8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
Three days later, Viau struck him in the same spot on his shoulder, deliberately, Rafi was sure. As a reminder to keep his guard up and probably because he knew the increased pain would distract Rafi.
Rafi had responded by dropping low to stab Viau in the meat of his thigh, and though the move was graceless and he toppled over an exposed tree root afterward, the look of outraged betrayal on Viau’s face made it worth his ultimate loss.
He won the next bout, although in a judged fight with instructors there, he might not have. Viau didn’t mind.
“Nobody announces when they’ll attack you,” he said from the ground, after dying like one of Bellai’s stage actors by falling to his knees and then calling out for Caia and his mother until some of the passersby applauded.
He was very pleased with himself, grinning up at Rafi when Rafi peered down at him.
“Unless they are very stupid. And we did say no rules.”
That was not what they’d said. Rafi helped him up without arguing about it, not even crowing over his victory because it felt like cheating to spring on him before they’d technically begun their fight, when Viau had been nodding to someone on one of the paths.
Viau had gotten his sword up. Just not in time.
“I’m teaching you all sorts of bad habits,” he lamented, albeit not very seriously.
“Although, if you are ever in a duel,” he paused there, maybe for how Rafi’s eyes widened, “be mindful. Dueling is allegedly about honor but when it comes down to it, if the duel is already illegal, many feel committed to spill blood. So do not turn your back or let your guard down. I’d hate for the world to lose you. ”
“Noted,” Rafi told him faintly, stunned at the idea of anyone challenging him, which was the only way he would ever be in such a situation. Rafi certainly wasn’t going to challenge anyone.
“You are thinking, perhaps, ‘Why would anyone challenge me?’ and the answer is: usually drink and a hot head, combined with a young noble with nothing better to do.” Viau sighed.
“Sobering up convinces many of them to politely apologize or pretend it never happened. Which is something, a sign of some sense.”
“I’ve never witnessed one, a duel or a challenge.”
Viau pulled at his shirt to consider the mark over his ribs, shrugging as he did. “Of course not. You seem to have made sensible friends.”
“Did you really…?” Rafi didn’t finish the question. “It’s not my business.”
Viau made a small scoffing sound as he looked up.
“With the rumors about us circulating here at the moment, some would say it is your business.” Rafi snapped his mouth closed.
Viau’s face showed nothing. “And yes, I have. More times than people know of. Not once by choice. It’s why I avoid the pubs and wine shops where students and careless young nobles go.
I think many of them want to prove themselves by fighting a…
” his mouth twisted, “legend. Someone known. Things have become much easier since I took to befriending actors and playwrights. They don’t want to duel. ”
“And poets?” Rumors said Viau was a poet. Though rumors also said he and Rafi were lovers, and that was only partly true.
“Poets, unfortunately, often do. And are terrible at it. I wish people could simply get in fights instead,” Viau said wistfully. “One can live through a black eye and wounded pride. One cannot live through a blade to the heart or stomach.”
“Sorry.” Rafi put his practice sword under his arm to gesture to Viau’s bruised chest.
He got a quick smile for it. “Don’t be. I much prefer this sort of dueling. They probably would too, if they thought of it. Get their energy out.”
“Might be another good use for the academy,” Rafi supposed aloud. “Give hotheaded young nobles a place to exhaust themselves.”
“Exactly.” Viau beamed at him. “I knew you’d understand the king’s vision.”
That was news to Rafi, who tried not to give a start. He really needed to learn how to control his reactions better. It didn’t matter that Viau was special; if he could learn to read Rafi’s face, anyone could.
He didn’t think he’d fooled Viau this time, though. He wasn’t sure he ever would. Viau had already seen Rafi at his most needy and unaware.
Rafi cleared his throat. They were standing a few feet from each other. “Did you want to go again?”
“Normally, yes. But I admit to being tired this morning, and a little worried that I hit you too hard.”
Rafi immediately looked down as he rolled his shoulder to test it.
“As I suspected,” Viau continued as though Rafi’s silence had told him something.
Then he stepped away to where he’d left a bag over by the fountain.
Rafi wasn’t sure if he ought to follow, but his dithering didn’t matter since Viau came right back.
“I’ve brought something to help. Shirt off or pull it down over your shoulder. ”
He’d reminded Rafi more than once that he was not an instructor and wasn’t there to scold or take charge.
Then he gave orders. Nice orders, but orders.
Rafi didn’t have to obey them, yet he did.
He tugged his shirt down over his shoulder, expecting a close exam and to be told to go to the healers, which he wouldn’t, since it was only a bruise.
A deeper bruise now, but still just a bruise.
Instead, Viau revealed a small clay pot with a stopper in the palm of his hand. A powerful herbal scent wafted up when he opened it.
“I don’t need….”
Viau put his free hand at the top of Rafi’s shoulder and looked down, not remarking on Rafi’s sudden silence or careful breathing. He didn’t speak at all, actually.
“You said only your bruises.” Rafi exhaled it, then twitched. “That is, it’s the kind of thing anyone might get while training. I don’t mind them.”
“And the sore muscles underneath?” Viau pulled his hand away to reach for whatever herbal mix was in the pot. “There are solutions to make bruises fade faster but this is not one of them. This mark will be visible for a while, for anyone who cares to look.”
The ointment on his fingers was thick but not unpleasant.
It grew warmer as he carefully smoothed it into Rafi’s skin.
Rafi shivered as he watched Viau’s loose curls slip from their ribbon to fall forward and hide Viau’s face as he worked.
He spent several moments wondering if he was allowed to brush them back behind Viau’s ear as Viau often did to him, but in the end clenched his hands at his sides and sought to control his breathing.
It was then that he realized his aer was fine, that his hold had not slipped even slightly, and frowned at Viau in bewilderment. If he was going to lose control, wouldn’t it be with Viau’s aer close and beckoning, and Viau’s hand gentle over the injuries he had given him?
“Seeds of the rylin pepper,” Viau said, as though Rafi had any idea what that meant.
“What?” His voice was reedy. “Seeds?”
“To ease sore muscles and help with minor aches and pains. It’s a quick-growing plant as well. Healers love it. It does leave a burn in the fingertips, though. And uh, don’t touch it before you touch yourself elsewhere, unless you enjoy that sort of thing.”
“What?” Rafi asked again, feeling helpless and stupid and hot. Maybe the heat was the pepper seeds in the ointment. Maybe it was Viau rubbing soft circles into a bruise with his name on it.
Viau took his hand away with a sigh and straightened up. The stopper went on the pot and then he handed the pot to Rafi—put it into Rafi’s hand while Rafi stared at him.
“Thank you.”
That was what Rafi was supposed to say. Rafi, about to say it even though he was still confused, closed his mouth.
He opened it again. “Me? Thank you. I haven’t done anything but get hit twice.”
Viau ignored that completely. “Do you want to do this again soon? I am busy tomorrow.” His mouth tightened briefly. “But I can do this again four days from now. And maybe in some evenings, if you prefer. But I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”
What? Rafi kept that one inside, though barely. “I would have said that about you. You have more demands on you than I do.”
Viau rolled up a sleeve to rub the excess ointment on his fingers into his forearm, probably to be rid of it. “Many things I must do. Few that I want to do.”
“This is respite?” Rafi had never been that before, for anyone.
His siblings were, or had been, fond of him, and his friends liked his company.
But no one came to Rafi for comfort, or play, or whatever this was.
He nodded to himself as he considered it and adjusted to the warmth behind his ribs.
“My evenings are less free, now. I’ve been…
. I took your suggestion seriously, and went to the healers, and they gave me what I suspect are the exercises for novice healers who use aer.
In the evenings,” while he had his shared room to himself, “I practice.”
He was to leave his own aer alone, for healers who used their own aer to heal burned out quickly.
This meant he was supposed to take a small amount of aer from something, not someone, and then imagine weaving a braid with it.
First a three-strand braid, and then if he gained confidence, add more strands.
The practice was similar to meditation, but with an object to focus on.
He had also asked the healer if it was usual to be distracted by the scent of a particular person even outside of aedis. The healer—an aide that day and not a fully trained healer—had told him he probably needed to get laid and his body was confusing that with aedis impulses.
Rafi didn’t mention that part, since he and Viau had not touched on the subject of his upcoming aedis and Rafi didn’t want to be the first to bring it up. That might have been cowardly, to not want to seem too desperate, or too eager, although he didn’t think Viau would mind.