Hostage (25 page)

Almost as if answering an unspoken request, Astrin lowered his head, licking his lips. Rowan, no longer breathing, closed his eyes and kept them tightly shut as Astrin’s lips brushed lightly across his own. He knew that if he opened them and looked up into those beautiful eyes he would explode or, at least, lose control.

“Rowan,” Astrin whispered, and Rowan had no choice but to open his eyes. The glowing green orbs, which had been dominating his dreams so much of late, were mere inches from his own. They were shining brightly, the pupils widely dilated, and Rowan fell into them.

Licking his lips in a way that made Rowan feel queasy, Astrin leaned forward again, until their lips met in the most exquisite kiss Rowan had ever experienced, albeit one of the briefest.

Astrin looked confused when he raised his head, scaring Rowan half to death. He grinned, a beatific, if vacant expression on his face and said, “That was cool.” Then he passed out.

Cursing colorfully, Rowan hauled Astrin’s body off his. He was still cursing as he stripped off Astrin’s boots and jacket and hauled him farther onto his bed. Tugging the blankets out from under him, Rowan froze, looking down at his sleeping face. Unable to resist, he cupped Astrin’s face in his palm, stroking the soft skin of his cheek with his thumb. The touch excited him in a way nothing else ever had.

Knowing Astrin would never know, Rowan lay down next to him. For a while he stroked Astrin’s face and hair, staring into his face; then he kissed him gently, tucked the covers around him, and got into his own bed, not even bothering to undress.

Rowan wasn’t drunk now—far from it. He was clearer than he’d been in a long time. At least he didn’t have to fight with himself anymore. There was no more confusion. He no longer had to lie awake, trying to put names to the feelings coursing through him. He no longer had to wonder or hide or deny or flee. Now he knew for sure, and it scared the hell out of him.

T
HE
NEXT
morning Rowan woke early from a troubled sleep. He had a headache, though not a bad one. Other pain was more acute, but there was no pill he could take to alleviate that. He stood over the other bed and looked down. Astrin had thrown off the covers and was sprawled across the bed, his hair tossed all over the place, his lips parted. He was disheveled, sticky with sweat, and
oh-so-fucking beautiful
.

Rowan was so disturbed that he woke Astrin somewhat more roughly than he had to. Astrin groaned and tried to turn over, covering his head with his arm.

“Wake up, you lazy, pathetic drunk.”

“Piss off, sadist.”

Rowan smiled and poked Astrin hard in the ribs. Astrin squirmed.

“Leave me alone,” he groaned. “Can’t you see I’m dying? Let me die in peace.”

Rowan laughed out loud and poked him again.

“Come on. We have breakfast in half an hour, and you really need a shower.”

“Breakfast? Yeah, right.”

“You’ll need it if you’re going to stand up to nine hours on a train.”

Astrin groaned again. “Oh please, please kill me now.” With a huge sigh, he turned over and peered up at Rowan through bleary eyes. “Why the hell did you let me drink so much?”

“Why did I ‘let’ you? If I remember correctly, I tried to stop you, but you weren’t having any of it. You were the one who was forcing drinks down
my
neck. ‘Try this one, Rowan. Oh my Gods, you have to try this.’” Rowan rolled his eyes.

“So how come you’re upright and smiling this morning?”

“I’m not a lightweight like you.”

“I want to kill you.”

“You can do that after you’ve had a shower. I’d hate to be killed by a stinky, sweaty drunk.”

“Now I
really
want to kill you.”

“To kill me, you have to get up.”

Grumbling, Astrin sat up and scratched his head. With a huge sigh, he dragged himself out of bed. He groaned again and pressed his fingers to his temple. “I have such a headache.”

“Serves you right.”

“Some friend you are. Where’s the sympathy?”

“It got thrown out along with my back last night when I had to carry you home.”

Astrin looked at him wide-eyed. “You did not carry me home.”

“Think about it.”

Astrin frowned and stared at him, then shook his head. “I don’t remember a thing about last night… at least not about coming home.”

Rowan smiled, although inside, part of him died. Still grumbling, Astrin wandered out of the room toward the communal bathroom. Rowan sat down heavily on the bed, his hands between his knees. He could have wept, but he didn’t.

Something dug into his thigh so he put his hand into his pocket, bringing out the stone he’d picked up the night before. He stared at it. It wasn’t a stone anymore but an exquisite portrait. He swallowed, suddenly swept by an overwhelming desire to see his uncle again, to have the benefit of his guardian’s wise counsel.

For the first time since they’d set out on the journey, he regretted that he’d followed Astrin so readily into such a foolhardy venture. Of course he wanted to rescue his uncle; of course he wanted to prevent the possibility of an all-out war with the South; of course he’d follow Astrin to the ends of the earth if he asked it, but….
Oh hell
.

Rowan was lying on the bed, with his arm over his eyes, when Astrin returned. Astrin sniggered. “Now who’s the lazy one?”

“Fuck off, Astrin.”

Astrin chuckled and threw his towel onto the bottom of his bed. His eye was caught by the stone, which Rowan had placed on the small table that lay between the two beds. He picked it up and looked at it in surprise.

“Where did you get this?”

Rowan glanced up, then replaced his arm. “I made it.”

“You made it? How?”

“I’ve no idea. I thought it and it was.”

Astrin looked at the stone thoughtfully, turning it around in his fingers. “I think you might have earth-manipulation skills, like I have water. It makes sense.”

“What does that mean?” Rowan sat up, interested.

“Did you try anything else?”

“I made it float.”

“Do it again.” Astrin handed him the stone, and Rowan looked at it, concentrating. The stone rose from his palm, about an inch, before it fell back again.

“Okay, try changing it again. Make it look like something else.”

Rowan looked at the stone, wondering what he should make it look like. Somehow the stone seemed to reach into his head and pluck out the image that was always there, right at the front. The stone blurred and changed. Rowan stared at it, then glanced uneasily up at Astrin.

Astrin took the stone from his hand and looked at it thoughtfully. “Not bad. I don’t think it looks that much like me, though. You need to practice.” He tossed the stone back at Rowan, then threw himself down on the bed. Rowan looked at the stone. It was perfect.
He
was perfect. Of course, it actually didn’t look that much like him—at least not the way he was, only the way Rowan saw him.

“I made the ground melt too.”

“Melt?” Astrin rolled over to lie on his side, looking at him.

“Well, sort of. I wondered if I could make other things vibrate differently, like me. I tried it on the ground and a patch of it kind of melted. Some stones fell into it, and when I stopped trying, it got hard again and the stones were stuck halfway.”

“Now, that
does
sound interesting. I have an idea. Try making the stone float and the wall melt, and see if you can get the stone to go through the wall.”

Rowan nodded, absorbed in the idea.

“Wait.” Astrin stopped him. “Let me go outside to see if it goes all the way through.”

Astrin slipped out of the room, and Rowan was able to concentrate wholly on the stone and the wall. Using two abilities at the same time was hard. It was like writing with both hands at the same time, but after some struggle he managed to get the stone to rise from his hand and fly at the wall. The first time, the stone simply hit the wall and fell to the floor. The second time it went into the wall a little way and got stuck, but on the third attempt the stone vanished, and he heard Astrin’s whoop of triumph from the landing before he appeared in the doorway, the stone in his hand.

“Nice work. It took me weeks to learn how to use two abilities at the same time.”

“Why did you make me try it, then? Were you deliberately setting me up to fail?”

“Gods, you can be so touchy sometimes. For one thing, I had trouble because I didn’t believe I could do it. I knew it was hard; so it was. You had no such knowledge and belief, and you’re stronger than I am. You believed you could do it—so you did.”

Their musings were interrupted by a glorious smell wafting up to them from the kitchens below. Astrin grinned. “You know? I
am
feeling hungry after all.”

It was two full and comfortable young men in an amiable mood who arrived at the iron gates a little before nine and cheerfully pressed the buzzer. The walk had cleared their heads, and they were laughing together like old friends.

They were met at the door by the same obsequious little man. He apologized profusely that Mr. Atrio was unable to meet them in person and urged them to stay for coffee, which they politely declined. He handed them a package and seemed disappointed when they left immediately afterward, explaining they couldn’t stay since they had a train to catch.

The package contained two pouches, to be worn around the waist under the trousers. It was one of the few methods of carrying money safely in this part of the world. Each pouch held a number of bills of varying amounts. They had a hefty sum between them—as much as a reasonably experienced mercenary could expect to earn in a year.

Also in the package were two tickets for the train to Agavi, papers attesting to their status, and a letter.

To Two Foolish but Brave Young Men,

I have had many adventures in my long life and have done many foolhardy things. While I make no secret of the fact I believe your venture to be foolish in the extreme, I cannot help but admire your courage and fortitude. I envy you the adventure. If I were still a young man, I would accompany you myself.

The train leaves at ten from the central station. I have purchased the best tickets I could, but don’t hold out too much hope for a comfortable ride. But then that is how the best adventures begin—in discomfort and distress.

Be careful in Agavi. There are many rumors of unrest there. There is to be a demonstration outside the main gate of the palace compound at midday tomorrow. It is said there will be a heavy presence of the palace guards. Be sure you are far away, for there may be a riot, and I fear you may be swept up in the crowd, as I have it on good authority the guards are there to make an example of as many protestors as they can. It is likely they will be transported immediately to the prisons in the palace compound. That is one place you would do well to stay away from. They are said to be impenetrable; it is where they keep those prisoners they least want to escape justice.

May the Gods go with you, and I pray you call upon me on your homeward journey to regale me with stories of your great adventure. Make good use of the enclosed money and know that your services were well worth the price.

Take the best care. If there is anything I can do for you, my contact details are below. I would suggest you program them into your digital organizers, as you may lose the letter.

Always Yours,

Paulo Atrio

Rowan smiled, seeing the letter for exactly what it was.

Carefully folding the letter, Rowan slipped it into his pouch with the money and adjusted his clothing to conceal it. With a glance at Astrin, he strode purposefully toward the station that they’d located the night before.

O
N
THE
T
RAIN

T
HE
STATION
was huge. Trains left almost every minute to destinations throughout the Southern Kingdom and beyond. There were three distinct zones, each containing two separate terminals. Within the buildings themselves were numerous platforms.

On their previous visit, the boys had located the correct building. However, they were not prepared for the sheer volume of people, the noise, the pace, and the confusion of colors, movement, and technology. Huge screens displayed arrivals and departures, directing travelers to the correct platform without explaining where the platform was.

As the platforms were situated in different parts of the building, many required a brisk walk, often through knots of shops and cafes, over bridges, or through tunnels. They were fortunate that the one they wanted wasn’t too far away, although they still had to run to make the train.

T
HE
TRAIN
was noisy, crowded, and uncomfortable. It was hot and sweaty in the cramped quarters, and Astrin was suffering. Although he also felt somewhat queasy after five hours of traveling, Rowan was feeling nowhere near as bad—in fact, he was gloating.

“Healer can’t you heal yourself? Or what about using your water manipulation to filter the alcohol out of your blood? You’d probably be better off getting it out of your stomach. With the heat in here, I’d guess you’re getting somewhat dehydrated, and the alcohol’s making you feel like you have a fire in your guts.”

“Fuck you, Gabriel. And don’t speak like this, it hurts.”

“Really? That’s interesting. Why is that?”

“I don’t know.”
Astrin ground his teeth and glared at Rowan, who shrugged and grinned at him.

“So why don’t you heal yourself?”

“I told you, I can’t. I can only heal others.”

“Shit deal.”

“Shut up.”