"And this, above all, to thine own self be true."
~Shakespeare
"Is this a private party, or can anyone join in?" Torisen Black Lord, bearing winesack and glasses, strode into the storage room with a grin. "I noticed you all were missing again. It didn't take much effort to figure out where you had gone to."
Jame laughed. Kindrie melted quietly into the shadows of the round room. "Not since I showed you where we go- right, brother?"
"Indeed. And I am very glad you did, because the mystery of how you managed to escape had me completely baffled." He settled in to his accustomed place, a deep leather chair pushed near the fireplace.
"I was just telling the others about my stay in Tai-tastigon."
"Then by all means, continue." Tori waved encouragement. "I've wondered what you did while you were away."
So Jame continued the tale of her adventures, not necessarily in chronological order. By the time she reached her arrival at Hurlen, all present were enjoying the warm, mellow glow brought on by Torisen's excellent wine.
"What I don't understand," Torisen said, gazing speculatively at his winecup, "is why Tirandys died after drinking my blood."
Jame winced. She knew the reason for that, all right, but was her twin ready to hear it? Names of God. He'd find out sooner or later, wouldn't he? Better he hear it from her. Trying to ignore the familiar feeling that she was doing something supremely stupid, Jame commenced to shatter the foundations of her brother's world.
"Well, Tori, you aren't going to like this." He looked up at her sharply.
"I seldom like what you have to say, Jame. What is it?"
"A changer can only be killed by three things: fire, the Ivory Knife-" her hand absently caressed the specially constructed silver sheath at her side-"or the blood of a Shanir blood-binder."
Beside Jame, Graykin tensed, plainly waiting for the explosion sure to come. A muffled gasp emerged from Kindrie's shadowed chair.
"But what's that got to do with me?" Tori's brows knit together in a puzzled frown. "You can't be saying that-"
He broke off, wild-eyed. Wordlessly, Jame nodded. "It's true, brother."
"No! I am not a Shanir!" He leapt from his chair and stalked to the window, gazing blindly out on the cold wet courtyard of Gothregor below. He swore passionately and inventively in a low voice, pounding his fist against the wall. You had better try, blood-binder, whispered a half-forgotten memory in Jame's voice. Then one that had seared itself into his mind- Binder, joke's on me... A voice out of legend, as it died in extreme agony. Tirandys, betrayer of the Kencyrath and near-immortal changer, as he died in unspeakable agony, torn apart by the blood of a... Shanir blood-binder. He turned to face Jame, eyes fixed on some private nightmare. "I can't be Shanir."
"Brother you may be, but no one calls me a liar," Jame said. The tone of her voice sent shivers racing down Graykin's spine.
"Back off, Jame, he's in shock," he begged. Jame paid him no mind. Focused sharply on her brother, she rose and glided towards him.
"Well, Tori? Would you care to call me a liar again?" The cold black fire of rage burned in Jame. She fought to control it. Icy silver eyes blazed, locked on clouded silver. Jame stood so close that her brother appeared a slightly distorted and aged reflection of her own face, but for the expression. Cold rage met fiery denial and despair.
"No!" A hoarse shout ripped from his throat, then he flung himself across the room, pacing like a caged beast. Jame returned to her seat, shaking with the aftermath of that sudden rage.
"She speaks only the truth, my Lord."
Torisen started violently and spun to face the shadows where Kindrie lurked half-forgotten.
"And what do you know of this?" Tori knew his tone was unforgivably rude, but didn't care. "You, the great Shanir healer, always there to save my wretched hide. Have you then conspired with her to come up with this mad tale?"
"Shanir blood is what makes it possible for a Highborn to bind Kendar to his service." Kindrie steadily ignored the vicious words.
Torisen paused in stunned disbelief. "But- if that were true, then..."
"Yes. All the Highborn Lords have at least a touch of Shanir blood. Ardeth has known this all along, and has waited for the perfect moment to tell everyone else."
"Damn meddler..." Tori whispered. His face slowly drained of color. To add to his unease, he saw Kindrie looking at him with an expression of deep concern. He really didn't need that right now. Of late, he had been feeling even more unsettled than normal by the white haired healer. The man had a profoundly disturbing effect on him that he was afraid to analyze. To distract himself, he returned his thoughts to Adric. "He's- he's one too. And he's bound to that mare!"
At Kindrie's nod, Torisen began to laugh. Jame tensed, anger forgotten, wanting to go to him. The laughter had a slightly hysterical sound to it. Still laughing weakly, he returned to his wide cushioned chair and sank into its embrace. Abruptly the laughter stopped and he buried his face in his hands, elbows on knees. "Leave me," he said, in a choked voice.
Jame and Graykin stood and hurried for the door. She caught hold of Kindrie as he was on his way out. "No," she said. "Stay with him, Kindrie. He needs you."
The healer hesitated, uncertainty plain on his face. He well knew what could happen if he stayed, but some things were worth the risk.
Jame grinned as Kindrie ducked back into the room, then moved off down the hallway. Let's see you resist him with all your illusions shattered, brother.
"Do you think it was wise to tell him?" Graykin asked, touching her arm lightly.
"Probably not. But he had to learn the truth sometime, and better from me than someone else, even Lord Adric."
"How do you think he'll handle it?"
"He'll be alright," Jame said confidently, "once he comes to terms with himself." She wished she felt as confident as she sounded.
Torisen Black Lord, Highlord of the Kencyrath, was in shock. Numb unfeeling held his body captive in the chair. All he could do was sit there, head in hands, and relive the past few turbulent moments. Nothing in the day had prepared him to have the very foundations of his universe cut from under his feet. He had been hiding out in the storage tower, in a keep quiet for once with no demands on his time and attention, listening to his sister tell the tale of her adventures in Tai-tastigon and what she could remember of life in Perimal Darkling. While the tale was incredible, it was scarcely earth-shattering. And then she had dropped this on him- this improbable claim, made possible only by the fact that he knew neither Jame nor Kindrie would lie to him.
Shanir.
His mind turned the word over obsessively. The part of him that was Ganth gibbered in incoherent denial of the possibility. The rest of him... well, to say he accepted the news readily would be a lie. But he could somehow feel the truth of the statement. His logical side presented him with assorted pieces of evidence that he was indeed a Shanir. The dreams... the way you feel every Kendar bound to you... the dreams... the way you felt certain your sister was alive, how you share experiences... the dreams... Other things, as well, things that had made him uneasy about himself in the past- things he had denied and hidden from himself surfaced now, strange insights and knowledge gained from unknown sources, which were always accurate...
The part of him that was Ganth stopped gibbering and fell into a dead silence. The entire legacy of hatred for everything Shanir that had passed down from father to son- it was all hypocrisy. Ganth had been able to bind Kendar, just like every other Highborn Lord. He had been Shanir as well.
Torisen began to laugh again softly, hearing the edge of madness in his own voice.
"My lord," a soft voice intruded upon his private misery.
He raised his head from his hands, to find Kindrie hovering anxiously over him. Sudden fury gripped him. "Why are you here! I told you to leave."
The Shanir winced, but stood his ground. "I would not have you face this alone, my lord."
"No, you wouldn't, would you," Torisen sneered. "You would have to be here, to see me brought to my knees by this- this-" Words failed him. He saw the flash of hurt in Kindrie's eyes and was savagely glad of it. The chaos inside him demanded an outlet, demanded to see another living creature suffer as he did.
"Think of me what you will, Torisen," the healer said stiffly, "but I wish only to help."
"Fine. You may help by leaving." Torisen got up and pushed rudely past the other man. He returned to the glazed window and glared at the clouds as though they were the cause of his problems.
Nothing happened. "What do you want with me?" Torisen snarled, turning on the Shanir unexpectedly. He caught the other staring at him with deep concern.
"I know this can't be easy for you, but-"
"No! Of course it is not easy for me. How could it be? You try to tell me I am the same as you, and I'm supposed to like it? Shanir, God-spawn, unclean, unclean... my father shouted those words as he drove an eight-year-old girl out into the Haunted Lands. You would have me believe that he was Shanir, himself? That the son he spared was as unclean as the daughter he exiled?"
"The truth has been hidden too long, my lord." Kindrie was shaken, but tried not to show it. Even his own father had waited until he was grown to disown him.
"Truth... truth. If this is truth, better I had lived and died in ignorance." He turned slowly back to the window, unable to look at the other any longer. Kindrie's white hair, symbol of the differences which made him Shanir, glowed in the dim light, demanding to be acknowledged.
"Unpleasant though it is, you cannot deny-"
"Deny!" Torisen whipped around. Kindrie fell back a step, recoiling from the Highlord's rekindled rage. "According to you, I have lived my life as a lie. What harm, then, from a little more denial?" He exploded into action, resuming his caged-animal pacing of the room. "Shanir! All the lords, unclean... And dear old Adric, sitting on this knowledge, enjoying his little secret and the power it gave him. How long before you tell him what occured here?"
Kindrie started. Torisen halted again, directing all his rage and attention at the healer. "I- I don't know what you mean!"
"I know Ardeth has set you to spy on me. Hasn't he! Don't bother to deny it, he told me as much on the road through the Oseen Hills."
"There you are wrong, Torisen." Kindrie spoke out without hesitation. "He wanted me to betray your confidence, yes- then as well as later, nearly to the Cataracts. But I am capable of keeping faith, my lord." His voice dripped acid. He was disgusted by the unjust accusation, after all he had done for the Highlord.
"Indeed! And how am I to believe this, when the world is crumbling around me? Betrayal, secrets- it all goes hand in hand. Even Burr carried tales to Adric for years. Why should you be any different? When there is no cause for you to keep faith, as you say."
"No reason, lord, except my own honor." Kindrie glared, so outraged that all his shy diffidence was burned away.
Tension sang through the air as the two glared at each other. Torisen felt lost, at sea, with no firm ground to stand on. Slowly, the anger began to leak away, leaving confusion in its wake. With an effort, he wrenched his eyes away from the outraged Shanir and stumbled back to the window. He felt trapped, unable to escape the situation- or the unwelcome truth. Silence fell over the tower room.
Shanir.
The knowledge ate into him, as corrosive as changer blood. Logically, he knew that neither Jame nor Kindrie would ever lie to him. But with a truth of such magnitude... he could hardly accept it. A bitter tear crept down his cheek to fall unnoticed on the stone windowledge. Shanir. The single tear was joined by several more. Torisen felt as though he was falling into an endless pit. He struggled to hold back a sob. He heard a rustle of movement, then gentle arms folded around him. Tears coursed silently down his cheeks as the truth of his own nature became part of him. Denial would not make it go away. Shanir. He turned to lay his head on the comforting shoulder, clinging to the warmth of another human being in the black pit of despair.
Torisen slowly returned to himself, fully aware at last that he was held by the healer, who stroked his hair comfortingly. His cheek rested on the other's shoulder, in a damp spot. He felt too drained even to be embarassed by his lack of control.
"Kindrie." Torisen expelled a shaky sigh. "Why are you still here?" His voice was soft, devoid of its usual animosity. I can't hate him anymore. There is no cause. A reckless feeling of unreality stole over him. The world had been destroyed, nothing else mattered. Nothing would ever be the same again.
"I could not leave you alone, despite what you said." Kindrie shifted a bit. Torisen realized abruptly he was still cradled in the other's comforting arms and pulled away. He saw a flash of emotion in Kindrie's eyes, but could put no name to it. "I know how difficult this is for you, considering how you feel about us." The washed-out eyes were filled now with compassion.
"Felt." Torisen smiled a bit. "I can't- not anymore. I won't let myself, because I- I am just like you... brother." He held out his hands to the other man.
More emotions flashed across Kindrie's face, quickly repressed- but not quickly enough. Torisen clearly saw startlement, hope, a pure longing so intense that the sight of it burned through him with liquid fire... A carefully buried memory began to work its way to the surface of his mind.
Slowly, hesitantly, Kindrie raised his trembling hands to grasp his lord's. That touch, combined with the memory of how tenderly Kindrie had held him, set off an explosion inside Torisen. He gasped. The buried memory surfaced and gripped him ferociously.It shook him in its teeth and refused to let go.
... Adric leaned forward in his chair, grasping his wine goblet urgently. "That man loves you, Torisen. Can't you see what you're doing to him?"...
With a shock that was akin to getting doused by a bucket of cold water, Torisen realized at last the cause of his discomfort around Kindrie. At the root of all his unease around the other man was caring. All his hate and fear had been caused by his own inability to see beyond prejudice. He had been unable to deal with the thought of a Shanir as a... friend. Now, with his illusions shattered and laying in brittle fragments about his feet, he could admit it. No, more than that- more than simple caring. He was attracted to Kindrie, in a way that he never had been to Kallystine or any other woman. Instantly, one of his father's ugly prejudices reared its rabid head. In the grip of his newfound recklessness, Tori dismissed it without a second thought. After all, everything else in my life has gone merrily off to hell today, why not this too...?
The healer was watching him closely, a frown wrinkle between worried eyes. Tori smiled and squeezed his hands. "Do you know what they say about you, Kindrie?"
Kindrie shook his head mutely, unable to tear his eyes from the Highlord's gaze.
"They say that you love me."
Kindrie gasped, paled, and struggled to remove his hands from the Highlord's grasp. Raw pain twisted his features. "Who said that?"
"No matter. Is it true?" Tori still smiled, still kept firm hold of those cold hands as they tried frantically to escape.
"I-" A visible battle waged across his features, reflection of the turmoil within. "... yes." Kindrie's head bowed, eyes closed. He went limp in Torisen's grasp, sagging in defeat.
The fever of recklessness burned higher in Torisen. "Do you love me as more than a lord?"
"Yes." A faint whisper, almost inaudible.
"As more than a brother?"
"Yes," Kindrie snapped. His head raised and he glared at Torisen, proud and defiant. "I love you as I would a lover. Now will you please let me go?"
"Good." The fire threatened to consume him. "That is what I hoped you would say. And no. I will not let you go- never again." He leaned forward and kissed the other man full on the mouth.
For a brief moment, Kindrie froze, and tried once more to get away. Then he gave in and returned the kiss with a sweetness that made Tori's heart ache with a pleasurable pain. Tori moved away slowly, shaken to his very core by the intensity of the kiss. Kindrie looked at him, cheeks flushed, lips slightly parted, longing plain in his eyes.
"Come here," Torisen murmured through the fire in his veins. He drew the unresisting Shanir across the room, into the oversized chair large enough for two. Kindrie's face lost all traces of uncertainty to blinding joy as he sank willingly into his Lord's embrace. They kissed again. Torisen savored the feel of the other man's body against his own. Perhaps later he would regret this, but for now... No woman had ever awakened such a response in him. He explored the other man's face tentatively with his fingertips, learning it in careful detail. Hesitantly at first, then with greater confidence, he discovered joy in Kindrie's arms, as the room darkened around them.
Torisen was consumed by a fire of lust and uncertainty. He had never felt this way before, in more ways than one. Never in his life had he imagined himself kissing a Shanir. True, he had wondered in the past what it would be like with another man- ever since he'd walked in on his old tentmate all those years ago, with the Southern Host. But that had only been curiosity, not desire. Now, he was at a loss for what to do.
The kiss ended slowly, reluctantly, when Tori pulled away.
"Um, I hate to say this," he said shyly, "but there's a bit of a problem."
Kindrie froze. His expressive face showed his sudden fear clearly.
"It's not serious," Tori soothed hurriedly. "I just- well, I have no experience at this kind of thing." He was surprised by a sudden blush.
"Oh, is that all?" His face relaxed into a smile. "Then I have nearly the same problem."
"Really?" Torisen raised a hand, lightly stroked a wayward clump of hair from Kindrie's eyes.
"Really." He leaned into the stroking hand, eyes closed. "I have little... voluntary experience." His voice twisted bitterly and Torisen could feel the tension through his body.
"What happened?"
"One of the priests had a... liking for young boys." A shudder of revulsion ran through the slight frame. "As did one of the acolytes."
"I'm sorry," Tori whispered into his ear, cradling the white head close. "We don't have to-"
"No," Kindrie interrupted. "It was a long time ago, and I refuse to let bad memories destroy my fun now." And he kissed the tip of Tori's nose.
A grin spread across the Highlord's face. "Fun, huh?" The reckless mood which still gripped him abruptly turned silly and he nipped the other's neck playfully.
"Yes, fun." An answering grin lit up Kindrie's pale features. He began a teasing search for a tickle-spot, giving Tori a very undignified attack of the giggles.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing." Wide blue eyes blinked with overblown innocence. He hit a sensitive spot under Tori's ribs.
"Why, you-" With a mock growl, Tori launched both of them out of the chair and onto the floor- with care for the unforgiving stone. The two rolled around laughing and struggling like small boys.
"Enough," Tori gasped, breathless, as Kindrie came to rest atop him. "I can't take any more..."
Kindrie smiled tenderly. "Then perhaps we should find a more comfortable place."
"Indeed." Tori gazed into his eyes, seeing the intense desire written there and wondering how he had missed seeing it before. Anticipation hung in the air between them, along with a sense of inevitability. Torisen felt as though all his previous encounters with Kindrie had been building towrds this moment. From the initial unease and outright fear, through the uncomfortably conflicting emotions of recent days, to the current attraction- it felt as natural as breathing to pull that white head to him for a slow, sensuous kiss.
"Funny, we're still on the floor," Kindrie observed, a long and breathless moment later. "Come, let's see what this storeroom has to offer."
Tori grunted as the other man moved. "Good idea." The stone floor below dug uncomfortably into his back. The two untangled themselves carefully. Doubt clawed at Torisen- what did he think he was doing? But the shivery-pleasant tingle which raced through him whenever he looked at Kindrie kept him searching through the stored furniture. Madness? Perhaps- but if so, he was determined to enjoy it while it lasted. They found an oversized couch and hauled it out into the bared floorspace Jame used for her Senethar practice.
"A moment," Tori said, and turned to the fireplace. He stirred the forgotten embers to cheerful life to ward off the chill night air. When he returned, Kindrie was seated uneasily on the edge of the couch. Tori settled beside him.
"What is it?"
"Nothing." The thin shoulders hunched.
"Tell me." Torisen toyed with Kindrie's hair. Soft and thick, it curled loosely about his fingers.
"I told you, I won't let old memories ruin my fun," the healer said to his hands. Then he looked up at Tori, illuminated softly by the fire's glow. "It is different now... with you."
"I won't hurt you again, Kindrie." Emotion choked his throat, preventing further speech. At that moment, he could think of nothing he wanted more in the world than to feel Kindrie in his arms again. So he slid over the final few inches seperating them and embraced the other. Kindrie laid his head on the Highlord's shoulder for a moment, then looked up with a smile.
"There is one good thing about what happened," he said.
"Yes? What is it?"
"Now I know what I shall do with you."
And with that, he began an assault on Tori's willing person that had both of them driven nearly over the edge of sanity by pleasure.