AKA

The Offer

This excerpt takes place before Alan and Kynan meet. Now 31, Kynan has completed his apprenticeship with Queen's Hunter Karadur and is beginning to generate an interest just based on his own merits. He's now been a Hunter in his own right for about 10 years. (Alan hasn't been born yet.)

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         Water dripped off Kynan's hat and trickled down his neck under the back of his long coat. He grimaced and tugged on the collar, pushing his hat further down on his head. His eyes glittered in the light of the distant streetlamp as he scanned the sky. Seeing nothing, his scowl deepened and he tromped dispiritedly across the grass. A cat hissed and a dog barked nearby, followed by a man's curse.

         Reaching the back fence, Kynan crouched, listening intently, before vaulting back over. He landed with a splash in a puddle that he could swear had not been there when he'd dashed over the fence to begin with. Luckily, the streets were deserted. Anyone with any good sense was somewhere dry and warm, and likely asleep. Clouds obscured the moon and stars and the stinging rain compounded matters. Kynan shivered and thrust his hands into the pockets of his coat. He looked up and down the street he stood on, getting his bearings before trudging off.

         As he walked, Kynan adjusted his sword belt and clipped the shoulder ring so that the sword rested between his shoulderblades, receiving another drenching as a result. He swore and quickened his steps. He paused on the corner, ducking into shadows to avoid the notice of the Watchman on his bedraggled and miserable horse. Kynan trotted down an alley and turned towards the warehouse district, wanting to get out of the posh, upper-class neighborhood as quickly as possible, even if that meant he had a longer way to walk.

         He slipped on the cobbles as he dashed across Merchant Way, turning his ankle and losing his hat to a particularly strong gust. Limping, Kynan snatched up the errant fedora and crammed the hat back on his head with another, louder curse.

         The buildings grew older and shabbier the further he walked and the roads pocked with holes and ruts. He slowed his pace to disguise the limp and scanned the dark alleyways he passed warily. One hand reached for the long knife on his right hip, but no one disturbed his passage and Kynan moved on.

         A small specialty cigar and smokeweed shop hid the entrance to the Borderlands in this area. Kynan knew the place well, having learned as a young vagabond that the old master had a weakness for the feral cats that roamed the back streets. Every night he had left out a saucer of milk, better than gold to a starving boy, and he fought off the cats gratefully for several nights before moving on. Kynan knew that if you slid a hand along the wall just past the boarded window, you would find an invisible crack in the worlds and if you stepped just right, you could step from the city of Waylon's Crossing into the City of Perpetual Twilight, the Borderlands that buffered the human and demon worlds.

         This part of the Borderlands was outwardly undistinguishable from the human city, especially at night. The street that Kynan went towards sported a long row of identical houses, two story homes with attics and basements, just like the middle-class townhomes in a much better-looking area of Waylon's Crossing. The streets here were all dirt and, before he'd gone far, Kynan was covered over in mud. Even out here, all sensible beings were at home and there was no one to mark his passage, even if he hadn't taken all care not to be noticed in his approach.

         There were three homes on the far end that actually was one single house. The inner walls had long since been knocked away or modified to allow the occupants free movement between all three residences. The main walkway, with their three stoops and three main doors, all remained and in the back the same could be said of the three small yards and carriage sheds.

         To one of those Kynan now entered. He kneeled in the sandy mud, for his ankle would not support his usual crouch, and surveyed the house. The shed deflected some of the rain, but the night was still bitterly cold. As much as Kynan wanted to be indoors with a hot mug of koffee in his hands, he knew that this was the most dangerous part of his journey. He had to get inside unnoticed by the guards. He knew their routines well, but occassionally they changed things, and he could not afford to be careless. More than his own safety was at risk here.

         The place was quiet, with only a few lamps lit in the upper rooms. As he watched, he struggled not to sneeze. Then, satisfied that no one in fact was home, Kynan darted quietly through the shadows and rain to the back door of the house furthermost to the left of the trio. With a practiced jiggle of the handle, Kynan unlocked the door and stepped, dripping, inside.

         There were no windows in this tiny room, only a narrow cot against one wall, a chest, a bookshelf that was propped up by the books it held, a small writing desk and chair, and a tiny wood-burning stove. A bucket by the door served as a latrine. A shelf banged into the wall held cans of milk and beans, and another had sacks of flour, sugar, and the all-important koffee. Kynan shoved wood in the stove and set water to boil before shucking of his sopping wet clothes. The coat and hat hung on a peg by the door, he draped his jeans and shirt over the chair, and leaned the boots up to dry by the stove with his socks and underwear.

         The bed warmed quickly and before he knew it, Kynan was asleep.

         He woke suddenly, coughing, and instantly reached for his sword as he realized that he was not alone. The door stood open, letting in the cold air and rain, and someone crouched by the stove. He looked up as Kynan stirred.

         "What were you trying to do?" asked the demon, re-lighting the stove with a snap of his fingers. "Kill yourself? You forgot to open the flue."

         Kynan grinned and let the sword fall from his fingers back on the floor. "Good to see --" he began, and coughed again.

         The black demon crossed the room in a single step and knelt on the floor next to Kynan. He pressed one hand to Kynan's forehead.

         "You're burning up," said Karadur, and then, after a minute. "Azil's coming."

         "But --"

         "Shh, we just got back from court, we're not expected to be particularly sociable tonight. Lie back, koffee will be ready in a minute, if Azil lets you have any, that is."

         A smaller, red demon appeared in the doorwary with a lantern. Azil turned and closed the door, squeezing past Karadur to set the light on the desk and kneel beside the cot.

         "How long were you out?" asked Azil, feeling Kynan's face and, carefully, setting his ear on his chest.

         "I don't know."

         Turning, Azil took in the still very wet clothes and shoes and frowned. He looked up at Karadur. "We need to take him inside."

         Kynan objected, because Karadur didn't have to, but they ignored him anyway. The two demons stared at each other silently, waging their invisible war, until Karadur sighed.

         "Very well."

         Karadur doused the fire with another easy snap of his fingers while Azil gathered Kynan's wet clothes into a tidy bundle. Grabbing the lantern, he left.

         "No," Kynan protested as Karadur lifted him out of the bed, blankets and all; but he suddenly had no strength to resist and the demon bore him from the tiny room as easily as if he weighed nothing at all.

         The house stayed conspicuously empty as Karadur navigated the halls and stairs and deposited Kynan in the center of a giant bed in the corner bedroom. Azil knelt by the fireplace, cautiously handling the pot on the hook dangling over the low fire. Karadur toweled Kynan the rest of the way dry with the blankets from the little room and tucked him under the covers of the lush featherbed.

         "I'm going out," he said, glancing back at Kynan, then at Azil. The other demon nodded. He smiled. Karadur scowled, but then shook his head on a laugh and stepped from the room, closing the door behind him.

         "Just you and me again," said Azil, pouring boiling water into the teapot to steep. "We should really try to do this under less ... shall we say stressful circumstances?"

         "You really shouldn't," said Kynan.

         "Be quiet and drink the tea. Karadur said your ankle is swollen, did you get hurt?"

         Kynan blinked. "Oh. I forgot." He sipped. "Blech! What is this stuff?"

         "Lemon balm and birch bark. Aren't you so glad you asked? I'll make you some chamomile in a minute or so." He peeled back the blankets from the foot of the bed until he could see Kynan's feet. "Hmm, twisted?"

         "Ouch! Ah, dammit!"

         "You better not have spilled that tea."

         "Only on me."

         "I hope you get blisters. Now hold still."

         "You're ... poking ... ah!" Inhaling sharply, Kynan started to cough again.

         Quickly, Azil rescued the tea cup, refilling it and bringing it back to hold to Kynan's lips. "No, drink. Every drop. When did you eat last? Nevermind."

         Kynan laid back and gave up, dozing off and on as Azil directed him to eat or to drink more tea, or waking suddenly as the demon changed the hot compresses on his ankle. He passed an uncounted number of days in that state, finally waking completely to find himself snug between two warm bodies. He twitched and sat up.

         Azil, facing him, opened his eyes and yawned. "It's still early, go back to sleep."

         "I ... can't, I ... uh ...."

         Azil groaned quietly. "Just don't wake Karadur, he got in late." He tugged his own way out of the blankets so that Kynan could get past, and then snuggled back down beside the other demon.

         This room had its own bathroom and Kynan took full advantage of such a luxury as running water, soaking in the claw-footed bathtub. He almost fell asleep again. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he returned to the bedroom, to see that Azil and Karadur were now twinned haphazardly around each other. Azil had such a soft smile that Kynan had to look away, pushing at the envy gnawing on his heart.

         He made some tea and sipped at it, staring into the fire.

         "How do you feel?" asked Azil quietly.

         "Fine," Kynan replied, turning his head. "A little tired."

         "That's to be expected. Try to take it easy for a while, okay?" The demon yawned slightly but didn't stir. "You should really climb back in here before you catch a chill."

         "No, that's okay, I --"

         Azil sighed. "Has either of us ever tried to jump those bones?" he demanded. "Come on, that side's empty, anyway." Yawning again, Azil wiggled slightly to get comfortable and closed his eyes.

         Kynan poured more tea and carried it to the window. Perching on the sill, he looked back over at the two sleeping demons. Their comfortable joy felt as good to him as sunshine, and as bitter as old tea. He downed the last of his drink, hung up the towel, and slid under the covers.

         He woke next to the sizzling smell of bacon and a light chuckle.

         "Told you that would get his attention," said Karadur. He sat up in bed, leaning against the headboard, with a china plate propped up on a pillow in his lap. He held a paper in one hand and a mug of koffee in the other. He made such an incongruous picture that Kynan had to laugh.

         Azil set a heaping spoonful of pan-fried potatoes, bacon, toast, and eggs on a plate and held it out to Kynan. He scrambled up eagerly to accept, taking the mug of koffee a minute later.

         "Do not," growled Azil, handing him a fork, "get crumbs in the bed. I hate that." Then he rolled his eyes. "You know exactly what I meant, Karadur."

         The other demon laughed and returned to perusing his paper. Azil sat back in front of the fireplace to stick another slice of bread in the wire trap to toast. Kynan drank his koffee, scalding his mouth, and applied himself to the food. Bacon was a luxury he didn't often have, and food of this quality was even more rare.

         When they had finished, Azil gathered all the dirty dishes onto his tray, and stepped to the door. "I'll just leave you to your talk, then."

         Kynan looked up from his koffee, to give Karadur a sideways look. Once again the two demons had a silent communion and then Azil left, carefully closing the door behind him. Now Kynan had Karadur's undivided attention and he fidgeted under that frank, appraising stare.

         "Won't he know anyway?"

         Karadur's brow twitched in a disapproving frown. "We have learned to give each other privacy when we ask." Then he relented a little. "But he doesn't really want to know, he just likes to fuss. Now I would suggest you stay out of court for a few days."

         "Why?"

         The demon smirked. "Rumor has it you lost your bounty."

         "Why I nev --"

         "You didn't expect that you could just disappear without comment, do you? The queen's got her eye on you. Hmm, but you know that, don't you? Are you sure you know what you're doing? The queen doesn't, well, her lovers tend to end up dead."

         "I'm not!" gasped Kynan, making a face. "I don't -- she wouldn't ... would she?"

         "Hard to say, but you have been making a name for yourself."

         Kynan plucked at the blankets. "I had a good teacher."

         He laughed. "Haven't you learned by now that I'm immune to flattery? Save it for the queen, you'll need it. And I suppose she'll at least keep you reasonably well-fed and dressed." He leaned sideways and pulled some coins out of a drawer in the small table next to the bed. These he handed to Kynan. "Here. Get yourself some new things before you go back."

         Staring at the gold in his hands, Kynan swallowed around the lump in his throat. "I ... thank you, but," he stared up at Karadur, "why? I can't -- I could never repay everything you've done for me."

         "It makes Azil happy," the demon replied with a shrug. "Caring for you. He gets tired of my whinging."

         "But --" Kynan started, breaking off with a slow smile as he realized that the other was joking. He closed his fist around the gold. "Thank you."

         "You are welcome to stay," said Karadur. "I've been sick, you know, there's no problem. We can smuggle you down to the other room tonight, if you'd prefer."

         "Yes, thank you."

         "Kynan, the reason I wanted you alone, I --" he cleared his throat and Kynan looked at him quizzically, unaccustomed to seeing the old demon discomfitted.

         "You got my bounty, didn't you?"

         Karadur frowned. "It had to be done, and yes, I did, but the bounty went to Lorun, which is why the queen is upset. A prize bounty like that shouldn't have fallen to that old fool."

         "You've made me look like an idiot."

         "Would you rather have the bounty on your head? I didn't think so. Now would you just be quiet? Kynan, I -- that is, we would like to adopt you, give you -- you object so quickly?"

         "Why?"

         "Have I ever told you that you ask too many damned questions?" sighed Karadur. "Look, we like you, and this would give Azil the greatest pleasure, and I ... you are like a son to us already, why not make it official?"

         Kynan blinked and looked away. "It's too dangerous."

         "You don't think I've thought through all the implications? We survived your apprenticeship, didn't we? It may be unusual, but it's not unheard of to formalize that relationship. Come, come, what's the real reason?"

         Kynan stared at him through misty eyes. "My mother knows who I am."

         "Oh." Taken aback, Karadur's face changed, sympathy replacing insult. "I am sorry, then. Well, if things change, let me know. And Kynan? You'll always have a home here."

         "Thank you! I really -- this means -- I wish!"

         To his shock and embarrassment, Kynan burst into tears. Karadur stared at him for a second in surprise and sent a mental query to Azil, who had far more experience with the halfling than he. Karadur had never allowed a friendship to develop between himself and Kynan and found himself just as surprised by the strength of his own feelings as he was by Kynan's.

         He's crying? was Azil's response, surprise and curiosity tinging his mental voice.

         Karadur let his amusement over his pairling's insatiable curiosity show, and decided to let him know what had happened. They couldn't block feelings from each other; Karadur's unease, his hurt at the refusal, and his shock had all filtered through the unique bond that he and Azil shared. As the other demon digested the memories, his own surprise and dismay, and unexpected tenderness filtered back to Karadur.

         Let him cry, said Azil after a moment.

         I didn't know he could.

         Odd, isn't it? First time I saw it, I thought he had something in his eyes. Held him in the bath to flush them out.

         The mental image Azil brought forward into his thoughts almost made Karadur laugh and he turned his head to hide his smile. What do I do?

         Hold him, like you would me -- well, maybe not like me, but --

         I got it, interrupted Karadur before he started laughing. With a wing he snagged the startled halfling and dragged him closer. He took the mostly empty mug and set it beside his own on the table and wrapped Kynan with the edge of the blanket. Then he settled him in his lap and put his arms around him. After a minute, Kynan settled.

         Poor kid, thought Azil to Karadur. If his family won't acknowledge him now, I don't think they ever will.

         You don't think so?

         No. Wouldn't you acknowledge, even an ill-conceived child, after what he's done these last few years? He's gained the favor of the queen herself! It is kind of funny, when you think about it.

         What is?

         That no one so much as knows who his family is.

         He does.

         Really. Huh. That is an interesting twist. Don't suppose he said who?

         Karadur rolled his eyes. After teaching him so carefully not to volunteer information? Don't be ridiculous. He only said as much as he did because he turned me down. Hmm, now you mention it, I don't recall him ever saying, even before, any of this. You?

         No, and it doesn't make any sense. If they're aware of him, why not acknowledge him? His blood may be tainted, but he's been far more industrious and crafty --

         And lucky.

         Yes, that, too. Anyway, even your family, I'm thinking, wouldn't hesitate to claim him now, right? If he was demon, he wouldn't even be full-grown yet and think how long you've been a Hunter and how quickly he's risen there.

         I suppose you're right, said Karadur, with a pensive frown. But, then, the fault may not lie with him but his mother or father.

         Good point. Karadur felt Azil sigh. Hell, if he'll stop trying to earn their acceptance, though.

         I do wish you were wrong more often.

         Azil's chuckle faded quickly. I love you for the offer, though.

         Is that enough?

         Ha! After all I've done to acquire your present? I don't think so.

         Karadur grunted. That's what I thought you'd say.

         Can I come back yet?

         Will he want you to see him like this?

         You're the one who's never seen him cry before, was Azil's quick retort, with some curtailed jealousy that made Karadur smile. Still, you're probably right. Disappointed, but Azil was also practical. Where's my harp? I think we need some music.

         Karadur gave a mental shrug to accompany his amused annoyance. Why are you asking me?

         But the random notes and phrases now occupying Azil's mind shut Karadur out and he smiled to himself in fondness. Where he had once found the minstrel an impossible shackle, now he wondered how he'd ever truly lived without that other mind adjoined to his own. Almost a thousand years paired and they were still discovering things about each other. One of those, he was learning to his dismay, was just how much Azil liked keeping secrets from him. The smaller demon was far too pleased with himself over this gift and Karadur had not been able to squeeze so much as a hint out of him, a frustration that only made Azil more smug.

         "I ... excuse me," said Kynan eventually, and took himself off to the bathroom.

         When he returned, Azil sat in one of the chairs by the fireplace, tuning his small harp. Karadur read his paper again as if nothing whatsoever had happened and Kynan, dressed in some clothes Azil had set out for him, curled up with more coffee in the other chair. In all, they passed a relaxed, quiet day, and Azil played all his satires to make them laugh.

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