Missed Connections (70 page)

"Yes, your highness," Creegan called from behind the mast.

"We shall all enjoy ourselves immensely," Elvar said, as though his words decided the matter.

When he looked back out at the water, Kaeth felt his stomach churn, and it wasn't because of the rolling deck, or even the strong ale he and Elvar had consumed with their supper. Rather, he found himself dismayed to the point of sickness at the very idea that returning to the Academy would be anything to celebrate—especially since Jerel had likely departed long ago. With no father to order him about, Jerel was free to finish his studies and move on as he pleased, and no doubt he had done so.

Kaeth could have asked, of course, as he had been permitted to send and receive one letter from King Scurlock's palace on each full moon. Yet he had not. He feared that mentioning Jerel might have exposed him to danger, with diplomatic tensions running high. More importantly, Kaeth felt it would be better if Jerel forgot their brief relationship and found a new life of his own — perhaps even a new lover. For a man like Jerel, finding one would be easy. He might even have found many by now.

Kaeth's entire body went rigid with despair as he imagined Jerel in the arms of another man. Elvar, noticing, tilted his head and scrutinized Kaeth. He probably mistook the reason for his reaction. At least, Kaeth hoped so. He always been careful not to mention Jerel, but all the same he suspected Elvar knew he had left someone behind at the Academy.

"You are cold," Elvar reached out to take Kaeth's unmoving hand. "Let us go below and remove ourselves from the path of this ill wind."

*~*~*

The moment Kaeth saw the colored flags flapping atop the stone towers, he knew that he had truly arrived home and was not caught up in some elaborate and cruel dream. The Academy raised the flags only when famous scholars or dignitaries came to visit, though Kaeth considered himself neither. As their horses trotted closer to the massive gates, he glanced quizzically at Prince Elvar, who rode beside him on his own borrowed mount, and received a proud smile in return.

"I see they have arranged an appropriate display of pageantry," he said with a satisfied nod. "'Tis as it should be. Despite his differences with the emperor, my father is still a king in his own right. My retinue deserves nothing less."

Kaeth reflected that the knights surrounding them represented the emperor, but considered it better to stay mum. Elvar continued to look pleased as they approached the gates and waited as two student guides swung them open to allow them inside.

Within the walls, the Academy courtyard was bustling. Servants quickly led their mounts away and escorted them to the steps of a small wooden platform that been erected in the center of the green. A chorus sang, accompanied by lutes, pipes and timbrels. A skilled jongleur even performed beside them. After being away so many years, Kaeth did not recognize any of the assembled students, whose plain brown tunics had not changed since his own days as a budding scholar. Chancellor Berthog he most certainly did remember, though he had never before seen her wear such a welcoming expression in his presence. Her bright red robe flashed in the sunlight as she stepped forward to greet them, followed by the rest of the faculty—still a mixture of men and women, humans, aelfyn and fae, and even Thraag, the old green ogre who taught philosophy. All were, like Chancellor Berthog, attired in their formal robes as they marched in a strict procession.

The only person he did not see was his father.

Chancellor Berthog stepped up the podium and raised her arms for silence. The music and conversation stopped abruptly as all eyes turned toward her imposing figure. "This is a grand day at our academy and in our kingdom," she announced. "Today, one who was lost to us has found his way back. For that, we are grateful as well as hopeful that his return signals an era of peace between two territories that have reached a new understanding."

Unbidden, Elvar stepped forward and abruptly took control of both the podium and the gathering. "On behalf of my father, King Scurlock, I would like to thank the Academy for this exceedingly flattering welcome.

"The tradition of keeping a noble hostage as a guarantee of peace is a hallowed one among both our peoples, though I assure you that Kaeth was in every way our guest."

Chancellor Berthog looked a bit startled, but stepped down and allowed him to continue.

"I am afraid I have one small disappointment for you," she whispered to Kaeth as Elvar's speech rambled on. "Your father has been delayed. A messenger came earlier and told us of a broken wagon wheel that forced his procession to stop overnight at a nearby village. They will continue on their way tomorrow."

Kaeth bowed, wondering if she recognized the relief on his face. "I am grateful for the information. I did wonder why I could not see him in the crowd."

He lifted his gaze and let it travel over the crowd, which stood motionless and silent as Elvar's self-serving address continued. When he noticed the figure standing beside the stone fountain, his breath caught and a warm flash enveloped his body. Kaeth could hardly credit his own eyes. What he saw there—or rather, who he saw there—was impossible.

Noticing where his attention had strayed, Chancellor Berthog smiled. "Do you remember your old friend Jerel? He is now Jerel the Archivist. The youngest we have ever had, but when his former master, the archivist you recall, passed from this world last spring, we all agreed there was no one better suited to take his place."

At last, Elvar concluded his oration and allowed Chancellor Berthog to return to the podium. She seemed to sense that the audience had grown restless, so her remarks were brief and brought the ceremony to an effective close.
Everyone
present, she stressed, was welcome to enjoy the various entertainments taking place on the green and sample the refreshments provided by the Academy staff. When she gave the word, a good many rushed toward the barrels of ale that had been set up at the far end of the courtyard. Even Jerel seemed to fidget and glance over his shoulder, as though he, too, were thinking of retreating into the crowd. But Kaeth's gaze had not left his face even for a moment, and soon Chancellor Berthog beckoned him forward.

They approached one another tentatively at first, too much like men preparing to fight a duel, Kaeth thought with growing panic. He had envisioned the reunion between himself and Jerel many times—but in his mind, it had always ended in a tearful embrace and a shower of delirious kisses. In no way was he prepared for Jerel's cool, nearly indifferent look.

"I am pleased to reunite the two of you," Chancellor Berthog said, placing a hand on each of their forearms and subtly drawing them together. "I recall how close you were. When one of you was missing, we always knew where to check—with the other, of course."

Kaeth marked the flash of annoyance that crossed Elvar's features when Kaeth lifted a hand toward Jerel. His lips pressed into a thin, controlled line, Jerel slowly raised his own arm. Both hesitated before grasping one another by the forearm and stepping together, as old friends were expected to do.
Friends
, Kaeth noted with disappointment—not people who had once meant everything to each other.

When Jerel's strong fingers wrapped around Kaeth's arm, he felt a blaze of emotion race through his body. Those old emotions, so long suppressed and even sometimes denied, rushed upon him with such force that his head spun. Clinging to Jerel was like thrusting his hands into a fire, bringing forth a flash of pleasure and pain he hoped would never end.

"I… did not realize you were still here," Kaeth said when he recovered his voice. He had meant it in the best possible way, of course, but as soon as the words tumbled out, he regretted them. Jerel's tight face suggested that he had, indeed, interpreted them wrong. He released Kaeth's arm and dropped his hand to his side.

"'Twas easy to find out… for anyone who cared to try."

Kaeth bowed his head. He could think of no adequate response. The truth, perhaps, would sound worst of all.

For a brief moment, Jerel look chagrined at Kaeth's obvious pain. "You look well," he observed, his tone softening with apparent sincerity. "I am relieved they fed you adequately during your captivity."

"They treated me with care and respect," Kaeth admitted. "I dined at the royal table every night."

"I insisted upon that," Elvar said, breaking on the conversation. "As I have repeatedly assured everyone, Kaeth was never our prisoner. He was our honored guest."

Immediately, Jerel's flash of sympathy vanished, replaced by something resembling suspicion. "Prince Elvar," he said, offering the most lackluster greeting he could have gotten away with. "I recognize you from your portraits, though they do you little justice. How honored I am to meet you."

"I have little faith in portrait painters." Elvar scoffed. "They cannot possibly convey the complexity, or the passions, of a living man no matter how deep their talents. Anyone who thinks he knows me based on simple artifice will be sorely mistaken, I think."

A sharp glance passed between the two of them, and Kaeth again felt an agonizing need to rush to Jerel and hold him the way he had when they were younger. But he could hardly do so here, in front of Elvar and half the Academy.

Sensing the rising tension within the group, Chancellor Berthog motioned for someone else to step forward.

"Merwyn will show you to your rooms now, your highness," she informed them in a tone that left no room for dissent. "No doubt you and your party would like to bathe and rest after your long journey. Later, we shall have a peaceful meal in my private dining chamber with just a few select guests. You will all have the opportunity to recover your strength before the ambassador arrives tomorrow."

"It would be my pleasure, Chancellor," a young man, apparently the Merwyn she had summoned, answered. For the first time, Kaeth realized he had been standing beside Jerel all along, his green eyes bright with more than mere curiosity. Merwyn wore the gilt-edged belt of an apprentice—was he Jerel's lover as well? The bold way he eyed Kaeth, almost as though he were issuing an unspoken challenge, made Kaeth wonder.

"We are grateful for your hospitality." Elvar inclined his head. "Kaeth, Creegan—accompany me, please."

As they followed Merwyn, Kaeth forced himself to keep his attention focused straight ahead. Leaving Jerel behind in a physical sense at least offered him temporary relief, though it was an odd kind of relief—perhaps akin to having a diseased or mangled limb cut away. The bond between them was that intense. He suspected that Jerel had experienced it, too, but had forced himself to betray nothing by either word or deed.

He soon discovered that he and Elvar would sleep in adjoining chambers in a suite of the Academy reserved for distinguished visitors, while Creegan would stay in a small adjoining chamber intended for servants. Their luggage had already been delivered, presumably by students.

"This arrangement suits me well," Elvar said, eyeing the door that connected their chambers. "Creegan can watch over both of us, and we can visit with one another as and when it pleases us, at any time of day or night. Chancellor Berthog has served us well thus far."

Kaeth saw the hint of a smile lift the corners of Merwyn's lips. No doubt he was eager to return to Jerel and inform him of the sleeping arrangements. In truth, he had been hoping someone would slip through the door to his chamber late at night and join him in his bed—but that person was assuredly not Elvar. For now, he realized sadly, his wish would remain an idle dream.

*~*~*

Dinner consisted of typical scholar's fare, simple and frugal but filling and comforting nonetheless. Elvar regarded the boiled vegetables and greens with obvious disdain, having become used to far more elaborate meals at his father's palace. Kaeth, however, found every herb-flavored morsel a complete delight. These were the dishes he remembered, the taste of home.

If only Jerel would meet his eyes from across the table, the evening would be perfect. Instead, he occupied himself with the casual conversations of Thraag, who was seated on his right, and Chancellor Berthog on his left. Elvar, seated at the head of the table, seemed to listen intently to every word that passed between them.

"Perhaps you would care to tell us of your adventures in that foreign place," Thraag suggested when they had run out of less controversial topics. "In three years, you must have become quite familiar with their way of life. Was it much different than what you became used to here?"

"You will be pleased to know that I devoted a good deal of my time to improving my mind," Kaeth replied, dragging his spoon through his soup bowl. "King Scurlock has a magnificent library, and I was grateful that he allowed me free run of it. I studied no less than three ancient tongues with the guides I found there, and I am pleased to say I made satisfactory progress with all of them."

Thraag's egg-sized eyes sharpened with envy. Kaeth had known that the mention of dead languages would engage his imagination in a way nothing else could. "I always thought you should have been a literary scholar," he grumbled as he poured a fresh quantity of wine into his brass goblet. "Your head was in the stars when it should have been bent toward the scrolls your friend Jerel was copying. The greatest minds of the ancient world left their legacy for us to study. The least we could do, it seems to me, is learn the words they set down for our benefit."

Finally, Jerel raised his head and spoke. "You need not worry about Kaeth wasting his gifts, Thraag." He tilted his own goblet toward the other side of the table in a mock toast. "If anyone can untangle the mysteries of the stars, it will be him. He may well become one of those ancients to whom people of the future will look for guidance."

"Not all our time was spent in study," Elvar interjected. "During the day, perhaps, but at night we engaged in gentler pursuits, such as listening to minstrels or watching troupes of mummers. My father is a great patron of all the arts. He considers the creation of beautiful things as noble a pursuit as learning for its own sake."