Seeing is Believing (14 page)

Iselli shook his head, deciding at the last minute he didn't really want to face the crowd at the spring—all the tournament competitors and their fans clustered there afterwards, unless a competitor slunk off, or was dragged off, to the more private springs.

Like Iselli wanted to do with Joachim, except that Joachim had said no springs and hadn't even shown up to see him fight.

Iselli sulked a little as he took flight, his wings beating furiously but aching tiredly. He ached in more places, but that always happened after the tournaments. Iselli took a moment to think, flying aimlessly away from the springs.

The cliffs should be deserted now. Everyone—nearly everyone—went to the tournaments and with the onset of evening), there should be no one there. The cliffs gave a spectacular view of the sunrise, but not so much the sunset, which made them a perfect place to go and sulk.

And to plot how to get over Joachim, since it was obvious he'd never get anywhere with him.

Iselli adjusted his path, making the flight there quickly despite the ache in his muscles. He headed immediately to the ledge he'd shared with Joachim last week, deciding that if he was going to sulk, he was going to do it properly—on the ledge he'd been most hopeful of his chances with Joachim.

Only, there was someone already there. Iselli nearly dropped out of the sky when he met Joachim's startled look. He managed to land after a second, albeit awkwardly and almost turning an ankle with the landing.

"What are you doing here?" Iselli blurted out, folding his wings close once he was steady. Joachim didn't stand up, just continued to look at him from below with that same startled look on his face. Joachim didn't manage to answer that question before Iselli thought of a more important one. "Why weren't you at the tournament?"

Joachim visibly winced, looking away. Iselli growled softly, abruptly angry. He'd been nice to Joachim! Upfront and he'd tried
everything
and Joachim still wouldn't even give him a reason for all his refusals and for missing the tournament.

Iselli dropped to his knees, causing Joachim to look at him in surprise, and then he leaned forward and kissed Joachim. His mind thoughtfully supplying the 'so there' to go along with the action.

Joachim, surprisingly, returned the kiss immediately, with an urgency that surprised Iselli. Iselli's hands slid along Joachim's neck, cupping the back of his head and pulling him closer. Joachim didn't protest, just let out a soft noise of approval and Iselli had to pull away.

"I won," he whispered, not moving away, less than an inch from Joachim's lips.

"I know," Joachim whispered back, sighing softly. His breath made Iselli's lips tingle.

"Do you not want this?" Iselli asked, irritated as Joachim carefully leaned away from him. "Because say so, stop playing along if you don't."

Joachim laughed unhappily, shaking himself free of Iselli's touch. "Aren't you the one who's playing, Iselli?"

"What?" Iselli asked, confused. He let his hands fall into his lap, ignoring the scent of himself that he got from the motion. He probably wasn't wooing Joachim with his smell right now.

"Everyone knows your lovers don't last long," Joachim said slowly, not meeting his eyes. "Even my mother followed the gossip about you."

"Oh." Iselli blinked, fighting a grin. "Is that why you keep saying no?"

Joachim shrugged, turning to meet his eyes. "I don't—three weeks—I can't do that."

"Good," Iselli proclaimed, his fingers twitching with the urge to pull Joachim close and kiss him again. "I don't want just three weeks—" Iselli blushed, because it did sound bad, put that way. "Did you stop following the gossip? Because I've been moping over you for almost half a year now. All the—everyone else approached me, right?"

"You've only been asking me to the springs for a month," Joachim pointed out, but he was blushing a little himself.

"I didn't have the courage before that," Iselli confessed solemnly. Joachim laughed a little and Iselli grinned. "You can ask Telhin. He's had to listen to me since the start."

"I think I'll take your word for it," Joachim decided, smiling a little. "Though if this doesn't last more than three weeks, I may have to … I don't know, do something horrible to you."

"Ominous," Iselli proclaimed cheerfully, grinning widely. "So, three weeks and one day?"

Joachim laughed, smacking him gently. "That's not funny."

"Yes, it is," Iselli refuted, before ensuring the last word stayed his by kissing Joachim again.

At least, stayed his until the sun actually set twenty minutes later and Joachim interrupted their make-out session to complain about how he smelled.

Nesfir was on one of the many hunting trips he took during the summer when the witch arrived in Shakartha.

Shakartha was usually a quiet little town, peaceful and mostly self-sufficient. They were close enough to the Great Forest and far enough from the major merchant routes to dissuade most visitors. Occasionally they got a peddler or two, but nothing serious.

A handful of the village families farmed and an equal number hunted. The Wilkars raised sheep and once a year a trip the town sent an expedition to Risalka, the closest city, for the things they couldn't make or get from the peddlers.

They weren't important, they weren't rich, and they weren't interesting, and Nesfir had no idea how they'd attracted the attention of a witch.

Still, the witch hadn't entered town performing magic left and right, so maybe he wouldn't cause trouble. The witch had even gone so far as to distance himself from the village too, which boded well, since he wasn't overtly trying to take over the town.

Still, Nesfir had to check it out for himself. He hadn't been made the youngest mayor Shakartha had ever chosen at the ripe age of twenty-eight—one year younger than the previous youngest—by letting things be. That was why he was currently trekking along the edge of the forest, looking for the tiny cabin that had—according to one of the farm girls—'appeared like magic' last week.

Everyone had an opinion already, of course. Some wanted Nesfir to kick the witch out; others wanted him to stay with the hope of using his magic to ease their lives. Nesfir was torn. On the one hand, a witch could be quite practical to have around, especially if, as Nesfir suspected, he was a conjurer. On the other, it could be quite dangerous, no matter what type of magic the witch had. He had the scars to prove that.

Rounding a clump of trees, Nesfir finally caught sight of the tiny construction tucked close to the forest. Not the smartest place for a dwelling, but the witch could presumably keep the beasts away. Nesfir didn't hesitate, but walked right up to the cabin. Slowly.

He kept an eye on the trees, just in case the witch was outside. Nothing happened or appeared as he reached the small cabin, though, and Nesfir took a moment to get a good look at it. It was made of wood, constructed with thick logs and bigger than Nesfir had first thought. There would be space enough on the inside for at least two small rooms. Not much space for a family, but plenty of space for one person in a hurry to build shelter.

Nesfir knocked loudly, forming the words of a greeting in his mind. He'd be friendly until the witch showed whether he was going to be amicable or hostile.

Then the door opened and his friendly welcome flew from his mind.

Attracting a witch was one thing. Attracting a western witch hadn't even crossed Nesfir's mind. Nesfir opened his mouth, but quickly shut it when nothing came out.

"Can I help you?" The man asked flatly, his oddly slanted eyes narrowing into a glare. Nesfir cleared his throat, trying to regain his equilibrium and to not stare at the strange shape of the dark-colored mark beneath the witch's left eye.

"My name is Nesfir," Nesfir introduced himself, feeling like an awkward teen again under the witch's flat gaze. "I am mayor of Shakartha and come to extend our welcome."

"Uh-huh." The witch didn't sound at all impressed, and Nesfir didn't really blame him.

"And to make sure you mean us no harm," Nesfir added, trying not to show anything on his face. He held the witch's gaze, firmly telling himself he had time to study the witchmark later.

"Of course." The witch scowled, glaring at Nesfir with palpable annoyance and a hint of unhappiness. Nesfir wondered how many times he'd had suspicion cast on his intentions like this.

"We're very peaceful people," Nesfir continued as he'd planned. "If you give us no grief we'll return the favor."

"I'm sure. How long do you think it will be before I'm blamed for every little mishap your town struggles through?" he asked with irritation, as if Nesfir was a small child who had no grasp on the way things really worked.

"Never," Nesfir replied confidently. His fellow villagers were more practical than that. They knew what a bad witch was like, after all.

"Right," the witch said, disbelief evident in his voice. "Was that all?"

"I'd like your name," Nesfir put forth boldly. "And to extend an invitation to this month's town meeting. We'll be having it tomorrow evening in the town square."

The witch stared at him for a long moment, and Nesfir fought the ridiculous urge to fidget. He was more than thirty years old, for god's sake.

"Asahi," the witch said, his gaze never wavering. Nesfir nodded, giving Asahi a pleasant smile.

"Pleasure to meet you, Asahi," Nesfir greeted. "I hope to see you tomorrow evening."

Asahi didn't reply, simply shut the door loudly in his face. Nesfir sighed, smiling wryly. That had gone well.

*~*~*

Asahi let the bar thump into place across the door, frowning irritably. He'd been expecting pitchforks and torches to burn him out, so Nesfir's greeting beat that at least, not that he believed the welcome of it. Likely Nesfir was scoping out the territory, looking for weaknesses.

Asahi directed his scowl at the empty room. He'd tucked his bedraggled bedroll into one corner, and the small pack he'd brought with him all the way from home was propped next to it. There was no point in making furniture or anything more comfortable when it was too likely he'd be forced to leave it or watch it burn.

Asahi sighed, tucking a stray lock of hair back. Pacing across the room, he sat down heavily on the bedroll that could've used three times as much stuffing as it actually had. He should go now, save himself the trouble. Maybe if he got deeper into the woods they wouldn't find him.

Except he hated running, and this was the best little cabin he'd made yet. Empty and dark because there were no windows yet, but it was weatherproof and sturdy. He could make windows, and maybe a proper bed, and a real table with chairs … except that he wouldn't be here long enough. Making furniture would be a waste of energy.

Asahi frowned, running his hands through his hair and wincing at the grime he could feel clinging to it. He wouldn't go to Nesfir's meeting. He didn't need to hear what they would say about him, even with him right there.

For today, he'd go and find somewhere to get clean. He hadn't had a proper bath in too long, and since it looked like they weren't going to run him off right away, he'd get that in first. Then he'd figure out what to do about his dwindling food stores. He'd be able to get by for another day or two on what he had, but then he'd have to
cook
something, and the way he cooked, that could very well save the villagers the trouble of burning down his little cabin.

*~*~*

Asahi coughed again, his eyes watering as he pushed open the nearest newly spelled-into-existence window open further. The smoke poured out and Asahi ducked his head, making a face as he surveyed the ruin that had been an attempt at soup. The pot he'd been making it in seemed to have survived, but the insides of it were a charred ruin and Asahi glared, wiping at his eyes irritably.

The worst part of leaving home had to be relying on his cooking to survive. Truly, he would have starved if he didn't filch food from every town that ran him out. Only after they ran him out of course—Asahi was scrupulous and optimistic even when he tried to not be. He wouldn't ruin even the slightest chance of being allowed to finally settle.

As the worst of the smoke cleared out, Asahi moved about the cabin and pushed open the rest of the windows. They were decent enough for emergency spell casting, and Asahi mumbled the spell to refine the glass as he moved. If he was going to have windows, he was going to have nice windows.

Returning to the fireplace he'd created earlier, he scowled at the black sludge inside the pot. So perhaps there could've been a little more water. He hadn't expected it to disappear so quickly, and he'd only gone outside for a few seconds.

Asahi sighed, starting a transmuting spell. The pot and the sludge inside elongated and rounded, turning an ashy brown color. Asahi carefully picked up the perfectly round log and tossed in onto the fire, wiping the ash off his fingers onto his pant leg.

It would be so much easier if he could conjure food. Asahi made a face, leaving the side of the fireplace to cross over to his pack. Pulling out a little chunk of the jerky he'd been avoiding eating, he bit into it viciously and tried not to break his jaw trying to chew it.

Staring around the cabin morosely, Asahi chewed a little slower. This was the last of his food—he might as well make it last. Inexplicably, his thoughts turned back to the little town's mayor. Nesfir, he'd said his name was, and really, these eastern countries had the oddest names.