Elane

  "I need a moment to think. Stay here until I call you to my office," Elaine said.

  She expected Darion to object. But he nodded and sat down on the bed, and when she looked back, his face was unmasked, full of ache and tenderness. She preferred the insolent arguing.

  As she turned toward her office, Marie was standing in the hallway.

  "I'll bring some tea," she said, and Elaine nodded. A truly good servant didn't need to be commanded.

  Her hands trembled slightly as she opened the door. She stood for a moment and took a deep breath before entering.

  One outlaw was enough. She could handle Alensar, but not Darion. She would need to think of a way to convince him to leave.

  And to say she was handling Alensar felt like a stretch. Already, this was a complete disaster. A drunk night on the town would have been manageable. But grievous wounds and dead men were another thing entirely. Darion's claims that there wouldn't be trouble did little to reassure her. Though his assessment of the corrupt city guard wasn't wrong.

  Oberon was paying her, but it was not enough for the trouble.

  She sat back in her chair, closed her eyes, and tried to calm down. She wouldn't be able to find a solution until her thoughts stilled.

  Marie came in with the tea. She put Elaine's favorite teacup and saucer down. The cup was a swirl of blue and white, the gilding having worn away with time. All the others in the set had been lost over the years. The other cup was a plain white one, from the servant's cupboards. Marie poured both and then sat down. On the tray was yet one other servant's cup, empty.

  "What do you think I should do?" Elaine asked, taking a sip of the fragrant brew.

  "What do you feel right now?" Marie sipped her tea with obvious pleasure.

  "Tired, frightened." Elaine mixed the words with a sigh.

  "If you called the guard on him, and he might go to Tragst," Marie said. "And Val Alensar would never cooperate again."

  Elaine wasn't sure how much Marie knew, but it didn't matter.

  "We could tell Val Alensar that Darion left on his own," Elaine said without conviction.

  "Val Alensar would not believe that. We all know Darion won't leave. His suggestion to work as a guard is a good one."

  Elaine raised her brows. "So you think I should take him on?"

  "I don't think Val Alensar will find a more capable or loyal guard. And he clearly needs one, if he's getting into scrapes the moment he leaves the house."

  "Scrapes indeed." Elaine shook her head. "How can I trust him to cooperate?"

  Marie had a half smile. "He already helped a great deal."

  "Given his history-"

  "Given yours."

  Elaine paused rather than argue. She rarely reflected on the most distasteful part of her work. The hollow-eyed skeletons she sentenced.

  She was just a part of a greater bureaucracy. She didn't contribute to their deaths in any meaningful way.

  She looked at the teacup in her hands.

  She also didn't try to stop them in any meaningful way.

  "Bring him in," she said, seeing that Marie had finished her tea.

  Marie poured Elaine another cup, then filled the empty one, taking hers away.

  It didn't take Darion long to appear.

  He raised his brows at the teacup ready for him.

  "Am I supposed to ask for permission to sit down?" His tone seemed more incredulous than curious, but he remained standing.

  She gestured for him to sit, and he did not, his bulk and height giving off authority in his resistance.

  She was sure he knew that.

  "It's typical that the lower-ranked person waits for permission."

  He cocked his head. "You seem to think I'm lower rank."

  "Regardless of what you consider your relationship to Val Alensar, you are, in fact, a commoner."

  "Or a Karangasz Val." He had a half-smile.

  Elaine took a breath to argue, but found her mind blank.

  He sat down. "But I'll play along for now."

  He took the teacup without her invitation and sipped it. The delicate object seemed wrong in his large, rough hands, his knuckles calloused and scabbed.

  He smiled and settled back into the chair. "This is good. You must know your teas well."

  "It's my servant, Marie's, expertise. She knows how to prepare it to my taste." This wasn't strictly true. Marie prepared things to her own taste, and Elaine supported her with a rather large tea budget.

  "I don't know much about it either. My wife was always better at that sort of thing, but I can recognize when it's good." Darion looked down for a moment.

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  The way he said "wife" told Elaine everything, and yet she still asked the question, "And where is your wife?"

  "Dead. Along with my son."

  A very old pain seized up in Elaine's chest. "And don't you want vengeance?"

  Darion seemed almost amused by the question. "I've killed men looking for vengeance. It makes for a good legend, but I care more for survival than legends." He looked her directly in the eyes. "But if I could take my vengeance the way you do, maybe I would."

  "How do you know I do it for vengeance?"

  "Because over thirty-five years of war means that everyone has someone they want to avenge."

  "The war ended thirty years ago," she said.

  "Do you really believe that?" He scoffed.

  She did not.

  "At some point, my parents' war shifted from guerrilla fighting to stealing and smuggling." He shrugged. "Or maybe it ended, and we didn't notice."

  "My husband was killed by outlaws. My son died of an illness." Elaine could say the words without emotion, but it was not easy. Even after all this time.

  Darion then put the cup down, placed a hand on his chest, and then extended it outward, "Your sorrow speaks to mine."

  Elaine put her hand to her chest and extended it outward as well, the gesture foreign, yet right. She didn't know what to say. She dropped her hand.

  "And so our sorrows are not alone." Darion prompted, but she did not repeat his words.

  "So, what do I do about you?"

  "You find a place for me with Tsarek-"

  "Val Alensar."

  "Val Alensar, or I find a way to get him out of here. I won't leave him."

  "And if I call the city guard?" She asked.

  "They arrest me for trespassing. Then, since I cooperate with the arrest, they let me go in time for the fight tonight, so that they don't disrupt the captain's betting pool." He smiled broadly, though it didn't reach his eyes.

  His answer didn't surprise her. The fact that he was openly walking around the city meant it was true enough.

  Elaine looked at him. He leaned back in the chair with an arrogant half-smile. How he could ever convince anyone he was a guard with his attitude, she wasn't sure. But they would have to find a way.

  "I'll take you on as Val Alensar's guard. But you'll have to learn better manners and cooperate."

  He sat up straight. "Of course, Laude."

  Elaine nodded. "I imagine you'll have a few things to take care of in the city?"

  "I have a fight tonight, but I can make it my last one. And a few other small errands."

  "Take care of it and stay here tonight. I'll have a room ready in the barracks."

  Darion stood and did an inferior bow. "Will do Laude."

  He left, and Elaine slumped against her desk, leaning her head in her hands. After a long moment, she poured another cup of tea and started drafting her resignation letter for her duties as a judge.

  Alensar

  Alensar woke feeling like he had been dragged by a carriage through the streets. His side hurt too, though not as much as his head. He was alone in the room.

  No... Jason was in his armchair, dozing. It wasn't clear what time of day it was. He found the pitcher of water by his bed and drank it sloppily, water running down his chin. He then noticed the bread and wolfed it down.

  His head didn't feel better, but he did feel less hungry.

  What happened? Was there a fight? He stood and put on an ostentatious jacket hanging next to his wardrobe, while the peculiar feeling of hazy memories held his attention. His body felt heavy, but he didn't want to be inside anymore. He slipped out of the room, nearly silent. Even in his current state, he could be silent.

  He padded through the hallway, not looking around, not thinking. His mind slipped from moment to moment, with the last forgotten. When he heard noises, he went another way, his route circuitous. Unnoticed by those who should have noticed, he left the house. The gardens were well-tended, though modest. In the center was a spiraling old oak; the grasses under it kept short.

  Alensar sat beneath the oak. He looked up, and his mind followed the fractal branches. The pain in his head started to recede, but the edges of his vision went dark. A leaf fluttered down, and he started falling. He couldn't stop falling. The darkness surrounded him.

  Darion

  Darion was the one who found him. He had gone into town to pick up his things and arrived to witness the minor panic surrounding Tsarek's disappearance. Darion knew that when Tsarek was upset, he would always find some old comforting tree and sit under it for hours, staring at the sky fluttering between the branches. There was one in the back of the garden, near the high wall, behind some bushes.

  He sat with his brother in the late afternoon light.

  Tsarek looked over at him. His pupils were dark holes with the tiniest ring of color around them. He looked back at the branches.

  "I'm in a grave. Are you here too?"

  Darion didn't respond.

  "Do you hear them? They are chattering. They want me here."

  "What in Nekthor's five hells did that doctor give you?" Darion murmured and gently placed a hand on Tsarek's shoulder. The doctor had seemed impressed with his stitch work, but had insisted on some kind of tonic that would help him recover faster.

  Tsarek made a small, frightened sound, like a puppy's whine.

  "Braterko, it's me, Darion." Darion's voice became gentle. "It's going to be okay."

  Tsarek whined again.

  Darion put his arm around his brother, who tensed for a moment. Then he settled against Darion, leaning in and breathing heavily. Tsarek had been so clingy when he was a kid.

  "It's alright. You're going to be okay."

  They stayed together for around twenty minutes. Tsarek didn't say any more strange words, but still made small noises. Darion kept murmuring inanities and rubbed his back.

  Tsarek jerked up, rolled away from Darion, then vomited on the ground. He sat up and looked at Darion.

  "Hello."

  "Hey."

  "Am I dead?"

  Darion shook his head. "I don't think so. You are on a lot of drugs, though."

  "Oh. Okay. Are you dead?"

  "No."

  Tsarek nodded. "Okay."

  Darion heard some loud discussions from the open door to the kitchen, but couldn't quite make them out.

  "Well, I should get you back to your fancy-ass bed."

  He was just coherent enough that he could stand. Darion pulled Tsarek's arm over his shoulder and gripped him around the waist. The thinness in his face was not quite as visceral as the lightness of his brother's body. Though in some corner of his mind, Darion felt grateful not to have to lug around someone heavier.

  Fortunately, the door was ajar, and he was able to push his way through, managing to find his way to the bedroom without taking any wrong turns. He deposited Tsarek without trying to be gentle. Bastard was too high to feel anything anyway.

  Jason appeared at the door.

  "You found him."

  "Yeah, he was in the garden." Darion slumped down onto the comfortable chair in the room. He wasn't quite winded, but it had been a long day.

  "I thought we checked there…I'll let everyone know." Jason looked at him for a moment. "And bring up some food."

  Darion put his palms together in a gesture of thanks.

  He watched Tsarek breathe, slow and deep. Laude Granthor had seemed concerned that Darion wouldn't be able to serve him. But what she hadn't realized was that Darion had spent his entire life protecting his family. Now Tsarek was all he had left, and he would die for him without hesitation. They would do that for each other. Had failed to do that for their family.

  He was lost in thought when Jason came with some food. It was several egg and bean tacos, which were somehow exquisite despite their simplicity.

  Darion wolfed down four, his hands dripping with grease, in the space of time that Jason had carefully eaten one and remained perfectly clean.

  "This is good. I'll need the energy for my fight tonight." Darion was about to start licking his fingers when Jason handed him a napkin of such a nice fabric that he felt wrong to use it to wipe his hands. But Darion humored him.

  "What do you mean 'fight'?" Jason's shoulders got stiffer than they usually were, an impressive feat.

  "I've been doing fights down by the gates. I'm supposed to show up tonight. Though now that I have this new gig, I suppose I'll have to lose the fight." He scrunched up his face in displeasure. "Losing on purpose always feels like shit."

  "You should tell Laude Granthor," Jason said, his voice oddly distant.

  "I already did. I would skip it, but I promised the Captain of the city guard I would tell him when I planned to lose a fight, so he could bet against me. I don't want to get on his bad side."

  Jason snapped out of his reverie. "You did what?"

  Darion grinned. "City of law and the lawless. That's Carthage for you."