daggers. "We almost had you. I wanted to give Sezerena your head. We'd have had it varnished and put on a spear behind his throne, next to the spot we're saving for your fucking whore of a brother's."

Darius tsked, gesturing back into their scabbard some of the blades that had sprung free. "I'm no politician, I told you that ages ago, but I'm pretty sure that's not how you negotiate. And if you’re just trying to rile me, save your time. Better men than you have failed. The truth is, I don't give a bird's fart about you, Yrmah, or about any inch of that miserable rocky stretch of mountains you call the Kingdom of Kaides. I didn't even care when you threw in your lot with Essin, or when you gave me safe passage right into a trap."

"Safe passage only applies to free men, not to the bastard son of a slave-"

"The ones I'm really interested in," Darius continued as if nothing had been said, "are the people who jumped me and my men in that very, very interesting way right after crossing the border into Kaides."

Despite his mocking tone, Darius was watching Yrmah’s reaction carefully. Ryou, who was putting things together at speed, also looked at the man from Kaides. But Yrmah's face didn't change from its expression of hostility and spite. Either he was too furious to really listen to what Darius was saying, or he did not know that the ambush that had picked off Darius on the way to their parley had used magic to get Darius dropped an unimaginable distance away, almost to the Inlands itself.

"I have nothing to say to you, Ghan," Yrmah spat. "Crawl back into your kennel with the rest of the curs-"

Jexen was at his side before he finished speaking. In an instant he'd kicked out Yrmah's knees from under him and had his dagger at the man's throat. Rand was there a second later, his demeanor much calmer. He moved the blade away from Yrmah and shooed Jexen away. Jexen gave Darius an almost beseeching look, but obeyed Darius's nod and stepped back. Rand took his place without any sign of even the mildest irritation; though when Yrmah tried to get to his feet, a casual hand on his shoulder forced him back down.

"I trust that reminded you who has the upper hand here," Darius said, leveling his sword at Yrmah's chest. "Your last ditch attempt to intercept me today was either clever or desperate; I didn't think you guys would be looking for me from that direction. Somebody knows something of my movements these past twelve days, and it's obviously not you, you poor manipulated sap. Now tell me who's pulling your strings. Who put you up to that parley with you and this Essin emissary who almost certainly doesn't exist? Who set up a trap for me, and who informed you I escaped and would be most likely coming this way? You will tell me, Yrmah, or I'll have you ripped apart by my dogs."

"Keep your threats," sneered the man on his knees. "I'm the crown prince of Kaides."

Darius did not seem impressed. If anything, his crooked smile became more amused and the air of menace around him more pronounced. "Damn, you're right, I forgot. You're the designated heir to your kingdom and I'm just some Assyrian bastard. Rand, my good friend, be kind enough to hold out His Highness's hand."

"What- ow!" Yrmah struggled but it was quite hopeless; Rand had reached down, grabbed his wrist and forced his arm out straight with enough force to make the tendons crack.

Darius smiled as he stepped forward.

His sword slashed out and Yrmah screamed. Ryou twitched his gaze away from the red and pink lumps on the ground and stared at an empty spot over Rand's shoulder. The prince gave another choked cry. Then all Ryou could hear was the pitter-patter of blood falling on the trampled grass. It sounded like summer rain.

"Thank you, Rand. Pick up the prince's fingers and send the one with his signet ring to his father. Oh, let's be generous and send them all. That'll inform him he needs a new heir. Now, what do we do with the rest of him? Chamrosh, Zuru, are you hungry, boys?"

The two dogs beside him perked up. Someone in the back of the small group snickered. Ryou's stomach lurched.

"I'm afraid Prince Yrmah is no longer awake," Rand informed the company.

"After only losing a few fingers?" Darius sounded honestly surprised. Ryou glanced around without looking at the mess on the ground, to see his friend lean forward and grab Yrmah's chin. The prince's face was ghastly pale, the bruise on the temple a swollen red by contrast. "So he is. It doesn't take much to be a prince in Kaides, does it."

"It appears not, Lord Ghan," Rand said calmly, though Ryou had noticed in the part of his mind where facts accumulated that Rand had quickly knelt down behind Yrmah and gripped the unconscious man tightly by both wrists as soon as Darius had leaned forward.

That's what really drove it home, more than the violence. Darius had killed in Ryou's presence before, without mercy other than that of a quick death; with a cold efficiency that suggested that he could suspend even the latter if he had a really good reason to. But in their desperate circumstances, it was nothing more than a matter of survival.

This man who was watched by these fierce soldiers as loyally as his dogs...whose life was so important to them that they'd ridden off without hesitation into a potential ambush on the word of a stranger...men who guarded him and who'd not chance even an injured enemy could harm him, and who would kill and probably die for him...this man was no longer the isolated foreigner back in Tokyo or the man Ryou had wandered the Outlands with.

Lord Ghan. Ghan the Beast.

Ryou turned away and took a few steps towards the horse that had brought him here.

"We won't get anything from him like this," he heard Darius say after a pause. "Let's get out of here."

Since sticking his head in the sand wasn't going to change anything whatsoever, Ryou turned around again. Rand was binding the prince's bleeding hand, the other soldiers were heading back to their horses. Darius wiped his sword on a cloth one of his men provided. His eyes met Ryou's as he sheathed his sword.

Darius studied him briefly. Ryou did not frown, did not look askance, did not look away. Show them nothing...a constant mantra in his life that had somehow become a little too neglected and transparent these past two weeks with Darius, his friend, riding at his side. But that was the advantage of ingrained habits: they came back easily. Ryou knew his face was composed and unreadable. It would not be obvious that this was not to hide an expression, but to hide the fact that he had no idea what expression to make, or what to think or feel anymore.

Darius turned away and gestured at Jexen and another soldier to pick up the prince. He said a few words to Rand, who leaned forward to listen attentively. Then Darius slapped Rand on the shoulder in a way that said more clearly than any words how glad he was to see the other man again, and went to help himself to Jexen's horse. He had a few cuts on his arm and one on his thigh, and the streaks of sweat down his face were testimony to the arduous ride followed by a fight he'd survived, but Darius jumped into the saddle as if he was fully rested, and raked his men with a look that seemed to sizzle in the quiet countryside.

"Have you all been taking good care of Essin while I was away?" he asked loudly.

The men around him laughed uproariously.

"Yes my Lord!"

"Kept them nice and warm for you!"

"Ripe for it!"

"Let's get back then," said Darius. "It's been a twelveday since I've killed anybody bar these poor sods. I need a goddamned war already!"

Soldiers cheered and leapt onto their horses, the dogs barked and made a nuisance of themselves beneath everyone's hooves. Ryou watched, mind blank and with a feeling he was a million miles away from all this. His head was heavy and the ground beneath him was swaying gently. He reached out blindly, found the side of the nearby horse to lean against. With the attitude all horses seemed to have adopted in his regard, the bloody animal snorted and sidestepped. Ryou staggered and hooked his good arm over its withers, hoping it wouldn't bolt.

"You said your name was Ryou?"

Ryou glanced up and focused on Rand. It was against the man's horse he was leaning, Ryou remembered.

"My name? Yes, Ryou." Why the hell would he insist on Ujiie-san in the circumstances?

Rand examined him as if he was actually looking at Ryou for the first time rather than gauging him as a walking and talking source of information for finding lost Lords. "May I see?"

"What?"

"Your injury, may I see it please."

He's being mighty polite all of a sudden, thought Ryou, extending his wounded arm. Around them, men had saddled up, Jexen sharing with a colleague, the prince of Kaides slung over Darius’s gelding which had not been injured in its earlier tumble. The other two enemy soldiers were also tied and hoisted up like baggage with little regards to their injuries. Darius nudged his horse into a quick walk towards the exit to the dale, then he turned in the saddle to talk to Jexen.

Ryou jumped at a sudden sharp pain in his arm.

"My apologies. It's broken," said Rand, shifting the make-do splints.

"Yes, that much I had managed to figure out."

Rand examined him once more through his bangs, as if intrigued by the absolute flatness of Ryou's tone and expression.

"We'll have a priest of Hygeia deal with this once we're back in camp," he finally said, gently pressing the arm against Ryou's side. Then Rand unhooked his cloak from the two small metal spikes sown onto his tunic, and bundled the cloth around Ryou until the latter's arm was supported. The pain let up a bit immediately.

"Thanks," said Ryou. There was nobody else left in the dell now. The wind blew, rustling the churned grass. Yrmah's horse was dead, its tongue hanging out, its legs sticking out ridiculously. It'd taken an arrow in the haunch and the other one near the shoulder. The wounds didn't look immediately fatal. Ryou couldn't see too well from this angle, but it was possible one of the soldiers had put the beast out of its misery. The other two injured animals had been led back to camp.

Rand helped him up into the saddle, swung up behind him, took the reins and shook them once, getting the horse moving forward at a measured pace. Ryou watched the edges of the dell fall slowly away, a foreign countryside appearing around them by installments. He didn't say anything, and neither did the stranger riding behind him. The silence after the shouting and the hoof beats was deafening. The bird twitters and animal calls that eventually started up again sounded fake.

TBC...

Someone explain this to me...

2009-06-23T02:39:04Z

I iz sick with summer cold, and thus am browsing through crunchyrolls and such rather than writing. *sniffle*

But now I haz a question. In every forum, chart and anime list I look at, Reborn! is up there with the best. Can someone draw me a diagram...?

I read the first six volumes of the manga, and though it was quite funny at times, it didn't grab me enough to continue. The Gary Stu babies rather turned me off (except the one who looks like a dumpling :P) There's only so many laughs I can get out of 'the baby's better at everything than all of them put together!'

But I keep hearing that the series improves over time, and gets darker. That makes me wonder if I should try the anime now, but first I'd like to know: Improves how? Characterisation? Hot guys who aren't walking, talking jokes? Actual story rather than running gags? Someone enlighten me so I know if it's worth my time or not, and also tell me from which anime episode they think it gets better so maybe I can go watch one episode - I know the characters and the premise already - and see if it's likely to be my next thang.

Mal over and sniffling out.

Ofic: Out, part 16

2009-06-21T05:20:42Z

Inspiration is still fuelled; I managed to rework one chapter that was sticking (and a good thing too, it'll be out in a couple of weeks at this rate), and I'm busy attacking the rest and trying to get it into shape. And then on to the end of the first arc! *rolls up sleeves*

Link to all chapters

Part 16

Ryou galloped past three armored men trying to haul a wagon out of a rut. One of them had a crude moon drawn onto his tunic, the same symbol Darius had on his bracers, but Ryou did not stop. These men didn't have horses, they couldn't help.

One of them shouted after him. He couldn't make out if it was a question, an order or a threat over the sound of hooves.

As he pushed his horse onwards, Ryou methodically analyzed everything he could see. There was another group of soldiers camped near a pond over there; still no riders. A larger gaggle of tents, women among them- no, not what he needed, but he was getting closer. The river bent up ahead and spread out, a marshy fen over which loomed a large dome-shaped hill. An encampment had sprung up around the prominence, much denser than the others and- There! Horses!

At full gallop and his eyes on what had to be the Alliance army head-quarters, Ryou didn't see the patrol on the path until it was almost too late. Fortunately his horse had more sense and ploughed the dirt beneath its hooves to stop before they impaled themselves both on the spears pointed their way.

"Hey!"

"Stop!"

Panting like bellows, Ryou's horse skipped and staggered sideways, away from the group of five pikemen who'd barred the path. Ryou hauled hard on the reins with his single hand to keep his animal from prancing and throwing him off.

"What the fuck-" One of the soldiers moved forwards to grab the bridle, but darted back when Ryou's agitated horse stamped.

The first row of tents and fire-pits began twenty meters beyond the soldiers gaping at Ryou. At the top of the hill was gathered a group of important-looking pavilions, each with a banner in front, hanging limply for lack of breeze: that was Ryou's destination. The distance between him and his goal: half a kilometer and a lot of explanations that Ryou did not have the time to give.

He slid down from his horse- staggered as the jolt to his arm brought tears to his eyes and robbed him of breath, but he straightened up again in a second. He needed to talk to them face to face, and not give them the impression he was about to charge them or run away. "I have an urgent message for General Terentius. It's from Darius Bher Polenius," he said, addressing the soldier armed with a sword rather than a pike, the man who'd tried to grab his bridle.

The man stared at him owlishly. "Who?"

Goddamnit. Ryou had had the feeling Darius was a little higher up the chain of command than his 'simple soldier' image projected, but he was not high enough to be widely recognized it seemed. Ryou swallowed his anxiety and impatience, because now above all was when he needed his self-discipline.

When he spoke, he sounded perfectly in control. "I need to talk to your leaders now. Or to anybody who can send out mounted troops to help an Assyrian soldier twenty minutes behind me. I was riding with one of Lord Ghan's men with an urgent message for General Terentius, but we were ambushed. I need- do you know if Rand the Khinite is here? Or can I speak with Lord Ghan directly?"

The patrolman's eyes had gotten progressively wider, and Ryou, with the instinct of one who'd gotten past the flappers surrounding CFO's and CEO's before, knew he'd bypassed a lot of hassle with his name-dropping.

He repeated the same routine to the patrol's leader, a hundred meters away from the large important-looking pavilions (but nearly ten minutes had already gone by-) Fortunately the man was also impressionable, even though he'd never heard of Darius either.

"Can you give me your message?" he asked Ryou.

"I don't have it, Darius does. Can you send your men out to help him? He's fighting-"

"I can't put together a mounted patrol," the commander said as if offended that Ryou was trying to thrust such a responsibility on him. He was cross, but he also looked worried and wouldn't meet Ryou's eyes. "The only cavalry we have is the General's heavy unit and the Hounds, and I can't order either of them out-"

"Can you take me to Lord Ghan then?" Ryou asked tightly. "Darius is one of his men, he wanted to talk to him."

"I can't bother him over this." The officer pushed, pulled and settled the metal breastplate on his chest in a nervous gesture. The man was middle aged, and Ryou had the feeling he was never going to be promoted to any more responsibility than he already had.

"What's your name?" Ryou asked in a neutral way.

"My name? Okidis Par Lamanes."

Assyrian, Ryou noted, nodding to himself.

Okidis caught the gesture. "Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"If my friend Darius can't talk to Ghan, I will eventually be talking to him myself, and I like to get my facts straight," said Ryou and didn't bother masking the fact that this was a threat.

Okidis gave him a hostile look, and Ryou feared he'd overplayed his hand, but then the captain turned with a curt order to the soldiers surrounding them. "Mason, Je, bring him." Then he set off with a put-upon stomp in his step towards the emblazoned pavilions.

Ryou glanced around as Okidis led them through the camp, keeping an eye out for cavalry with a more pro-active officer. Men in trousers and shirts, tunics, or only skirts and sandals in this heat, moved all around them; they were cooking, cleaning, mending clothes and standing around a sword-sharpener's stone wheel. A large group ringed a stretch of grass where four men were competing in an impromptu javelin throw to the accompaniment of shouts and whistles; others just sat around looking restive. Ryou's escort drew little interest other than a second glance at his features. The army had divided its soldiers into groups of twelve it seemed, each with a single tent and fire, and a fair amount of space between them and the next unit. They were more densely packed down the hill and near the river. A paddock contained the horses Ryou had seen, as well as a long pit mostly covered with board; a change in the breeze revealed this latter to be the latrines. To the east, beyond the hill and the straggling camp, was a town as large as the city of Palis. It looked destroyed, and for a moment Ryou wondered if the siege was already over. But it was only the outlying areas of the town that'd been attacked; the center was on an island between two arms of the river, heavily ringed with walls, and that part looked intact from a cursory glance. The river waters were very low, though, and Ryou remembered someone mentioning the water had been dammed and diverted.

A returning patrol glanced curiously at their small group of four. Ryou knew he was getting close. Many of the men he'd seen so far had been dressed in disparate, incomplete armor, when they were dressed at all. But now the soldiers they passed were in uniform; identical breastplates, leather skirts and metal helms with neck guards. Veteran troops, or perhaps Terentius's well-trained units that had rivaled the Roman Legion itself.

Okidis stopped to ask for instructions from one of these men dressed in well-designed armor and with a long horsetail dyed red attached to his helmet. Fortunately the superior officer was too busy to deal with the matter himself. "The Assyrian commander is with the General and the rest of the leaders," he said, waving Okidis towards the top of the hill. Okidis looked even more put-upon and reluctant once the other officer had gone about his business, but he led Ryou and his two guards further up.

At the highest point of the camp, a long rectangular pavilion with a split personality took precedence over the others. It was made of crude stitched canvas, ugly and utilitarian, but it'd been draped with purple banners, and a golden garland was nailed to an upright spear near the entrance. Okidis settled his armor one last time and marched towards the open flap, with a curt gesture at his men to keep Ryou back for now. Nearly forty minutes had elapsed since he'd left Darius, Ryou's watch informed him. His heart was hammering and he felt very near to praying to Inder himself, or any god who might be likely to listen.

After what felt like an eternity - three minutes - Okidis came out and waved them forward. Ryou was barely holding himself back from breaking into a run, but one of the patrolmen thought it necessary to shove him forward anyway. As a result, Ryou half walked, half stumbled up to the tent. He was stopped at the entrance by Okidis, who'd drawn his short sword.

Ryou knew full well, in an analytical way, that all this ruckus could get him into very hot water, but that was just a byproduct of failure and not worth considering until he'd used every single tactic at his disposal. Darius had asked him to go get help. Ryou was going to do his best.

"Who is it?" asked someone in a crotchety tone. "Who's got a message for me?"

There were a dozen men in the large pavilion. Ryou's eyes had been darting from one imposing uniformed man to another, but now his gaze fell onto a figure wrapped in a blue toga over a tunic trimmed in gold; the man was easy to overlook, seated as he was in a camp chair in front of a low table covered in maps. He was old, in his sixties at least, and visibly ill from the curdled-milk color on his face, with one sandaled foot propped up on a low stool.

That couldn't be Ghan. "General Terentius?"

"Yes? What's this about a messenger getting waylaid? Who the hell are you and where are you from, anyway?" He looked dyspeptic and cross, like an old grandpa whose game of shogi had been interrupted by some young fool.

"From Ezo," Ryou replied shortly, since an answer however wrong was faster to give than the true explanation. "I was traveling with an Assyrian soldier from your army - one of Lord Ghan's men - and we were ambushed not far from here. His name is Darius Bher Polenius, can you please send someone to help him?"

Terentius's eyes were the wrinkled, heavily lidded eyes of a turtle. They narrowed in confusion as he said the one word Ryou had dreaded above all. "Who?"

Ryou's blood turned to ice and the watch around his left wrist felt as tight and painful as the leather straps around his right forearm. He opened his mouth...but his tongue moved like papier-mâché, and a wave of dizziness overcame him. How...how was he going to persuade the general of an army from antiquity to send out help for some unknown soldier without a lot of time-consuming explanations...?

"Where's that guy who- where’s Ghan?" Terentius asked someone behind him. "He could sort this out. He was here a minute ago, did he go take a piss or something? Meromeidon, can you-"

"What name did you say?" someone asked from the back of the tent.

People shuffled and turned towards the source of the question. At the back of the tent was a long, thin table bearing scrolls, food and pitchers. A man was leaning against it, a cup in his hand but his gaze fixed on Ryou.

"Uh, Darius Bher Polenius," said Ryou.

The other put the cup down without looking and straightened away from the table. As he circled around the group, Ryou could tell the man was huge, half a head taller than anyone present. Unlike the others, he wasn't in armor or richly dressed, just a shapeless brown tunic reinforced with patches of leather, a short brown cloak and hood over his shoulders, and mud-encrusted shoes on his feet. His plain, square face was carved with deep downward lines, hair falling in sharp daggers down his forehead and into his cheeks as if they'd dug those ruts there themselves; they hid his eyes.

- Until he reached Ryou, grabbed him by the collar and hauled him up with one hard gesture to stare straight into Ryou's face. Ryou got a good look at his eyes then; they were grey and harder than stone.

The man studied Ryou up close for three subjectively long seconds during which Ryou gaped back at him. Then Ryou found himself lowered back down to the ground which his toes had been barely touching, and a hand fastened on his elbow. "I'll deal with this, General."

"What? What?" The old man leaned forward in his seat. "You know this fool, Rand? What the hell is going on?!"

The last was shouted after them; Rand had already half-carried Ryou out of the tent and away to the left, ignoring the general.

"Are- are you Rand the Khinite?" Ryou stuttered, following the other's long strides with some difficulty, not that he had much choice; the grip of fingers on his arm suggested that it was either that or be dragged.

The bangs had once more closed like a curtain over those hard eyes, but Ryou felt certain he'd just been gifted with a short, sharp glance. "Darius mentioned you," he found himself saying in pure knee-jerk defensiveness. "He said you could help," he added a little more constructively. "We were ambushed on the way here, enemies from, uh, Kaides he said. Darius sent me to get help. He said he'd try to stay within a mile of the river. It took me- do you know what minutes are?"

"Yes," answered Rand without bothering to mention where he'd learned it from.

"It took me twenty minutes to get from where I left him to the edge of camp. Twenty-five more since then."

"And who are you?" asked Rand, glancing down at Ryou, face still hard.

"Ujiie Ryou, I was traveling with Darius, we met on the way," Ryou answered, once more choosing expediency and simplicity over a complex truth that would keep them mired down for too many minutes, and might lead his audience to conclude that Ryou was a nutcase. "Can you please send someone to help?"

Rand gave a grunted "Hmm," which could mean anything, but which Ryou just had to hope was assent.

They walked fifty circuitous meters away from Terentius’s pavilion in the direction of the river, weaving around smaller tents. Lower down the slope, Ryou spotted a makeshift paddock with two dozen horses, and there were more picketed near the individual tents surrounding them, so it certainly looked like they were heading in the right direction. Though they'd not gone that far, the mood was different here. They were no longer in the ranks of Terentius's crisp, professional pseudo-Legionaries. Amongst the dozens of men Ryou saw, he could not find two that matched when it came to shoes, helmets, tunics, skirts or trousers; the same was true for skin tone, hair color and features. The only thing that united these men were black scarves around their necks, worn like a badge, and hauberks of bronze lamellar, relatively light compared to a Legionary's breastplate. They also shared a certain lean, mean, hungry look, but that might be Ryou's knowledge coloring his perception of these troops known as the Assyrian Hounds.

Rand stopped so suddenly Ryou staggered. "How many men did you say?"

"Uh, five-"

"Jexen," Rand called out. "Where's Lord Ghan?"

A tow-headed man sitting on a box three meters away glanced up from where he was replacing the leather strap of a sandal. He looked at Rand and then at Ryou in surprise, then jerked his thumb towards the pavilion at the center of the small circle of tents, a blood-red banner bearing the circle symbol planted before it.

"Is he available? I need to see him."

The question seemed to puzzle Jexen. "What? Oh, sure, go right ahead, sir, he's-"

"In the meantime, I want you to get a squadron on horseback."

Jexen's surprise turned to amazement, but he dropped his sandal, grabbed the javelin that'd been resting against the box and walked away with nothing more than a quick, "Yes sir."

"Thanks," said Ryou, almost giddy with relief as he turned back to Rand.

Those grey eyes were still lurking behind the bangs, and Ryou felt himself to be under scrutiny, even suspicion. Ryou couldn't blame the man; he was ready to concede that his appearance here and his request must seem extraordinary.

"Let's go talk to Lord Ghan," said Rand.

"Okay."

Rand didn't move immediately, though; he stood there looking down at Ryou. Behind them, Jexen was shouting and people were pouring out of tents lower down the slope and saddling their horses. Just as Ryou was wondering what the hold up was, Rand made a short gesture indicating that Ryou could walk without getting dragged this time.

"Lord Ghan," Rand called out as they neared the canvas, but the rest of his words were buried in a sudden baying of hounds.

A man inside the pavilion cursed, there was some kind of commotion, and then the canvas bulged near ground level. Pegs pulled from the dirt and two huge mastiffs came surging out from under the cloth.

Ryou had never liked dogs all that much, and these two were huge and savage, mouths gaping wide as they charged at him. He staggered back and bumped into Rand.

The two dogs hurled themselves at Ryou, and would have bowled him over if Rand hadn't steadied him with one hand and used the other to shove at the animals. "Down! Down!"

Ryou's heart started to beat again when he realized the dogs were sniffing and pawing at him, not tearing him limb from limb. They weren’t quite as big as he’d first thought, but the larger one reared up full length on its hind legs and managed to stuff its nose down Ryou’s collar before Rand pushed it away again.

"What is going on out there?" shouted a man emerging from the tent after the dogs.

Ryou got a shock on par with the dogs when he saw a familiar face.

"Darius?!" No- no, Ryou immediately realized, this newcomer wasn't Darius. But he was dressed much like his friend had been when they'd first met, and he had the same hairstyle and beard. The resemblance was striking. Could this be- "Are you his brother? Can someone help him?!"

"Darius?" said the man, glancing from Ryou to Rand. "Who in Hades is Darius?"

Oh no, not again.

Rand did not answer immediately, and there was some quality to his silence that sent echoes of itself spreading around him. One by one, the men stopped talking and shouting; there was only the whinny of horses and the snuffling of the dogs as all eyes were drawn to the tall man. Rand stood like a ship's mast in the middle of the camp, ignoring everybody and staring only at the dogs sniffing Ryou over. Then he looked back at Ryou, a look that drilled right through Ryou's head.

"It's true, then," Rand said, almost to himself. "Jexen, get those horses. Now. One for me as well."

That broke the spell. Jexen started giving orders with intense rapidity that promised to get things done very quickly indeed. Four men were already astride their animals, and others were dragging their mounts into formation.

"What's going on?" said the man who looked like Darius. "Who is this- this-" he gestured at Ryou, then made a move to get the dogs away from the latter.

Ryou was jerked to one side. Rand frog-marched him towards a horse. Ryou found himself clinging to the animal's hide while Rand swung himself up and into the saddle. Then a strong hand reached down and hauled Ryou up to sit in front of him. The horse snorted and splayed its legs, but it was an animal that matched Rand in sheer strength and size, and it shook its mane and straightened up as if not deigning to notice their combined weight.

"Hang on," said Rand in a voice that suggested Ryou would be unwise not to. "Jexen-"

"Wait!" The other man had gotten hold of the dogs, though they were straining their collars. "'Darius'? Does he mean-"

"I think so. We'll know shortly if it's really him or not."

Behind Rand, the man called Jexen stared at Ryou, one foot in the stirrup and his mouth wide open as if he'd just figured out something momentous.

"I'm coming with you!" Darius's ringer shouted.

"No," Rand answered. "It's not safe for you to hare off into the countryside on a wild report from some unknown." That would be me, thought Ryou.

"But- Gods damn it!" The dogs had slipped the man's hold and were crowding around the horse, who laid back its ears dangerously.

"Stay here. It could be a trap or a distraction. Let them come," Rand added as the man tried to get the dogs back again.

The man nodded. "Of course. Chamrosh, Zuru, go, boys!"

The dogs were so eager to go they were whining and pawing the ground. Jexen's horse gave them a wide berth as his rider maneuvered the animal forward. "Ready, sir."

"Follow."

The world broke into movement as Rand kicked at his horse's flanks. Ryou grabbed a hold of Rand's arm with his good hand, clung to the horse's sides with his legs, put every equestrian lesson he'd learned these last two weeks into practice to avoid falling off, and finally, finally - forty five minutes and more but Ryou couldn't see his watch face with everything shaking - finally they were off.

TBC...

Ofic: Out, part 15

2009-06-14T21:01:44Z

Holy kick in the pants, Batman! Thanks for all the reviews for the last chapter, it gave my inspiration such a poke that I managed to finish a large chapter in pretty much one go, and rewrote a scene that desperately needed it. Now I just need to fill in all the placeholders I put all over certain scenes, and I'm on track again!

Link to all chapters

Part 15

Darius rode up to the stelae but did not cross into the circle delimiting the Kazanstar border; instead, he shouted until the passer stepped out onto the flat rooftop of the two-story inn fifty meters away, and then he shouted some more until he got his question across.

Ryou was hanging even further back, trying not to look anxious, furtive or guilty. He didn't make out what the passer hollered back. It was when Darius rode back that Ryou learned that all their hurry had been for naught; the Path to Essin was closed, something about the war. The Path to Anwat, the neighboring province, would lead them close enough to make their way to Essin, but could not be traveled for another three days.

"At least it isn’t three dozen," said Darius, trying to take it philosophically with only mitigated success. Ryou understood his companion's urgency get back, though he himself wasn't in any hurry to cross another border.

The days of waiting were spent quietly. A forested hill half a kilometer from the border inn gave them shelter. They made camp by a stream rushing down the slope and bisecting the circle of stones in the valley below. Darius spent that afternoon bathing and relaxing and doing martial maintenance stuff to his sword, javelin and bow, but by the next day it was obvious that Ryou's friend was constitutionally unable to sit quietly for any length of time. He was out hunting and just generally riding around most of the day after that. Ryou, by contrast, took advantage of the time to rest up, scrub his skin raw in the cold water, eat plenty of the rabbits and the tiny, wild pig Darius shot and roasted, and recoup his reserves. He’d been riding the edge of the latter for awhile now.

But mostly he sat on a rock and stared down at the circle of stones from his perch in the hills. Thinking, and trying to feel. It was perhaps a dangerous thing to do, but Ryou estimated that it was just as dangerous to not have any clue at all when next he walked one of Zaratusra's Paths. Between doing nothing and hoping for the best, or trying to gain some ascendancy over his abilities and the situation, the choice seemed obvious, particularly for a self-confessed control freak like Ryou.

The inn stood squarely in the centre of the clearing, defiantly prosaic and real despite the physicist's nightmare going on around it. A lot of people stayed there before traveling on; Ryou kept count of them and averaged it to thirty a day with a wide variance which might correspond to when a particular Path was available. Ryou idly calculated the margin of error on those crude statistics, and then how long he would have to sit here and observe before he could bring that margin down to an acceptable dimension...while deep inside, a sense he could not yet name, much less control, watched the people come and go, winking out of existence once they and the passer waded through the rushing stream. Like a radar, this inner sense sent out regular feelers as it waited for the passer to come back, and then it watched the man stroll over the dry grasses and rocks in a zigzag path that should make no sense at all, and yet spoke to Ryou on a level too deep inside to clearly distinguish...

"Damn, you should have seen the size of the buck that got away!" exclaimed Darius, and Ryou realized that his banal sense of hearing had registered the clip-clop of horse hooves for a few minutes now. "If only I had a decent beater to get the bloody animal to go up the gulley...Are you still feeling tired?"

"A little," answered Ryou, hoping to avoid getting dragged off to hunt tomorrow.

From the way Darius was studying him with faint concern, that had not been his intention. "Considering what you told me about the Inlands, I'm surprised you held up so far. Would it help if we went to that village the passer mentioned and let you rest in a proper bed for a night or two? It's only three miles away."

"Oh no, I’m fine," Ryou said contradictorily. Between roughing it out a few more days, and sleeping in a village as dirty as Kegsum and others he’d seen, Ryou was ready to heed the call of the wild.

Darius studied Ryou and decided to take that at face value. "For the best, then," he said, unfastening the girth of his horse. "Any place near a border is expensive."

Ryou looked at him in surprise. "I thought we were camping out here for discretion, so that your enemies won't get wind of us."

"That too, but I don’t want to waste money. With any luck we’ll be with Assyrian troops in three days time, but no man can tell what the Gods write in their tablets on his subject."

Darius was cautious that way, always an eye out for supplies, food, shelter and defenses like a good soldier and one used to living in a land with no convenience stores, visas and safety nets. If all else failed, he could live off the land for awhile and make do that way. Ryou was acutely aware of how helpless he was by contrast. He'd be hard-pressed to earn a living even if he stuck to the cities of the Outlands. He could not do the simplest manual task most of these primitive cultures required, either through lack of strength or knowledge, and though the merchants of Palis were reputed for their business acumen, they probably couldn’t use a financial expert of his kind. Since he had no clue what the gods were putting on his tablet, maybe he should-

"If you’re not too tired, do you want to go hunting tomorrow?"

...-should start learning how to flush deer out of gulleys, it seemed...

The day after an exhausting hunt in which they almost got that buck, they made their way to the border inn just before nightfall. They had to stay in the inn for the night if they wanted to take the dawn Path, but by common accord they slept in turns and only lightly, even though Darius had told Ryou that nothing should happen until they crossed the river and took the Path tomorrow.

The Path to Anwat was busy; half a dozen people crossed with Darius and Ryou the next morning at dawn. The passer was a portly young man with the overbearing manner of a bus conductor who won't ruin his schedule for one passenger's sake. Ryou would have still felt terrible if the man had gotten himself devoured by eldritch creatures, so he kept a close watch on his own mind and senses as he waded across the fast-running stream.

"Nothing happened," he breathed once he and Darius were past the stone circle.

"Are you okay?" Darius asked dryly.

"Just dizzy. From the...you know." It'd felt like falling off a cliff once more, though this time Ryou had managed to keep to his feet rather than taking a nose-dive into the water.

"I was talking about the strain in your back and shoulders." Darius's hand landed at the base of Ryou's neck and gave it a quick teasing squeeze. "You looked like you're about to break like glass."

Ryou thought Darius sounded mighty flippant for a man who'd been just as wound up while crossing the rill. But the nervous tension and the effort he'd expended trying to control a part of himself he barely understood had drained him.

"So this is Aksum," was all he said as he got up on his horse - he could manage without help these past few days - and glanced around. "It looks a lot like Palis. A little greener."

Darius gave his surroundings a comfortable look. "Assyria is a lot like this as well."

"...Who are all these people?"

The circle of stone was surrounded at a distance by an even larger circle made of tents, firepits, impromptu paddocks with a few livestock, wagons, hand-drawn carts and people. A few gave Ryou a disinterested glance and returned to their pots, animals, children and business.

"Refugees waiting to walk a Path, or just people sticking to where it's safer. Essin is at war, has been for awhile. A group of soldiers might pillage these farmers' animals and pay with wooden talents; bandits won't even leave them that. No army would dare besiege or interfere with a border, though, so they're safe here, but they're not allowed closer unless they're actually traveling and willing to pay the fare."

Darius was about to add something else when he tensed and let his hand drop to his sword. Ryou followed the direction of his gaze to see half a dozen armed men on horseback circling the tents and wagons, making their way towards the pair of them.

"Who-"

"It's okay, I think," said Darius, relaxing a fraction. "They're king's men, from Aksum. They're on our side. Greetings, friend," Darius added to the man in the lead.

At Darius's words, there was a certain loss of tension on the other side too. The soldiers stopped carrying their javelins in a way that suggested they were a scant second away from using them. They were not wearing uniforms, their armor was disparate - Ryou had had a flashback to Gex and Gaius - but they all had small shields and thin round metal helmets bearing the same motif of highly stylized sheathes of wheat. The man at the front had a short cape made of sheep skin with the wool still on it, despite the rising heat of the day.

"Assyria?" he said, looking over Darius in surprise. "What the hell are you doing coming through here?"

"I've traveled through from Tot," said Darius, an explanation that explained absolutely nothing, but he said it with a business-like assurance which made it hard to point that out. "Is Essin still under siege by the armies of the Alliance?"

"Last I heard, yeah, but we've been on patrol for the past four days. They blocked the river five days ago, so it'll be coming to a head any day now. Who are you, which army do you belong to?"

"My name is Darius, my mother's name was Polenius. I'm one of Ghan's Hounds. And you are?"

The leader of the Aksum patrol had drawn his horse up side by side with Darius to talk; he was close enough for Ryou to note the widening of eyes when Darius mentioned his unit. Ryou measured what Darius had meant when he said the Hounds struck fear; even their allies treated them with cautious respect, it seemed.

"Huh...I'm Macedini from Daksosor, watchword officer. Um..." the patrol leader glanced from Darius to the Gates and back again. He looked like he had a mighty big question to ask but was now unsure he really wanted to ask it. Ryou felt for him; there were no papers in these Outland countries, no ID, no written and carbon-copied orders, not even a set of dogtags to back up Darius's claim of being an Assyrian soldier. Neither was there radio communication to their leaders, most of whom were several days away. Ryou briefly wondered how these ancient armies could even function...

"I have some important information for the General and Lord Ghan," Darius continued on briskly. "Can I get through? How are the lines?"

"Well, that's why we're here," said Macedini. "The lines are fast between Essin and Miribel, but there's been reports of small troop movements along the river road and around the Essin border. We're supposed to check anyone coming through Anwat who's obviously not a farmer, and detain anyone who's from the Imperium or from Kaides for interrogation."

"Kaides?" Darius's eyes narrowed. "Interrogation by whom? Who gave you that order?"

The patrol leader hesitated, but there was an air about Darius that did not invite the answer, "Why the hell should I tell you when I don't even know if I should be arresting you for being suspicious or not."

"Um, it was an Assyrian freeman. I don't think he was a soldier. But he carried sealed orders from General Terentius so my commander set up our patrols. He was one of King Leyam's men. Rand the Khinite, I think they call him-"

"Rand?! Rand is at Essin?" Darius leaned forward on his horse in sudden eagerness.

"Uh, yes-"

"I should have known he'd show up out of nowhere and take charge of this mess." A brilliant smile lit Darius's features. "Inder personally guides that man's footsteps. That's even better. Come on, Ryou, we need to get to Essin as soon as possible."

"Um-" said the patrol leader. He had his hand on his sword's hilt but a very dubitative look on his face.

"If there's enemy patrols and scouts around, can you and your men ride with us to Essin?" asked Darius, turning on the man.

"What? Er, no, our orders- we're being relieved in two days, we could escort you then."

"That's too long. Never mind, we'll manage. If Rand's there and up to date on the situation, he'll have other patrols out. Come on, Ryou. Oh, how do I get to the Alliance headquarters? Are they still on the banks of the river?"

Macedini's mouth was open and a helpless look plastered over his face. The five men behind him were looking from him to Darius, equally uncertain. "Uh, yes."

"We'll just follow the river road, then, it's the only passable route from Anwat to Essin anyway, I remember from my maps. I was here less than a month ago," Darius added with a bemused shake of the head. "A lot's happened since. Carry on, Macedini from Daksosor, and next time I see Commander Zossen in Aksum I'll mention your name."

Macedini made a sort of "Whu?" sound behind them. Darius had already kicked his horse into a trot and Ryou's had followed.

"We're nearly there," said Darius as he led Ryou past a broken-down wagon abandoned by the side of the road. The terrain between the two provinces was very rough, boggy and craggy in turn, but the ancient road that had been carved through that terrain centuries ago had facilitated their progress. They hadn't seen a single fellow traveler since they'd crossed into Aksum yesterday morning. Anybody who was going to cut and run out of Essin had already done so. It was now mid afternoon, the rough terrain had given way to fields and meadows these past two hours, the river the road had paralleled for the past day and a half had slowed and broadened, and Ryou was looking forward to a future where he would not have to ride a horse or otherwise travel and camp out for a few days.

"So the Empire of Aksum is as large as Assyria, and Anwat and Essin are just two of its provinces," Ryou recapitulated. They were alternating stretches of trotting and walking the horses, the latter allowing for a modicum of conversation.

"Yeah. Like Assyria, Aksum started as a city-state built by refugees from an ancient Inland empire. Kush, if I recall. And like Assyria, Aksum eventually spread and engulfed its weaker neighbors. That was a thousand years ago or more. Most people can't remember where the lines of the old countries are anymore, except there's a Path starting in the center of each province that used to be an independent territory. Except when some Imperial snake infiltrates our lands and finds those satraps and lords who are ready to forget who their master really is, and who think they can break off of the father land and become their own country again with the Imperium's support."

"But why is it the Assyrian army and the Free City army of Terentius who are attacking Essin if we're in Aksum?"

Darius gave Ryou an appraising look. "You caught that, huh? It's politics. The leader of Essin is pro-Imperial to the hilt. He's been a major thorn in Leyam's side for ages because Essin is a powerful province, and the capital city Essin is sitting near a border that's a major trade route through Zarathusra's Paths. It's been a point of access into Aksum and then into Assyria for the Imperium these past twenty years. But the problem is that Lord Sezerena of Essin is the leader of an important faction of provincial lords, and he's also King Ka of Aksum's brother-in-law."

"Oh."

"So the Alliance sent an emissary bedecked in gold and purple, carrying gems and mhyrr, and officially asked Essin to freely let us take the trade Paths, and stop letting Imperial Legions pass through any way they pleased and camp on his land. Lord Sezerena sent back a lyrical ten-page letter of refusal. So we asked King Ka if he didn't mind if we came in and trounced the bastard. King Ka said he deeply regretted the necessity, but he could see his precious allies had been pushed past all endurance by Essin's stubborn refusal to cooperate; the only thing that he asked was that Lord Sezerena be delivered to him alive, if the fortune of wars allowed it. That's political code for 'Slit that Roman arse-licker's throat for me, and I'll deal with my sister.' She's fortunately at the Imperial city of Aksum, so we won't even have to worry about her. Once Essin is down, that'll be the main line of troop and equipment supplies into Aksum broken. After that, we just have to take care of the pro-Roman provinces in Assyria and Aksum individually; they got complacent and quarrelsome and didn't see the danger until it was too late. This is the result of King Leyam's overall plan; they said we could never be free of the Imperium in our lifetime, and now we could end this war in a year."

Ryou hadn't known a war in his lifetime, not one involving anyone he knew. Darius's intensity was fascinating and a little alarming. So this was what it was like to fight for one's sovereign and country...

The fierce light flickered and died in Darius's eyes. "Hey, Ryou..."

"Hmm?"

His friend was looking at him as if he had something difficult to say. "We'll be at the fork of the river Koskal pretty damn soon. It looks like I'll be able to get you home after all. But I should probably tell you a few things about my situation...I've not said a lot about myself. You never asked."

"You don't have to tell me now if you don't want to," said Ryou, while 'going home' echoed in his mind in a way that was not entirely comfortable.

"Yeah, well..." Darius scratched his beard, which had grown raggedy in the two weeks since Ryou had saved his life in a construction site with a Nissan. "Tell you the truth, I don't know why I didn't tell you before. It's been awhile now that I knew I could trust you, and you're going to find out sooner or later, but I guess I just liked-"

Later, Ryou would remember he heard a dry 'tack!' sound over the rush of the river and the clop of the horses' hooves.

Something swished by a meter in front of him. Ryou's horse snorted and reared, and the ground, sky and river interchanged their respective positions. Then Ryou crashed into the rocks and dirt of the road. His right arm took most of the impact- a wet crunch sent sick shockwaves throughout his body.

"Ryou!"

Ryou curled up around the pain in his arm.

"Ryou, get up!"

Tack....swish...thunk!

That noise- An image of Gex staggering back with an arrow in his throat came vividly to Ryou's mind and prompted him to focus in a hurry.

An arrow was quivering in the ground ten meters away. Ryou glanced around wildly, but he couldn't see the shooter. Darius, sword drawn, had swung his horse around and was interposed between Ryou and the river. The river. The shooter was on the other side of the-

"Ryou-" Darius ducked. Ryou didn't see the arrow, but heard another thunk behind him, nearer this time. The river was high and very wide around here, almost two hundred meters to the other side, the archers were having a hard time adjusting their shots.

Ryou scrambled to his feet. Darius had managed to snag his horse's reins. The animal was rolling its eyes, and danced away when Ryou staggered towards it. Ryou used some of the words Darius had inadvertently taught him these past few days, and managed to catch the pommel with his left hand.

The pain was coming in waves, almost bearable at times, at others overwhelming. He didn't know how he managed to get onto his horse, but when he blinked away the darkness smothering his head, they were galloping away from the water and across the ruts of a fallow field, Darius still holding on to his reins, the spare gelding following out of herd instinct. There might have been more arrow impacts behind him, it was impossible to hear above the thud of hooves through ploughed dirt. Ryou clung to the horse for all he was worth and concentrated on not passing out.

After five minutes made of pain and darkness, Darius pulled on his reins and slowly brought the horses to a stop.

"Where are you injured?" he asked tersely, bringing his mount around so he could look over at Ryou.

"Huh..." Ryou held out his wrist, which was already swelling; the fingers were pale and useless. His head and right shoulder also hurt, but that was just bruises.

"Shit," Darius muttered. He leaned over and moved without hesitation, straightening out Ryou's right arm with a smooth but undeniable motion. Ryou ground his teeth together and focused every ounce of his concentration and willpower on the pommel to avoid being washed away by unconsciousness. Darius unfastened and transferred the scabbard of Ryou's dagger from the left forearm to the right, tying the flat leather straps around the swelling with two scabbards, Ryou's and the sheath of Darius's own short dagger, bound on either side to make a rough splint.

"That'll keep the bone from grinding too much." His eyes were flicking ceaselessly from what he was doing to the countryside around them.

"Who...why did they shoot at us?"

"I made a mistake. I should have pulled rank and gotten Macedini to escort us, and fuck discretion. I knew they were not going to let me live with what I know." Darius's face was frightening with intensity and a murderous aura he'd not had when facing those deserters over a week ago.

"They were on the other side of the river. We left them behind. Right?" Ryou had slumped forward in his saddle, cradling his right arm with his left. He and Darius were going to be alright now. Right?

"There's no ford for miles, but they wouldn't have risked a pot shot if they didn't have a backup plan. That's what that signal was for; it'll bring more down on us."

"...Signal?"

"That horn blast. The kind that tells the main hunting party that the quarry's been sighted," said Darius with a humorless grin.

Ryou hadn't heard a horn, but then again the blood had been rushing through his ears at a volume that had threatened to drown him.

"What are we going to do?"

"For starters we're going to pray to Inder that the idiot tootling away back there will alert some of the patrols Rand deployed and bring an Assyrian squadron down on their heads like the wrath of Assur himself. Next..." Darius didn't say what he was going to do next, but he kicked his horse to turn him back around, reached for Ryou's dangling reins and tugged. His eyes were raking the countryside around them. He headed towards the third gelding, cut loose the packs from the saddle with his sword and then picked up the animal's long lead again.

"Come on, let's get as far as the Furies and those shit-licking bastards let us," he said.

Every jolt of the horse was a thud of pain for Ryou. He counted them, just to give his mind something to focus on. Darius found a farmer's path they could follow without losing sight of the river, and they broke into a gallop. It was actually easier on Ryou than the jagged trot that'd preceded it, though his horse didn't like it from the snorts and short complaining whicker.

Two thousand one hundred and forty two hoof beats later a horn blew, sudden and jarring and quite near.

Darius cursed and drew up, glancing around. Three fields away, what looked to Ryou like an entire army of mounted men were flowing across a hilly meadow.

"There they are. Fuck me, there's only five of them," Darius added, and that smile was back, that wicked cut of a grin that held no fear, no regrets. "Well, well, well, that's almost an insult. Ryou, I'm going to need your help one more time."

"What can I do?" Ryou asked immediately. He trusted Darius to know what was in his capabilities.

Darius gave him a crooked smile and there was a light that was both warm and pained in his eyes that Ryou had never seen there before. "Ready as always, heh? Ei, Ryou, what am I going to do with you." And then Darius the soldier, the survivor, was jabbing an authoritative finger in the direction away from their attackers. "I'm going to lead them after me. Follow the river. Ride as fast as you can."

"You'll be a decoy?! But-"

"Don't worry!" Darius shouted, he was already five meters away, still leading the spare gelding. "You know by now I'm not the self-sacrificing kind! I have two horses, I can lead them on a merry chase. And when I get bored of that, I can fight! I'll stay within a mile of the river. Go get help! Ask for Rand the Khinite- Terrentius- Ghan, fuck, anybody! Tell them-" the words were lost in a thunder of hoofbeats- "Ghan- enemies from Kaides- out here-" Then he was out of range.

"But-"

Ryou bit his lip hard enough to draw blood and whipped his horse's head around. The riders behind him were within arrow shot, though they'd have to stop to shoot at him if he remembered Darius's lessons in antique warfare correctly; there was not enough stability in these ancient saddles and stirrups to draw back correctly while in motion.

The horse galloped on. The pain in his arm squeezed Ryou's heart, but his mind was clear and full of a cold concentration. He did not like Darius's plan, but he had to admit it was probably their best option if they both wanted to survive.

The riders didn't follow or split up to send someone after him. Had they recognized Darius? He and Ryou were dressed much the same- but if this was the enemy that had attacked Darius before and somehow dropped him into the no man's land of the Inlands, they might have recognized him. Either way, they left Ryou alone and all went after Darius, and that left Ryou with the responsibility to go fetch help.

TBC...

As you can imagine, next two chapters heat up a bit.

Ofic: Out, part 14

2009-06-07T21:32:49Z

A chapter of short, slice-of-life sections to move us forward in time. There'll be a slown-down in chapters at some point in the near future; I've bogged down at a spot up ahead, and there's huge sections in the coming chapters left unwritten as well. Encouragements and kicks in the ass to get me to stop wasting my time with Crunchyrolls are most welcome....

Link to all chapters

Part 14

The first leg of the journey past Kegsum was made in silence. The shock of what they'd witnessed - and likely caused, Ryou reminded himself grimly - had cast a pall over them. But he didn't have the leisure to think back on the episode extensively; a somber Darius pushed them on hard, pressing both Ryou and the horses down small rutted roads, occasionally cutting across fields, fording streams and skirting hills amidst a countryside vibrant with heat and sunshine. There was something a little exaggerated about the hurry. Later that evening, when an exhausted Ryou had finished currying an equally exhausted horse that only half-heartedly tried to nip him, it occurred to him that maybe Darius had been trying to distract him and get his mind off of what had happened this morning.

Their rapid trek had taken them into the middle of an olive grove, with only a deserted stone shack nearby, empty until laborers would come later that year to collect their crop. Ryou and Darius stayed there that night, sleeping in turns as Darius had promised. Thus Ryou was awake to watch the dawn rise through eyes gritty with fatigue. He missed coffee so much in these moments...

The countryside coming to light around him was dry, with bracken and small trees pushing their way up through rocks and reddish dirt. Goats bleated from a distant hill, though Ryou couldn't see any sign of human habitation other than the small shack in which Darius was still sleeping. Ryou breathed in deeply. The air was still fresh at this time of day, but rich with a fragrant, resiny smell that promised heat to come. A single bird sung high and fluty in the nearby olive grove. Ryou watched the sky turn a beautiful blue touched with purple, the stars winking out. The fate of the passer still weighed on him, but this moment in time lifted his spirits despite himself...Ryou shook his head, focusing once more on the here and now, and went to wake Darius.

Two hours after dawn, they crested a hill and found themselves looking down at a road winding through the valley below. It wasn’t a sophisticated Imperial highway like the one they'd used back in the Province of Tot, their previous location. This road was a wide stretch of beaten dirt; Darius had found it by spotting the clouds of dust rising from its traffic. Because it might be more primitive, but it was also much busier.

"Didn't you say this country was at war?" Ryou asked, watching the streams of people below them.

"Their southern regions saw a lot of battles. They were one of the areas where the Alliance stopped the progress of the Legions. But the Palisians never joined the Alliance; they're merchants, not warriors. Whenever they get attacked, they open their coffers, pay a bunch of Greeks a small fortune and let them do the fighting. In the meantime, their citizens go on making money by trading. Still..." Darius's gaze was fixed on the dozens of people on the road, and he looked puzzled. "That's a lot of travelers even for Palis. All going in one direction, but they're not refugees...Wait." Darius put his hands up to his eyes to shield them from the morning sun and focus his vision. He squinted for awhile, before muttering, "Those magically ground spectacles on the end of your nose have to be good for something. Can you see that paddock near the crossroads?"

"Yes, I magically can."

"Don't be smart with me...Those are oxen in there, can you describe them? They're all black, right?"

"Yes. There's, um, five or six of them. They've got..." Ryou narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to figure out what he was seeing. "I think their horns are painted yellow, and they've got something red around their necks."

"Garlands," said Darius with intense satisfaction. "Part of a hecatomb. Sacrifices," he added, when Ryou looked blank. "The priests will keep them at the crossroads so that travelers can pay an obol in honor of the gods, then they'll march them to wherever the other animals are being assembled. Don't you have this back in your land?"

"No, we tend to sacrifice nothing bloodier than rice."

"I bet Palis has organized Games," Darius said, not really listening to Ryou's answer. "Either that or the king's dead, and I don't think people would be quite so happy to travel around if that were the case. This is great, the way south will be safe while the truce is in effect, and there'll be so many travelers, we'll never get noticed. Inder favors me again. I'm going to have to put something on His altar too when I get back."

Ryou nudged his horse to follow Darius, making his way down the bluff towards the road where they joined the steady trickle of people heading southwest.

There were other riders on mules and horseback, but most people walked or lead oxen-pulled carts. Ryou watched them discreetly as he and Darius passed them by. In ten minutes he saw twice as many people as he had in all his travels up to date. Everything and everyone looked exotic to Ryou's eyes, particularly the richer people dressed in fine clothes riding in some of the carts. The teamsters leading their oxen were dressed more plainly and uniformly, in brown linen tunics and sandals, many of them wearing thin leather straps around their wrists as well. Slaves, Darius mentioned in passing when he caught Ryou's curious glance, reminding the latter of one of the more unpleasant aspects of Antiquity he'd managed to forget until now...

They ate a lunch of lamb stew and unleavened bread at a series of stalls that had sprung up around a stream without any town to call their own. While Ryou was stretching his legs and trying to find a discreet corner to pee in, he saw at the back of a stall an elderly woman armed with a rod savagely beating a young girl, barely a teen. Ryou opened his mouth instinctively-...The girl was crying and wailing, as well she might, but Ryou had the feeling from the lack of frantic or shocked note in her cries that this had happened before. The girl did not have a slave mark; the woman could be her mother...He left without either of them noticing his presence. If they had, the woman might have stopped out of respect for a customer of their common group of stalls, but he suspected that as soon as he was out of sight, the beating would resume all the more savagely for the small embarrassment he'd caused.

That scene, as much as the notion of slaves and animal sacrifices, drove home how much of a foreigner he and his civilized 21st century notions were here. When Ryou finished his business and made his way back to the stalls, the strong human and animal odors, the yells of people haggling over the price of a bundle of grapes or a piece of bread, the colors and the clothes and the way so many of the men were armed, hit Ryou with a sense of alienation that he'd not had since he'd first arrived in this country. Darius, holding the horses, with his beard starting to look a little raggedy, his long hair wild and uncombed, the hawk-like scrutiny of his surroundings, the armor on his back and the weapon at his side, looked once more as outlandish and intimidating as the day Ryou saw him facing the Rajin.

The look Darius was giving him was not that of a stranger, though. "What's wrong? Tired?"

There were no words for what Ryou was feeling right at this moment, at least not for someone who liked to treat communication with the exactitude of mathematics rather than waxing philosophical. "Just the heat and the noise. I'll be better once we're on the road again."

Darius nodded and then, out of the blue, gave Ryou an approving clap on the back. It took Ryou completely by surprise and sent him staggering accidentally into the baggage gelding, to the amusement of two naked toddlers watching from the shade of the nearest pavilion.

By late afternoon, their voyage had led them to a small town, houses like square boxes of baked bricks painted reddish brown by dust. The highway broke into a multitude of tiny alleys with only one big thoroughfare. Traffic on the road had been getting heavy and the town itself was packed with travelers. The Games were in Palis, the city at the center of this country of the same name, but flocks of merchants and travelers were taking advantage of the truce to move about, and a large fair and market would be held near the temples. People in Palis knew to take advantage of good business when it came their way.

Darius led his horses through the small streets, looking for an inn that wasn't yet packed. Ryou followed with his own animal, staring around as discreetly as he could while avoiding the numerous goats living in back yards and in the houses themselves, and surely outnumbering this town's normal population three to one.

The sheer variety of people walking around was bewildering. Women covered from head to toe in yellow or brown robes walked alongside others dressed in halters and knee-length skirts and more bangles than could be counted. Patriarchal beards flowed over heavy woolen robes worn to the ground; oiled muscles shone beneath the sunshine and armor; boys ran past in loincloths, so did a few young girls; hair length varied from shaved to never cut at all; sandals were commonplace, but boots and bare feet were not rare either; and then there were the really strange things, like a woman in elegant red and green tunic and veils walking past with what appeared to be a melting cone of butter on her oiled and plaited hair. Tattoos, makeup, paint or kohl, crude or elaborate, spread over skin ranging from pale to darker than ebony.

...But if there was one skin color that did stand out in this riot of tones and styles, it was unfortunately Ryou's.

At first Ryou thought people were staring at him because of the bruises decorating the left side of his face; they didn't hurt much anymore, but they'd exploded into a Technicolor palette of red, blue, purple, yellow and black. There were other people sporting black eyes, though, as well as bruises, fresh wounds or scars. Life around here was tough, and a few injuries weren't going to be that startling. A few more pointed stares finally clued Ryou in. His features. In Japan Ryou's straight features were judged 'somewhat handsome once one got past the severity', according to the assessment by the secretarial pool back at Ujiie Trading & Security, and mentioned one night by Sasaki when the latter was exceptionally drunk. That was back in Tokyo, though. In this region of the Outlands, Ryou was downright exotic. The closest he saw to Asian faces were five people dressed in lambskin and heavy robes who had typical Mongol features.

Even in this sea of variety, Ryou was getting more than his shares of second glances; intrigued, appreciative, or a little hostile. The hostility was explained when Darius stopped at a stand selling bread, fruit and honey. The shopkeeper took one look at Ryou and snapped, "Hey, if the fucking Empire of Sung has curled up behind its walls, arrested all foreign traders and stopped all caravans again, why the fuck should I go out of my way to trade with you?"

"He's from Ezo," said Darius without looking up from some figs.

The shopkeeper, a redheaded man with a bushy beard surrounding a brown face, looked sullen and uninterested in the answer, but neither was he in any hurry to argue further with Darius. Darius didn't buy anything and left soon after that. At the next inn that turned him down, he stared at the paved road ahead of them, full of tents and shacks and people.

"Let's move on," he suddenly said.

By nightfall, they'd found an open stone quarry a few miles along the road. Most people had stayed in town, but even here a few travelers had gathered; tinkers and laborers who did not want to pay inn prices. Ryou and Darius picketed the horses nearby and joined the dozen men and a couple of women gathered around a common fire, all chatting energetically, laughing loud and not a little drunk.

Darius stared at the flames for awhile, accepting without much thought the common jar that was being passed around, a mix of alcohol and some sour juice.

"We're going to avoid towns from now on," he said softly for Ryou's benefit alone. "We'll take the herder's high way through the hills, it's slower but less busy and will skirt Palis. We'll be camping out a lot; we'll go back in town tomorrow and buy some decent bedrolls."

"...Is this my fault?"

"You do stand out a bit," said Darius with his usual offhand bluntness. "But it's safer all around. The closer we get to Aksum, the more I might run into someone looking for me."

They got up early the next day, before the other pilgrims stirred. Darius asked a local goat herder for directions, and an hour after that they got to the designated fork in the road. Nobody took the path up the slope where a crude stone tower dominated the sky; all the travelers stuck to the broader road. In fact Ryou noticed they turned their faces away from the path up to the tower, and avoided even glancing at it.

Darius stopped the horses and looked up the path with a certain lack of enthusiasm.

"What the hell," he finally muttered, pulling at the bridle to turn the horse's head. "Inder, watch out for this favored child of battles, and for this magian too while you're at it."

"Uh, is there some risk?" Ryou asked, looking at the empty road.

Darius didn't answer - hardly reassuring - and led the way up the slope. The path was shale and beaten earth. Ryou could feel his horse's muscles coil beneath him as it climbed, the slant of its ears a silent reproof to the idiot humans who'd left the nice, flat road behind.

It wasn't a tower but rather a solid monticule, as high as two men, made of piled stones without mortar. The top was flat and paved, with knee-high edges. It wasn't inhabitable, and it was surely too low to be a watchtower. "What is that?" Ryou asked.

"Tower of Silence," Darius answered shortly.

"What's that?"

"If you don't know, you're better off. It's not my religion." He muttered something about crow-bait and nudged the horses by faster.

So it was some sort of religious artifact. Ryou nodded to himself. He'd figured out by now that, for all Darius's hard-headed practicality and fearlessness, the man was deeply superstitious. The supernatural worried him more than the natural, probably because the natural could be attacked with a sword.

The majority of the population shared this proclivity. There'd been a plethora of small temples back in the city, more than seemed reasonable for a place that size. And that wasn't the end of it; Ryou had seen a dozen small ceremonies throughout yesterday, in town or along the side of the road, near fords in the river or at roadside altars. People prayed out loud, bowed ritualistically, got down on their knees, or stood with their arms outstretched or even laid on the ground in the case of a filthy man in a loincloth who'd made Ryou think of some Indian swami. That was the small end of the scale, the larger end comprising the sacrifice of a hundred bulls and a countrywide truce and games in honor of the gods.

"Religion seems to be very important here," he said, raising his voice to talk above the crunch of hooves over the shale cluttering the dirt path.

That got him an odd look, one of many he'd gotten when he asked Darius a question that didn't make it across the cultural gap. "I guess."

"How many gods do these people have?"

"Here in Palis? Only five."

"...Only five?"

"Huh-uh." Darius shook his head in commiseration. "I think some king decreed it a few centuries ago, so they only have five; two gods, two goddesses and the Path Maker, who they consider the God of Trade and head of their pantheon as a result. Bunch of merchants..."

"But I saw dozens of different symbols and statues."

"That's everybody else."

"What?"

"Palis worships those five, but then there's the gods of everybody else. Palis is a Free City and a big center of trade, there's a lot of foreigners living here, as well as Ionians and people fleeing the Imperium."

"Oh. Oh, you mean there's freedom of religion here?"

"Huh?"

"Palis doesn't force them to worship their five gods?"

"Anybody living in Palis has to tithe to the temples, if that's what you mean," said Darius, puzzled.

"But they don't ask people to convert to their religion? Give up their gods for Palis's?" he added when it still seemed his meaning wasn't getting across.

Darius finally got it and looked honestly shocked. "What kind of land do you come from? Just because I live somewhere, I don't expect to have to give up worshiping the gods of my fathers. That'd be- why would any other god listen to me in the first place?"

So proselytism didn't exist here? For the hundredth time, Ryou wished he'd paid a bit more interest in history, instead of memorizing facts that looked likely to come up during a test and then doing Life and Death Go problems under his desk. True, antiquity in the West wasn't a subject that had come up in school anyway, but if only he'd just grabbed a book at the library one day...Ryou's notion of the history in the West was one of massive religious wars leading to missionaries cropping up everywhere in the world; it'd not occurred to him that Darius's Outlands took a stance towards religion that more closely approached those of Ryou's home country and civilization. Wasn’t antiquity a much harsher place? "So all these religions co-exist peacefully? There's never any strife amongst the communities?"

"Oh, all the time."

Ryou rubbed his forehead. Darius had gotten them cloth hats to protect them from the sun, but he still had the impression one of them had gotten heatstroke. "Isn't that seen as a problem?"

"I suppose, but some things are just inevitable," said Darius with a shrug. "The Khaldini are the worst when it comes to rioting. They believe it's wrong to tithe to any other god than their own. They do it anyway, right, but then they riot about it. In Assyria, we chased them all out hundreds of years ago, but there's still a lot of them in the Free Cities and in Aksum. The Nairat will stone a man who seduces one of their women, and that always leads to a lot of tensions and reprisals. And there are a plenty of ancestral dislikes between sects; back when I was a child, some worshippers of Marduk up and decided to attack this group from the Tribes of Judea inside Sura itself. That was a mess; the guards hung dozens of the buggers from the ramparts as a warning to just resolve their differences with a foot race or a wrestling match next time."

"Did none of the guards worship Marduk?" Ryou couldn’t help asking, his mind dwelling on religious repressions that'd taken place not too far back in Japan's past.

"Huh? No, of course not. Only Assyrian free men can be in the army. You really have some funny ideas," Darius said with an amused smile.

"Didn't you say you worked with a lot of mercenaries?"

"Sure, but they're not part of the army, they just fight for us because we pay them," Darius informed him kindly. Ryou rubbed his forehead again.

"The Hounds are a bit different," Darius conceded, not noticing Ryou's reaction. "We're a weight's worth of all kinds of grain mixed together; Assyrian, Aksumite, Free Cities...That's kind of new, but I tell you one thing, there's only one altar in camp, and that's to Inder. Well, and Hygeia of course," Darius muttered with a pious glance at his arm-braces. "So, what gods do you worship, Ryou?"

"Oh, Shinto is a religion of Kami, of, uh, elemental spirits and gods," Ryou evaded. He'd always been a confirmed atheist, and he was pretty sure he still was. The world has proven itself considerably stranger and less logical than he'd believed, but he didn't think he needed to resort to spirituality to keep his grip.

"At least you're not a one-god man, then. Not that I mind as such," Darius immediately added with a placating gesture directed at nobody present, "but I just don't understand it, and I had it force-fed to me for five years during the Roman occupation."

"So the Romans did try to convert Assyrians to their religion," said Ryou, now thoroughly confused.

"Convert? I'm not sure what you mean, but I don't think so," answered Darius, not faring much better. "They did try to teach His way to us children, and that sucked. But I guess that's fair; since they'd invaded us, their God must have won the heavenly battle over ours. So they got tribute and the temples for their god, and we had to make do with house altars for ours."

But the Romans had not tried to dominate or wipe out Assyria's religion. Heavenly battle...Gods of our Fathers...Ryou nodded to himself. Wars were fought for the reason Darius enounced frequently when he talked of past conquests: for livable land to expand beyond the small pockets of country Zaratusra had originally designated, or for goods, trade routes, cities, slaves or even sacrifices. Religion just followed as a matter of course, the way the culture would; it wasn't a cause in itself.

"So Romans are monotheistic," Ryou finally concluded, catching up on the import of the conversation.

"Uh, yeah," Darius said in his 'even my horse knows that much' tone of voice.

"I didn't realize these Romans were already Christians." Ryou's grasp of European history was weak, but even he knew about the Roman Empire and its relation to Christianity.

"What's a Christian?"

Or not.

"Christian?" Darius mused. "I think I've heard that before, but that's from much, much further away; a bunch of city-states that call themselves the Dukedoms. I think our Genoese cannoneer is from there. But they worship three gods, don't they? A man, a woman and a spirit?"

"I couldn't say," said Ryou weakly, not even willing to guess anymore. "So who do the Romans worship?"

"Aten, of course; ever since they destroyed the Egyptians a thousand years ago and took their god home like some kind of prize. Crazy Imperials. We've added gods to our pantheon through conquest, sure, but we don't throw out the old ones. Come on." They were far past the Tower of Silence now, the road had flattened, they were riding through hills full of short, dry shrubs, lone trees and olive groves, and Darius was obviously in a much better mood. He touched his heels to the flanks of his horse and picked up some speed, smiling in the sunshine.

Darius was swearing, using some very inventive terms that the Gift of Zaratusra managed to handle, and some untranslatable words that nonetheless scalded the humid air. "Move you miserable beast!"

The baggage gelding snorted, made an unconvincing effort to get out of the mud, and then settled down again.

Darius gasped and stepped away from the haunch he'd been trying to push. Ryou let up on the animal's bridle and gave the creature a disapproving look. His mount and Darius's had gotten through the boggy ground with only a minor struggle. Ryou didn't know much about horses, but he had the feeling this one was not so much stuck in the mud as reluctant to give its back hooves the good pull needed to free them. The puny humans shouting at it, pulling at it and thwacking it with a stick weren't about to change its mind.

"Fuck it," Darius muttered, leaning against a tree. "Sod this bloody country. When it doesn't parch your throat with dust, it tries to fucking drown you."

Ryou had to agree. At first, the rain had been pleasant; it'd been so stifling hot. Now the air was tepid and big fat drops had been falling all day, soaking them to the bone and turning the countryside into a slew of mud.

"Here, Ryou, come around and help me push the damned mule."

Ryou gamely threw the horse's reins onto its withers, circled it and squelched into the mud, barefoot. That spared his shoes, but who knew how he was ever going to get the bottom of his trousers clean. This was where having a knee-length tunic like Darius would come in handy. Though not particularly right now, Ryou thought, trying not to smile at the mud-man beside him.

"Can we lift it out?" he asked, looking dubiously at the horse's rear end. How heavy was a horse anyway?

"No, we just need to give him a good shove here, near the stifle. Make him take an instinctive step forward and the daft bugger will realize he can move. Then we'll probably have to chase him," Darius grumbled, and added a couple of ancient Assyrian curse words Ryou hadn't heard yet.

Ryou put his shoulder gamely to the horse's rear end, imitating Darius's gesture-

The horse whinnied and stepped forward.

"Whoa!"

They both staggered. Ryou managed to hold himself against the horse's backside, Darius slid off of it and landed on his knees in the mud.

The horse took another nervous step forward, and then a longer stride. Ryou lunged after it, to grab its bridle and stop it from fulfilling Darius's prediction-

It felt like both his feet were stuck in cement. Ryou gasped, windmilled, and ended up doing a belly flop into the muck.

He scrabbled around the mix of heavy mud and water, shook some of it out of his eyes as well he could.

A hand landed on his shoulder. "You okay?"

Ryou pushed himself up to his knees, breath coming back again. Darius was beside him. He looked at Ryou and his mouth opened as if he was about to say something funny, but then he broke down laughing instead. He tried to catch himself and laughed all the harder, shaking helplessly, hands and knees in the mire.

Ryou contemplated dumping some mud down Darius's neck, but he'd probably not do well against the retaliation, and Darius was already so mucky there really wasn't much point. He wiped his face - Darius's laughter redoubled. Ryou looked down at his hand and sleeve, which looked like he'd borrowed them from The Swamp Creature. Ryou gave up and let Darius's laughter infect him, because that was really the only possible reaction to the situation.

Up on firm ground, the baggage gelding stared at the pair of loons laughing wildly in the muck.

On the fourth day, Ryou saw a city take shape in the distance. He'd thought it was a rocky hill to start with, but it was entirely manmade; sand-colored square buildings climbing up tight streets and skirting a large, central oblong which was the King's palace. There was no wall around the city, Ryou noticed with some surprise.

"The Greek mercenaries they hire would fight off any bandits or tribes that tried to attack Palis," Darius explained. "They'll fight small armies from neighboring countries in the plains, on a proper ground of their own choosing, the old-fashioned way. That's if the army is puny, of course. Anything bigger, the Palisians will either buy them off or else let them in, pay tribute and then make a mountain of money off the men. Merchants, I told you. But that's the way things were done for a long time. The walls around Sura - the capital of my country - were only built at the time of my great-grandfather. Before that, you captured cities, you didn't attack them. Things change, though. Looks like the Games are still in full swing around the Temple of the Five Gods," he added, pointing to a hill some distance beyond Palis, with an imposing set of buildings like a second town collectively bigger than the King's palace. Around the hillock, a city of tents had sprung up. Ryou couldn't see where the Games were being held, but it certainly looked like a lot of people were taking advantage of them.

"Come on," said Darius, pulling on his bridle. "We still have a ways to go before we camp tonight. I want to get to Kazanstar before too many more days."

"We're not going to Palis itself?" Ryou asked, more in confirmation than because he'd particularly wanted to see this antique city bursting with people who might think he was from the Empire of Sung Ch'ao, enemy of free trade. Though he would have liked to have the opportunity to wash his clothes in something other than river water and take a real bath in a public bathhouse; he still had mud in unexpected places.

"No, we'll stick to the hills like we've been doing up until now," said Darius. "We could go faster by taking the Path that starts near Palis to Kazanstar direct, but..."

But he didn't want to risk going through a border more times than required, Ryou gathered. Remembering the old passer, he knew the feeling.

"Well, there's no saying for sure that we wouldn't have to wait a twelveday for the Path to Kazanstar to open from Palis; the footsteps of Zaratusra can lead us very far faster than they can lead us to our neighbor at time. By horse and hard riding, I know for sure we'll be where we need to be in three days time, and we'll be relying only on ourselves. Come on."

That night they slept beneath a full moon and the stars; Ryou watched the night wheel above them while it was his turn to stand guard, and didn't mind missing out on traveling a Path a little while longer.

"Have you ever seen the base of these continents?" Darius quizzed.

"Base? The continents are floating on giant magma beds, you can't see their base."

"So how do you know they're not resting on the belly of a goddess?" Darius asked reasonably, giving the fire a poke with a stick.

Ryou had had the feeling that question would come up sooner or later...He could explain seismography to Darius or he could give up and ask Darius for another campfire tale.

Darius kept up a quick pace during the day, but he let Ryou and the horses get a fair amount of rest too. Since the humans were no longer quite so tired from walking on their own two feet, he and Ryou had time to sit by a fire for an hour in the evening, cooking up their rations in the pot they'd looted off dead mercenaries over a week ago. And they'd entertain themselves. Darius seemed to think it was obvious that this time before one of them slept and the other kept watch was going to be spent telling tales. His civilization didn't know television or even radio, after all.

Ryou had wanted to know more about 'the onion', the world Zaratusra had apparently found or made, but Darius didn't have any information. Countries were there; they were populated when people back Inland found them 'somehow', particularly during periods of expansion or while they were fleeing decimation. "That's how Assyria came about," Darius had explained. "Assyria - the old country - had been knocked back in a series of defeats. Assur itself was besieged by the Babylonians. So our people in the west of the country made their way to the Outlands. How? How the hell should I know, ask the Path Maker if you can find him."

This had led him to recount creation myths about both the original Assyria and the Outlands, stories that were definitely more entertaining than informational. Ryou was then badgered into reciprocating, digging up tales he'd forgotten since his early school years. What was interesting was that, for Ryou, they were myths. For Darius, they were a gilded version of real facts; yet he asked Ryou for Japanese beliefs and seemed quite happy to let them coexist with his own.

Tonight their conversation had been more about 'real' matters. Darius had told Ryou about the campaign of Ur, in which he'd fought against the Romans. He'd told Ryou about it in detail. Great detail. He was using twigs and pebbles to represent the various units moving around when he must have realized he'd lost his audience somewhat.

Then he'd questioned Ryou some more about the Inlands. Ryou was trying to oblige, but a lot was getting lost in translation...

Ryou picked up the piece of bark that had represented Terentius's advanced guard. "You said you were with a mobile unit that can easily harass Roman legions."

"Not 'easily'," Darius muttered. "Yeah, we're the Hounds of Assyria."

"Your leader is Lord Ghan which that rhapsode was telling us about, back in Tot, right? The one who's with Terentius?"

"Ghan the Beast is his name, and well deserved," Darius snorted. "There's not a single Lord in our unit and Ghan's no exception. We're a band made up of mercenaries, raiders and killers, and we all hate the Imperium and those who serve it. We're not a solid force like Terentius's units, but we can cut supply lines, sabotage walls, destroy small units and bait the bigger forces into an ambush by our infantry. And people fear us. They just need to hear that the Hounds have slipped their leash and are coming their way, and all those sodding farmers pull up, make for the hills and stop feeding the Imperial armies."

"Why do they call him the Beast?"

"Because he's not a pleasant guy when crossed," grunted Darius, corking the jug of watered down wine they'd been drinking from. "In reality Terentius is the one who does all the work, but it's useful to have a guy around who can make grown men tremble at the mention of his name. It's all about winning in your enemy's head before you even get on the battlefield, like my brother says."

"Your brother? He's in the army too?"

Darius didn't answer right away. He fiddled with the hempen ties that kept the cork sealed while they traveled and from which the jug was suspended from a saddle. Ryou got the feeling Darius had said more than he'd wanted to. "He's not a grunt like me, if that's what you mean, but he's got a position of importance in this war, yeah," Darius finally said with a shrug. "Never mind. Maybe you'll meet him, assuming we make it through the countryside and get to where we're going in one piece. Tomorrow we'll be at the start of the Kazanstar Path, and hopefully in Essin soon after that. At that point Inder alone knows what's awaiting us. Come on, you need to sleep if you're going to spell me in five hours."

Ryou took off his glasses, rolled up in his blanket, and closed his eyes...Tried to tell himself that Darius's refusal to tell him more than dribs and drabs about himself was not annoying (hurting?) him a little...

Darius was a few meters away, sitting on a stump facing the direction of the path they'd been following all day. He was singing softly to himself in a toneless way; he said it kept him awake. The man had a tin ear and a voice better suited for shouting orders. Ryou found himself smiling in a crooked way. When Darius told fairy tales, he looked all of twenty five. It was easy to forget he was involved in something dangerous.

TBC...

OP Fic: The Lazarus Ploy (CP9-centric)

2009-05-31T19:48:41Z

Yes, I still write OP. Or rather, I'm spring cleaning my hard drive and trying to finish off the couple of fics I had half written and not had the time and energy to work on since.

Multiple POV fic, which is rare for me. Also features a somewhat warmer version of Lucci (though this is not immediately apparent) and a different take on Kaku which is in no way supported by canon :P This was initially planned for one of my PWP prompts (this one was for Lucci/Kaku, Rapport de Force, prompt by Jainas) but then story happened, the R-rating dropped to PG15-rated foreplay, and I kinda lost my handle on it ^^; The story still doesn’t have any claim to depth, I hasten to add.

This story is situated some nine years in the future after the current series. This is not related to any other other of my CP9 stories, it's standalone.

The Lazarus Ploy

The hallway outside the morgue was a grimly appropriate setting for a congregation of CP9 agents. Four of them had gathered by now, those who had their ears to the ground and who'd heard the news. The alleged news. Each of the four felt differently about it, but would not betray their thoughts or act upon it until it was confirmed.

The door out of the morgue opened. Corroboration or refutation was now moments away.

If Kaku was aware of the four gazes studying him from various shadows and dark corners of the clinic's basement, he didn't show it. He showed nothing. But there was something in the way he held himself, in the way Director Kalifa closed the door behind them with a harsh clang, that said volumes. CP9 agents survived on instinct and an ability to instantly read a situation (as well as on their ability to spy and kill very well indeed). Four held breaths were released. Four different emotions - from anticipation to a muted sort of regret - were finally acknowledged. The news was almost certainly true, then.

Somo, Essler and Ai weren't in the hallway at that point in time, as they had neither the desire nor the need for speculation. While their colleagues lurked in the corridors and tried to read two people who'd joined CP9 back when the rest of the current rank and file still wore diapers, Ai had bribed the morgue attendant and the three of them were getting the full details without possible misinterpretation in the undertaker's office.

"Yes, I'm afraid Kaku-san identified the remains and confirmed it," said the morgue attendant, looking a little shaky. "The body they found in the water was that of Rob Lucci."

"The king is dead," murmured Essler in the silence surrounding this pronouncement like a circle of gravestones. His sarcasm went ignored by his two colleagues, but not the message. The king was dead. Long live the king. The three young men exchanged weighing glances. Up until now, the three of them had formed a team. Team B, since the Director was 'old school', like the now-deceased king, and had always trusted her two oldest agents above all others. But things were about to change. A lot. Team A was a two-man unit, and it was now missing a half.

"What did the director say?" asked Ai.

The morgue attendant wiped his forehead with a handkerchief that had seen better days. It had bloodstains on the hem; all three CP9 agents recognized them as such out of professional habit. "Um, not much. Just gave the dispositions to take in regards to the remains. The usual."

"Did she look angry?"

The attendant made a squeaky noise of uncertainty.

"She always looks angry," Essler interpreted. Then he poked the attendant in the ribs. "What did Kaku say?"

"Uh." The morgue attendant looked perturbed. "He- he asked me extensive questions about the cause of death. Examined the body despite its, ah, condition. Very, um, very professional. He-" the attendant gave a nervous laughter, "- I guess I was surprised, I'd always heard he and Rob Lucci were, ah, close."

"Partners for 12 years, lovers for 10," said Somo, who had the particularity of only talking in quantifiable facts when he wasn't undercover. His voice was as hard as his numbers as he added, "Why were you surprised?"

"What did you expect?" added Ai. "An emotional outburst?"

"Tears?" sneered Essler.

The attendant took in the three arctic stares directed at him and wilted back against an empty metal gurney, as white as one of his corpses. The three agents turned their backs on the quailing maggot and left without a word. Team A had been slipping for years, shining with past glory only, their power increasingly lost to age. But maggots weren't allowed to cast aspersions on the professionalism of their betters, not within earshot of anyone in CP9.

"It looks like it's you and me," said Ai, pulling up a chair opposite Somo.

Somo glanced up inquiringly. For answer, Ai tilted his chin towards the other side of the refectory.

The place was sparsely occupied. CP9 and its attendants spent a lot of time in the field. But the space left around Kaku's table was still conspicuous; as if the rest of the agency didn't know how he might react, ten days after his partner's death, to a request to pass the salt. Kaku was, at last count, the fourth strongest man in the unit, and though more forgiving of worthless interruptions than his partner had been, he still inspired awe in the lower ranks. This didn't bother Essler, though. He'd gone right up to the older agent and had asked him something, leaning over him, a hand on the table near Kaku's coffee cup. Kaku had put down the papers he was reading and tilted his head up to answer. Ai looked at Essler's body language and sniffed internally. Subtle. Not.

Ai and Somo exchanged glances. So that was that. Essler had made his move, breaking the three-way deadlock between him and his two colleagues; this put Ai and Somo in the same camp and with the same aim by default, and Ai found he liked that much better. He and Essler could never have formed a stable two-man unit, not without some kind of buffer.

"So he's going to try to reform the A Team with Kaku...He might stand a chance, the director relies on Kaku a lot," he said.

Somo nodded, and took another bite of his ragout.

"That leaves two questions: will she think Kaku and Essler can make a strong enough unit to take point on the Big Bad missions, and will Kaku want to group with Essler in the first place? I'm kind of surprised Essler took that gamble. Especially when you hear him scoff about how the two top dogs hadn't got much bite anymore."

"Essler has had the hots for Kaku for 3 years and 5 months," said Somo after wiping his mouth on a napkin.

Ai gave his team-mate a surprised look. But if Somo never talked in anything but facts, those facts were, conversely, rock solid.

"Really? Reaaaallly...That explains a lot. So he's hoping it'll be a partnership with benefits. No wonder he had it in for Lucci so badly." Three and a half years ago...? That'd been when Ai, Essler and Somo had risen from the lower ranks of CP9 to the upper echelon and spent some quality time on an assignment with Lucci and Kaku, a qualifying mission to take off the training wheels and let them play with the big boys. The three of them had been respectively seventeen, nineteen and twenty at the time, with a good number of low and medium rank missions beneath their belts, and they'd been quite full of themselves and their abilities. By comparison, their two 'tutors' were has-beens over the age of thirty. It had been painfully obvious to the new generation that this wouldn't be a training mission; it was a passing of the baton, and a well-deserved retirement for their venerable elders.

Kaku had been calm, professional and polite. Lucci had been calm, professional and polite in the most terrifying way imaginable. And then the two old dogs had proceeded to show the up-and-coming puppies that they could still teach some new tricks when it came to infiltration, counter-espionage and elimination (CP9's current charter had replaced the word assassination with its politer counterpart, as well as directing its 'eliminations' towards targets in enemy nations and the criminal underworld rather than innocents. A court of justice would still not have approved, but nobody thought to ask them).

Ai had been fast gaining on Kaku's douriki level back then, and even Lucci had been in his sights, but he'd been left with a feeling of respect towards his elders and the knowledge of all he still had to achieve. Essler hadn't been anywhere near as positive; that look he'd given Lucci on leaving would have justified a hard-knuckled reprimand in itself, and maybe Lucci insulted him even more by ignoring it. Essler had since then coveted Lucci's position in CP9, especially when he'd managed to raise his power levels above those of the aging senior agent. And it seemed that Lucci's position wasn't all Essler had coveted.

"Essler sure aims high," Ai concluded. "Always has. Well, if that's his tack, let him take it. He might wind up teamed with Kaku, and he might even end up in the guy's bed if Kaku shows a lapse in taste, but that won't make them A Team. That will be you and me. Assuming, of course, that sleeping together isn't mandatory. That'd leave us two straight guys high and dry."

"You're only 80% straight," his colleague informed him, reminding Ai why nobody ever cracked a joke with 'Specs' Somo.

Ai chewed that over for a few seconds before deciding to let it drop.

The two of them watched Essler manoeuvre at Kaku's table for awhile. It was rather sickening.

"Kaku's too nice for that guy," Ai muttered against his better judgement.

"Essler's nice too when he sets himself to it. I put his chances of success at 30%, though that is only an estimate based on incomplete observation."

"Right," said Ai absently. Somo meant 'nice' as in 'greasy, opportunistic weasel who can be charming when he wants to be' while Ai had meant 'genuinely decent guy for a spook'. Kaku was strict with the other agents in CP9, but not in the gut-wrenching way Lucci had been. Kaku had been like everybody's big brother from the moment they could prove themselves. Sure, Kaku's douriki levels were lower than Ai's by now, but Ai still respected him for both his past services and his present experience and skills. Yet Ai was clear-sighted enough to know that all these things didn't necessarily mean Kaku had a terrific taste in lovers. Just look at his now-deceased ex...Kaku was too nice for Essler and he'd been way too nice for a stone-cold killer like Rob Lucci, however much blood had cemented them together. So yeah, Essler had his chances in all likelihood...

Kaku was nodding in response to what Essler was saying; something about a mission from what Ai could catch from Essler's lip movements. Essler was worming his way in. Kaku had been...cold, for want of a better word; that space around him wasn't just there because of the assumption of others. A CP9 agent didn't show grief, didn't show anger at his lover's violent death, and that very absence of what should be there created a vacuum that sucked the heat out of a ten-foot space around him. Ai weighed Essler's chances of putting a little warmth in there and thought 30% was generous.

Kaku cut short his polite answer to Essler and got abruptly to his feet. "Excuse me," he said absently before going after the director, who'd just crossed the refectory with her fourth cup of tea en route to her office. Essler was left with a few papers and an empty coffee mug at a vacant table.

Ai made a soft "wheeeee-kaboom!" under his breath and Somo snorted.

"But Kalifa-"

"That's 'Director Kalifa', unless you believe that my being female allows you a certain familiarity and the right to skip protocol," said the director in a voice that suggested an accusation of sexual harassment - and the steep penalty now rigorously imposed for same - was about to follow closely. There wasn't a man alive who would dare harass CP9's current director, sexually or otherwise, but Director Kalifa found the ploy effective in derailing any male's argument, and she never hesitated to use it.

The raised voices had drawn everyone's attention; all agents present were assiduously concentrating on their lunches while ears strained to overhear. There'd been rumours of discord amongst the one-time colleagues. It was well-known that Kaku wanted to head the investigation into Lucci's murder by an as-yet-unknown criminal organisation, and it was equally well-known that Kalifa didn't want him to. Ai approved of her decision. Kaku was a sterling agent, but he'd obviously gotten too close to this case. Couldn't blame him. Ai, unlike some of his colleagues, didn't go for the 'control your emotions' approach; emotions could be useful. They could also be traps, which was why he was personally never going to have anything but the most casual of relationships with anyone, and never a fellow agent.

As Ai looked away from the argument, he caught Essler watching him. There wasn't the faintest hint of defeat in Essler's expression. The smile he directed at Ai and Somo was self-confident - good luck, losers, you're going to need it - before he sauntered over to where the argument had descended into intense, chilly whispers. Ai watched Essler put a hand on Kaku's shoulder, turn towards Kalifa and add his voice in support to Kaku's request. He was making a case for both of them going after Rob Lucci's killers, which, seeing what Essler intended to do if he and Kaku partnered up, and what Essler had always thought and said about Lucci, was chutzpah of the highest order. But Director Kalifa was listening, and Kaku was looking at Essler in surprise and even with a flicker of gratitude.

"Son of a bitch," said Ai, both disgusted and, as a CP9 agent himself, reluctantly impressed.

"40% and rising," agreed Somo.

==========

Kaku had fallen into the habit of taking long solitary walks along the sea-side cliffs of Mariejoie. It helped reinforce the impression of an agent battling repressed grief, and more importantly, it gave him leeway to slip out of sight for the night, though it took some work to get away from that pest Essler. Six weeks of letting that kid come onto him while keeping up the whole wounded-heart-beneath-the-mask routine...To make it all worse, Kalifa thought the whole thing was funny. It almost made Kaku regret the good old days of Spandam's half-baked plans.

His boot crunched in the gravel as he neared the cliff. A last glance around to make sure he wasn't being followed, and then Kaku launched himself off the sheer surface and tumbled down to the shore two hundred feet below. Wheeee!

He landed with an elastic bounce that put him within a yard of the boulder on which a scarred and disreputable-looking sailor sat splicing rope.

"You still gotta make an entrance, mountain monkey," was all the grumbled greeting he got.

Kaku nodded. "It's good to see you again, Jyabura. How's life as a freelance gun treating you?"

"Can't complain. Being my own agent is damn good. I got overhead and shit like that, but at least I don't have the harpy lording it over me."

"Right. Is Gyatharine doing well?"

"Doin' fine too, she keeps our accounts straight and she's the one who gets the contracts- hey, what are you implying?!"

"Oh, absolutely nothing. So, how's our favourite dead body?"

"Wrong on both counts," Jyabura grunted, pulling the rope tight with a jerk.

Kaku cocked his head. "Hm?"

"He's your favourite body, not that I ever wanted to know that much, and he's anything but dead. Though I grant you I rather like the notion of him being deep-sixed after the past two months of putting up with him."

"Have you two been fighting the whole time?"

"He's the one who starts it!" said Jyabura, hurling down the rope as if it had personally annoyed him for far too long. "Him and his fucking pigeon! Do you have any idea-"

"More than you can possibly know, Jyabura. Look, stay out here and take a break. You can keep watch for intruders. I'll be thirty minutes. Then we can-"

Jyabura's explosive "Hah!" rang out all the way to the top of the cliffs. "Forget that! I'm gonna go for a long walk along the beach, and I'm not comin' anywhere near this place till dawn. This creek's off the maps, nobody comes here, you don't need a lookout."

"We're doing an information check-in, I'll be half an hour at most-"

"Yeah, right, pull the other one, herbivore. Like that time in Mariejoie. 'Hey, Jyabura, come get us in an hour' and when I open the door-"

"That was only the one time."

"- do you know how much I had to drink to get the image outta my head? You owe me a liver, man. I'm not coming anywhere near this boat until you two nuts get it out of your system and that's final. It's bad enough I'm spending months on end pretending to be a down-on-his luck buccaneer shacked up on a one-ton schooner with the fuckin' pussy-cat, you want me to catch you two doin' that again? Ack, get outta my way." And Jyabura stomped off, the effect somewhat ruined by the sand beneath his sandals.

Kaku shook his head and headed up the gangway. Jyabura's assumption was insulting. He'd lost some of his moral fibre if he thought Kaku and Lucci could be so easily distracted from important mission parameters by mere sexual impulses.

Kaku turned a corner and found himself looking down a flight of stairs into a poky cabin at water-level. Framed by the door, Lucci sat on a chair with his legs stretched out and crossed before him. Hattori was dozing on his shoulder. The pigeon was wearing a little skull-and-bones bandana over its head, as always an echo of his master's apparel...His master who was dressed in a pirate's crude sleeveless vest that fit tight around his chest, cut low at the neck in a fashion that displayed the medallion he was wearing, a golden doubloon that was popular amongst corsairs. It was just a part of the disguise that Lucci was wearing with a great lack of enthusiasm, but it had to be said that the decoration did interesting things to the hard lines of his shoulders, chest and throat. Holy shit, thought Kaku, then tried to pretend he'd been impressed by his colleague's thoroughness in pursuing his undercover role.

Their eyes met and Kaku felt a familiar thrum run through his veins. But they were two serious men on a serious mission. Distractions were not welcome.

Even if Jyabura was going to be away until morning.

==========

The round-up of facts took half an hour. Nothing was written down; Lucci recorded every piece of new information in his head, lined them up with others and added a few more inches of rope to the noose closing around their targets. The only piece of paper involved was a copy of treasonable material sent by one high government official to another, as well as money transfers Lucci had intercepted. Kaku looked them over in a businesslike manner and folded them into a small courier pouch to give to Kalifa later.

"That wraps it up," he said, getting to his feet.

It looked like Kaku's time here was limited, then. Lucci felt a twinge of disappointment, which he promptly murdered and buried in a mental cellar. If Kaku was buggering off now, it must be for an important mission-related reason, and the fact that they hadn't seen each other in months or gotten laid in all that time made no difference whatsoever.

"Make sure you tell Kalifa not to let the finance minister's aide get away," Lucci said, turning back to his mental data. "He's the most astute of the lot, and the one who can do us the most damage. Do we need to meet again?"

"Doubtful. The targets have gotten careless since your unfortunate demise and my apparent collapse into a pathetic wreck out for revenge," Kaku said genially. But Lucci, with the familiarity acquired over more than a decade, picked up an edge of annoyance behind the satisfaction. Had something happened? It must be non-critical to the mission, or Kaku would have brought it up. It had to be personal instead. That made it less important to know, but a whole lot more interesting. Lucci could have asked, but his instincts told him Kaku would brush it off, and pressing his partner would put Lucci at a slight disadvantage in the ten year old game they were playing. So Lucci would ask Fukurou instead, once this damn mission was over. Fukurou was now a team leader in the Intel division and not even posted on the same island anymore, but he would know what was going on, oh yes, he would know, and he would definitely adore telling Lucci the unimportant yet very interesting details of what the latter had missed in his months of being dead.

Kaku, already at the foot of the stairs, tapped the papers in their pouch with the back of his hand. "I think this is all going to go down before the month is out, but I'll send word through our network if we need another meeting before then."

"You mean you'll send word via a greedy bitch of an ex-waitress and the mangy mutt wrapped around her little finger. Don't dignify that with the name of 'network'."

"Now now, be nice, they're helping us out a lot," said Kaku, the only man on the planet who'd dare to tell Lucci to be anything, particularly 'nice'. He paused halfway up the steps leading out of the under-deck to check his surroundings. A half moon, starlight and the white cliffs beyond the boat framed his shoulders, then his back, thighs and those damned long legs as he reached the deck. Lucci terminated a drop of frustration and interred it next to his previous mental victim.

Kaku looked around, like the prudent agent he was. Then he reached up and zipped open his top, a long slow zzzzzzzz. He slipped it off, pulled up his t-shirt and languidly slipped the courier satchel into his belt, arching his back a little, a flash of skin showing white in the moonlight. He tucked the shirt back over the pouch and turned back towards Lucci, leaning both arms against the upper frame of the hatch, hips tilted at an angle that left nothing to the imagination.

Lucci had by now figured out that he was going to get laid tonight, but it wasn't going to be a quick roll in the sheets. It was going to be the game...

"Jyabura is still taking his looooong walk along the beach," Kaku said lazily with a last look around outside. "That guy...he thinks we have no self-discipline."

A few choice things to say about Jyabura and self-discipline came to Lucci's mind, but he stayed silent. He had an intuition where this was going, just from that short sentence. That sentence, and many, many years of this game.

"He thinks we're going to be all over each other the minute his back is turned." Kaku shook his head. "Does he think our control has eroded that much, just because we've been playing a role for five years?"

Lucci was almost entirely certain this was the game, but if it wasn't and Jyabura's big mouth had in some fashion cost him a good lay tonight, the wolf Zoan was about to find out what neutering was like.

"There's certainly nothing wrong with your self-discipline," added Kaku with a respectful nod.

"I should hope not. If you have a point, get to it."

"Nope, no point, just honest admiration. How long have we been partners now?"

"Is this amnesia of yours a recent event?"

Kaku's hitch of a smile said, fine, pretend you're not playing, but you're still following my rules. "The strength of your determination is really admirable. So much focus. On the mission, I mean. It's quite a thrill to watch."

The way he said that word, 'thrill'...Lucci would have jumped him at that point if Kaku wasn't outside. A crucial piece of the five-year mission they were about to wind up hinged on a lot of people thinking Lucci was dead, and Lucci wasn't about to compromise the safety of his government, his duty towards justice and the satisfying bloodshed that was soon to occur over an impulse.

"Hmmm, I bet if I came onto you right now, you'd just stay seated in that chair and you wouldn't lay a hand on me whatever I did..."

Hattori suddenly chuckled and hopped off of Lucci's shoulder to flutter to the nearby table. Even the pigeon could figure out where this was going now...Hattori preened a feather, glanced at his human and at Kaku, and then leapt into the air and flapped up and out of the cabin. Maybe he'd go find that idiot Jyabura and take a dump on his head.

The rules for this match were laid down, the gauntlet thrown. Lucci said nothing and didn't move from his chair, which was all the acquiescence needed; they were both old hands at this game, they could take shortcuts.

Kaku walked slowly back down the stairs. Hands in his pockets, he circled the chair once, twice...A giraffe zoan really had no business exuding that much predatory intent.

He stopped directly behind Lucci. Of course, Lucci's blind spot. Where else would he have stopped?

Silence. Lucci could not tell what the bastard was doing, if anything. Was his lover moving? Not a single stir in the air-

"So controlled," Kaku whispered, right next to Lucci's ear.

Lucci didn't twitch. Not even when two hands settled on his shoulders. He acted like the electric tingle that had gone through his body hadn't happened at all, because that was part of the game. All of this, Kaku staying behind him, the words, the very lightness of the touch, were challenges, dares. Kaku knew damn well Lucci hated to turn his back on anybody if he could help it. And considering how Kaku touched Lucci at other times, as if stress-testing his endurance, the contrast to this caress was a violence in itself. Ten goddamned years of this and Kaku could still keep him on edge. And that was where the greatest pleasure was, in the game, in the savage control that ratcheted lust up and up until the final snap-...

Next time it would be Lucci's turn. He wasn't as subtle, but he had the god-given instinct of finding the weakest spots, the shatter points, the little handles that could twist pain into pleasure until he was the one in complete control, Kaku breaking beneath him, lips bitten blood-red in a useless effort to keep from screaming Lucci's name-...Then it was once more his turn to play with fire. There'd been an attempt to keep score back when they'd started this, in their effort to pretend this was an actual contest rather than attraction, lust and twisted affection. They still called it 'the game' after all these years, but the fact of the matter was that Kaku, despite having half of Lucci's strength, still tempted him with his inventive little dares, and played him and defeated him - him - and that meant Kaku had already won the game long ago, as much as Lucci disliked admitting it.

"Let's see," Kaku murmured, and the fingers did a little dance of duress against Lucci's nerve endings as they traced the leather cord holding that bloody stupid medallion, down to the gold warmed by Lucci's skin. Kaku's mouth was still close to Lucci's ear, and Lucci could feel the way his lover smiled at the sensation, his breath quickening a fraction. A fingertip dragged the doubloon up to one side until it swung back like a pendulum...The fingers ghosted down Lucci's bare arms, applied fingertip pressure against his wrists, forced him to uncross his arms and let them hang loose at his side. "There you go, you look relaxed now."

"I am relaxed," Lucci sniffed. Shortcuts into the game were one thing, but now it was on, and Kaku wouldn't want an easy victory anymore than Lucci wanted to give him one. Where was the pleasure in that?

"Of course you are," said his partner in Lucci's ear in precisely that indulgent tone of voice, with an effect on Lucci's grip that would normally not be accomplishable even with whips and chains.

Kaku straightened up, circled the chair until he faced Lucci. He'd put down his top and the papers at some point in the last two minutes. The oil-lamp's flicker danced on broad shoulders beneath a black tee, pale skin and scars on his bare arms like a tiger's stripes. Kaku put his hand on the chair's back, wrists barely brushing Lucci's shoulders, making blood thrum through the latter's skin with the sheer nearly-there ache of it -...He sat down on Lucci's lap, slowly. The heat between two bodies burned in the space where they nearly touched as if they already had nothing between them but skin.

"Stoic," Kaku murmured sardonically and leaned forward until his lips brushed Lucci's. His fingers tangled tantalizingly in Lucci's hair, lightly caressing the back of his head - if the bastard scratched his ears like last time, there was going to be hell to pay.

Then Kaku's fingers gripped and pulled.

Head bent back, mouth crushed and forced opened and invaded, Lucci didn't move. Because instinctively shoving the lunatic off and optionally breaking something would have been losing control and conceding defeat. Lucci could feel his heart hammering at the violence and the way he was forcing himself to sit there and take it, and his fingers tightened on the seat of the chair.

"See what I mean?" said Kaku, breath brushing sensitized lips. "Like a rock."

The son of a bitch was well-positioned to know exactly how true that was...

Lucci had a sudden picture of what he looked like, sitting on his chair like a schoolboy. The hiss slipped his control and sounded way too irritated.

Kaku leaned back and cocked his head. "What now?"

"It appals me," Lucci muttered.

"What?"

"That all those numbskulls in the agency think I'm the twisted one."

A breath of laughter touched his lips. "They're not wrong. Remember that time in Equadora? I couldn't walk for an hour afterwards and I was the one on top."

Lucci definitely remembered. He could also think of a host of counter-examples. If those simpletons at the agency who assumed Lucci was the aggressive dominant in this relationship could see them now, they'd have a reassessment of the power dynamics involved.

Kaku tipped his head back and gave the ceiling an unfocused look. "It'll all be over soon, and we can get back to normal, assuming we remember what that's like anymore. And then those numbskulls as you say-..."

Lucci looked up from where he was admiring the curve of that long neck (and making truly evil plans regarding it for the next time it was his turn to play). "What, tired of being a babysitter?"

"Tired of playing good cop."

"That's surprising; I'm not tired of playing bad cop at all."

"I bet you're not. Are you even sure it's an act?" A finger wound idly through Lucci's hair. Kaku's mouth had that one-sided quirk again, never seen outside of these moments. Lucci knew what the natural set of that mouth was - and how much more grim and foreboding than the brats knew - and knowing that, it was amazing how appealing that small, intimate upturn of the lips could be...

"Just between you and me?" Lucci whispered in the two inches that separated them. "It wasn't really that hard. Now ask me what it was like pretending to let age rob me of two thousand douriki."

"You're a martyr to justice," Kaku said gravely and then laughed, a low soft sound that understood and assuaged the daily grind of keeping up that sham, as well as the faint, lingering fear that it might come true one day..."Come on, no more thinking about those kids tonight."

Fingertips touched Lucci's chest, wormed their way between buttons, gently teased skin and then raked across a nipple to see if it would make him jump. It didn't, but the night was young.

=======

It was a bitter pill to swallow. Not only was the whole of A Team alive and well, but they'd been in charge of an ultra-secret operation to clean out the government, rounding up the perpetrators of a massive fraud and derailing the preparations of a coup d'état. The only plus side to all this as far as Ai was concerned was that he was looking right at Essler's face when they heard the news. Every cloud has a silver lining, though in this instance it was more of a violent shade of green.

A busy period followed as every member of CP9 hit the field to tie up loose ends, and occasionally wrap them around some perpetrator's throat. It was over a week before Ai staggered back to his room in the new Tower of Justice and slept like a rock until habit got him up at six AM.

All the other agents were still out on cleanup duty or sleeping. Ai headed like a sleepwalker through empty hallways towards the gym. It was Team B's routine when they were between jobs; the three of them were given some pretty hard-to-handle enemies after all, and training themselves individually and as a group was going to make the difference between winning one for the World Government and ending up buried in an unmarked grave.

Somo and Essler were already waiting for him. Essler still had that sour look on his face. Ai and Somo weren't all that transcendently pleased at the return to their former status quo either, but CP9 agents were above all pragmatists. The three of them were stronger together, and that was that. It was what would get their B Team its upgrade in the alphabet eventually. And the day that happened, the words 'you will love your team-mate like a brother, even the slimy backstabbing one' would still not be part of CP9's field guide. Ai was okay with it, as long as he got to do the job.

...Man, Essler really did look sour today. And the last time Somo had frowned like that, someone from Intel had made a mistake in the number of guards around a target. What-...

A little frisson of foreshadowing ran down Ai's spine as if it was in a hurry to be somewhere else.

"Ah, so you made it," said someone who'd been out of sight from where Ai stood in the doorway. "I was suggesting to your friends that you boys help me with my warm-up this morning."

Ai looked over at Lucci in suspicious surprise. In the five years he'd known the man, Lucci had always been an ice-cold killer with no sense of humour and a lethal aura that could make children wail from ten feet away. But now Lucci was smiling. Not even murderously; it was a little amused corner smile that implied he not only knew a really good joke, but he was looking right at it. It was like seeing a completely different man, a more relaxed one, someone who could appreciate the finer pleasures in life such as challenging three younger, stronger men who didn't like him much right now to provide him with a 'warm-up'.

Ai wasn't as strong as Essler and he wasn't as smart as Somo, but he made up for it by having exquisite instincts. They were now telling him he should have stayed in bed this morning.

Well, that was as brutal as I thought it'd be, thought Ai, staring at the ceiling. If he just stayed flat on his back, it didn't hurt quite so much. Besides, he'd blacked out earlier when he'd tried to roll over and stand up. Before his vision had gone dark, he'd caught a grin from Lucci. The grin said, 'I'm pleased to see you're still willing to fight, that's what I expect from an agent I helped train, but it won't stop me kicking you like that again if you don't stay down.'

Somo was counting stars somewhere off to Ai's right, and from the sounds coming from the left, Essler was getting chewed over. Ai glared at the ceiling. All three of them. Fuck it all, just how deep had this undercover operation run?

"Not too bad. Just not good enough," said Lucci. He sounded like he was enjoying himself, in the way of a cat with three blind mice at his disposal. The comment had been meant for Essler, Ai nearly missed it over the tinnitus ringing in his ears.

Ai let his head flop towards the left and was grimly pleased when he stayed conscious. Essler and Lucci were ten feet away. Essler was trying to twist his way out of a headlock and looked furious enough to kill, not that he was going to be doing much of that right this minute.

"You- fucking-"

"Is that any way to talk to your elders?" Lucci asked. His smile was as pleasant as rusty wire. He'd picked up a couple of bruises on his forearms and one on his chin, and that was all.

"Fuck- how- many douriki- do you have- you freak!" snarled Essler, which was what Ai had been wondering.

Lucci laughed. It was an unpleasant sound even by the standards of a profession that came packaged with a fair amount of screams and death rattles.

"Just think of this as a growing experience. A valuable one. It's in thanks to your contribution to our mission."

Essler made a wheezy noise, more lack of oxygen than interrogation.

"You're the one who kept shooting your mouth off about how I was losing my edge, aren't you," Lucci murmured. "It was invaluable to our cover, since you so obviously believed it yourself."

The headlock put Lucci's mouth close to Essler's ear. Ai had to strain to hear what was being said, which he did despite the headache.

"It was ambitious to try to take over my spot in the agency. I expected no less of the three of you. I hope you won't give up; it's good to have a little competition now and again. But..."

Essler went suddenly very still as if the hold around his neck had tightened in order to get his full attention.

"But trying to hop into my bed before the sheets were even cold...don't you think that was a little tacky?"

The breathless silence was broken when Lucci glanced over his shoulder as if someone had called his name, though Ai hadn't heard anything. "What's so funny is that you thought it was a good move," he added softly, still looking around. "It wasn't, and not only for my inability to gracefully lie down and die. You and Kaku? You should thank me, boy. He'd have eaten you alive."

He released his hold, spilling Essler into the dirt, and stood up. Ai followed Lucci's exit with his eyes and realized they had an audience. Director Kalifa stood at the far doors leading out to the sparring yard; she was dressed in her usual business suit, a cup of tea in hand and an expression on her face that said this was as good as the morning newspaper as far as entertainment value went. Kaku was beside her, and his odd little smile as he watched Lucci walk towards them buried the last few shreds of Ai's illusions about his elders.

Apparently he still had a few things to learn as an agent of CP9...

END

Ofic: Out, part 13

2009-05-30T20:58:14Z

I rather like the way these chapters end up fairly short (by my standards). Makes it less of a production to write them, polish them and post them on a weekly basis. Enjoy!

Link to all chapters

Part 13

A series of bumps and thuds woke Ryou up. He sat up in bed, heart beating.

"Ah, he's awake," said the passer, the door swinging shut on its leather strips behind her. She was carrying a small copper pail. On the other side of the room, Darius dusted off his hands as he stood up from a pile of logs he'd dropped into a wooden bin near the fire.

The passer grinned toothlessly at Ryou. "Get up, young man, get up if you want to break your fast. Then we'll be going. How about you, my handsome? Want some milk?"

"Yes, thanks, and if you can sell us some of your cured ham too, I'd take it as a favor," Darius answered, putting a couple of logs and a few branches in the fire and building it up from the embers. From what Ryou could see out of the single glassless window opening, it was still night outside. The light from the two bowls of tallow was too dim and flickering, he couldn't read the time on his watch face.

It took an hour to pack, get the horses ready and eat a breakfast of stale bread warmed over the fire, goat cheese and some leftover stew. No coffee or tea, of course, nothing but the goat's milk obtained minutes earlier. The strong taste almost made Ryou retch. He let Darius finish that, but he ate all the rest of the food placed before him, wondering how long it would take him to stop feeling so permanently hungry after only a few days of fasting and exercise.

Eventually he, Darius and the horses stood behind the passer at a spot near the barn. A thick pre-morning mist had clamped down on the land during the night; Ryou could barely make out the marker stones. He stared numbly at the limited surroundings; he hadn't gotten as much sleep last night as would have been wise.

"So are you boys traveling further than Aksum?" asked the old lady as if she were idling away the time, waiting for a bus.

"We'll see where the winds blow us," Darius answered, staring straight out across the clearing.

"The winds of war are what are blowing down that way, my boys. Aksum's taking a stand against the Imperium, so's Assyria, Ur and most of the free cities. War and demons are everywhere these days, go as far as you can to avoid them." The passer chewed her gums, then glanced up at Ryou. "I'd wager you're from considerably further away than that, aren't you, my boy."

Both Ryou and Darius tensed.

"The moment I saw you, I knew you were from further out even than Sung. Are you from Ezo? Or from some other place I've never even heard of?"

"Ezo?" said Ryou blankly. Then his mind imploded. "You mean the Republic of Ezo?!"

"Yes, yes, republic. Can't get my head around all your different kind of kingdoms," grumbled the passer dismissively. "Oops, come on, it's time to go," she added, nodding at a thin streak of lighter grey at the edge of the horizon

"But-"

Ryou found his elbow caught by Darius, who shook his head. "Shh."

"But- but she said the republic of Ezo."

"Yeah, that or any other country she can think of is fine of as long as it's somewhere in the Outlands."

"But the republic of Ezo doesn't exist. Not anymore, I mean. It was a- a small state created temporarily by refugees from the Bakumatsu-"

"Ryou, concentrate."

"On what?"

"On not thinking too hard."

Ryou opened his mouth and then closed it.

The Republic of Ezo. How could that exist here? And didn't they- didn't they have steam power, for god's sake? Didn't they...? Ryou had always had high scores in every subject matter including history, but the latter was due to his ability to easily memorize dates and numbers. He'd never really bothered to look at history as anything more than that...It didn't make sense for Ezo to exist cheek by jowl with the Roman Empire, or an offshoot thereof. Ryou didn't believe himself to be particularly chauvinistic, but common sense as well as a little bit of patriotic pride told him an army of Bakumatsu survivors would send the Roman legion decamping at great speeds.

...Though by the sound of it, they were far away from here, inasmuch as this concept applied to the Outlands. The Per Gathas restricted movements of large forces and technology. The Imperium had gotten around that by creating a groundswell of locally trained legions everywhere in their territories; sheer numbers might defeat technology, since most of these Outland pockets of civilizations they called 'countries' tended to be quite small. And isolationist for the most part, Ryou remembered. From what Darius had said, it seemed the Empire had created a morass of territories on its side, the Assyrian, Ionian, Aksumite and now-gone Persian Empires had done the same on theirs, and so in this 'region' of the Outlands everything was confused, but other countries kept their borders more hermetical...

Ryou stumbled against a clod of earth and got a sharp look back from Darius. Right. Not thinking. Not thinking at all.

The remains of the night were grey around them, blurring distances and the landscape's relief. A bird called out stridently from the moorland; the pre-dawn felt thicker and more silent by contrast. Ryou narrowed his eyes in concentration as the passer led them forward. Darius was right behind her, leading all three horses so that Ryou could walk immediately at his side.

Now that he was concentrating on it, their progress bordered on the ridiculous. The passer, who hadn't struck Ryou as being senile up until now, wandered all over the field, muttering to herself. Darius followed her as if he were walking a minefield. Even the horses seemed to pick up and put down their hooves exactly in her footsteps. It was as if their group were making their way through a maze with invisible walls. From Darius's incurious accumulation of hearsay, Ryou had gathered they had to cross the border with the aid of the passer, in order to not get lost...lost in a circle of terrain half the size of a football field. Darius had also said the Paths opened and closed depending on the time of year and the cycle of the stars. That put the science behind these famous borders on par with astronomy, as far as Ryou was concerned.

Ryou stumbled along, feet catching against outcroppings of turf, wondering just what the hell they were doing. Darius looked back at him sharply once or twice, but otherwise said nothing.

Their ludicrously roundabout approach finally got them as far as the stream. The passer, who was barefoot, climbed arthritically down the bank, raising a flurry of bugs and mosquitoes. She hiked up her breeches and walked through the water which rose no higher than her bony calves. Ryou, Darius and the horses followed, Ryou inwardly sighing as water drenched the bottom of his trousers. Now he knew why Darius had asked him to not wear his shoes...

What-

Something deep within Ryou turned upside down with a jerk that felled him to his knees. He barely heard the splash as he landed in the water. One of the horses whinnied in alarm behind him; it sounded miles away.

"Ryou!"

He couldn’t pinpoint where Darius was calling him from, even though he knew his friend was right in front of him...Ryou focused his eyes…

-but deep inside, a sense he did not know about was still stirring, feeling-

"Ryou- don't- oh Inder, don't do anything stupid." Darius was holding him around the shoulders. Ryou could feel it now.

The sense inside - neither smell, touch, sight, feel or taste - was not actively doing anything. But it was no longer dormant as it had been before.

"...Dar..."

It was...learning...

"Darius...?"

"Oy, what's wrong with him?" came a creaky voice from up ahead

"He-...nothing. He's alright." Darius sounded a little relieved when Ryou blinked and focused on him.

"This is not a good place for a fainting spell, my Lord from Ezo or Wherever," snapped the passer, not moving from where she stood on the far bank. "Get up and walk."

Darius helped Ryou to his feet, steadied him, then clicked his tongue and pulled at the horses.

The air warped around Ryou - yet it was only inside his head that it was doing so. His eyes and every other sense were telling him everything was perfectly steady. The schism was giving him motion sickness. He leaned against Darius and focused as much as he could on the passer up ahead. And...it was odd...almost frightening...but now when she took one step in this direction and three steps in that...he almost knew why, though he could never hope to put that knowledge into words...

There. Now she was going to go straight to the stone markers, which were looming up ahead amongst the trees. Trees...? They'd been in grassland before, and hadn't there been mist...?

Whatever had taken possession of Ryou abruptly stopped when he set foot on the beaten earth beyond the stele. Ryou staggered as reality abruptly recovered and the world around him became rock solid again.

"Ugh. What was that?"

"Nothing, you're fine now," said Darius with an undertone of warning. Ryou glanced around and noted how the passer, who'd stopped next to the stele, was looking at him curiously.

"I'm no physician or priest, my young men, but I do think your friend should see one."

"Maybe you're right," said Darius. He was still holding Ryou by the shoulders, the horses from their lead in another hand; those blighted animals always behaved for him, Ryou noted sourly. "What is the closest dwelling from here?"

"Besides my inn?" said the passer with a croak of a laugh.

"Yes, the next one to the south."

"That'd be this little mudhole called Kegsum. It's a dump. Even their goats can't make good milk, and what passes for the priest of Hygeia is a dotard of more than five-dozen seasons. He comes to my inn to drink at times," she added as if in explanation. "Can't hold his beer. You'd be better off riding north and east to Alipia, or if his head is really knocked loose, you'll be in Palis itself in five days where you'll find the Grand Hall of Hygiea, the best wine in the country and a Path that will take you anywhere you want."

"I think-"

Whatever Darius thought was lost to Ryou as something twisted deep inside.

It had some similarities to what he'd walked through a few minutes ago, but whereas the previous sensation had been nothing more than weird and disorienting, this one was undiluted wrongness. And this feeling Ryou was familiar with. He knew what it meant.

There! Inside the circle!

The stelae, the circle, the passer, Darius and the horses, and the spot from which radiated that feeling of twisting turmoil, all turned into hard, cold facts like stones on a board. Ryou weighed the situation in an instant and acted. Though not on instinct, because instinct, that animal sense of self-preservation uppermost, was telling him to go the other way as fast as he could.

He wrenched free of Darius's hold on his shoulders, shot past the horses who were just now starting to lay back their ears and roll their eyes - still nothing visible, but it was nearly there now, it was about to arrive and it could already be sensed.

Ryou lunged at the passer, grabbed her by the scrawny arms and threw himself back again.

"Ry-" Darius's exclamation was cut short when he had to turn and wrestle with the panicking horses.

Only when he was well away from the circle did Ryou turn to look back. He got a smack from a staff on the side of his head for his pains. "You! You! How dare you! Attack a passer! Drag her from-...By His Name..." The last words were a weak croak. The passer had seen it too.

It wasn't a Bher Rajiin this time. It was...Ryou stared at it, but it wasn't some man in a mask as reason demanded, no, it really was a dog-headed person. It - he, manifestly - was naked, crouched, arms dangling between his legs, staring at them. No, staring at Ryou. Ryou couldn't tell if the look was predatory, hostile, friendly or what; the expression was unreadable on that parody of anything natural. Ryou's first impression of it being a dog was incorrect. It wasn't an animal, certainly not any recognizable breed; some insane god had taken a normal man's face by the chin and yanked it forward into the shape of a muzzle, covering the skin with short brown hair until the result looked faintly like a greyhound, though the forehead was too high and the set of the eyes was all wrong. The eyes...the eyes had been human. Once. Now there was nothing there at all that Ryou could recognize.

The thing made a wuffling sound, nose scenting the air, and then it slurped a wet dog's tongue over its muzzle. A human hand reached up to scratch at its chest, which was as hairless as the rest of his body. Then the hand dropped to dig thick, blackened nails at its privates. The dog head started very suddenly at the shoulders and sat atop a long hairy neck, Ryou noted academically. His stomach was not so interested in all this scientific data; it roiled and threatened to heave up this morning's cheese. He would have thought that a child of his century was pretty inured to anything weird through television and manga, but seeing in real life a- a man's face twisted and pulled into the shape of a dog - the reality of it violated some natural law, it was obscene in a way a drawing or the best CGI could never be. Plus the thing stank like an unwashed kennel.

Darius cursed like a soldier behind them. One of the geldings had broken free. Darius used the long lead to whip another one across the rump to cow it into submission.

"Zaratusra protect us," the passer said weakly, which put paid to Ryou's faint hope that things like this cropped up regularly during border crossings.

The dog-headed creature stared at Ryou for a whole minute. Then it looked down at the edge of the circle, between the two stelae they'd crossed.

I was right, thought Ryou, then had to go fish through his facts, some of them born of a sense he could barely understand, to figure out what he was right about.

"Ryou, get the hell away from that!" Darius shouted, hauling his whole weight against the horses' bits to stop them from bolting.

"It's okay," Ryou said matter-of-factly, "it can't get out of the circle." Because inside the circle the world was in flux, weaker, while out here it was real again, and this creature could not go from one to the other unassisted. Ryou couldn't put his reasoning into an equation or even words that made sense, yet he felt as sure of it as the ancient mathematicians were sure of their unproven theorems. The answer, more than that the root behind the answer, was in his possession, even if he could not demonstrate it.

When Darius didn't say anything, Ryou glanced around. Darius was staring at him. Behind his hard, dangerous expression, he seemed to believe Ryou's assurances. Even the horses seemed to believe him; they were still rolling their eyes, huffing the air and laying their ears back, but they weren't panicking anymore.

The passer blew out her breath and suddenly brought down the tip of her staff with a thump. "You're right, of course. You! Go away! You can't leave the Veil, you foul git, so you can bloody well clear off !"

A ripple had run through the ground where the passer's staff had struck, Ryou could sense it even though his five regular senses told him to take a reality check. Her last two words had echoed with a power and a presence that went beyond the mundane as much as the dog-head did. The command went right through Ryou's head, a sharp pain, and both he and the dog-creature flinched.

The creature's eyes twitched in her direction though it didn't meet hers fully; it dipped its chin and hunched its shoulders, licked its chops. Wary perhaps. Not fully intimidated, though...

Then it stood up. It had a tail, a long, brown, whippet-thin tail, now held low between its legs. The creature slouched as it walked away, a gait that was neither entirely animal nor entirely human.

Ten steps and it suddenly disappeared as if it had been plucked off the map of the world.

Ryou rubbed the aching point above his temples without daring to blink or look away from where it had vanished, in case it was a trick. He didn't think it was. It felt gone.

The passer blew out a breath of air. "By the Praised One's name," she said. She'd drawn a copper medallion from her tunic; a flame with a set of stylized wings. She was rubbing it between thumb and forefinger. "That's not what I expected from a quick jaunt into Palis of an early morning. I'd heard of weird things up and down the Paths, but that...Is that why you grabbed me, young man?"

"Yes, that's right," Ryou lied without hesitation. His head was still spinning from all this, but he remembered Darius's words of caution, and besides he was too used to playing things close to the chest. Show them nothing. His hand did not shake as he pushed up his glasses over eyes that felt they were about to pop out of their sockets from a sudden bout of migraine.

"You say other things like this have been seen before?" Darius asked from behind them.

"Like this? I don't know about something like this. But I've heard things from other passers, travelers, scribes and the Per Gathas couriers. Odd things. Some people say it's the war. That's bull, of course. There's been a war somewhere within reach of my Paths ever since I was a girl, and that's not yesterday, let me tell you, yet I've never seen anything like that before. Of course some people say its signs of end times and the unraveling of the Veil and the Grand Design," she added, rubbing her nose, "but they've been saying that since I lost my maidenhead, so I'll not listen to them either. Well, well, well, live long enough and you will indeed see everything...I wish you luck on your travels, boys. May the Path-maker guide your footsteps and hold His hand above your heads."

Ryou took a few seconds to react. "Wait- what? You're going back in there?"

The passer looked back at him. She was already halfway to the nearest stele. "Of course I am, young man. Where else would I go? My home's right over there." The inn was indeed still there, up on its hillock beyond the stream, despite the fact that Ryou's reason and inner sense both told him he and Darius were now in another plane than the one they'd breakfasted in earlier.

"But what if that thing comes back? What if there's more of them?" Ryou reasoned. He took a step to follow her, but stopped when Darius hooked him by the elbow.

"If there's more, I'll kick all their naked asses." The passer stomped her way between the stones. "They'll not be polluting my circle with their half-baked shadows, let me tell you. I've held this inn fast and straight during waves in the river that tried to put me plumb into the middle of the Void itself. That fleabag might have tried to creep up on me, but I'm expecting them now. And the inn itself is thrice blessed, protected by water, fire and my fravashi, they'll not set skin nor hide in there." She was already in the circle, her voice dropping to self-directed mutters.

Ryou turned towards Darius. "We should-..." But then he shook his head. "No. Sorry. That'd be stupid. She's better off without me anywhere in that circle."

"Probably." Darius wasn't watching the passer (who was now threatening a perfectly innocent patch of turf near the stream with her staff). His eyes were sweeping the rest of the circle and the forest around them. "Either way, it's none of our business."

"What do you mean? That thing was my fault, wasn't it?"

Darius spared him a glance that seemed heavy with meaning. "Oh, you know this for a fact?"

"Well...it was looking at me."

"You're the one who moved towards it at a run and snatched an old, weak prey from it. Of course it was looking at you, any animal would."

Ryou thought it'd been more intelligent than that, though he could not back that with any proof.

"Truth to tell, I'd be happy if that thing slipped out of whatever hell it was hiding in because you did something dumb. Though I'd still be mad at you," Darius added as an afterthought.

"What do you think it was?"

"How the hell should I know?"

"Yes, you're just a simple soldier. Darius-..." But Ryou had promised himself that he wouldn't ask anything Darius wasn't willing to tell him.

The silence hung awkwardly between them for a few seconds, then Darius shrugged. "Let's just say, you screwing up is a better option than my enemies having found us."

"Oh."

"It will make the next passing all the more interesting," Darius said with a humorless grin. "Come on, let's catch that dumb bugger of a horse that managed to get away with our luggage, and get moving."

Ryou looked back at the inn. The passer was across the stream now, walking up the slope to her inn.

"Ryou."

"Wait a second. I just want to be sure she gets back okay."

"And what if she doesn't?"

"What?"

Darius gave him a hard look.

It made sense. Ryou knew he'd not be able to do anything if he saw her attacked. It was clear by now that without the passer helping them, he could not negotiate the circle. He'd be insane to try it on his own; he knew enough now to know at least that much. But he turned and watched her progress anyway.

"Ryou-"

"It will only take a few minutes," said Ryou.

"You'd be better off not knowing," Darius told him.

"No," Ryou retorted, "I would not."

Darius scowled at him, and Ryou, expressionless, looked right back. Then Darius made a 'do whatever the hell you want' gesture and went to get the horse.

Ryou watched for ten minutes as the old passer reached her inn, circled around it suspiciously, checked in her barn, went indoors and then out again. She stood there, one hand on her hip, then she noticed him. He wasn't sure from that distance, but he thought she gave him a gap-toothed grin as she waved.

A shape, naked and white as a maggot in the dawn half light, dropped from the inn's roof and lumbered towards her.

Ryou thought he saw her turn, staff raised-

- but then the inn was no longer there. Just a stretch of dirt on top of a small hill in the center of an empty circle, forests all around.

Ryou was a step away from the circle, a hand against the nearest stele. But he knew he couldn't go in. He sank to his knees on the turf trodden for decades of her feet passing travelers to and fro.

No. No. But maybe she'd be okay. She had to be okay. This was his fault. He hadn't known. He still didn't know, he didn't know how to help-

Ryou balled his fist and smashed it helplessly against the stele. All that got him was bruised knuckles and a sense of just how totally helpless he was.

"Oh hell," Darius muttered from somewhere behind him.

Ryou stirred. He wasn't sure how long he'd been kneeling there, watching the space where the inn was not reappearing.

"I found the horse," Darius said after a minute of silence. "Come on. There's nothing we can do here."

Ryou took a deep breath. "I know," he said as he got to his feet.

Darius gave him a searching look, then nodded as he seemed to find what he was looking for in Ryou's eyes. "We'll buy provisions at Kegsum, that place she mentioned. If they have a priest of Hygiea, they'll have a temple of all gods. I get along well with Inder and a few others, I'll leave a silver obol for her safe passage."

It was obvious Darius really thought this might help, though for Ryou it wasn't even a sop. "We can get help from that priest she mentioned-"

"No."

"But he can warn someone-"

"They won't get back in time to help. And either way you cut it, one of us is implicated in this. Back in Assyria, I can protect us, but if the Per Gathas learn about this and we're all the way out here with our asses in the air, they'll drop us on the wrong side of the Veil and let the Furies pick at our livers. Come on."

The jingle and snorts of the horses sounded loud in the silence that surrounded the two men as they saddled up. The now empty circle was in a clearing surrounded by stunted trees bearing small, dark green leaves, their canopy rising no more than a couple of meters above the riders' heads. The ground beneath them was dry, with little underbrush. Even though it was only half an hour past dawn, the day was already warmer than it'd been back in the previous country. A path wound its way from the circle through the forest, and it took very little to encourage the horses to take it.

When they were fifty meters away, Ryou heard an odd noise behind them, like someone in the far distance coughing very loudly and musically. He twisted around in his saddle. So did Darius, for all his 'go and don't look back' attitude.

"What was that?"

Darius had reined in his horse to better listen. "...A cock's crow. She had one for the chickens. Maybe that's a good sign."

"I still can't see the inn."

"When all is dark, you cannot see the unlit lantern," Darius muttered, quoting something. Then, more firmly, "Let's move on."

TBC...

Ofic: Out, part 12

2009-05-24T05:57:54Z

Next chapter, and things move a little :P

Link to all chapters

Part 12

The road through the moorlands went on and on. Ryou was nodding on his horse and at real risk of falling both asleep and off the animal altogether. They hadn't seen a tree since the way station four hours ago. The sun was setting on the horizon, sending shadows to wash around the far side of the highland's hillocks like an ever-frozen sea full of billows.

The stone marker on the side of a road was sheer relief, not least because its upright angles were a welcome break in all these soft, flowing lines.

"Finally," Darius muttered, touching his heels to the flanks of his horse to spur it on.

Whatever he read on the milestone made him smile when Ryou and his dispirited horse had caught up. "Hang in there, my friend. We're nearly at the border. Another five minutes and we'll be at the Paths of Everywhere."

With such a grandiose name, the primitive wood-and-wattle building was a letdown. Crushed by the vastness of the moors, it skulked at the center of a circle delimited by shoulder-high stones.

"I hope this region hasn't so gone to the dogs that they pulled their passer out," Darius muttered mostly to himself, leading their horses around the large circle. "Oh, Ryou, be careful not to go between the stelae."

"Why?" asked Ryou, not that he had an option when his horse was sticking close to Darius's anyway. He looked curiously at the stones. They were large chunks of grey granite without carvings or anything other than moss and weather damage; they didn't seem particularly interesting.

"You might get lost. If it's you, you'll definitely get lost. This is where the Paths start. You- oh, there is someone here. Look, Ryou, don't say anything odd and whatever you do, don't do anything. No magic, I mean." Darius spoke in a muted hiss, craning back on his horse. Then he turned and waved in the direction of the building. "Greetings! Can we come in?"

An old man was sitting on a bench near the entrance thirty meters away, smoking a crude pipe and plucking the feathers from a chicken. "Sure thing," was the prosaic answer that drifted through the evening air. "Go down two stones. Welcome in the name of the Traveler."

"The Path he walked is three times praised," answered Darius in the same formulaic way. He nudged the horse onwards. Ryou bit back a groan as his own horse took a larger step, jolting his aching body.

They dismounted near the indicated stone, which had nothing particular about is as far as Ryou could see. Darius led his horse forward a step on a short rein, then he turned as if on an afterthought and ducked under the head of the animal to stand on its other side, near Ryou, who was scrabbling off his mount as best he could.

"We're coming in," said Darius, stepping into the circle.

Ryou clicked his tongue dubiously, the way he'd heard Darius do. The horse gave him what he thought was a disparaging look, but followed him as Ryou stepped past the marker.

Then he yelped as the ground disappeared beneath him.

He staggered and clung to the reins. His horse snorted and immediately lowered its head, dumping Ryou into the dirt. Then it jerked its head up again. Ryou had wrapped the reins around his hand the way Darius had. He found himself being pulled sideways half a step as the animal yanked at his arm again. Ryou decided off the top of his head that he didn't particularly like horses, or any vehicle that had a mind of its own.

"Ryou?!" Darius was there, gripping his arm hard enough to hurt, every line in his body tense.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," Ryou said, scrambling to sit up. "I just tripped."

"On what?" Darius asked pointedly, raking his gaze across the ground behind them which was made up of ancient sod so flattened by countless hooves that it could have been used as a bowling lane.

"I-...my legs must be tired." Ryou gave the ground an incredulous look as he let Darius help him to his feet. It had felt like he'd missed a step, a large one, but he couldn't have. Deep inside, Ryou had the oddest feeling that he was still moving somehow. But every other sense he possessed told him this was nonsense.

"Ai, what's wrong with him?" came the creaky voice from the porch.

"Nothing, he's fine," Darius replied.

"He's not sick, is he? Hell and damnation, what's wrong with his face? He's not got the steppes fevers-"

"No, of course not. We ran into some bandits, he got beat up. It was yesterday, so he's still woozy."

"Oh, okay. Bring him in, then. Hurry up, young man; the waters of the river are getting choppy, what with evening falling."

A river...? Ryou stopped dusting himself off to give the circle of stones another look. There was a tiny little rill winding its way through the area, on the other side of the house. Ryou could have crossed it in three steps. He did not see how it could get choppy and why this would be a cause for concern...

He was brought back to more immediate concerns when Darius's grip transferred from his elbow to his hand. "I'm fine, really," he said, but Darius did not let go as he lead Ryou and the horses forward. The gelding and the baggage animal fell into step behind him, Ryou's horse followed suit without much self-contemplation by the looks of it, almost knocking Ryou over as it brushed past him. Their shadows, elongated by the setting sun, had already reached the walls of mud and wattle.

The ground rose imperceptibly to a flattened area where the building squatted. By the time they reached it, the odd feeling that'd tripped Ryou up had definitely left him.

"Stable's that way," said the antique on the bench, hands still busy sending up small geysers of feathers.

"Thanks. Is your man the passer?" asked Darius, the first indication Ryou had that the elderly cook was a woman. She was so withered and stooped he'd not been able to tell; her thinning white hair was cropped short, and she was wearing trousers knotted by strips of cloth at ankle and knee under a butcher's apron.

"No, boy," she answered without looking up, "I'm the passer."

"Oh," said Darius, apparently reorganizing his thoughts. "When can we take a route to Aksum?"

"Hoy, I can get you on your way as soon as I finish with this chicken."

There was a heartbeat of a pause, and then Darius said, "Without going through any part of the Imperium."

"That's where they say all the roads lead to, my boys. And Aksum is one long path to travel if you don't want to go through any Imperial province or protectorate. I can only get you part of the way, and you're lucky I've been walking this Path for as long as I have or I wouldn't have a clue how to get you there. But I know the ins and outs of all these countries, I've been trudging through them long enough. Tomorrow morning at dawn, a road will open to Palis. From there on, you can travel south on horseback or with a convoy, to the border in the province of Kazanstar. I happen to know there's an infrequent Path to Aksum that starts there at times. It won't take you to the capital, though, but to some southern province or other, and if you're lucky, you won't have to wait a month for the Path to open. Now, if you're not in any hurry..." She had eyes like hard, brown walnuts beneath bushy white brows, fixed inquisitively on Darius's face even as the feathers flew.

Darius frowned, but all he said was, "We'll do that. Can you put us up in your inn for the night? My friend and I could use a safe bed to sleep in."

"Yeah, I can see that," she cackled with a glance at Ryou's face. "I got a bed for you, if you have a brass sestertius. I’ll throw in some food for a couple of dupondii, and a silver a man for the passer, of course."

"Of course," said Darius. After some haggling, he handed over a number of coins and then pulled the horses towards the stables.

The stable was not too far off from the outhouse, and Ryou could have found them both with his eyes blindfolded, by smell alone. It made him wonder what the inn was going to be like. He still felt itchy every time he thought of the state of the packs they'd ransacked this morning, an irrational and annoying failure of his usually disciplined mind (or at least he hoped it was irrational).

"You okay?"

Ryou stopped scratching at the skin beneath his collar. "I'm fine, just an itch. Sweat, probably."

Darius gave him a heavy look. "I was talking about your stumble earlier."

"Oh. I don't know what that was, I just felt dizzy."

"Hmph. Just don't do anything. Not here."

"I know."

"Here, help me take care of the horses."

Horses required considerably more maintenance than cars, and these creatures had been somewhat neglected according to Darius. Ryou learned to loosen their gear and walk them to cool them down, then groom, water and feed them, something else he'd never been taught in university. The manual labor chased away the memory of that inexplicable feeling he'd had when stepping through the stone circle.

With a diffuse sense of satisfaction he'd never felt when stopping at a gas station, Ryou watched his cleaned horse plunge its nose into the hayrack. They'd been at the border for just about an hour, and the evening had almost entirely given way to the night. Ryou stretched, trying to work out the kinks from riding, and looked around. The moors and the circle of stone had all gone grey in the twilight. The tiny stream winding its way between two stones and across the clearing must provide the inn with fresh water. At the back of the inn, chickens perched in boxes around a dozing goat, half sheltered by a crude lean-to barn Ryou would have to stoop to enter. Other than that, Ryou did not see how this place was provisioned. It was hard to believe this was one of the famous borders Darius had told him about, the Paths that punctured the layers of the onion to link one distant country to the next.

"What if you ignored the border and just went on riding?" Ryou had asked a couple of days earlier, when Darius had first explained all this. "Wouldn't you get to somewhere else eventually?"

"Oh sure, you'd get to the next country after a few days or weeks. It's hard traveling, though; people settle near cities, rivers and borders, where the commerce is. The land between countries is empty, you can't get provisions. It's also dry, or mountainous, or marshy and nigh-on impassable without a road."

"How long would it take you to get home that way?"

Darius had snorted. "Who knows, not many people travel that way for any distance; months, maybe. And I'm damned if I'd know which direction to go. I'll use the Paths, if that's okay with you. The only ones who march through the countryside are smugglers, bandits and invading armies."

Seeing this tiny inn, the elderly passer and this circle of stones, Ryou now understood why an entire army could not march through here. More importantly, the Per Gathas would not allow this, and with good reason; if their Paths could be the route to an invasion, it would make their borders and their passers strategic targets for defense.

"All done?" Darius asked, coming up behind him. He'd taken care of two of the horses for Ryou's one, and had finished ahead of him. He had a pack in his hands, a selection of items from the saddlebags.

"Yes. I was thinking, the Per Gathas must hold considerable amount of power in your Outlands."

Darius stopped settling a blanket over his shoulder to give Ryou the look of one who'd had to abruptly change mental gears. "Uh, yeah, they do. But they stay mostly out of our affairs. Oh, they keep a heavy hand on what gets traded along the Paths, but they stay neutral in our wars, and nobody tries to drag them in." Darius looked like he was about to add something, but then he glanced over his shoulder at the inn. "Come on, let's go see if that passer managed to make some halfway decent food out of that old egg-layer."

"Don't blame me if dinner's late, I keep getting interrupted," the passer informed them tartly as she stirred a pot bubbling over the fire. Apparently this was going to be old egg-layer stew night. A few amorphous blobs of what were presumably vegetables floated to the surface as she jerked the ladle around. Dried, withered roots and other legumes hung in bunches from the low rafters, forcing Ryou and Darius to duck frequently. A large ham joint and another dead chicken were suspended from hooks near the far door, with a few flies paying worship.

"There's a lot of people traveling from here?" Darius asked, tone casual but eyes fixed on the passer's back.

"As thickly as locusts, boys. There's rumor that the Eighteenth Legion is pulling out of Tortora; Imperial citizens and people who can afford to are leaving this province and heading to Roma Praetorium, or to Assyria or the Maurya Empire or even further beyond if that's where they think they'll be safest. Hell, last week I even had a couple of scribes who were going all the way to the Empire of Sung; may Zaratusra bless their shoes because they'll be traveling quite awhile."

"But there's nobody here now," Darius pointed out, eyes traveling over the interior of the inn once again; he'd been scrutinizing shadows from the moment they'd entered.

"No, they all move on in a day or so. I'm the only passer here, and there aren't that many Paths going through here. I drop them off at one of the larger circles where they travel on from there. Of course, board and bread cost more there, and they might not get away any sooner; the Praised One didn't make tracks through the Veil for anyone's convenience, the Paths are what they are. But they preferred to wait elsewhere, it seems."

When Ryou eventually had the chance to sit at the rustic table and taste old egg-layer stew, he had to concede those other travelers had a point...

After supper, the old woman grabbed a pail of slops and headed out to the barn. Ryou was astoundingly tired considering he'd let the horse do the walking today; he must be used to going to bed with the chickens now. He let Darius lead him to a corner of the inn, and watched his companion put blankets down on a straw mattress before he reacted.

"We're sharing the same bed?"

Darius looked up in surprise. "Of course."

It'd been no question when they were camping rough. Now, however...It would have been less of a problem if Ryou did not have good cause to know that Darius slept naked if it wasn't too cold. From the way he was stripping off his belt and shirt now, the inn was quite warm enough.

"It's a sestertius a bed," Darius said dryly, interpreting Ryou's silence. "That means we're sharing, though I'm sure there's room in the stables if you prefer. I'll not join you; a passer's house is sacrosanct, which means this is the last good night's sleep we'll get for the next twelveday. But don't be bothered on my behalf; maybe you and your horse will get along better if you spend the night together."

"I'll pass," said Ryou, loosening the strap over his forearm to remove the knife.

"Everything as you wish it, my fine young sirs?" asked the passer as she walked in, dumping the pail down near the door.

"Yes, we're okay," said Ryou automatically.

"Good, then I'm turning in. I'll wake you boys up before dawn." She walked over to the fire, took a sip from a beer mug that'd been left on the lintel, smacked her toothless gums in appreciation and then arthritically struggled out of her shirt.

Ryou had been taking off his shoes at that point and happened to glance up and then away very quickly, but not fast enough to have missed seeing a gnarled torso. There were more rustling noises. Ryou couldn't guess if she was taking off the breeches or not, and didn't want to know. When he heard her mutter, he glanced up almost reluctantly, to see her slip into a bundle of blankets on a pallet a couple of meters away from the fire. She muttered to herself for another minute, was silent a minute more (Ryou took off his shoes as quietly as possible) then started to snore.

"Ryou, you heard the woman, we're getting up early. Come to bed." Darius was already under the blankets, his eyes closed.

Ryou slipped in beside him. His discomfort was nothing more than a reflex by now; he knew he was in a different world with different values. He was going to save up all his shock for the way those thugs last night were going to torture and possibly kill him out of hand.

Darius shifted in bed and turned around. Ryou opened his eyes to see what his friend was doing and started as he realized Darius was leaning over him.

The fire in the hearth was the only light left; the innkeeper had removed the smelly bowl of tallow that had illuminated their late-night supper. In the uncertain light, Darius's face was cast in tones of bronze and shadows, his eyes picked out by glints of gold. His face was so close to Ryou's now that the latter had instinctively hitched up onto his elbows that he could feel the fall of Darius's hair against his cheek.

"I forgot to tell you, stick close to me when we pass the river tomorrow; follow in my footsteps as much as you can, and don't do anything that will send us to the Void and back."

Ryou focused on the words and nodded.

"Don't ask any questions she might find suspicious. Passers are charged with keeping an eye out on the movement of people and merchandise. And I think she's naturally curious anyway." The old woman had peppered them with questions over dinner, which Darius had mostly fended off. "If she gets any idea you're from Inland...that will make things complicated."

"Okay."

Darius patted Ryou on the bare skin of his shoulder. "Just stay close to me and you'll be fine. It's not that big a deal, I've passed dozens of borders in my lifetime."

Ryou nodded again, trying to hide the fact that the skin-to-skin contact had been unexpected and a little troubling.

There was a breath of silence. A log in the fireplace crackled and sparked.

In the firelight, Darius's mouth quirked. "We'll be riding hard the next twelveday, camping out rough if we have to. I've got to get to Essin as quickly as I can."

"Yes, you said that."

"Outside of a passer's house, there's no guarantees. We'll be sleeping in turns until we get where we're going, particularly through Kazanstar. War's ploughed that field until it's only pebbles, it's not safe."

"If that's what you think is best."

"...Our last full night in a safe bed, with a warm body for company; such a pity to waste it entirely on sleep."

Ryou shook his head minimally. "Darius, this habit of yours, of trying to get under my skin, is a little annoying."

The lips quirked even more. "Oh? What if I'm serious?"

Ryou gave the passer near the hearth a pointed look.

Darius followed Ryou's gaze, puzzled. "What?"

"She might wake up," said Ryou and then bit his tongue. That almost made it sound like he wouldn't object to-

"What if she does?" Darius sounded honestly mystified.

...Apparently nakedness was not the only social stigma these ancient countries had not bothered with.

Ryou's heart went into overdrive when Darius's hand beneath the blanket settled on his thigh.

"These would be more of a problem," said Darius, referring to the pants that Ryou had decisively worn to bed.

The moment tipped in balance, still mostly a joke but suddenly Ryou wasn't sure that was the only thing it was. The way his body was tingling, he also wasn't sure he'd be able or even willing to stop this, even if there was a woman who could be his grandmother snoring by the fire.

Darius's hand left Ryou's thigh, ghosted up, tipped his face to one side so the left was turned towards the firelight. "Your bruises are doing better. You heal fast; the sign of a strong life force." The finger lingered, tapped Ryou's lips lightly a couple of times...a gesture that was nowhere near a joke and more a self-directed admonition, a reminder of what could not be. Then Darius turned away, the blanket moving about them as he settled back down. "Go to sleep," he muttered.

Darius's breathing eventually softened and deepened; a rhythm Ryou was already familiar with. The passer snorted and snored in the background. Ryou stared at the rafters until they disappeared with the death of the fire.

He's a friend- no, not even a friend, we just got thrown together by the most random and strangest circumstances imaginable, Ryou reasoned. I like to approach people who are similar to myself; he's so different he's from another epoch. He kills for a living, he's got very dangerous people after him, and he's involved in some sort of plot. He also doesn't trust me enough to give me any facts about it despite my life being on the line too, or tell me anything more concrete about himself other than his name and a few other minor details. If he manages to get me back home, something he hasn't even promised to do, then I'll never see him again, and considering everything I've gone through since I met him, that can only be for the best. So what the hell-

...what the hell am I feeling regret over...?

TBC...

Spawnlet teething...waking us up constantly...so tired...I probably missed a ton of typos and potential nonsensical phrasing, sorry...