Euthan couldn't tell how long he’d been out. As his creaky mind began to coalesce out of the void of unconsciousness, he mentally reviewed his condition. He had the worst headache, he felt like he’d been run over by a four-horse carriage, and his mouth tasted like morning breath and stale blood combined.
Oh, gross.
His eyelids flickered. As his vision cleared, he saw a face hovering above him. A woman’s face. It seemed familiar, but not familiar enough for Euthan to place it at first. After a second or two, it clicked.
Oh yeah, Euthan thought foggily. That’s Isabey.
The Ibarian woman had been crying again - her eyes were wet and bloodshot - but at that moment, she was glaring down at Euthan. She looked furious.
Uh oh. Now I'll get it. Euthan braced himself. Just in time; she hit him solidly in the face.
"You idiot!” Isabey shouted. “You could have died! Why didn't you tell me that could f*****g kill you?! A*****e! What the hell is wrong with you!?"
"Ouch." Euthan groaned, then closed his eyes again. He supposed he deserved that. The exhausted magician felt something small hop onto his chest and climb up to peer into his face. Pintsize, he thought with gratitude. The musogriff chirped in concern somewhere close to Euthan’s face.
"I'm not dead yet, buddy," Euthan murmured hoarsely. Pintsize’s whiskers twitched against Euthan’s cheek as he sniffed at the necromancer. Then he butted his sleek little head against his friend’s face a few times, just as he’d always done. The sensation was comforting. Euthan let out a sigh as his sore body began to release tension.
"Told you this might get hairy," he mumbled to Isabey, eyes closed wearily. She didn’t answer. Even though she was silent, Euthan imagined that he could physically feel the burn of her anger. He sighed.
"Look... if I told you, you wouldn't wanna do it."
Euthan knew that was the wrong thing to say as soon as it was out of his mouth, but it was too late.
"You're right. I wouldn't." The woman’s voice trembled with fury. Euthan felt her breath warm the chilled skin on his face and wondered if the sensation was real. Was she that close or were his senses just wonky? He couldn't tell with his eyes closed.
She exhaled deeply, then continued in a less furious tone. She didn’t exactly sound contrite, but he could hear the concern behind the anger now.
"I'm sorry, Euthan. I just... you scared me. Badly. I'm angry, and I think I have a right to be."
"You do," he admitted. After a moment, he added. "I never said I'm a great person. Just that I’m not… you know, evil."
Euthan sighed again. He felt so cold. Cold and dry. Too much death always felt like that. He hated this part. It was like the worst imaginable hangover.
"Hey. Um. If you're done yelling at me. There's, uh … there’s a tea. Pinty - he’ll get the satchel out of my pack. Can you please...?" The necromancer trailed off tiredly. There was a brief silence, and Euthan thought she might say no. He couldn’t blame her if she did.
Then she said, "Yes, of course. Just... Ooh. You're infuriating."
There was a rustling sound as Isabey, presumably, stood up. Euthan felt the warmth of her presence leave, or thought he did, and the cold air hit him like a thousand knives. His teeth started to chatter, but he didn't move, even though every fiber in his body screamed at him to do so.
He knew better. If he moved now, his fried nerves would overreact, and then he'd really be hurting. He knew from experience. So he lay as still as he could, listening to the sounds of Pintsize helping Isabey brew his tea.
Euthan felt oddly comforted. He was usually alone for this, except for Pintsize. The clever little ratlike creature could brew Euthan’s recovery tea if he had to, and often had - but it was good to have another human around. Even though Isabey (justifiably) hated him, he was glad to have her company.
Euthan heard a sharp, small snap-click sound; then, soon, a crackling. Isabey must have lit a fire for the tea. He wondered, in his weary haze, if she’d used his tinderbox or if she’d had her own stashed in the wagon. The exhausted man relaxed as best he could against the cold grass, trying to ignore the muscle spasms clawing through his thin frame and the dull ache in his bones.
Most of all, he strove to ignore the cold inside him, and the dry, and the darkness. The endless darkness.
Euthan’s sense of time was still all hinky, but after a while - he couldn't tell how long - Isabey brought him the tea. He wiggled his toes, then decided it was safe to move. The tired magician propped himself up, moving gingerly, and accepted the hot mug with a look of silent gratitude. Isabey returned his gaze with a stern one of her own, but said nothing. She sat down on the ground facing him, her expression unreadable.
Euthan drank. The liquid warmth of the brew flooded through him, chasing away the chills and the intolerable, intangible feeling of dryness. The darkness still clung to him in bits and shreds, but he wasn’t as bothered by it. He’d deal with that soon enough.
Isabey sat in silence as Euthan drank, eyes on the ground.
"I'm sorry,” she said finally.
"For what? I admit it. I'm a jerk,” Euthan replied, his tone relaxed and easy despite his hoarse voice and visible weariness. “I have my reasons for what I do... but I know it was scary for you. You just saw your brother die yesterday. Of course you don't want to see anyone die today. Not even me," he added, intending it as a funny little self-deprecating joke. Once the words were out, though, they didn't sound as funny as they did in his head. Damn.
"Thank you for the tea," he said, quickly changing the subject.
Isabey heaved a long-suffering sigh. "You’re welcome. And… I'm sorry I called you a sadistic b*****d."
"You did? I don't remember that. I must have still been out."
"And..." Isabey took a deep breath, as though trying to calm the last remnants of her annoyance. "I'm sorry for hitting you. I shouldn't have hit you," she continued, though she sounded a little growly still and she was scowling. Her eyes, though, had a subtle softness that read to Euthan as concern and genuine contrition.
Assuming he wasn’t imagining it. He still felt a bit delirious.
"Oh. Well, yes. That's true. Hitting me wasn't very nice," Euthan replied in a mild, fuzzy tone. His head seemed to be full of fog. "But you know, I think I earned it.” After a couple of beats, Euthan added, “Please don't do that again, though, okay?"
He hated the whine in his voice on the last sentence, but he couldn't help it. “A necromantic hangover hurts enough without getting beat up on top of it, trust me," Euthan groaned, rubbing at his forehead. Isabey snorted.
“‘Beat up’?” The woman gave him a sardonic look, eyebrows raised, but then her face gentled. "Sorry. I won't hit you again," she said in a softer tone.
Euthan felt drowsy. He settled back on his elbows, two-thirds reclined, and yawned. He reached into his coat, felt around for his pocket, and withdrew the hinged metal box with the yellow lid. He peered at it, frowned, then put it back in his pocket, settling back with a tired sigh.
"Oof. Yellow’s not gonna cut it this time,” he muttered to himself. Louder, he called to his familiar. “Hey, Pintsize. Smoke time. Gimme one from the… mmm… green tin. Yeah. green." Euthan blinked slowly, feeling sluggish. The cold had not left him yet, but it was a manageable numbness now that he’d finished the tea, ebbing gradually away. It was the darkness that bothered him.
"And you're sure that's what you want? Haven't you done enough of this 'smoking' thing for now?" Isabey asked from somewhere far above him. Euthan thought he heard suspicion in her voice, but there was also a sort of dull roaring behind her words, such that he couldn’t be certain.
Hm. That can’t be real....Uh oh.
The darkness was growing. It was definitely time for that certain smoke.
"Pinty," he urged his familiar.
Pintsize chirped somewhere nearby. Euthan rolled his head tiredly and spotted the musogriff running toward him with an herbstick. Pintsize was surprisingly deft with the object, all things considered. He'd even already held it in the fire to get it started, sparing Euthan the need to exert the effort of making a spark. Smoke trailed behind Euthan’s faithful friend as he ran, herbstick in his teeth, to his magician’s side. Grateful, Euthan took the herbstick and clumsily brought it to his lips, taking a deep, shivery drag.
“Oh, man,” the necromancer sighed. The smoke tasted so good. Sweet and floral. The remaining tension began to leak out of Euthan’s sore muscles as he released his held breath, letting the smoke out of his lungs with a relieved sigh. The darkness was fading at last. This herb never failed him. It was like breathing pure sunshine.
Euthan became aware that Isabey was watching him with open suspicion, as if certain he was about to do something else potentially lethal. He peered at her through half-lidded eyes and made a brief gesture with the hand holding the smoldering herbstick.
"What...? You want some?" He meant it as a joke, but, of course, she scowled.
Tough crowd.
Euthan smoked. Isabey observed, arms folded over her chest in open skepticism. "So, you're feeling better, then?" she asked with a trace of disdain after a minute or two. Euthan nodded, as much as the rat sitting on his chest would allow. "Like breathing sunshine," he told her with a small, weary smile. Pintsize began to groom himself now that he was content that Euthan was feeling a little better.
"Well then, let's get you 'home'," Isabey said with a facetious edge to her voice. She leaned down and hauled him up by the armpits, hoisting him to his feet. Pintsize, used to such sudden movements, hopped expertly up to his magician’s shoulder.
For his part, Euthan discovered with some surprise that he could stand all right, but every minute movement made him feel dizzy. Still, he managed to gather up his things with help, the herbstick dangling from his lip. He smoked it down to a nub before noticing it was done.
With everything packed into his travel pack once more, Euthan clambered into the back of the wagon, collapsing there as if the effort had exhausted him. Pintsize promptly made himself comfortable, curling up on Euthan’s chest. Ignoring the necromancer, as if determined not to react, Isabey put Euthan’s pack and bedroll into the wagon.
He heard the wagon’s timbers creak, then the reins cracked. The horse started forward at a steady pace, slower than last time. He was silently grateful to Isabey for that.
"You should have some food before you sleep," she remarked after a time.
Euthan had fished out another herbstick and was in the process of lighting it from the remains of the first one when Isabey spoke. He took a long drag, lying there in the back of the wagon. Exhaling the sweet smoke, he said, "Food... maybe. If I can stay awake. Can't always."
"How many times have you done this...?" Isabey asked, sounding shocked.
Euthan was quiet for several seconds, his exhausted mind drifting, before he recognized that he’d been asked a question.
"A lot," Euthan murmured. "I don't remember how often exactly."
"How can you not remember?"
"Do you remember how many times you've, I dunno, gone to the market?"
Isabey glanced over her shoulder at him. "I go to the market all the time."
"Exactly, you do it all the time. So can you remember how many times you went last summer? Last year? Much less your whole life?"
Isabey was quiet for a minute. Then she spoke again. "You're gambling with your life that often?"
"Necromancer," he replied simply, as if that explained everything.
She didn’t respond. The two of them rode in silence as the wagon rolled on. Euthan drowsed, mind drifting in its exhausted haze. After several minutes, he realized that he had no idea where he was spending the night. He’d rushed off without arranging lodging first. Genius, he told himself sarcastically.
"Hey, uh... Can you take me by the inn or whatever there is here before you go home? Price for my services," he added as a mild joke.
Isabey looked at him over her shoulder, raising one eyebrow. "There isn’t one in Tibur. We don’t see a lot of travelers, you know,” the woman said, stressing the word ‘travelers’ just enough that Euthan realized she was being sardonic. “The nearest lodging-house is on the edge of the next town over. About a day’s ride out.”
"Oh," Euthan replied lamely.
For a time he was quiet, smoking and brooding. The idea of sleeping outside again, feeling like this, depressed him. There didn’t seem to be much to be done about it, though. It was far from the first time.
"Well. That's okay,” the traveler murmured. “Just... Are we still in the woods? Okay. Just let me out here. I've got a bedroll.”
"What? Here? In the woods?" Isabey asked, incredulous.
"Sure. 'm a traveler... Do it all th' time," he mumbled in reply, voice gone fuzzy with exhaustion, pain, and intoxication.
"I'm not letting you sleep in the woods. That's absurd. You'll die," Isabey said firmly.
"Naw. Be fine. Toldja... do this a lot." Euthan’s eyelids hung at half-mast. He felt Pintsize snuggle closer, tucking himself right up against his neck. The necromancer lifted his chin a little to accommodate his familiar. The musogriff’s coat, with its mix of fur and feathers, felt soft and warm against Euthan’s skin. It was soothing. He was sore. Tired.
Maybe I’ll just rest my eyes for a moment…
The next thing Euthan knew, he felt Isabey pulling on his arm gently, but with firm insistence. "Up, necromancer boy. I'll guide you to a bed, but you've got to move your own feet. I can't carry you."
He muttered something unintelligible, eyes still closed. His whole body felt like it had been beaten with an iron-shod quarterstaff. Every part of him was sore. With a low groan, he managed to pull himself up into a sitting position. He took a moment to steady himself. After the night's adventures, Euthan was quietly amazed to find that he was not completely useless. Isabey offered him her hand, but he waved her off, slowly getting to his feet. Not beaten with a quarterstaff, Euthan corrected himself mentally as his muscles shrieked in protest. I’ve been trampled by a hippogriff. No, a dragonhorse. By a herd of dragonhorses.
Aside from the soreness, though, he seemed to be in one piece. That was good.
"Where... Is this... We back at your place?"
"Yes," Isabey said. "Where else? It’s not like you have anywhere else to go,” she said in a tone that Euthan couldn’t read; it seemed to be a mix of affection and disgust, which made no sense to his battered brain. “Come on then."
After a moment's hesitation, he followed her passively. He didn't have the energy to do anything but obey. She led him inside; he stumbled along, taking no notice of the details of the building or the path she took.
Some indeterminate time later, he found himself standing in a bedroom, looking down at a humble but neatly made bed. Immediately, without a word, he lay down - more accurately, collapsed - without removing his boots. It was as if gravity itself pulled him down. His nerveless limbs had no strength left to resist even had he wanted to.
He was asleep within seconds.
Euthan awoke. His whole body was rigid with tension. The necromancer let his breath out through his nostrils, trying to slacken his taut muscles. He’d had the most terrible nightmare. For the life of him, Euthan couldn't remember what it was about. It was so vivid that he felt his body still shaking with residual terror. Something chased him through the woods. He ran and ran, but he couldn't run fast enough. He had been terrified.
But of what? What was it?
The memory of the dream faded even as Euthan tried to focus on it. Within a few seconds, he’d forgotten all but a hazy fragment. He gave up and let it go.
Gradually, he relaxed, sinking into the soft bedding. With a drowsy sigh, Euthan rolled over... and discovered he wasn’t alone.
Huh. There’s a woman in my bed. That’s strange. What’s that about?
He didn’t remember going to bed with anyone. It had been a while since the last time, in fact, so he was a bit put out at the idea that he might have had a great night yet couldn’t remember one bit of it.
As he lay there, though, drifting into marginally greater alertness, he gradually decided that hadn’t happened. In fact, he’d been alone when he fell asleep… hadn’t he? Euthan frowned to himself, mentally prodding at his still-drowsy brain with some impatience.
The woman didn’t notice that Euthan was awake. She was staring at the ceiling as if deep in thought. Melancholy thought. He watched her for a while. Something about her was familiar, but he couldn't place where you've seen her before.
Then he remembered.
Oh. Okay. It’s just Isabey.
He relaxed again, his mind still full of sleepy fuzz. A moment later, it clicked. Isabey, in bed, with him.
Wait, what??
Euthan sat bolt upright, surprised almost to the point of alarm. In his shock, he forgot about his hungover condition.
"What the fu -- oh. Oh s**t. F**k. F**k," he groaned, resting his forehead in both hands. His head pounded mercilessly to punish him for the indiscreet movement.
"Are you all right?" Isabey asked, concerned, as she looked in Euthan’s direction.
"Pinty? Smoke. Green tin," he moaned, face still in his hands.
She sighed, then got up. He couldn’t see, but he felt her weight leave the bed and heard the faint rustle of her movement. "No, I'll get it."
She was back within a minute, holding the green-lidded tin box. Her expression was skeptical - but she'd brought it nonetheless. Euthan raised his head from his hands, moving slowly this time. He accepted the box wearily and opened it, fishing out a smoke, thinking, Oh thank goodness, relief is at hand.
He felt a bit less weak after the sleep, so he didn’t ask for a candle. Instead, he exerted his power just a bit, producing a tiny flicker of magic to light it - far less than the normal visible spark. But it was enough. Soon he was exhaling clouds of smoke and feeling somewhat better.
"Thanks. Um." Euthan peered at Isabey, noting that she wore a nightdress, whereas he was fully clothed - except his boots. He’d either removed them in a half-awake daze at some point in the night, or she’d pried them off.
"You're welcome, and it's fine," Isabey said, smiling at him.
Euthan thought about asking why she was in his bed, or rather, why he was in her bed. Then he decided he didn’t want to. He was still fuzzy-headed, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what would no doubt prove to be a witty retort from the woman. His already-damaged ego wouldn't survive. The more he woke up, the less he credited the idea that there was anything significant to know, anyhow.
Wishful thinking, he told himself ruefully. There’s probably only one bed in the house, that’s all. He slumped back against the headboard, resting. Isabey studied him for a few seconds.
"Are you hungry?" she asked. He lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “Well, I am,” she informed him. “I'm going to go make some food.” Isabey paused, eyeing the hungover necromancer. “Will you be okay if I leave you alone for a while?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," Euthan replied, not meaning it. It was an honest answer in that he wasn’t going to die or anything... but he didn't really want her to go. He didn’t want to be alone. But he also didn't want to admit that out loud, so he said nothing more. Isabey went to the door, then paused, resting her hand against the frame as she looked back at him. She looked as if she might say something, but she only regarded him in silence.
"I'll be back soon," she said after a few beats.
Isabey left the room.
The hungover necromancer let himself slide down in the bed so that he was laying down again, with only the one hand that was holding his smoldering herbstick raised. He felt too tired and achy to think. After a time, he noticed Pintsize sleeping at the end of the bed near his feet, and the knowledge that his familiar was near soothed his sense of solitude a little. The man stretched his legs until his bare toes brushed the napping musogriff’s warm, silky fur. That helped.
Euthan lay in bed and smoked. Bit by bit, breath by breath, the sunlight herb restored him to a condition approximating how he would have felt after a night of hard drinking - awful, that is, but much improved over when he first woke up.
As he smoked, he waited for Isabella to come back, feeling irrationally sulky and petulant. He was lonely. He wanted company.
Then he sighed and pushed the feeling away. He always got like this after a really draining spell, and he knew that. He just didn't usually have anyone else around to miss. It was a strange feeling. Especially since he didn't really know this girl. He’d only met her yesterday.
He told himself he was being an idiot. Irritable with himself, he turned over in the bed, putting his back toward the door. He stared at the wall as he smoked, sullen.
After finishing his herbstick, Euthan drifted back to sleep. This time, there were no dreams. At least none that he remembered.
When Euthan woke again, it was dark. The window showed nothing beyond its glossy panes except the black hide of the night. The bedroom was illuminated only by a single candle-lamp.
But Isabey was there. Their eyes met as his fluttered open, as if she’d been watching for him to wake up.
"Hey," she whispered, putting her hand on Euthan’s chest to stop him from sitting up. "Don't make that mistake again. Sit up slowly this time." He obeyed. She put a tray down on his lap. It held a bowl of what looked like chicken soup, a small piece of cheese, some fresh crusty bread, and a fruit whose name he didn’t know but which he recognized as having come from one of the small trees in front of the farmhouse.
The thin man’s stomach rumbled. He realized he was ravenous. When did I eat last? The man couldn’t recall. After a moment of thought, he concluded that, since he was about to eat now, it didn’t matter.
"How long was I asleep?" He picked up the spoon. The soup was still hot.
"About fifteen hours... the second time. You must have been half-dead." He made a slight grimace at that, but the food in his mouth gave him an excuse not to reply. Isabey sat on the bed next to Euthan and took a piece of bread from the tray. They ate in companionable silence.
"Thank you," he said after a time, and his gratitude was sincere. "I think a few of these herbs and vegetables are new to me. This fruit definitely is," he added, rolling the rosy-blushed yellow ovoid in his long fingers. “You’re a great cook,” Euthan told her. Isabey smiled at the compliment, but the expression seemed a little sad.
"You okay?"
"I was about to ask you that. I knew you'd be hungry... but you still look exhausted, even after all that sleep."
I do? Euthan touched his face.
"Oof,” he muttered as he ran his fingers over the skin beneath his eyes. It felt thin and lax. He probably had dark circles. Damn. “Is it that obvious?”
"Afraid so,” she informed him.
Euthan looked at what was left of his food to avoid looking at her, picking at it. A few minutes passed in silence. After a while, the necromancer shifted as if uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry,” he sighed. “I meant to keep the window open longer, give you a chance to... You know. Say your goodbyes," he explained. Euthan knew he’d been tired, but the way his body had just quit on him after such a short time was embarrassing. He'd thought he could do better than that. He fidgeted with his spoon, trying to ignore the harsh, ugly feelings of failure and inadequacy that lurked in the back of his mind.
Isabey smiled a bit, but it was a funny smile; there were tears welling up in her eyes. Then she laughed.
"What's so funny?"
"Listen to yourself. 'I'm very sorry I didn't drag myself even closer to the brink of death.' You’re a strange man, Euthan," Isabey said, smiling sadly at him.
"I know," he said. It was meant to be a jocular reply, but it came out in an unexpectedly melancholic tone. Isabey heard the undercurrent in his voice and frowned at him.
Damn again, he thought. The necromancer avoided eye contact, munching on the bread. After a little while, Euthan decided to change the subject.
"So," he said, swallowing the bite of bread. He fished the yellow-lidded tin out of his coat pocket and lit an herbstick of that type, taking a drag from the smoke as an excuse to continue avoiding eye contact.
"Remember when I said this could get dangerous? Well, it did. Now we know what your brother did, and a small part of why. Now...”
Euthan paused for another drag. His eyes flicked to Isabey’s, his gaze somber. "You can pursue this. Find the truth. Or you can accept that your brother did what he thought was right and go back to your life. Move on. Forget his ghost, forget me, forget all this dark crap.” Euthan smoked, brooding, for a few beats. Then he added, “Honestly? I suggest the latter. This feels hairy. You could die. Or worse."
Isabey didn’t answer.
Euthan glanced at her to see her reaction. She was looking off into the distance. He couldn’t tell if she was pondering his words or thinking about her brother. She looked back to him after a minute, and by her scowl, Euthan thought he knew what she was going to say before she opened her mouth. But she was a step ahead of him.
"I want to go with you. And don't try to play innocent, necromancer boy,” she said sternly, pointing at him.
He closed his mouth, swallowing the lie he’d been about to tell. Damn!
“I haven't known you long,” Isabey continued, “but I know you well enough to know that no matter what I answer, you're going to chase the mystery. Chase the truth. Even if it kills you. Just because you can't leave a secret well enough alone. Because you just have to know. So, fine. I'll go too."
Isabey glared at Euthan as if to forestall any objections. Feeling ambushed - but unable to argue because she was right - the necromancer stared back owlishly. Her gaze softened a little.
"Pintsize is wonderful. He's a smart and loyal friend." From his snug spot on the bed near your feet, the musogriff chirrups his agreement with this praise. "But... I think you need a human around. Someone who cares whether you live or die. Because you don't."
Ouch. Euthan couldn’t believe she said that. He took a drag as an excuse to look away. The man frowned, pricked in the ego. But he couldn't deny the truth of her words, so he busied himself with smoking for a second or two to give himself time to think of how to reply.
"So... you're saying you like me?" He commented after he exhaled the drag and gave her a small jocular grin.
"I'm saying I feel responsible for your safety, you self-destructive a*s, because someone has to be,” Isabey replied flatly. “I can’t just let you throw your life away on - on a whim. Over some... some damnfool thing Jayver did.”
S**t, he thought. He knew she wasn’t going to let him off the hook so easily. He also knew that she was referring to more than just her brother’s mystery. It was his life in general that upset her, it seemed.
"Hey now,” Euthan said, dropping the playful tone. “I won't throw my life away," he assured her, looking into her face. "This is my job,” he said with confidence, trying to reassure her. “I’m good at this stuff. I'll be as careful as possible. I'll study, I’ll prepare, I’ll take it slow,” he promised. His voice brightened as he spoke. His mind began to race, already pulling the rudiments of a plan together. Oh, he loved a good enigma!
“And in the end, Isabey, I'll solve this thing… and reap the rewards of a mystery resolved," As he spoke the last few words, a self-assured - almost smug - smile crossed his thin face. Isabey scowled back at him, unimpressed by his bravado.
"Or you won’t," she stated bluntly, fixing him with a piercing stare. “One of these days, you’ll bite off more than you can chew, necromancer boy.”
“And?” He tried to sound nonchalant, unconcerned.
“And then you’ll die.”
Euthan didn't have an answer for that. He lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug, looking away. She was right, of course… but it had never seemed to matter before. Especially not since he’d been on the road. And, if he was being honest with himself, he had to admit that even back home, he’d been a little bit.... reckless.
A little bit. Sure, he told himself. That’s only how you got yourself lost in the first place. Chasing mysteries…
There was an awkward silence.
They were both done eating. Isabey cleared the dishes. Then she sat beside Euthan on the bed, pinning him with an intent stare. Euthan smoked and brooded, avoiding eye contact. Isabey watched him, her expression hard to read. After a time, she smiled a little and said, “You and your smoking. If your curiosity doesn’t kill you, that habit will.” He didn’t react. A beat passed.
Then she said, “You’re a very strange man, necromancer.”
Euthan was about to reply when she leaned forward and kissed him, catching him completely by surprise.
Oh. Euthan’s mind froze. He twitched and dropped the herbstick.
The necromancer was distantly aware of Pintsize scurrying to catch it and put it out before it started a fire, but he was unable to worry about that. He was too busy being astonished.
They broke apart, stared into each other's eyes. Then she leaned in and kissed him again. Euthan reached for her, pulling her close as he returned the kiss. Her work-roughened hands slid up his face to twine her fingers in his long red hair. His roamed lower, exploring her lithe body.
He felt weakened and weary, a weathered fragment of a man with one foot in the grave. But she was whole, unbowed by the elements, strong and vital and alive.
So very alive.
Euthan awoke again at dawn, disoriented. After a moment of confusion, he remembered where he was. A bit dazed, he looked to Isabey, who was curled up against his side with her head resting on his chest. Her face was peaceful; the corners of her mouth turned ever so slightly upwards in just the hint of a smile.
The man’s eyes wandered over the sleeping woman’s features, taking in every detail with a kind of awestruck fondness. Euthan told himself that he was being stupid and sentimental, but he couldn’t stop himself. He hadn’t fully realized how lonely he was until she kissed him. He tried to recall how long it had been since the last time he’d lain with anyone, and was appalled to realize it had been months.
Damn. Guess I needed that more than I thought.
He didn’t kid himself about the depth or significance of her interest in him; no doubt Isa just needed a distraction from the pain of losing her brother. He didn’t mind. It was for the best that way, anyhow.
There had been others like this. A quick tumble here, a roll in the hay there. Physical gratification. Relief from solitude for a time. Nothing more. And nothing lasting. Euthan expected no different from his time with Isabey. He valued it regardless.
It was good to feel wanted… even if it was just for now.
Euthan reminded himself not to get too comfortable. He knew that reality would pop his bubble sooner or later. One way or another. These pleasant interludes never lasted long. If nothing else, his occult occupation and peripatetic ways would conspire to isolate him in the end. They always did.
Ah, but that’s the future, he told himself, and brushed away the uncomfortable thoughts.
Euthan wanted to focus on now. While it lasted.
Isabey woke up. She looked up, as if feeling Euthan’s gaze, and the two stared into each other's eyes. Soon, she kissed him, then leaned her head on his shoulder, staring off into space. Euthan decided that she was back in her melancholy mourning mood. Well, understandably. He held her, resting with her in silence. Euthan had to resist the urge to cling to her; he felt, irrationally, as if she were a beautiful illusion that might slip through his fingers and vanish at any moment.
He realized how easy it would be to get used to this. To get attached. Anxiety muttered in his guts. He shoved the thought away, refusing to think about it. He retreated, hiding in the moment.
Actually, now that Euthan was thinking about it, he noticed that she was clinging to him. He didn’t know why. After a while, he assumed she just needed the comfort.
Well, fine. He did too. No problem.
They stayed like that for a long while, until Isabey finally rose to get dressed. Euthan watched her move, unable to resist admiring her. She noticed him looking and a small smile bloomed on her grief-worn face, but she said nothing. So - unsure what he ought to say, if anything - neither did Euthan. After a beat, he got up, too.
The pair of them dressed together in silence. Both full of thoughts; neither ready to speak them.
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