Lynn Flewelling - Shadows Return

“Your arrival is unexpected but most welcome, Seregil of Rhíminee! And Alec, too,” he exclaimed, clasping hands with them both when they’d dismounted.

Yhali offered a hand to each of them and led them inside. “Come in, and your escort, too. I’ve ordered a feast in your honor.”

“You shouldn’t go to such trouble for unannounced guests,” Seregil replied, as etiquette required. Any guest-expected or otherwise: friend, enemy, or stranger-could expect such hospitality at any clan house in the land.

Traneus and his men were given rooms and the use of the household bath chambers. Seregil and Alec, however, were given a bedchamber by the family’s private bath.

“Your favor has improved here,” Alec noted, sliding happily into the warm, scented water. After so many days in the same clothes, he was hardly even bothered by the presence of the bath attendants.

Seregil had no such modesty, ignoring them completely as he threw off his clothes and settled in the deep tub next to Alec’s. “That means more than I can say, talí,” he admitted with a deep sigh of satisfaction. “I guested here so often in the old days, with my uncle and kin, it was like a second home. I don’t mind so much not having a name, so long as I have a welcome.”

By the time they’d refreshed themselves, a meal had been laid out on the long tables under the trees in the central courtyard. The little fretted lamps nailed to the trunks were lit, too, just as Alec remembered.

Seregil was given a place of honor on Riagil’s right. Alec sat at Yhali’s left. Traneus, Alec noted with secret amusement, looked a bit put out with his place far down the table.

Yhali poured a cup of wine and passed it to Seregil for the guest’s libation.

Seregil tipped a few drops onto the flagstones, then took a sip and passed the cup to his hosts. It was more than a ceremony; it was an unspoken pledge that neither party would harm the other while they shared the same roof.

“What brings you across the Osiat at such an unlucky time of year?” the khirnari asked as the spiced lamb and parsley bread were served.

“We’re on the queen’s business,” Seregil replied. “Phoria has sent us to Bôkthersa to fetch Princess Klia home.”

“Ah, she will be pleased!” Yhali exclaimed. “I think she’s been homesick, though she’s too proud to say so.”

“And this is your escort?” Riagil raised an eyebrow at the small number of Skalans.

“I think we can ride from here to Bôkthersa without fear,” Seregil assured him.

“Queen Phoria has sent new soldiers to attend her sister.” Riagil paused, letting the observation hang on the air as he sipped his wine. “We thought that very odd.”

“I’m not privy to the queen’s thoughts,” Seregil replied. “Captain Traneus, can you shed any light on the subject?”

The captain rose and bowed. “I fear not, my lords, though I’m sure her reasons were sound.”

Riagil seemed satisfied and the conversation soon turned to talk of rains and trade, births and horses.

As soon as the meal was over, Traneus took his leave and went to see his men settled for the night. Seregil and Alec lingered a while under the flicking lanterns, enjoying the autumn night and the last of the year’s night-blooming white flowers. A young woman fetched a harp, and Seregil obliged his hosts with some soft music, while Alec accepted a challenge to shoot against some of the young men who’d heard of his prowess with his Black Radly.

“It seems odd that the queen would not send you with a proper escort,” Riagil observed.

Seregil smiled over his harp, still playing. “I know the way, and too many Skalans would only slow us down.”

“I see. But you would perhaps not object if I sent a few riders with you, as well? As your host, I feel it is my duty. I’ve been meaning to buy more of your sis-” He paused and gave Seregil an apologetic look. “I mean to buy more of Bôkthersa’s fine horses. I’ll send my kinsman, Aryn í Arisei, and his servants to trade for me.”

Seregil bowed his head respectfully. “We would be glad of their company.”

They sat a while longer, then Yhali walked with them back to their room and bade them good night. She lingered a moment, clasping Seregil’s hand. “Welcome back, Seregil í Korit. To me, you will always have a name.”

Seregil swallowed around a sudden tightness in his throat. “Thank you, dear lady.”

When she was gone, Alec took out Thero’s yellow message stick and broke it in two, releasing the little burst of light. “I don’t know what difference it really makes, but I feel a bit easier with that done, and with some Gedre riders on the road, too.”

“So do I. I wasn’t looking forward to being on a lonely stretch of road with Phoria’s dog and his men.” Then he grinned as he cast a meaningful look at the safely locked chamber door and the broad, clean bed. “Things are looking up, all around, wouldn’t you say?”

ALEC WOKE SMILING the next morning, bathed in early sunlight and trapped under Seregil’s arm.

Seregil opened one eye. “Good morning.”

“Good morning yourself. Move off. You’re heavy.”

Seregil rolled onto his back and yawned. “We stink. Bath.”

Riagil found them there as they soaked, and introduced his young kinsman, Aryn. Alec covered himself as best he could with the sponge, blushing furiously. Both Gedre smiled and obligingly turned away a bit.

Seregil lounged at ease, uncaring as always, damn him.

“I mean to take the coastal route to Smuggler’s Pass,” Aryn told Seregil. “That’s the fastest route to Bôkthersa, though we may encounter some early snow in the pass.”

Seregil nodded. “Good. Give us time to dress and we’ll meet you in the courtyard.”

“Breakfast first,” Riagil insisted. “Yhali won’t forgive me if you don’t have a proper send-off. My apologies, Alec í Amasa, for disturbing you.”

Seregil held off until they were alone again, then threw a towel at Alec, laughing. “Tsk, such blushing! People will talk. Especially about that rather unfortunate mark I left there, under your left ear.”

Scowling darkly, Alec climbed from the tub, found a small mirror among the bath supplies, and examined the purpling love bite. “I hate it when you do that!”

“I don’t recall you-”

“Shut up!” Alec growled, fighting back a grin of his own as he wrapped himself in a towel.

“Well, at least we remembered to close the windows.” Seregil stood up from the tub, water streaming down his lean belly and thighs and dripping from the beginning of fresh arousal between his legs. He gave it an amused look, then glanced up at Alec. “It’s going to be a long ride to Bôkthersa.”

Laughing, Alec threw the dripping bath sponge at his head.

Aryn í Arisei and a small escort of Gedre horse traders joined them for the morning meal, and their hosts sent them on with a string of provision horses, letters of passage, and a packet for Adzriel.

They set out north along the arid, rocky coastline, heading for what the Gedre and Bôkthersans called Smuggler’s Pass. There were no farms here, just scattered fishing villages, and some goatherds. To the west, the jagged peaks of the Ashek range stretched into the distance like a great row of fangs for as far as the eye could see.

The Skalan soldiers were quiet at first, not knowing what to make of their unexpected companions, but the ’faie traders quickly won them over, practicing their Skalan on them, and acting as interpreters.

Traneus rode with Alec and the others at the front of the little column, and even he warmed up a bit, laughing at some long story Aryn was trying to tell him in broken Skalan.