Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;

Tomorrow will be dying.
~Robert Herrick

"I'm worried about them." Jame said, pacing restlessly about their small common room. "They've been in there for hours."

"Relax, Jame." Graykin didn't even look up from his book. "They're fine."

Jame stopped pacing, suddenly decisive. "I'm going to see what's happening."

"Wait for me," Graykin said, but he was too late. She was already out the door. He sighed, closed his book, and started after her.

It wasn't far to the tower chamber where they had destroyed Torisen's world earlier. Jame opened the door silently and stuck her head in. A quiet murmur of voices and a low chuckle emerged. Equally silently, she removed her head and closed the door. Graykin thought she was blushing, but it was impossible to tell in the dim light.

"Well?"

"They're- um- busy," Jame replied. Now he was sure of it- she was blushing. "Remember what Adric told us about Kindrie?"

"What?" Graykin looked at her blankly for a moment, then the light of understanding dawned on his face. "You mean-"

"That's right," she nodded. "It looks as though Tori has made more than one discovery about himself today."

"Oh my..."

Jame opened the door again, this time with enough noise to warn the couple within. Torisen and Kindrie- fully clothed, thankfully- looked up with identical startled glances from their shared seat on an overgrown couch. Dark head and light raised from a position of obvious intimacy. Kindrie hastily moved away, looking wide-eyed at the intruders as they resumed the seats vacated so long ago.

"I suppose you're wondering what happened here," Tori said with a rueful smile. His hand reached for Kindrie's.

"I should think that's obvious. It's about time you figured this out."

"It would seem you know more about me than I do myself," Tori said. Jame marveled at his face- completely relaxed, no tension or worries at all. She hadn't seen him so totally happy since before she had left her father's keep. "Any more shocking truths you've got hidden up your sleeve?"

"None today, brother. Give me some time, I'm sure more will emerge." She shook the full sleeve of her d'hen at him playfully. After the first month or so, he had given up on trying to make her dress like a proper Highborn Lady. "It's getting dark in here." She found a candle and lit it at the fireplace, which had been the only source of light in the room. She lit all the candles in their wall sconces, flooding the room with a cheerful light. Then she settled comfortably into her favorite chair.

"Some things you don't need light for," Tori said softly. He grinned wickedly as Kindrie blushed and Graykin coughed to cover a laugh. Jame howled with mirth, which set Torisen to chuckling. Kindrie ducked his head, unable to hide his flaming face.

"Enough," Tori said, squeezing Kindrie's hand. "You're embarassing my shy friend here."

Kindrie raised his head, a gleam of humor in his eyes. "I would say Jame knows well which things need no light... else why would she laugh so hard?"

"Ha! He's got you there, sister," Tori crowed.

Jame rapidly gained control of herself and hoped she wasn't blushing as well. She never would have expected quiet Kindrie to say something like that. Unbidden, an image of the famous Tastigon courtesan Melissand came to her mind, implying that Jame would be a more than welcome guest in her bed.

"Well, anyway," and she shot Tori a glare to make him stop laughing, "we just wanted to make sure you weren't at each other's throats."

"But they are," Graykin commented blandly.

"Not that way," she snapped in mock anger.

"Jame," Tori said, with a lightning change of mood, "how did you know about me?"

"Adric told me. At least, he told me a little- he told me about Kindrie. Tirandys told me indirectly that you were Shanir- he was the one that told me a blood-binder's blood would kill him." She swallowed against the lump in her throat. Tirandys, Senethari... you served honor as best you could. Better that it is over. But was it? Was it really over? She had the oddest sense that Tirandys was still with her, somehow.

"And when he died, you were there to see that it was my blood that did him in. Interesting." He cocked his head, curiosity bright in his eyes. "He pulled you back from wherever you were. What happened then, anyway?"

Jame leveled a long, serious look at her brother. "There are some things you just don't want to know." He still was not aware that Jamethiel Dream-Weaver had been their mother. She shifted in her chair, curling her feet up under her. Then she glanced speculatively at Kindrie. "I wonder how people are going to take this."

"Um," Graykin broke in hurriedly, "it's getting late. Surely it must be dinner time. We'd better go. Shall we have them send something up to you?"

Kindrie smiled, laughter dancing in his eyes. "Now that you mention it, I am rather hungry." He shot a smouldering look at Torisen.

"Ha!" Jame barked. "I'll just bet you are! Tori, your friend here has got a dirty mind." She rose reluctantly to follow Graykin, who was waiting impatiently by the door.

"No worse than yours, dearie," Kindrie grinned. "You're the one who assumed I meant something other than food."

"He's got you again," Graykin observed, and all but dragged Jame from the room.

"What was that all about?" Jame asked. "You know what people are going to say."

"Yes, I do know. That's why I didn't want you saying anything. Let's let them enjoy one night at least, without worrying about what people will say."

"Oh. You're right."

Anything else she might have said was forestalled by the door opening behind them. Startled, they turned to see Torisen and Kindrie emerge.

"We decided to join you," Tori said.

The evening meal was an unexpected trial. Torisen took his accustomed place at the high table, while Kindrie lurked in the shadows of the far corner, among the Kendar. Although Highborn, he had always preferred to keep out of the Highlord's sight. Now the Highlord found himself straining for glimpses of the Shanir. Torisen hoped his tablemates would overlook his unusual preoccupied moodiness.

Unusual... now there was a word that fit the events of the day. First Jame's recital of the events of the past twenty years- ten for her, then the discovery of his true heritage, then the amazing discoveries he had made with Kindrie... He shook himself and drank from his goblet, hoping no one had noticed the tender smile which had spread across his features of its own accord.

Why? he wondered. I used to think I hated him- didn't I? Except after that night in the White Hills... He shuddered. Best not to think of that. He glanced at the far corner and met Kindrie's eyes. A warm glow spread through him. He felt better tonight than he could ever remember feeling before. Certainly Kallystine had never made him feel this good.

Suddenly his guts clenched in a painful cramp. What did he think he was doing? He had done something unthinkable, unspeakably filthy... Torisen became aware that he was gripping his wine goblet nearly hard enough to bend the heavy pewter. That is Ganth's voice, he reminded himself sternly. With an effort, he unclenched his fingers. Ganth, the mad hypocrite. Do not listen. Remember the joy... There is nothing wrong with two men sharing their bodies. What finally settled his guts was the memory of the look on Kindrie's face as he first drew the Shanir into his welcoming arms.

"Tori!" Jame, his seat-mate, nudged him sharply. Startled, he looked up. "Burr's getting worried."

"How will I ever manage to survive this?" he muttered. "I'm sorry, Burr," he said aloud. "I was just thinking."

For the rest of the evening, he made an effort to be polite. He retired early, almost immediately after the servants cleared the dessert dishes. When Jame left soon after, Burr followed her into the torchlit corridor.

"My Lady, what is his problem? Is it another dream?"

"He's been trying to lose his prejudices towards the Shanir," Jame said. She wasn't averse to planting a helpful rumor. "It is difficult for him, but he is trying. He can scarcely continue to hate all Shanir blindly, with me here."

Burr nodded, obviously relieved. "That I can understand."

Servants passed them, going on about their tasks. Jame had no doubt that the rumor would be all over the keep in an hour.

"Thank you, my Lady." Burr bowed and headed for his rooms, relief plain in his step.

Jame stopped by Tori's suite on her way to her own bed. She told him of the newest rumor in the keep, so he wouldn't blow his own cover when someone confronted him about it.

"Thanks," he said. He twisted his hands with nervous energy, looking as though he was about to explode from the chair he occupied.

There was a knock at the door. Graykin stuck his head in and said, "Tower room, one hour."

"Huh?"

"Be there, in our tower room, in one hour."

"Will do," Torisen said, hope lighting his eyes. Jame looked away quickly, focusing instead on Graykin. He lifted an eyebrow at her, and she grinned.

"Tori, I'll see you tomorrow," she said. She stretched as she rose, then accompanied Graykin out of the room.

Torisen paced his rooms in a fury of impatience. An hour, Graykin had said. What was so special about an hour? Why did he have to wait? He wanted to see Kindrie now. This was ridiculous. He was Highlord, this was his own keep. Surely he could do as he wanted.

Time passed slowly, marked by the slow burning of the time candle. At last the specified hour arrived. Torisen took a deep breath, told himself firmly to stop shaking, and slipped out the door. His signature black garb blended nicely with the shadows between torches. He smiled and stroked his velvet vest. Burr would have a litter of kittens if he could see me now. He had changed his plain everyday garb for a fine silk shirt, with velvet vest and matching trousers. His soft boots made no sound on the tower stairs. He had needed something to fill the time while he waited... and for the first time since he could remember, he actually cared about his appearance.

He reached the door and hesitated, hand on the latch. He experienced a sudden irrational fear. What if Kindrie wasn't in there? Or worse yet, what if he was and had changed his mind?

"Don't be ridiculous," he muttered, then lifted the latch and entered the room.

Soft candlelight lit a room entirely different from the one he remembered from the afternoon. The room had held several dusty, worn, but still comfortable chairs, couches, and a low table, which was pushed under the window. Now, however...

Under the window stood a table with two chairs. A small tray of finger foods sat there, along with a bottle of fine sparkling wine and two goblets. The other furniture had been pushed to the shadows of the far side of the round tower, all but the large couch, which now stood facing the fireplace. Spread across the floor, between couch and hearth, was a feather mattress heaped high with furs and blankets, close enough to the fire to ward off even the icy chill of the night.

"What-" Tori said aloud, then stepped the rest of the way into the room. It was empty. He settled in front of the fire, anticipation warring with disappointment inside him. He had barely gotten comfortable when a faint sound at the door alerted him to Kindrie's arrival.

The other man's face bore a stunned expression which Torisen was sure was the twin of his own. "What happened in here?"

"Jame and Graykin, I believe." Tori found that his voice was shaking. He rose carefully, trying to mask muscular tremors with grace. He closed the door firmly behind Kindrie, and locked it as well. He raised his eyes to Kindrie's face almost fearfully, not certain what he would find there. A hint of uncertainty, a flash of fear, a naked desire to match his own. "They've given us the night... shall we make use of it?"

A slow smile spread across Kindrie's sharp features. Torisen felt warmth spreading from his belly outward. "We shall."

Their lips met eagerly. Torisen's last coherent thought was of gratitude to Jame and Graykin.

The chill night air nipped at Torisen's face. The rest of him rested in cozy warmth in the snug nest of a bed. Kindrie dozed against his shoulder. He stroked the Healer's smooth back absently, gazing into the blackness. The fire had burned to little but embers and the room was blacker than heart's despair. His thoughts spun slowly round his head, in a predictable cycle. I can't believe this happened... this was incredible...Shanir... why him?... why a man?... I can't believe...

Long ago, when he had first joined the Host under Ardeth's name, he'd walked in on his tentmate "sharing warmth," as he'd put it, with another man. He had liked his tentmate enough to fight past the conditioned prejudices and attempt to understand how such a thing could happen. He had wondered a few times what it would be like, but he'd never expected to experience the answer firsthand. And a Shanir... he tightened his grip on Kindrie.

Shanir. Just like him.

With a conscious effort, Torisen wrenched his mind away from that thought and replayed a memory from earlier to distract himself. The totally open look on the healer's face, the infinite tenderness of his touch...

So incredible, he thought. But how am I supposed to deal with this? What will happen if others know? My position as Highlord is still not secure enough to survive a scandal... other than Jame, of course. He snorted. His sister was wreaking havoc among the Highborn. What should he do with her? Perhaps send her boundless energy over to Chantrie, set her to rebuilding it. Now there was a thought indeed. But what do I do about Kindrie?

Relaxation soon stole the ability to think coherent thoughts from him. He removed his arm carefully from under the sleeping healer, flexing it in a futile attempt to restore circulation. Kindrie made a sound of protest and snuggled closer. Tori smiled, then drifted off to sleep gently for the first time within recent memory.

On to part IV