A Home with Me
Vanu sprawled on the cushions on the balcony and watched Lill tuck himself into the corner near the door to his room.
He was so neat, so lovely, with his long hair loose over his shoulders, the sleeves of the blue shirt rolled up on his slender forearms. But even at rest there was something in his eyes that troubled Vanu.
Not fear, exactly. A kind of haunted look.
It wasn’t always there. He had an enchanting smile, and Vanu could swear he had enjoyed some of what they had done in his bedchamber. Most of it, even. Or he’d done a good job of pretending.
The soft, shocked noises he’d made, the way his muscles had tensed and then relaxed under Vanu’s touch …
“I’m surprised I never heard about you losing your voice,” Lill remarked. “I did hear many other stories about you.”
“Lowlanders probably never noticed,” Vanu reasoned.
“Mm. That’s true. It probably just … contributed to your reputation for ferocity, that you were never heard to speak.” He dropped into Zashian for the last part of that sentence, then seemed to notice what he had done and started to repeat himself in Hawada, searching for the right words.
Vanu held up a hand. “Understand Zashian fine.”
“Right, right. But you’ve never had occasion to speak it much. That makes sense.”
“The thing you recited at the wedding. Liked that.”
“Oh, the Twenty-One Martial Virtues? Yes, it’s—well, it’s the only piece of poetry I know by heart.”
“That was poetry?” He was surprised. It hadn’t sounded like poetry to him.
“Yes, it’s got … what’s the word? Verses? Lines. The words are grouped in a certain way.” He frowned. “I don’t know as much about it as I might. I daresay it’s different from Hawa poetry. I’ve never heard any of that … ”
He spoke with something that could almost have been wistfulness—maybe if he’d been less guarded, it would have been.
Vanu wished he could have snapped his fingers and produced a bard to recite Hawa poetry for him.
There had been times in his life when he could have, almost. He’d heard lots of excellent stuff himself, remembered some of it, even, but no one wanted to hear him try to recite poetry, least of all himself.
Guarded. That was the word for Lill. He had to be one of the most thoroughly guarded people Vanu had ever met, like a little fortress with his own blocked-up gate. What Vanu wanted to know was, when he’d lashed out and shouted “No!” on the bed, had that been his guard coming down, or going back up?
At the moment, it didn’t matter too much.
Vanu felt good. That brief bout of petting and kissing had been more satisfying than many full-blown fucks that he’d had in his time.
That incredible body, slender and tiny yet nothing but muscle under the soft, creamy skin—it had been a pleasure just to explore.
“You’re still wearing the necklaces,” Vanu pointed out lazily.
“Oh.” Lill’s hands flew up, touching the heavy beads. He didn’t seem to know how to react.
He’d kept them on in bed. He’d been naked, briefly, except for the necklaces, and it had suited him. Now he reached up and unfastened them and laid them on the table.
“They’re yours,” Vanu said.
“Oh,” said Lill again. Then after a moment, “I’ve never worn jewellery before. Not even … ” He held out his hand with Vanu’s mother’s ring on it.
“Looks good on you. All of it.”
Lill smiled fleetingly, and it looked genuine. In fact, Vanu thought it always looked genuine when he smiled, as if he only ever did it by accident. He had a dimple in one cheek.
He was guarded, but maybe not as much as he’d like? Did he need reinforcements? Vanu wondered how he would go about asking that.
“So what have you heard?” he said instead.
“Um … ”
“Said you hadn’t heard about my voice … ”
“Oh! But what have I heard? Yes … ” His enthusiasm ebbed away as he gave the question some thought.
“It’s bad,” Vanu prompted. “Know it’s bad. You’re from the lowlands.”
Lill gave a surprised chuckle at that. “I do know some people who think you have a tail.”
“What?”
Lill nodded. “They’re young, mind you, and fairly stupid.”
Vanu snorted. “So you don’t think they’re right? Wanna check?” He shifted on the cushions, sweeping aside his robe.
Lill waved a hand. “Later, definitely. I’ll—I’ll take a good look.”
“Mmm, looking forward to it.”
Lill laughed again, and a little bit of colour rose in his cheeks.
“Fangs, too?” Vanu was enjoying this line of questioning. He hadn’t felt so inclined to talk out loud in years. He felt like using complete sentences, even, to make his meaning clear. “Am I supposed to have fangs?”
“Don’t you?” Lill pulled down the neck of his shirt as if looking for bite marks. They were there, actually, rosy patches on his white throat and collarbone.
Vanu ran his tongue over his teeth. “They’re worn down after years of use.”
That got a real, full-throated laugh out of his little bride, and it was such a lovely thing. Lill scooted over the cushions, closer to Vanu.
“I should sit close so you don’t have to raise your voice,” he explained, tucking his hair behind his ear, an enchanting gesture. “What else have I heard about you? I have heard about the Tawa Valley. That you defeated White Viper in single combat when you were seventeen.”
Vanu nodded. “Where I got this.” He ran his thumb down the scar on the left side of his face, the mark of a sword cut that had almost taken his left eye. “Learned more about swordsmanship that day, facing him, than any day before or since.”
For a moment Lill was very still, as if holding his breath. Somehow Vanu had the impression that his answer had come as a surprise.
“He was … supposed to have been a great teacher,” Lill said finally.
“Greatest opponent I ever faced, I think. But that school … ” Vanu shuddered. “Horrible place. Well. That story’s true. Did defeat him. Was seventeen. Your age, hey?”
“I’m eighteen. Don’t forget to sign the words for me.”
Vanu had stopped signing because Lill was sitting so close now that he’d been thinking about touching his hair, wanted his hands free for that.
“I was a bit bigger than you at seventeen,” he signed.
“You … were … bigger than me,” Lill translated. “Yes, I can well believe that. But still, he was a master. The Grandmaster. In the lowlands we … wonder how you did it.”
Was it Vanu’s imagination, or was there just the faintest hint of an edge to those words? Was that sentence originally going to end with “we think you fought dirty”? Well, fair enough.
“Show you some time,” Vanu offered. “Remember it well. Split-second thing, you know? He made one mistake, and … ” He spread his hands regretfully. “Didn’t expect it to end that way myself.”
He rubbed his throat. His voice was past overtaxed by now, well into the realm of hurts to talk.
“How about … ” Lill started. “Here’s another thing I’ve heard. Did you ever drink anybody’s blood?”
When Vanu didn’t immediately answer, Lill’s expression became alarmed.
“I thought that would be an easy headshake!”
“Nah, it’s a saying. I’ll drink his blood or I drank your brother’s blood and I’ll drink yours.
Don’t use it much myself … Doesn’t feel right in hand language.
” He signed the phrase, as if that would make any sense to Lill.
“Used to have an interpreter, Darma, he liked that one. I’d say, ‘I’ll kill you’”—He signed it, a satisfyingly violent gesture.
—“and he’d translate it, ‘drink your blood.’”
“Oh, yes, I see what you mean!” said Lill eagerly. “The sign for ‘kill you’ is much more effective, especially if you were angry. Much more violent. ‘Drink your blood’ looks positively polite.”
“That’s what it is,” Vanu agreed, impressed that Lill had been able to explain it so clearly. “You’re very clever.”
“I’m very clever,” Lill signed, repeating Vanu, with a little twinkle. His hands looked delicate, but they were calloused—Vanu had already noticed that—and his grip had a bit of force to it. “You are … ” He formed the signs carefully. “Different than I thought.”
Vanu nodded. “Didn’t know I was so handsome. Hey?”
“I had no idea,” Lill said simply.
That made something expand pleasantly in Vanu’s chest. He didn’t need compliments, of course he didn’t, but when they came from the right source …
“Should have guessed,” he said, grinning. “Strategic advantage. You should know.”
Lill looked confused, another genuine expression.
“You’re beautiful,” Vanu clarified for him. “People must be drawn to you. Want to please you. No?”
“Not—not really. I’ve often been called pretty, but never as praise.”
He was blushing again, deeper this time. Vanu had a bizarre fancy that he might have tasted the flush on Lill’s cheeks, a kind of sweetness, if he had licked them.
“Earth’s heart,” he said. “It’s praise when I say it. You catch the sign for it?” He repeated it. “I might want to say it a time or two.”
“I—I think I’ve got it. Thank you.”
Vanu looked at him for a long moment. “You’re surely much more than beautiful …
” His throat felt raw with overuse, and his voice was genuinely beginning to fail.
He went on anyway: “I want to know all the other things that you are, too. I hope that I can make you happy. Almost forgot—” He sat up and reached across the table for the bowl that he had carved. “I made this for you.”
He put the bowl in Lill’s hands and then looked into his face and was startled by what he saw there. This was fear, there was no other word for it.
Maybe he shouldn’t have carved a snake around the rim? He’d tried to make it a friendly-looking snake, but maybe his carving skill hadn’t been good enough for that.
He touched the inside of the bowl, where he had carved letters in the Hawa script. Lill probably didn’t know how to read those.
“It says, You have a home with me forever. Heard that once in a poem, thought it’s a nice thing for a husband to say. Didn’t think I’d ever be a husband.”