Missed Connections (71 page)

"Indeed," Kaeth said with a nod when everyone turned to him as if for confirmation. "The entertainments at the palace were never less than spectacular."

Elvar seemed pleased with his response. "Many an evening passed like a dream. I trust Kaeth would agree."

"I would agree that I spent a good many hours dreaming, aye."

In deference to Elvar's temper, he did not dare state what he hoped was obvious to Jerel and the others. In all his dreams, he was home again, among those he cared about and beside the man he loved. If only real life could proceed so smoothly, and if only real people changed as little as their dream-counterparts did.

"I think it is safe to say that having our dear friend returned to us is a kind of dream come true," Chancellor Borthag said. She, at least, had understood his meaning perfectly. Since Jerel had averted his eyes again, Kaeth could not gauge his reaction. He was glad when most of the food ran out and the meal began to draw to a close.

"Do you remember how we used to pass our evenings in the old days?" Thraag asked in between mouthfuls of the sugar cake they had been served for dessert. "Jerel, I am sure you have not forgotten. You and Kaeth would bolt from the table without so much as wiping your lips if your fellow professors and I did not enforce the rules of decorum."

"We were very young then," Kaeth protested, feeling his cheeks grow warm. "I am sure Jerel has nobler pursuits to occupy him now."

"On the contrary," Jerel said. The soft, almost wistful quality of his voice caught Kaeth off guard. "In all the years that have passed, I have found nothing I enjoyed quite as much."

"What sort of pursuits are you speaking of?" Elvar demanded.

"Simply telling you could not possibly suffice." After gulping down the last of his sugar cake, Thraag hauled his immense green body up from his chair. "Come along and I will show you."

*~*~*

In the end, only Jerel, Elvar, Kaeth and of course Creegan chose to follow Thraag. The others, knowing what he had in mind, claimed exhaustion, infirmities, or other pressing duties that prevented them from climbing the steps to the north tower. As the group wound its way up the spiral stone staircase, Jerel kept a close watch on Kaeth and Elvar, who made it a point to walk alongside him. It had been obvious from the first, at least to Jerel, that Elvar loved Kaeth. Whether Kaeth returned those feelings remained less apparent. Not that Jerel would blame him if he did. After all, Elvar was a wealthy and powerful prince, even if his father was sometimes at odds with the emperor. Jerel had comparatively little to offer by way of material goods or an exciting life such as he had described in King Scurlock's palace.

All he and Kaeth really owned were memories—and perhaps it was best not to spoil those by trying to add to them.

When they reached the top of the tower, he watched Kaeth hurry to his favorite spot and lean against the worn stone railing. Just for a moment, he was transported back in time, and they were once again innocent students, rushing up to read the stars and gaze at one another in equal measure. Then Elvar joined Kaeth at the wall and ruined the effect.

"'Tis exceedingly dark up here," he complained. "How easily a man could lose his footing and topple to his death! It is no wonder your chancellor declined your invitation. She has reached her current position by demonstrating superior common sense."

"Not to worry," Thraag said, waddling over to a nearby sconce and using a candle to light it. A peaceful amber glow spread across the stones. "There. Quite safe, I assure you."

"Sometimes the stars would be so bright we would not even need a flame," Kaeth observed, tilting his head up with that familiar air of peace and wonder. Jerel could not help but smile despite the ache that commenced deep in his chest. "It seemed we could see to the ends of the world, and perhaps even the heavens."

"Hence the illusion that you can decode the mysteries of the universe by staring at a string of distant lights." Elvar waved a dismissive hand. "'Tis a quaint notion, to be sure, but a fanciful one. I suspect Professor Thraag agrees with me."

"I would not go quite that far," Thraag said as he joined them at the wall. "When one has devoted nearly two centuries to learning as I have, only one thing becomes clear—that we should never claim full and complete understanding of any subject, especially the ways of fate and the path to the future. Time tends to make fools of those who do."

"Do you still recall the names of each star?" Jerel asked, stepping forward and lifting his own gaze to the sky. "It has been so long since you last tried to read them."

Kaeth paused to return his smile, then pointed upward. "Of course I can. There is the Dragon Star, bringer of fire. Beside it are the Serpent and the Centaur, which are neutral. Only the Fish would be able to dampen its power."

"Fire, eh? As in the sort of fire that spurs men to take up arms against each other… or the most pleasant variety that leads to passion?" Elvar grinned. "Perhaps there is something to this peculiar art after all."

"Actually, I am beginning to wonder if you were closer to the truth before, Prince." Kaeth sighed. "I used to think that if I could read the stars, I would know my future. But I was young then, and no doubt foolish beyond compare. I knew nothing, nor could I predict even the smallest part of what was to come."

Jerel threaded his fingers together and rested them on the stone wall. Kaeth stood beside him, just as he had in the old days, staring off into the night. Both of them knew he referred to one very particular night in their past—one that made any future between them impossible. "None of us could," he agreed. "That doesn't mean it cannot be done. It simply means that we were not up to the task."

"Well, I prefer to make my own future," Elvar said. "What the stars may or may not suggest will never have the slightest bearing on the actions I take. Perhaps that is why I always get what I want. I do not intend for that to change anytime soon."

"Well said, your highness," Creegan mumbled under his breath. Jerel suspected the comment was meant primarily for his ears. Elvar flashed Creegan a smirk.

"Let us go in. 'Tis growing cold and I am ready to rest. The heavens will have to reveal their secrets to us another time."

"Your highness may start ahead," Thraag watched Jerel as he spoke. "I fear my legs are not what they once were, and the climb has indeed tired me. I shall require some assistance down the stairs. Kaeth, be of use to me and douse the flame. We must not take the chance that the Dragon wanted us to interpret his message literally."

Though his mouth turned down in anger, Elvar had little choice but to do as Thraag requested. With an abrupt gesture toward Creegan, he started back down the stone staircase. Though he paused to bare his teeth at no one in particular, Creegan followed without a word.

When they were gone, Thraag winked. "Take your time with the sconce, you two. We must make sure it is fully extinguished. As you know, even the coldest embers sometimes have a way of flaring up even when we think they have no life left in them. As for me, I would like to observe the sky for a few more moments. I have been keeping a log of the moon's exact color and movements, and I would like to update it tonight."

Without appearing tired in the least, Thraag shuffled his bulk along the wall, circling the tower until he and the candle he held had ducked out of sight.

"I expect Thraag thinks he has done us a great favor," Jerel said as they moved toward the burning sconce. "Prince Elvar would never have allowed us to speak alone."

"Elvar is protective of me," Kaeth admitted. "I admit I am grateful, for had we not become friends, his father might well have made my stay at his palace most unpleasant."

"I cannot bear to hear him call you a guest," Jerel growled. "You were their prisoner for three years. Calling it something else does not change that."

"Words matter little." Kaeth turned his head. The flickering light from the sconce played like a ghost's hand across his cheeks and forehead. For a moment, his face seemed to become someone else's. Jerel shuddered, though the air was nowhere near as cold as Elvar had suggested. "What happened cannot be changed. I performed my duty as I saw it. Now, thankfully, the ordeal is over."

"Of course I am relieved you were not brutalized while in their custody. Yet I cannot forget how much pain the emperor's convenient diplomatic arrangement caused—to everyone except Elvar, it appears."

"I think my father would say that pain, while not a thing to be welcomed, nonetheless serves its uses in life."

"You mean you are stronger now? Yes, I sense that."

"I am different in many ways." Kaeth's voice trembled. Jerel almost reached out to him. Then Kaeth swallowed, squared his shoulders, and seemed to recover himself. He was indeed a different person, Jerel realized. Both of them were. The shadows had ironically presented truth in the form of an illusion.

"I'm glad you found your life's work here." Keath seemed to be avoiding meeting Jerel's eyes. Instead, he began to examine the stone wall surrounding the scone in great detail. "I remember how you always loved the archives. Tending them must be a labor of love for you."

"You are correct. The archives have always been my true passion. Luckily, they represent a type of passion that lasts."

Kaeth nodded. "And Merwyn, your apprentice… you and he are close?"

"Yes… very." Jerel took guilty pleasure in the look of hurt that flashed briefly over Kaeth's face. Never before had he wanted to cause Kaeth pain, especially with a fib. But he didn't think it could hurt for Kaeth to experience even a fraction of the agony he felt himself.

Thraag returned, his thick green lips stretched in a grin. "Did you lads have a productive little chat? No better place for it, surely."

"You asked us to douse the sconce," Kaeth said in a perfectly neutral voice. "We have done so."

"Very well, then." Thraag tilted his head to one side as if appraising them. Perhaps he thought they had quarreled. Actually, Jerel would have preferred a quarrel to the stony indifference he sensed from Kaeth.

The three spoke little as they went back down the stairs, guided by Thraag's candle. When they reached the thick wooden door that led to the faculty quarters, Thraag turned aside.

"Thank you for escorting me. I shall sleep peacefully knowing you are safe under our roof once more, Kaeth. I trust the two of you still have a pleasant evening ahead of you. You are much younger than I, and therefore you should be able to stay up until a far later hour. Do make the most of your youth—after the first century, it becomes harder and harder to become terribly excited about anything."

Somewhat awkwardly, they watched him shuffle off toward his room, holding his fast-melting candle aloft. Jerel took a torch from the wall and motioned for Kaeth to continue.

"You do not need to walk with me. I can find my own way."

"I would feel better if I delivered you to your chamber. The chancellor would expect no less of me. I am surprised Prince Elvar did not wait for you, however."

"I expect he was eager to reach his bed. I… I mean, this journey has been tiring for all of us, and in many ways."

"Of course." The mention of Elvar's bed made Jerel's stomach turn as though he had eaten spoiled vegetables. No doubt he was indeed turning down that very bed and waiting for Kaeth to join him. Perhaps Kaeth was looking forward to their night together, too. No wonder he had seemed so distracted on the tower. Thraag's exhortation to make the most of their evening now assumed a hideous double meaning.

At the door to Kaeth's room, Jerel offered a polite half-bow and took a step back. "A peaceful night to you, old friend. Like Thraag, I am glad to see you restored home, and in good health besides. 'Twas an outcome I did not dare hope for three years ago."

"Nor did I. I honestly believed… well, it matters little now. We must move forward, not keep looking back."

"A sensible approach, to be sure."

"A good night to you, too, then."

"Precious little chance of that," Jerel said under his breath as the door closed between them. He heard the metal latch drop into place.

Next, hating himself for even entertaining the idea, much less following through with it, he leaned against the wall and listened. Before long, he heard Elvar use the connecting door and call out a greeting to Kaeth.

"So… did you discover any great universal truths on the tower after Creegan and I left? Had Thraag any astounding nuggets of philosophical wisdom to impart?"

"I confess the world is as much a mystery to me now as it was before we left the dinner table."

Jerel's pulse quickened when he heard Elvar's next words.

"And is your friend Jerel a mystery to you as well? I noticed a certain tension between the two of you."

Kaeth paused before answering. "He has changed. I expected that, but the truth still required some adjustment."

"Well, 'tis the way of people." Jerel heard footsteps and the rustle of cloth, as though Elvar were crossing the room. Was he shedding his robe as he walked? "I feel that we are different people since we arrived here—freer. Able to speak of matters we could not in my father's castle. Do you not agree?"

Jerel turned abruptly away, grinding his teeth in fury. So there it was. If Kaeth and Elvar were not already lovers, they would be before the night was over.

Had he been the same love-weakened man he had been three years ago, he would have wept, pounded the walls until his fists were raw and bloody, or possibly even charged into the room and given Prince Elvar cause to regret his flippant words, bodyguard or no.

Fortunately, he was not that man. He was stronger now. He had a life of his own. Sharing it with Kaeth would have made things perfect, but who was he to expect perfection?

Back in his own room at last, he washed his hands and face in the basin and pulled on his nightshirt. In three years, his bed had never felt as cold and lonely as it did tonight. Still, the combination of the day's trying events, the emotional heaviness of his heart, and his body's overwhelming weariness helped him find sleep more quickly than he expected.