9. Windows To The Soul
Windows To The Soul
A quilan wished he could see Declan’s eyes.
The black sunglasses completely blocked his view of them.
The young man’s feelings and thoughts were often a mystery to him.
Other than when Declan had burst out about the bookstores, the young man seemed to delight in being Sphinx-like.
His eyes, Aquilan thought, might have told him so much more about what was going on in Declan’s head.
Was he happy? Was he sad? Was he bored? That last one had Aquilan’s heart racing.
For if Declan was feeling bored being with him and had only agreed to the tour out of obligation, he realized he would be crushed.
That is a ridiculous thing for me to feel. Nor is it fair to the young man. I should ascertain whether he truly wishes to be here… but…
But he did not ask again whether Declan minded his and Vesslan’s company.
He just couldn’t bear to know. Selfish, he realized.
But there it was. He would simply hope that Declan wanted to be there.
Oh, but his eyes would have told Aquilan so much!
They would have held the answers he sought! Or so he told himself.
But it was too bright for Declan to be without his sunglasses.
Though the young man appeared recovered from the day before, Aquilan noticed how careful he was to stick to the shadows–if there were any–or pull his hood down farther–if they were in a particularly sunny stretch of road–as the three of them walked to the Eryas Palace.
So he could not think of any good reason to ask Declan to take them off.
The last thing he would want was for his Shadow to be harmed in any way, especially for such a selfish request.
And how would I explain such a request? Oh, let me look in your eyes and see if you mind very much being with me? Goodness! I can hear Rhalyf laughing from here!
So Aquilan studied the rest of Declan very closely.
Not that it was much use. Declan said little unlike Vesslan who was determined to drone on as if the sound of his voice alone was all that mattered and not what he said with it.
Rhalyf would have been rolling his eyes and drolly suggesting that his imaginary discussions about cabbages the day before would have been more scintillating than Vesslan claiming all the credit for every architectural feature of the city.
And why does he pick all the boring ones? The curve of the roads? Where that drain is placed? At least Declan pointed out the sweet and tea shops.
He knew he should feel a little guilty for wishing his brother would just be quiet for a blessed moment, but he kept imagining what it would be like to be walking alone with Declan in the city.
There would be no unnecessary chatter from the young man that was for sure.
If Declan spoke three words after he purchased those books that would have likely been an exaggeration.
Even when he had pointed out the shops he seemed to unerringly know would please Aquilan, he would gesture or nod after making a small sound to draw Aquilan’s keen attention to him.
Declan had said more than a few words to Vesslan while he’d been book shopping.
He’d have to ask his elder brother about what they had talked about.
Vesslan had actually appeared stunned afterwards.
For a moment, Vesslan might have even appeared to be afraid of Declan.
But that was ridiculous! And whatever emotion he’d had towards Declan in that moment, it had faded as his elder brother studiously ignored Declan’s presence altogether since then.
But while Declan might not speak much, Aquilan realized that his Shadow communicated with actions .
More than gesturing to indicate points of interest, Declan had taken it upon himself–without a word–to take the books from Aquilan’s arms after noting how he was having difficulty juggling all five of them.
His Shadow had divided them into two piles and thrust two of the books into Vesslan’s hands while holding onto three himself.
While Aquilan had opened his mouth to protest–he could carry his own books–Declan had just looked at him and he knew that his Shadow was determined to do this.
And so I am taken care of by this young man for whom I owe so much.
It was when they reached the main avenue that led to the massive sweep of steps up to the front doors of the Eryas Palace that Declan showed any outward signs of awe.
His steps slowed as they passed underneath the archway of flowers.
His eyes traveled over the vast gardens that spread out on either side of the avenue for over a block’s length. They were a riot of color and life.
“Have you ever seen the Eryas Palace so close?” Aquilan asked, stopping beside Declan’s very still figure.
A shake of Declan’s head. “Not in daylight.”
“That is when it is meant to be seen. I designed the gardens to look like an ocean,” Vesslan said as he made a grand gesture with one arm towards the flowers.
“And the gardeners had no role in it?” Aquilan asked with a mischievous smile.
Vesslan sniffed. “They might have made a suggestion here or there. But it was my vision.”
“Yes, yes, of course, it was,” Aquilan answered dryly.
“The interior of the palace will truly awe you and… and the boy, of course,” Vesslan said as he strolled down the avenue, negligently holding Aquilan’s books behind his back. “I based it upon your favorite palace: Efenalune.”
Aquilan frowned. “Brother, that is your favorite palace. Mine is Kyrion.”
“Kyrion? King Ailduin’s old palace? No, surely not! It is so… so plain ,” Vesslan said with a deeper frown.
“Kyrion is not as it once was,” Declan suddenly said as if compelled to speak.
And, of course, it was the last thing Aquilan would have thought his Shadow would speak about.
“His magic gave it life. There was nowhere inside that did not shine with his goodness. Once he was gone, it was stripped down to the bone.”
“How do you know that?” Vesslan scowled.
Declan froze as if the words he had spoken had shocked him as well. There were tense lines around his mouth.
Seeking to spare him from having to explain himself, Aquilan suggested, “Perhaps Finley told you about it?” Declan shifted a little.
That might have been a “yes” but it was hard to say.
Yet he would not have Declan be interrogated.
“His best friend and brother Finley West–another of the survivors–is quite a scholar, Vesslan. He wishes to apply to Taranth.”
Vesslan let out a choked laugh that had Declan tensing as he said, “A human at Taranth? We might as well admit sheep! Both would get about the same use out of it!”
“Brother!” Aquilan barked, his desire to be good natured and understanding of Vesslan falling away at that moment. His brother’s outright racism was shocking. “How could you say such a thing?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw how rigid Declan had become. And a shadow passed in front of the Sun.
Vesslan gave him a quizzical look. “A human in a school for magic? What would be the point? They cannot wield magic so–”
“Do not the students there learn of magic that they can never wield? Do we consider such a study as lacking a point?” Aquilan demanded.
“No, we do not. We encourage them to study the great magics of the past, about spells and enchantments that are far beyond them, because the learning is what matters. Study and contemplation have value of their own.”
Vesslan blinked slowly. “I suppose, but the basic concepts of magic would be beyond a human–”
“That’s not true,” Declan’s voice was low. “He knows magic down to his core. It means everything to him.”
“You are loyal to your friend. That is a good thing, I suppose, but it means nothing in terms of what is real.” Vesslan shrugged.
“When he passes the test with flying colors, you will see,” Declan insisted.
“I suppose we shall, but even if he somehow does pass the test and is accepted, he will find few friends there,” Vesslan pointed out without any sense of the wrongness in that statement.
Aquilan feared that very well might be true. “That would be a shame for I have spent time with Finley and am looking forward to spending more. He is a good friend to have.”
That left his brother blinking. “Well, it truly seems as if you did much last evening while avoiding me.”
Aquilan felt the prick of guilt at those words, but he hardened himself to them this time. “Brother, would you mind going ahead to the palace and making sure there are refreshments for myself and Declan when we get there?”
“I can contact them via a ridwin ,” Vesslan began, mentioning the communication spell that was commonly used between Aravae over great distances.
“I would prefer it if you would see to it yourself,” Aquilan told him firmly. “And I will carry my own books. Thank you.”
He took the two that Vesslan kept threatening to drop or crease the covers. He held them tightly against his chest as if they were a shield against his brother’s inevitable disappointment. Vesslan bowed low. Too low in his opinion.
“Of course, my king ,” he said, deferring to the honorific, which somehow made it sound like a knife being inserted into his heart.
Vesslan's hands flared with magic as he made the elaborate runic inscriptions in the air that opened a gate between there and the interior of the Eyras Palace. He stepped through it and the gate disappeared with a pop of golden sparks. Aquilan stood there for long, silent moments with the wind stirring his hair. He was not at all happy with this interaction, but he was uncertain who he blamed for it more: himself or Vesslan. While his brother’s cruelty towards Finley was unacceptable, why had Vesslan felt comfortable saying it in front of him ?
He must make it clear as glass that this was not something he found acceptable.
“I am sorry,” Declan said quietly, his Shadow appearing at his side as if by magic, too.