Mickey Reichert - Flight of the Renshai

"Again," Saviar agreed, launching into the Renshai maneuver without a hint of the animosity he had sometimes shown their torke. They both knew that the more time he spent with his swords, the faster he would return to his former glory. His last performance would not have satisfied the least discerning Renshai.

Subikahn glanced up to the grassy hill, where Chymmerlee kept her vigil. She had interrupted them only once, to bring Saviar a ladle of water that Subikahn had slapped coldly from her hand. The look of shock and betrayal on her face had inspired a stab of guilt that Subikahn had kept hidden. He had never apologized, and Chymmerlee had learned to keep comforts, words, and self away until the sessions finished.

This time, Saviar performed a passable version of yrtventrig, his sword capering like a live thing, his feet skipping lightly over weeds and stone, his arm demonstrating the calm fusion of deadly quickness and power that belonged to Saviar alone. It was not his best performance; if he were fit, it might have seemed a bit lazy and notably slow. However, the creases on his sweat-streaked face made it clear to Subikahn that Saviar had done the best he could currently manage.

"Not bad," Subikahn admitted.

Saviar beamed, which caught Subikahn off guard. He was not trained as a torke, and he had only once considered his twin something other than an equal. That lapse still haunted him, and he had spent all of Saviar's recovery atoning to his sword.

"We're done until after supper."

Saviar dutifully sheathed his swords. "You're sure?" His gaze strayed toward Chymmerlee, as Subikahn's had moments earlier.

"I'm sure."

Saviar remained in place. He clearly had something to say.

Subikahn did not rush it. He checked over the perfect edge of his sword, delaying until his brother managed to work through his reluctance.

At length, Saviar said, "Do you… like her?"

"Her?" Subikahn followed Saviar's gaze. "Chymmerlee?"

"Yes. Do you like her?"

It seemed a nonsensical question. "Of course, I like her. She saved my brother's life."

"Yes." Saviar moved with restless dissymmetry. "But when I say 'like,' I mean-"

Subikahn finally got it. "-desire?" he suggested. "Lust? Do you mean do I want to thump her?"

Saviar's cheeks flamed. "Um… that's not exactly… I mean… I just…"

He's still a virgin, Subikahn realized suddenly. Up until this year, so was I. "I'm sorry, Saviar. I shouldn't have been that crude." He added reassuringly, "Don't worry. I'm not interested in her… that way." He could not help asking, "Are you?"

"I think…" Saviar did not look at his twin, still blushing. "I think… I might be. How… how do you tell?"

How do you tell? Subikahn had never considered his emotions in physical detail, but he tried for Saviar. "Do you want to be with her nearly all the time?"

Saviar nodded.

"Does her every look, every touch, every smile usurp the rest of the world for that one moment?"

Saviar's brow knitted in thought. "I-"

"Do you want to…" Not wishing to further embarrass his brother, Subikahn softened his question, "… kiss her?"

"I already did," Saviar admitted, the flush still clear on his face. "Her lips tasted so good, so… familiar."

Subikahn placed a hand on his hip in mock sternness. "Don't you think you should have asked me about my feelings for her before you kissed her?"

"I… I… suppose. I'm… I'm sorry… I…" Saviar's eyes narrowed. "I thought you said you weren't interested."

"Not interested in her." Subikahn smiled. "I'm still perfectly interested in teasing you."

"Funny."

"And it's no wonder she tasted familiar.You know, while you were 'out,' we shoved a reed down your throat and she chewed up your food so you wouldn't starve to death." Subikahn waited for a look of utter disgust that never came.

Saviar's cheeks finally found their normal pale color. "She did that for me? That's so…"

"… disgusting?" Subikahn inserted.

"… sweet. So caring."

Subikahn rolled his eyes. "You like her 'that way,' all right. Have at her."

"Have at?" Saviar gave his twin another irritated look. "You're talking vulgarities again."

"No. Practicalities. Sex is the only real relationship you two can ever have."

Saviar shook his head, one side of his upper lip drawn upward. He clearly found the turn of the discussion distasteful. "How so?"

"Because bringing our bloodline into theirs is all the Myrcidians really want from us." Subikahn turned away, not wanting to see the disappointment on his brother's face when he pointed out the only viable truth. "They know we can't throw spells, so we're useless to them in that regard. We can help strengthen and vary their line, I suppose; but we'll also further dilute it. Only you and I know we don't actually have a trace of the magical blood they're expecting from us."

"I've been thinking about that-" Saviar started, but Subikahn broke in.

"No, Saviar, it's not us giving off that aura. It's just the sword they're detecting."

"Is it?"

"Yes." Subikahn did not want Saviar deluding himself for love. "I haven't seen a 'glow' since I gave it to you. I could see them plainly while I held it, whenever they used magic."

"But Renshai have interbred with other peoples they conquered. Maybe-"

"Maybe some Renshai carry the blood of Myrcide. Maybe. But it's not likely to be us. Mama descended from the line of Modrey, the most pure-blooded Renshai." Subikahn shook his head. "I'm sorry, Savi, but Kevral Tainharsdatter was Renshai through and through. And, if the mages of Myrcide ever find that out, they'll run us through and through." He mimicked a sword thrust into each of their guts.

Saviar did not argue, though they both knew death by Myrcidians would not come in the form of a sharpened weapon.

Subikahn sighed loudly. He knew the time had come. "Savi, there's something I need to tell you."

Saviar looked at him brightly, all interest. The seriousness in Subikahn's voice had clearly not escaped him.

Saviar had no memory of the events preceding his coma. Subikahn had told his twin that an attack by Northmen had resulted in the wound in his thigh. The lie had slipped past his lips without forethought or intention. When it came time to admit his own hand in the wounding, the words would not come, his mouth would not allow him to speak the truth. "You still remember nothing of the day you got hurt?"

"Nothing," Saviar said.

"So you don't remember… our duel?"

"Duel? We dueled?" The skin around Saviar's eyes crinkled. "You mean spar, don't you?"

Subikahn did not wish to argue semantics. "Spar, then. What made it a duel to me was that we had a wager riding on it. If I won, you would stop bothering me about my 'secret.' If you won, I would reveal it."

Saviar nodded sagely. "Ah! So we were sparring, dueling if you wish. So that's how the Northmen caught us off guard."

Subikahn did not disabuse his brother of that notion, nor did he confirm the lie. He preferred Saviar go to the grave believing a stranger had inflicted the wound that nearly killed him, not for his own sake but for Saviar's. His twin had already talked about his disappointment in their younger brother, in their mother, in his grandfather, and, most especially, in his father. Saviar had one family member left to believe in, and Subikahn would not betray that trust, no matter how wrongly given. They had both acted with childish bravado, foolishly. The guilt for that mistake was Subikahn's alone to bear.

However, Subikahn refused to prey upon his brother's memory loss for his own gain. Though it might shatter their bond as fully as admitting the stabbing, Subikahn had to fulfill his promise. "Saviar, you won that duel."

"I did?"

"And you earned the right to know what happened in Stalmize, if you still want to know." Though he did not expect it, Subikahn hoped Saviar would play gallant and allow the mystery to remain hidden.