Mickey Reichert - Flight of the Renshai

"Of course I want to know."

Subikahn glanced up the hill to ascertain that Chymmerlee remained in place, that she had not slipped within earshot as their practice finished. "Remember, it sundered the bond between my father and myself. You know how close we were. Don't you worry that it might do the same to us?"

"No," Saviar said with a matter-of-factness ill-suited to the significance of the moment. "Because you said it didn't involve murder, and nothing less than the deliberate slaughter of family members could pull us apart."

Subikahn huffed out a breath he did not realized he was holding. "All right. Here it is." He paused, not for dramatic purposes but because once he spoke the words, he could not retract them. "My lover…" He glanced at Saviar.

His twin waited patiently, a blank expression on his face.

"… is…" It came out in a rush. "… Talamir."

Saviar blinked. He gave no other reaction. "Talamir?" he finally said. "Your torke?"

Subikahn nodded, still waiting for understanding to sink in to Saviar's mind.

"I don't think there're any rules against loving your torke. Are there?"

Clearly, Saviar did not understand. "I didn't say I loved him, Savi, though I do. I said he was my lover."

"All right."

Saviar still did not seem to understand the significant point, so Subikahn went right to the heart. "Don't you get it, Savi. I thumped another man."

Saviar's brows knitted, not in disgust but in consideration. "What was that like?"

Astounding. Subikahn did not speak the word aloud. Though true, it did not address the actual intent of the question. "It was like… like having sex with another man." It clearly needed saying, outright and clear as finest crystal. "Saviar, I've made love with women, too; and I didn't enjoy it. I greatly prefer men, and Talamir is the only one I want. Forever."

"I get it." The rephrasings and repetition seemed to have done their job. "So, why is this a problem for King Tae?"

Or not. "Why is this a problem…?" Subikahn could not believe his brother's deliberate denseness. "Saviar, aren't you hearing me. I slept with a man. And when I say slept-"

"You mean sex," Saviar finished. "You've explained that. I admit it's a bit unusual, but you're not the first male lovers in history."

"It doesn't bother you?"

Saviar's broad shoulders rose and fell. "Why should it? It means you and I won't compete over the same… um… lovers. Right?"

Subikahn laughed, as much from relief as the idea that he could ever contend with handsome, honest Saviar when it came to attracting a mate.

"Like our fathers did."

Saviar had an undeniable point. Tae had had little to offer Kevral compared to Ra-khir, yet she had slept with both of them. Of course, she had chosen Ra-khir in the end.

"So you're not repulsed by me?"

"Often," Saviar joked. "But not because of who you love."

Subikahn smiled, openly, genuinely. Never in all his imaginings had he expected his brother to take the news so well. He had pictured himself justifying, pleading, crying, shouting. This was too easy. Does he really, truly understand what I'm saying? He wanted to gush, to fawn all over his twin, to tell Saviar that no better brother existed in the world. Yet, only the barest portion of his appreciation emerged, "Thanks, Savi."

Saviar dismissed the less-than-effusive praise with a wave. "Thanks for what? Loving my brother the way he is? It's only as it should be."

Saviar made it all sound so simple. "My father didn't see it that way. It's a capital crime in the East, and he's convinced Talamir raped me."

"Did he?"

Subikahn could not make sense of the question. "Did who what?"

"Did Talamir rape you?"

Rage and sadness stirred within Subikahn. He had not allowed himself to dwell on the situation for a long time, focusing all his worry and attention on Saviar. "Of course not."

"Tell that to your father."

"I did. He won't listen. He wants to believe that Talamir took advantage of me, that I'm completely innocent. He thinks if I experience the world, I'll realize Talamir actually did coerce me. That I'm not really a… a bonta."

"A what?"

"A bonta," Subikahn repeated. "It's a vulgar, Eastern term for a man who sleeps with men." The need to explain took some of the sting from the word.

"Bonta," Saviar repeated, to Subikahn's surprise. "Bonta, bonta. Hmmm." He looked directly at Subikahn. "I like it. If I ever have a daughter, I think I'll name her Bonta. Bonta Saviarsdatter."

Subikahn could not help laughing. The term could never hurt him again. "Saviar, you're an idiot."

"Yes," Saviar agreed. "And don't you ever forget it." His smile suddenly wilted; then, as quickly reappeared, broader than before.

"What?" Subikahn demanded.

"I just remembered something. What Mama told me to tell you when she gave me the sword." He patted the hilt of Motfrabelonning. "It didn't make sense to me at the time, and I was so focused on having seen a Valkyrie, on having Mama speak to me after death."

Subikahn held his breath. He had never worried about not getting one of Kevral's swords. She had exactly two; it only made sense for her to gift them to the sons who had attended her death.

"She said…" Saviar paused just long enough for Subikahn to worry that the proper portion of memory had disappeared along with the recollections surrounding their duel. "She said," Saviar started again, " 'Tell Subikahn he will find true happiness when he is true to what the gods made him.' "

Subikahn considered the words for several moments, not wanting to misinterpret his mother's dying message. He thought he knew, but he needed confirmation that he was not just putting the spin on them that he preferred. "What do you suppose she meant by that?"

Saviar tapped his foot, giving his brother a sidelong look. "I think she was trying to say…"

The pause made Subikahn impatient, "Yes?"

"She was trying to say that…"

Subikahn's next utterance held suspicion. He had a feeling Saviar was baiting him. "Ye-es?"

"Get used to being a bonta, because it's what the gods made you."

Subikahn finally let out his held breath in a ragged sigh. "I was hoping you'd say that."

The weather grew cold much more quickly than a change of seasons could explain. Calistin had lost track of time but doubted entire months had passed without his knowledge. The forest gave way to twisted, struggling trees and brush burned by frost. Evergreens predominated, dull-spined and prickly, and the ground lay frozen into hard craters that hampered the footwork of his new sword maneuvers.

Children scurried through the brush, gathering stray bits of wool that clung to brambles and limbs. They stared at the trio as they passed, sometimes gawking at the blazing sword practices, but they did not run frightened nor approach with questions. Soon, Calistin noticed sheep droppings near the bits of wool, then the animals themselves placidly grazing on tough shoots and scraggly nettles.

Treysind dashed up to announce, "There's a town ahead." Ordinarily, interrupting a Renshai's practice meant death or, at least, the threat of it. But Colbey and Calistin went at it so much, it seemed impossible not to catch them during a session or spar. Treysind had taken to shouting from a distance when he wanted or needed their attention. By the time they reached him, he apparently reasoned, they would not impulsively disembowel him in a frenzy of misplaced battle rage.

This time, Colbey took the disruption totally in stride. He ended a complicated demonstration with an abrupt sheathing of both swords. "Ah, yes. That would be Aerin." He gave it a crisp Northern pronunciation: Ah-REEN.

"Aerin," Calistin repeated, breathless from practice. He tried to remember why that name sounded so familiar. His eyes widened in sudden recognition. "As in the tribe of Aeri?" Realization struck like lightning. "We're in the Northlands?"