Much as Olrox would have liked to stay by Vlad's side himself, the castle wouldn't run smoothly without someone managing it all. He had Vlad cleaned up and placed in his coffin, with a guard constantly in the room. Olrox had ordered them to inform him of any change in Vlad's condition immediately, however trivial a change it was.
Though he had his reservations at first, keeping track of the castle was little more than what he did every night in his own section, on a larger scale. The castle was completely self-sufficient, and Olrox was relieved to find that most of Vlad's subordinates were competent. On the whole, they knew what was expected of them already, and were patient with Olrox's early mistakes and awkwardness. A few were sympathetic, but for some reason, their pity and murmurs of consolation were more galling than anything. Once he was more sure of himself, he barked out what orders were necessary without preamble, and the castle's inhabitants gave his the distance he wanted.
Over the next several weeks, Olrox's life became a mechanical cycle of sleep, feeding, and constant work. Simply keeping the castle's ancient stones from crumbling around everyone's heads seemed an uphill battle. At times, very early in the morning, when Olrox was thoroughly exhausted, he half believed that the place was somehow alive, testing him. The endless work was wearing on him, but it kept him occupied. It kept him from thinking about the fact that there was still no improvement in Vlad's deathlike sleep. 'I wonder,' he mused one morning as he crawled into bed, 'if this is all that's left. If he'll just lie there, too weak even to breathe, forever...' He tried not to think, but sometimes thoughts simply came. He wondered if Vlad was dreaming, and whether they were peaceful dreams or nightmares. Olrox himself suffered nightmares on those days he dreampt at all. They were vague, meaningless, and yet left a lingering dread long after the fitful day's sleep had ended.
Torio helped where he could. Finally, he sent Olrox off altogether. "Rest for a few nights," he said firmly. "Nothing disastrous will happen in two days, even with me minding things."
After wandering aimlessly for a while, Olrox found himself at the door to the room that held Vlad. Some deeper part of him knew where it wanted to be, and Olrox wouldn't argue with it. Pushing the door open, he greeted the drowsy guard.
"Anything?" Olrox asked, with his small surviving bit of hope.
The guard shrugged its hairy shoulders. "Hard to say, domnule," it rasped. "Thought I saw his chest rise an hour ago, but if you stare long enough, you can see anything."
With a disappointed nod, Olrox dismissed the guard and sat down to watch the still form of the older vampire himself. Vlad's face looked......distant. Not peaceful, certainly. A deep sigh swelled up from Olrox's chest. His thoughts turned inward as he contemplated the comatose form before him, arms folded over the chest easily, white hair clean now and neatly arranged. 'I don't hate him, for the moment. And I don't believe that I love him, either. Am I only troubled because he's the only other person here like...like me? But we don't seem to understand one another at all. I don't know...'
His vigil lasted three nights, and Olrox despaired of ever seeing his master awake again. And then, when Olrox had given up and was preparing to leave, there was a change.
It was very slight, just the faintest breath, but the gasp that followed drew Olrox's attention. With the movement, Vlad's eyes snapped open, and his lips drew into an agonized snarl. Olrox's eyes widened in disbelief as a second shuddering gasp followed the first. Realization of what would soon occur came when Olrox approached the coffin. 'Once he moves, he'll go into fits. God, I remember that pain...'
And, sure enough, when Vlad turned his head toward the noise of Olrox's footsteps, he cried out and convulsed. Panicking, Olrox leapt into the coffin, trying to pin the larger man before he hurt himself. Fortunately, Vlad regained control over himself in a few brief seconds; Olrox sighed in relief-Vlad was too strong, even now, to be held.
All of Vlad's muscles were rigid; he was shaking with the effort of keeping still. His wide eyes seemed to stare right through Olrox to the ceiling. Remembering how Vlad had helped the circulation in his own limbs, Olrox gingerly chafed Vlad's shoulders and arms with his palms, eliciting a sharp hiss from the older vampire. After a few minutes of such work, however, Vlad relaxed slightly, and his eyes focused finally on Olrox's face.
Grimacing, Vlad raised himself to a sitting position, leaning on his arm. Shakily, he lifted the other hand and rested it on Olrox's cheek. His hand was frigid, and Olrox blinked red tears from his eyes as he covered it with his own. On opening his eyes again, he saw Vlad's wan smile, with the tip of one canine showing. His own face was streaked with blood.
Wordlessly, Vlad leaned forward and gently kissed Olrox on the forehead. He then rested his head on the younger vampire's shoulder and quietly sobbed. Olrox found himself circling his arms around his elder and weeping along with him. He was grateful that the room was locked from the inside.
Several hours passed, and the two dozed near the fireplace, Vlad leaning against the warm hearthstones and Olrox leaning comfortably against Vlad. Nothing had yet been said, and Olrox doubted that anything would for some time to come. Words were insufficient and somehow inappropriate at the moment. He rested his head over Vlad's heart, relief and elation still flooding him with each feeble beat. His eyes drifted shut in contentment, though Vlad's chest and arms chilled him even within a few feet of the fire.
A soft, drowsy haze prevailed. Olrox felt the accumulated tension of the past several weeks dissipate, letting Vlad run icy fingers through his hair. He had already fed, and would have been happy enough to spend the rest of the evening lazing on the hearthstones.
Eventually, Vlad shifted so that his head rested on Olrox's shoulder again. His grip tightened a bit, but not uncomfortably so. Olrox half opened his eyes, staring into the fire. 'I wonder how long it's been since I just sat and watched something like this?' Wrapped in Vlad's arms and watching the shifting patterns in the fire, he felt serenely happy. The flickering flames and the ethereal smoke curling up into the chimney were mesmerizing, calming to an already relaxed mind. It came as quite a shock, then, to feel a puff of cool breath and the light press of teeth against the skin of his throat.
"...Vlad?" Olrox said softly, immediately tensing again. His heartbeat quickened in alarm. There was no response. Vlad was holding the smaller vampire so closely Olrox felt as though the air was being squeezed from his lungs. Eyes wide, Olrox got a fistful of Vlad's hair and pulled, trying to push himself backward with the other hand. "Vlad...!"
Vlad started, as though waking from a trance. Just as suddenly, Olrox was roughly shoved away as Vlad sprang to his feet and slipped through the locked keyhole of the door in a cloud of vapor.
Olrox was left sprawled on the floor, gazing, bewildered, at the door. 'What on earth was that? Why am I so frightened...?' He laid a hand over his heart, feeling his pulse still racing. With mild disgust at his reaction, Olrox mulled over the past few seconds. 'Would he have bitten me? Why would he?'
He remembered that Vlad hadn't fed in over a month. "Oh." 'Well, perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad, then. It's not as though I don't know what it feels like. And he wouldn't have left like that. So, why didn't I let him......?' The thought made him shudder, and his hand involuntarily rose to clutch his throat. He sighed.
"And the day had taken such a good turn..."
Later that week, Olrox was still uneasy. He hadn't seen any more of Vlad, which was probably for the best, for the time being. Vlad was whole and well, and so Olrox didn't have to worry on that count. He simply returned quietly to his own duties and stayed out of the way. He noticed himself in the mirror more than was his habit, his eyes having a haunted look about them that drew his attention. He hoped he was the only one who noticed.
His asocial mood was aided by the powerful fatigue that came over him once he was back in his familiar work. He fed quickly at the start of the evening, put in a few hours at his desk and issuing orders within the area of his dominion, and found himself ready for sleep before dawn.
He would have been thankful for the much-needed extra rest had it not been for an unpleasant recurring dream, or rather, memory. For some reason, the failed reunion with Mihai played itself out through Olrox's mind almost as soon as he closed his eyes. After several nights of this, Olrox put it down as rattled nerves, and, gloomily, tried his best not to dwell on it.
Eventually, the memory subsided, and Olrox was left with the relative normality of someone else's memories...
Olrox was very confused to see Radu and Mehmed engaged in a nasty-looking swordfight before realizing that they were merely sparring with one another, albeit Radu seemed rather unnecessarily enthusiastic. The sultan was beginning to tire, doing little more than blocking the constant blows from his opponent's scimitar. They fought in a grassy alcove, set apart from a larger garden by a thick hedge of trees and flowering plants. A geometric fountain with fish swimming in its basin crouched in the center of the man-made glade, and a lone stone bench sat off to one side. The fountain gurgled in monotone; birdsong carried on the breeze. The clash of metal on metal and the combatants' breathing were the only human sounds.
Aside from the sweat beading his brow, the sultan's advisor showed no sign of fatigue; Radu was propelled along by sheer vicious anger. The sash that belted his loose tunic and trews fanned out behind him like a monster's tail as he gracefully dodged Mehmed's blade. He paused only while he attacked, throwing more and more of his weight behind every swipe until, with a small hop, he brought the blade down vertically. Mehmed had the presence of mind to lift his scimitar to parry the strike; even so, he was forced to his knees, his left hand braced against the flat of his blade to keep Radu's scimitar from cleaving his skull in two.
Panting, Mehmed nodded, signaling that he had lost. Reluctantly, Radu stepped back and allowed the sultan to stand.
"An hour ago I heard from my page that my spy arrived at the gates this morning, empty-handed," Radu commented coolly, his scimitar now hanging peacefully at his side.
"Really? After all this time with no word I'd thought he'd been killed."
Radu snorted. "Nasser? If such had been the case I'd have been very surprised and disappointed."
Mehmed rested on a stone bench, watching his advisor pace back and forth like the palace's caged panther. "Where is he now?"
"Sleeping," Radu growled, "Don't ask foolish questions; had he found anything useful he'd have come directly to me." Sighing, he settled down beside the young sultan on the bench. "It's no use. My brother really must have slain all of his rivals."
"Are you sure? What of my agent?" Mehmed insisted.
"My agent had the head tied to his saddlebag; as for the rest of your agent, I'd rather not know where he is." A dry grin crossed Radu's face. "I told you he was worthless. You ought to listen to me."
There was a long, tense silence in which Mehmed stared at the ground and Radu examined his fingernails. Then, out of nothing, Radu announced, "I can have our forces ready to invade Wallachia within the month. We'll be free to cross into Europe by spring."
The sultan shifted uneasily. "Would it be wise to take such drastic action?"
A touch of frustration leaked into Radu's voice. "Drastic? Your father spent his entire reign toying with Wallachia. It's a stain on the map, Mehmed, why waste any more time?"
"What of the Holy Roman Empire? There's really no way around them, is there? And they're hostile."
Radu dismissed the comment with a wave of his slender hand. "The Emperor is a figurehead, and the Church squabbles within itself more than it fights us. We'll catch them off their guard." He stretched, catlike, and yawned politely into his palm. "Then we'll invade Wallachia from both the east and the west." He delicately picked up a small beetle that had landed on his lap and held it up between his thumb and index finger. "My brother relies on the raid, the ambush, the trap. Wallachia cannot meet us in open battle. As long as they have safe havens on their western borders and within Roman territory, they will scurry away at the sight of our banners like roaches in sunlight; the war will drag out for decades more. We shall simply leave Voivode Dracula with nowhere to which to retreat, and force him into making a stand. And with Wallachia so neatly within our jaws..." After admiring the beetle a moment longer, he pinched, crushing the insect slowly. "We shall have easy access to the rest of the continent."
"More efficient in the long run, I suppose," Mehmed conceded, looking with mild disgust at the mess on Radu's fingertips. He looped his arm around his advisor's waist fondly, almost aggressively.
"Of course." Radu wiped the guts and bits of carapace off of his fingers on the front of Mehmed's tunic. Mehmed leaned in to nuzzle Radu's jawline; the latter took the opportunity to whisper something Olrox couldn't catch.
"What?!" Mehmed snapped, incredulous. "But you can't...!"
With a huff, Radu deftly twisted out of Mehmed's grasp and rose from the bench, undisguised frustration hardening his features. "Why can't I?"
Mehmed didn't answer right away, instead staring up at his advisor. Radu met the gaze evenly and the pair held still, eyes locked, challenging one another for a beat or two. "You're my advisor. An advisor's duties are within the palace." Mehmed glared up sullenly.
"You could make me a general, then." A demand in suggestion's clothing.
Weakly, Mehmed protested. "It's not that simple. The people are uncomfortable enough with you as it is; if I were to put you in command of my armies..."
"Pah!" Radu spat, arms akimbo. With a smirk, he went on, voice as silky as he could make it. "Who better to understand our barbarian enemies than the sultan's tame barbarian? You have no reason to be concerned over the rabble. Just feed them a few sweet words to calm them and leave me to my work." He tossed his head back in a mocking laugh. "Really, sometimes I think you forget what you are."
Rising, Mehmed shook his head and approached his advisor again, catching the man's arm before Radu could pull away. "I could say the same for you. You seem to be giving me orders again." There was another heavy pause. "Why are you so eager to leave the empire...?" He narrowed his eyes, perhaps studying his advisor's face, but Radu had schooled his face into a neutral, empty expression.
Seconds later Radu's mask split in an oily smile. "Oh my, am I conspiring against the crown? Shame on me." Chuckling, he leaned into Mehmed's arm and gazed at the sultan from underneath his eyelashes. "You're not usually so paranoid--why this sudden suspicion? Toward me, of all people! I'm merely giving you counsel; isn't that what I'm supposed to do?" Idly, he twirled a few of Mehmed's dark curls around his fingers. Mehmed melted.
Olrox, a helpless observer, wondered how the man had managed to live long enough to ascend to the throne. 'He may not have without Vlad's brother. Ugh, what a display...'
Sultan Mehmed seemed torn. "You insist on this? Is it really necessary?"
Radu shifted nearer, draping his other arm around Mehmed's shoulders. As though obeying an unexplained law of physics, Mehmed slipped his arms around Radu's waist. Weaving strange patterns in his monarch's hair, Radu went on ruthlessly, purring. "The health of your empire and legacy ride on the success or failure of this expansion. The best plans can be bungled by incompetence, and that reflects poorly on us. Doesn't it?"
By this time, Mehmed's resolve had been methodically chipped away. He nodded weakly.
"Now, why would you trust anyone else to carve land for you out of Europe?" He held Mehmed's gaze. His voice had a 'Don't you trust me?' whine to it. His body language: submissive. His face: innocent. Nevertheless, it was obvious which one was in control.
Olrox was thoroughly sickened.
Smooth and seductive, Radu brushed his lips against Mehmed's ear and delivered the fatal strike. "I've only ever had your best interests at heart. When have I ever been wrong?"
"Nearly never," Mehmed croaked.
Radu did something that Olrox didn't quite follow, which was fine with him.
"Never," Mehmed amended. He sighed in resignation. "You're right, as usual. I'll appoint you general at court tomorrow morning."
"This evening."
The sultan grew upset again. "Absolutely not! Radu, it's nearly sunset; most of the court has gone home."
"And?" Radu sulked. "Are they more important than I am? They'll find out tomorrow, won't they?"
"Yes, but-"
"Don't be contrary. I'm not asking much. No ceremony, just make everything official now so that I can get a good start in the morning. There's much to do yet, and a month is only a short time."
Mehmed glared at his advisor peevishly. "If you're in such a damned hurry, why don't you begin your preparations tonight?"
The advisor answered by kissing his sultan, deeply, on the mouth.
"If you'd rather," Radu purred knowingly.
"Never mind."
A servant's footsteps padded across the turf outside the alcove, and the pair separated, gathered their weapons, and parted ways, unseen.
Olrox woke feeling tainted. Isolated from them as he was, Olrox silently thanked God for his own brothers.
'I wonder how long I've been sleeping?' He was stiff, as though he'd lain in bed a long time. He bent his arms above his head and arched his back. His spine popped pleasantly in several places, but his palms had never met the mattress. 'What?' Craning his neck backward, Olrox was met with the sight of his coverlet and pillows laying innocently three feet beneath his body.
"God in Heaven!"
In an instant he'd fallen to his bed again. Olrox sat up, gingerly rubbing his neck and staring around the bed posts and curtains wildly, half thinking he'd been the victim of a practical joke. But there were no ropes, no mirrors, nothing but his own familiar furniture, which he'd been floating above only moments ago.
Sighing, he got unsteadily to his feet and went about his nightly routine, feeding without much enthusiasm and sitting down to his work. He made little progress, however, too distracted to concentrate on the unending invoices, requests, and reports. 'How did I do that...?' He was nibbling idly at the nib of his pen when it unexpectedly cracked, interrupting his thoughts with the gritty charcoal taste of ink.
"Blech!" Jumping to his feet, Olrox spat a gob of ink into the wastepaper basket next to his desk, dropping the ruined quill in after it. 'That was my last pen,' he lamented to himself. 'So much for being productive.'
As it turned out, he wouldn't have accomplished much, pen or no pen, because a few minutes later, there was a knock at the door.
Thinking that it was one of the servants, Olrox threw open the door. "Well, what do you... Oh. Hello, Torio."
The bird-man beamed cheerfully. "Olrox, friend, good evening! Not working too hard, I hope?"
"Do I ever?" Olrox smirked halfheartedly. He opened the door wider to let Torio in, but was pulled out into the stained glass hall instead.
"Have I come at a bad time?"
"No. Why?"
Torio tipped his head to one side in confusion. "It's just that you have ink spattered all over your face. It is ink, isn't it?"
Sighing again, Olrox allowed his expression to soften. "Of course it is. Clumsiness on my part, it's nothing."
Chuckling, the tengu wiped his friend's face clean with the cuff of his robe. "Then you must be very clumsy today indeed, to have made such a mess." He noticed Olrox's downcast gaze. "What's wrong, Olrox-kun? Something is troubling you."
Olrox mentally shook himself and waved off Torio's concern. "Nothing of importance, Torio. I'm just a bit preoccupied lately."
"We haven't spoken since Master Dracula's recovery. I thought you'd be happy. Instead I find you sulking alone in your chambers."
"I'm not sulking, I'm... I'm not sure what I'm doing. Maybe I'm having trouble settling back into my regular duties." He shrugged. "A crowded hall isn't the place to discuss such matters, anyway."
Torio glanced around at the small sea of faces, several of which were watching the pair with interest, and acquiesced. "Come with me," he beckoned, and wove through the crowd. Olrox, a little surprised at the command, followed without argument, creatures clearing a straight path through the large stone room.
"What you need, friend," Torio continued, once they were out of earshot, "Is a quick change of pace. I always get depressed and lazy when I'm bored. You've never seen my rookery, have you?"
With some surprise, Olrox realized that, no, in all the months he'd lived in the castle he'd never been to the tower that Torio managed. "No. It never occurred to me."
"Then you shall come now and see it. I've an important task that must be done there immediately, and you're the only one I trust for help."
Thus hooked, Olrox found himself trudging through what must have been over a mile of hallways and stairs, even though he'd have rather stayed in his own rooms. He had to admit he was curious. 'I wonder what his tower looks like...if it's anything like a Japanese dwelling. His descriptions of them were so strange.'
But all his wondering aside, nothing could have prepared him for the chaos that met Olrox's eyes the moment they entered Torio's chambers. Black birds, ravens, crows, even a few starlings, congregated on every available surface and flew in every direction. The air was filled with a cacophony of caws and shrieks. He was beginning to become rather nervous when Torio caught his eye, grinned, and stepped out into the melee of birds.
Clearing his throat, Torio let out a bird cry so loud and piercing it made Olrox wince and cover his ears. The multitude of avian life immediately silenced and perched quietly around the perimeter of the room. The tengu looked back at Olrox a bit sheepishly and motioned for him to come in. "Sorry about that. They tend to act up when I'm gone."
"That's all right. I just wasn't expecting quite so many," Olrox said, warily eying the birds as he joined Torio in the center of the circular tower room. "There must be hundreds of them."
Torio looked around at the host of birds and nodded. "Yes, that sounds about right. They come and go through the windows. You should see this place when they're all inside; it grows crowded!"
"There are more...?" Olrox muttered.
"But now for the task I mentioned," Torio said, turning serious again. "If you don't mind, that is."
"What is it?" Olrox hoped it had nothing to do with birds.
Sighing, Torio shrugged out of his outer robe, leaving his torso bare. "Stand back a bit, and I will show you." Confused but curious, Olrox obliged. The tengu stood quietly for a moment, head down, eyes unfocused, for a long moment. Finally, Olrox noticed that Torio's shoulder blades had been gradually gathering into unnatural bulges. Suddenly, with a noise of tearing skin and popping joints, Torio's back exploded outward in a cloud of dark feathers. With a yell, Olrox leapt back.
'What in all hell was that?!'
Daring to look at his friend, Olrox was surprised to see, not the gore he'd expected, but a pair of large black wings unfurling from Torio's shoulder blades. With a contented smile, the bird spirit stretched arms and wings toward the ceiling, feathers fully splayed, before folding them easily behind his back.
Olrox simply stared. "Mother Mary," he whispered.
"Well, I am a bird spirit, after all..." Torio lowered his eyes shyly. "They're really rather disgraceful at the moment."
"How so?" Olrox still stared awestruck at the enormous wings. 'How can he bear the weight of them, I wonder? They must be very heavy...' "They're incredible."
Torio sighed and beckoned Olrox closer. "It's the feathers. You see these here?" He cupped his left wing in to show the underside feathers. Olrox nodded appreciatively, with no idea what he was supposed to be noting. "Now look at these." The tengu tipped the wing forward to show a bit of the feathers on the top. By contrast, these feathers were dull and tattered, some pointing out in odd directions, others broken and hanging loose.
"Oh. What's wrong with them?"
"There's nothing wrong exactly, it's just that back home we helped each other maintain our wings." He shook the wing slightly and watched in irritation as five or six ragged feathers dropped to the floor. "I can't reach the back myself, so I've been unable to preen them properly." As he spoke, he demonstrated, pivoting around in a vain attempt to touch the back of his own wing. Olrox stifled a laugh. "It's months until my next molt, and they're unbearable," Torio said, giving up dejectedly.
'And so the ulterior motive becomes plain.' Olrox nodded. "You want me to clean your feathers for you."
"If it's not too much trouble, yes please."
"Of course it isn't."
Torio beamed. "Arigato!"
"If it will stop your moaning."
Feathers ruffled. "It was an honorable request."
"It's a very round-about way to ask for a simple favor, you must admit."
The tengu shrugged slightly, the gesture exaggerated by his wings, and led Olrox to a low, low table surrounded by large cushions.
Olrox watched his friend take a seat on one cushion and look up at him expectantly. 'They really do sit on the floor, then.' Hoping he didn't look too put-out, he seated himself similarly and let Torio arrange his wings so that Olrox could reach both easily.
The vampire brushed his fingers over the mass of untidy black feathers. "What am I supposed to do with them?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Torio said, "I forget that you have none of your own. There is oil at the bases, where the wings meet my shoulders. If you'd spread that over the surface of the feathers, and pluck out the ruined ones..."
Nodding, though Torio had his back to him, Olrox gingerly felt for the spot of oil. The bird man had tried to point it out, but he obviously couldn't be very specific. At some point, his hands met skin, making Torio yelp and shy away.
"Sorry!" Olrox apologized, embarrassed. "I must be frigid."
Torio glanced back, humor in his eyes. "You are a bit chilled, my friend. Have you fed yet?"
Olrox sighed. "Yes. It's the drafts."
"Not much to be done about that; no matter, I was only surprised."
Quiet returned. After a moment more of searching, Olrox found the oil gland and set to work preening his unusual friend's huge wings. Settling into a rhythmic pattern of plucking, finger-combing, and spreading oil on the coal-black feathers, Olrox let his eyes and mind wander, taking in the strange room around him.
Besides the low table and cushions, the stone floor was covered by large, rectangular mats made out of some kind of woven grasses or rushes, Olrox couldn't tell what. Large, elegant scrolls of alien calligraphy hung from the walls, along with a rack holding five slightly curved, single-edged swords. These seemed to hold a place of honor in the room, and were lovingly well cared-for. 'They have no hilts. How very odd...'
Shelves and wooden pegs had been hammered into the mortar; and all of them were crowded with birds. They were eerily silent, save for a few muttered croaks, all closely watching Olrox and their master. Unnerved, Olrox's gaze slid up the walls, where rank upon rank of small, dark eyes stared back at him with shocking intelligence. In the highest rafters, where only a few particularly large ravens perched, there was an enormous nest. It was clean and finely made, lashed securely to the rafter beams by supple green branches. 'That explains the lack of a bed, I suppose. I should have expected as much.'
Running out of curiosities to ponder, Olrox let his gaze fall back to Torio's wings, let his mind slip back into the well-worn track it had been in for weeks before his friend had interrupted. The monotonous movement of his hands kept time for his thoughts. Why had Vlad behaved so strangely the night he'd awakened from that death-like sleep? And why had Olrox neither seen nor heard anything of the older vampire since then? 'Is he angry with me?' Olrox puzzled to himself, smoothing a few stray feathers back into place. 'Was it something I did? Was I wrong to push him away like that...?' He worried his lip with his incisors, his hands still, his work forgotten. Numbly, he raised a hand to his throat again, feeling the quickened pulse there, a chill jumping up his backbone at the very thought of...
"Hmm?" Torio murmured brought out of whatever trance he'd fallen into while Olrox groomed his bedraggled plumage. "Did you go to sleep, friend?" he asked good-humoredly.
Wincing, Olrox shook himself free of his reverie, and with a mumbled apology, continued his tidying. 'I can't. I couldn't ever...' He started on the other wing. 'He should understand that. He must have known how frightened I was; why didn't he say anything? Not a single word! How can he criticize my behavior when I don't know how I'm supposed to behave?'
"Ouch!"
Olrox had angrily tugged out a healthy feather by mistake. Embarrassed, he held the feather up, frowning at it. "I'm sorry, Torio. I wasn't paying attention."
Torio shrugged. "Keep it. You can always use one more pen." He waited until Olrox had settled back into his cleaning, then asked, "What is it that troubles you, Olrox-kun?"
"What do you mean?" Olrox answered absently.
"You well know what I mean," the tengu admonished. "You've been unnaturally quiet, and your hands are beginning to shake; I can feel it through my quills."
Olrox shook his head. "It's nothing," he said tightly.
"You insult me with a lie, friend."
Without warning to either Torio or himself, Olrox's temper flared. "Be insulted, then! It's my worry to tell or keep as I wish; take your pointed nose out of my business before I break it!" The threat echoed and bounced off the stone walls, startling birds that cawed in protest.
Torio sat stunned, feathers ruffled. Olrox felt his words hanging heavy in the air, and immediately regretted them. 'Why did I do that? He was only trying to help me...' "I'm sorry, Torio," he said timidly. "I shouldn't have shouted."
"That's all right, Olrox-kun. I shouldn't have pried." Torio's own voice was a bit shaky.
"It's no excuse. I'm sorry. Blessed Mary, I don't know what's wrong with me." Olrox covered his face with his hands, pulling into himself. Torio turned to face his friend, concern making him look nearly comical. Gingerly, he set one wing against the vampire's back in a sort of pseudo-embrace. Olrox accepted the soft warmth of feathers and wing with listless passivity.
"I'd like to think that you trust me, friend," Torio said softly, "If you don't wish to share your burden with me, I won't press the matter."
Feeling guilty and ungracious at that, Olrox offered, "I do trust you, dear Torio. I'd trust you with my very life." His voice faltered; he hesitated. "But this is something I simply cannot confide to you. Not even you. It shames and terrifies and hounds me and I don't understand..." He lapsed into silence again, and for once Torio did not try to bring him back to wakefulness, was content to let his companion sit is silent sympathy.
'I gave up my humanity without any real fight, and now I don't know what I am,' Olrox realized, dejected. 'I'm a ship without any anchor. I've been thrown into an incomprehensible hell, and the one person who could possibly help or console me has cut me loose. I'm lost...'
After a few minutes of quiet thought, Olrox waved Torio's wing away and stood. "I should go. I'm sorry for being such awful company."
Torio smiled, though it was a little forced. "You're apologizing far too much, Olrox-kun. It doesn't suit you."
Olrox trudged back to his own quarters with his shoulders slumped, feeling wretched. His mind twisted around his new revelation, running through it forward and back again, accomplishing nothing save sinking Olrox into a deeper melancholy.
He reached his chamber door and stepped inside, intending to go to sleep for a while. He'd almost reached the door to his bedroom when a soft cough stopped him from the fireplace. Olrox turned, and was confronted by the sight of Vlad sitting silhouetted by the guttering fire. The younger vampire stood rooted to the spot in fear, unable to speak around the lump rising in his throat.
Vlad stood and began to approach; Olrox found himself shaking uncontrollably, yet couldn't move away. His elder noticed this and stopped where he was in the center of the room, looking very much chagrinned.
"I..." he began, and then lost his nerve. They stood with locked eyes for a few tense heartbeats. Visibly collecting himself for the first time, Vlad broke the silence. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
Olrox laughed, quietly, hysterically. It startled Vlad so that he took a step back, flummoxed. When Olrox's laughter dissolved into hitching sobs Vlad was in more familiar territory, and came forward again to stand near Olrox, though not near enough to touch him. He looked forlornly at Olrox, whose down-turned face was hidden by his hair. "I'm not sure..." He searched for words. "I lost control of myself," he finished lamely.
Olrox fought his tears, managed to stop the sobs that forced their way up from somewhere in his chest. "It's all right," he croaked. He wished Vlad would leave. Reaching up, he dried his eyes with the lace cuff of his shirtsleeve, staining the white red and ruining it.
Taking hold of Olrox's shoulders in both hands, Vlad forced the distraught man to look at him. "No, Olrox. It's not. I've wronged you, wronged you gravely." Olrox wept again at the words, but the knots inside him loosened slightly. Vlad glared at a spot on the wall and continued. "I should have come sooner and said this, but..." He paused again. "I've been cowardly. Copil, I couldn't bring myself to even look you in the eye."
Olrox must have made a small noise of acceptance, though he couldn't remember, because Vlad pulled him into a tentative embrace. Olrox complied out of habit, resting his head against the taller man's chest, listening to the heart within. But all illusion of security the gesture once held was gone. Any tender feeling from the older vampire was now jarring and paradoxical in Olrox's eyes.
Sensing Olrox's glacial attitude, Vlad ended the farce and released him. He sighed, smiling weakly, miserable. "I don't ask you to forgive me now. I know you cannot. But someday, perhaps, we can put this unpleasant business behind us...?"
If he was hoping for agreement, he didn't get it. Olrox turned away, head bowed. "Please go, domnule."
Vlad opened his mouth to reply, but thought better of it and nodded, resigned for now. He left without a parting word.
Weary, overwrought, Olrox dragged himself into his bedroom and readied for bed, undressing and brushing his hair mechanically. Climbing into bed, he brought his knees up to his chin, wrapping his arms around his shins, wrung dry of tears. 'I'm alone. What good is he when there are so many secrets between us, so many mysteries I must accept...' He was too tired for anything more than the simplest self-pity, and fell into an uneasy slumber with the unseen dawn.
Opa! Jeezus, how melodramatic was that? This was all written between the hours of 10:30 and 3:00 a.m., usually while listening to goth rock, which could explain...things. And stuff. I'm so damn tired. There was more I wanted to do with this chapter, but...bleh.
Nasser- My Physics professor's given name. He strikes me as the type who'd take part in international espionage.
Speaking of which, Radu is a bitch, isn't he? I love villains... This chapter was more character development than anything else, which bugs me. I'm going to kick the pacing up a notch or two to get to the SotN storyline. I've still got a lot of ground to cover and I want to finish this accursed story by spring.
Though he had his reservations at first, keeping track of the castle was little more than what he did every night in his own section, on a larger scale. The castle was completely self-sufficient, and Olrox was relieved to find that most of Vlad's subordinates were competent. On the whole, they knew what was expected of them already, and were patient with Olrox's early mistakes and awkwardness. A few were sympathetic, but for some reason, their pity and murmurs of consolation were more galling than anything. Once he was more sure of himself, he barked out what orders were necessary without preamble, and the castle's inhabitants gave his the distance he wanted.
Over the next several weeks, Olrox's life became a mechanical cycle of sleep, feeding, and constant work. Simply keeping the castle's ancient stones from crumbling around everyone's heads seemed an uphill battle. At times, very early in the morning, when Olrox was thoroughly exhausted, he half believed that the place was somehow alive, testing him. The endless work was wearing on him, but it kept him occupied. It kept him from thinking about the fact that there was still no improvement in Vlad's deathlike sleep. 'I wonder,' he mused one morning as he crawled into bed, 'if this is all that's left. If he'll just lie there, too weak even to breathe, forever...' He tried not to think, but sometimes thoughts simply came. He wondered if Vlad was dreaming, and whether they were peaceful dreams or nightmares. Olrox himself suffered nightmares on those days he dreampt at all. They were vague, meaningless, and yet left a lingering dread long after the fitful day's sleep had ended.
Torio helped where he could. Finally, he sent Olrox off altogether. "Rest for a few nights," he said firmly. "Nothing disastrous will happen in two days, even with me minding things."
After wandering aimlessly for a while, Olrox found himself at the door to the room that held Vlad. Some deeper part of him knew where it wanted to be, and Olrox wouldn't argue with it. Pushing the door open, he greeted the drowsy guard.
"Anything?" Olrox asked, with his small surviving bit of hope.
The guard shrugged its hairy shoulders. "Hard to say, domnule," it rasped. "Thought I saw his chest rise an hour ago, but if you stare long enough, you can see anything."
With a disappointed nod, Olrox dismissed the guard and sat down to watch the still form of the older vampire himself. Vlad's face looked......distant. Not peaceful, certainly. A deep sigh swelled up from Olrox's chest. His thoughts turned inward as he contemplated the comatose form before him, arms folded over the chest easily, white hair clean now and neatly arranged. 'I don't hate him, for the moment. And I don't believe that I love him, either. Am I only troubled because he's the only other person here like...like me? But we don't seem to understand one another at all. I don't know...'
His vigil lasted three nights, and Olrox despaired of ever seeing his master awake again. And then, when Olrox had given up and was preparing to leave, there was a change.
It was very slight, just the faintest breath, but the gasp that followed drew Olrox's attention. With the movement, Vlad's eyes snapped open, and his lips drew into an agonized snarl. Olrox's eyes widened in disbelief as a second shuddering gasp followed the first. Realization of what would soon occur came when Olrox approached the coffin. 'Once he moves, he'll go into fits. God, I remember that pain...'
And, sure enough, when Vlad turned his head toward the noise of Olrox's footsteps, he cried out and convulsed. Panicking, Olrox leapt into the coffin, trying to pin the larger man before he hurt himself. Fortunately, Vlad regained control over himself in a few brief seconds; Olrox sighed in relief-Vlad was too strong, even now, to be held.
All of Vlad's muscles were rigid; he was shaking with the effort of keeping still. His wide eyes seemed to stare right through Olrox to the ceiling. Remembering how Vlad had helped the circulation in his own limbs, Olrox gingerly chafed Vlad's shoulders and arms with his palms, eliciting a sharp hiss from the older vampire. After a few minutes of such work, however, Vlad relaxed slightly, and his eyes focused finally on Olrox's face.
Grimacing, Vlad raised himself to a sitting position, leaning on his arm. Shakily, he lifted the other hand and rested it on Olrox's cheek. His hand was frigid, and Olrox blinked red tears from his eyes as he covered it with his own. On opening his eyes again, he saw Vlad's wan smile, with the tip of one canine showing. His own face was streaked with blood.
Wordlessly, Vlad leaned forward and gently kissed Olrox on the forehead. He then rested his head on the younger vampire's shoulder and quietly sobbed. Olrox found himself circling his arms around his elder and weeping along with him. He was grateful that the room was locked from the inside.
Several hours passed, and the two dozed near the fireplace, Vlad leaning against the warm hearthstones and Olrox leaning comfortably against Vlad. Nothing had yet been said, and Olrox doubted that anything would for some time to come. Words were insufficient and somehow inappropriate at the moment. He rested his head over Vlad's heart, relief and elation still flooding him with each feeble beat. His eyes drifted shut in contentment, though Vlad's chest and arms chilled him even within a few feet of the fire.
A soft, drowsy haze prevailed. Olrox felt the accumulated tension of the past several weeks dissipate, letting Vlad run icy fingers through his hair. He had already fed, and would have been happy enough to spend the rest of the evening lazing on the hearthstones.
Eventually, Vlad shifted so that his head rested on Olrox's shoulder again. His grip tightened a bit, but not uncomfortably so. Olrox half opened his eyes, staring into the fire. 'I wonder how long it's been since I just sat and watched something like this?' Wrapped in Vlad's arms and watching the shifting patterns in the fire, he felt serenely happy. The flickering flames and the ethereal smoke curling up into the chimney were mesmerizing, calming to an already relaxed mind. It came as quite a shock, then, to feel a puff of cool breath and the light press of teeth against the skin of his throat.
"...Vlad?" Olrox said softly, immediately tensing again. His heartbeat quickened in alarm. There was no response. Vlad was holding the smaller vampire so closely Olrox felt as though the air was being squeezed from his lungs. Eyes wide, Olrox got a fistful of Vlad's hair and pulled, trying to push himself backward with the other hand. "Vlad...!"
Vlad started, as though waking from a trance. Just as suddenly, Olrox was roughly shoved away as Vlad sprang to his feet and slipped through the locked keyhole of the door in a cloud of vapor.
Olrox was left sprawled on the floor, gazing, bewildered, at the door. 'What on earth was that? Why am I so frightened...?' He laid a hand over his heart, feeling his pulse still racing. With mild disgust at his reaction, Olrox mulled over the past few seconds. 'Would he have bitten me? Why would he?'
He remembered that Vlad hadn't fed in over a month. "Oh." 'Well, perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad, then. It's not as though I don't know what it feels like. And he wouldn't have left like that. So, why didn't I let him......?' The thought made him shudder, and his hand involuntarily rose to clutch his throat. He sighed.
"And the day had taken such a good turn..."
Later that week, Olrox was still uneasy. He hadn't seen any more of Vlad, which was probably for the best, for the time being. Vlad was whole and well, and so Olrox didn't have to worry on that count. He simply returned quietly to his own duties and stayed out of the way. He noticed himself in the mirror more than was his habit, his eyes having a haunted look about them that drew his attention. He hoped he was the only one who noticed.
His asocial mood was aided by the powerful fatigue that came over him once he was back in his familiar work. He fed quickly at the start of the evening, put in a few hours at his desk and issuing orders within the area of his dominion, and found himself ready for sleep before dawn.
He would have been thankful for the much-needed extra rest had it not been for an unpleasant recurring dream, or rather, memory. For some reason, the failed reunion with Mihai played itself out through Olrox's mind almost as soon as he closed his eyes. After several nights of this, Olrox put it down as rattled nerves, and, gloomily, tried his best not to dwell on it.
Eventually, the memory subsided, and Olrox was left with the relative normality of someone else's memories...
Olrox was very confused to see Radu and Mehmed engaged in a nasty-looking swordfight before realizing that they were merely sparring with one another, albeit Radu seemed rather unnecessarily enthusiastic. The sultan was beginning to tire, doing little more than blocking the constant blows from his opponent's scimitar. They fought in a grassy alcove, set apart from a larger garden by a thick hedge of trees and flowering plants. A geometric fountain with fish swimming in its basin crouched in the center of the man-made glade, and a lone stone bench sat off to one side. The fountain gurgled in monotone; birdsong carried on the breeze. The clash of metal on metal and the combatants' breathing were the only human sounds.
Aside from the sweat beading his brow, the sultan's advisor showed no sign of fatigue; Radu was propelled along by sheer vicious anger. The sash that belted his loose tunic and trews fanned out behind him like a monster's tail as he gracefully dodged Mehmed's blade. He paused only while he attacked, throwing more and more of his weight behind every swipe until, with a small hop, he brought the blade down vertically. Mehmed had the presence of mind to lift his scimitar to parry the strike; even so, he was forced to his knees, his left hand braced against the flat of his blade to keep Radu's scimitar from cleaving his skull in two.
Panting, Mehmed nodded, signaling that he had lost. Reluctantly, Radu stepped back and allowed the sultan to stand.
"An hour ago I heard from my page that my spy arrived at the gates this morning, empty-handed," Radu commented coolly, his scimitar now hanging peacefully at his side.
"Really? After all this time with no word I'd thought he'd been killed."
Radu snorted. "Nasser? If such had been the case I'd have been very surprised and disappointed."
Mehmed rested on a stone bench, watching his advisor pace back and forth like the palace's caged panther. "Where is he now?"
"Sleeping," Radu growled, "Don't ask foolish questions; had he found anything useful he'd have come directly to me." Sighing, he settled down beside the young sultan on the bench. "It's no use. My brother really must have slain all of his rivals."
"Are you sure? What of my agent?" Mehmed insisted.
"My agent had the head tied to his saddlebag; as for the rest of your agent, I'd rather not know where he is." A dry grin crossed Radu's face. "I told you he was worthless. You ought to listen to me."
There was a long, tense silence in which Mehmed stared at the ground and Radu examined his fingernails. Then, out of nothing, Radu announced, "I can have our forces ready to invade Wallachia within the month. We'll be free to cross into Europe by spring."
The sultan shifted uneasily. "Would it be wise to take such drastic action?"
A touch of frustration leaked into Radu's voice. "Drastic? Your father spent his entire reign toying with Wallachia. It's a stain on the map, Mehmed, why waste any more time?"
"What of the Holy Roman Empire? There's really no way around them, is there? And they're hostile."
Radu dismissed the comment with a wave of his slender hand. "The Emperor is a figurehead, and the Church squabbles within itself more than it fights us. We'll catch them off their guard." He stretched, catlike, and yawned politely into his palm. "Then we'll invade Wallachia from both the east and the west." He delicately picked up a small beetle that had landed on his lap and held it up between his thumb and index finger. "My brother relies on the raid, the ambush, the trap. Wallachia cannot meet us in open battle. As long as they have safe havens on their western borders and within Roman territory, they will scurry away at the sight of our banners like roaches in sunlight; the war will drag out for decades more. We shall simply leave Voivode Dracula with nowhere to which to retreat, and force him into making a stand. And with Wallachia so neatly within our jaws..." After admiring the beetle a moment longer, he pinched, crushing the insect slowly. "We shall have easy access to the rest of the continent."
"More efficient in the long run, I suppose," Mehmed conceded, looking with mild disgust at the mess on Radu's fingertips. He looped his arm around his advisor's waist fondly, almost aggressively.
"Of course." Radu wiped the guts and bits of carapace off of his fingers on the front of Mehmed's tunic. Mehmed leaned in to nuzzle Radu's jawline; the latter took the opportunity to whisper something Olrox couldn't catch.
"What?!" Mehmed snapped, incredulous. "But you can't...!"
With a huff, Radu deftly twisted out of Mehmed's grasp and rose from the bench, undisguised frustration hardening his features. "Why can't I?"
Mehmed didn't answer right away, instead staring up at his advisor. Radu met the gaze evenly and the pair held still, eyes locked, challenging one another for a beat or two. "You're my advisor. An advisor's duties are within the palace." Mehmed glared up sullenly.
"You could make me a general, then." A demand in suggestion's clothing.
Weakly, Mehmed protested. "It's not that simple. The people are uncomfortable enough with you as it is; if I were to put you in command of my armies..."
"Pah!" Radu spat, arms akimbo. With a smirk, he went on, voice as silky as he could make it. "Who better to understand our barbarian enemies than the sultan's tame barbarian? You have no reason to be concerned over the rabble. Just feed them a few sweet words to calm them and leave me to my work." He tossed his head back in a mocking laugh. "Really, sometimes I think you forget what you are."
Rising, Mehmed shook his head and approached his advisor again, catching the man's arm before Radu could pull away. "I could say the same for you. You seem to be giving me orders again." There was another heavy pause. "Why are you so eager to leave the empire...?" He narrowed his eyes, perhaps studying his advisor's face, but Radu had schooled his face into a neutral, empty expression.
Seconds later Radu's mask split in an oily smile. "Oh my, am I conspiring against the crown? Shame on me." Chuckling, he leaned into Mehmed's arm and gazed at the sultan from underneath his eyelashes. "You're not usually so paranoid--why this sudden suspicion? Toward me, of all people! I'm merely giving you counsel; isn't that what I'm supposed to do?" Idly, he twirled a few of Mehmed's dark curls around his fingers. Mehmed melted.
Olrox, a helpless observer, wondered how the man had managed to live long enough to ascend to the throne. 'He may not have without Vlad's brother. Ugh, what a display...'
Sultan Mehmed seemed torn. "You insist on this? Is it really necessary?"
Radu shifted nearer, draping his other arm around Mehmed's shoulders. As though obeying an unexplained law of physics, Mehmed slipped his arms around Radu's waist. Weaving strange patterns in his monarch's hair, Radu went on ruthlessly, purring. "The health of your empire and legacy ride on the success or failure of this expansion. The best plans can be bungled by incompetence, and that reflects poorly on us. Doesn't it?"
By this time, Mehmed's resolve had been methodically chipped away. He nodded weakly.
"Now, why would you trust anyone else to carve land for you out of Europe?" He held Mehmed's gaze. His voice had a 'Don't you trust me?' whine to it. His body language: submissive. His face: innocent. Nevertheless, it was obvious which one was in control.
Olrox was thoroughly sickened.
Smooth and seductive, Radu brushed his lips against Mehmed's ear and delivered the fatal strike. "I've only ever had your best interests at heart. When have I ever been wrong?"
"Nearly never," Mehmed croaked.
Radu did something that Olrox didn't quite follow, which was fine with him.
"Never," Mehmed amended. He sighed in resignation. "You're right, as usual. I'll appoint you general at court tomorrow morning."
"This evening."
The sultan grew upset again. "Absolutely not! Radu, it's nearly sunset; most of the court has gone home."
"And?" Radu sulked. "Are they more important than I am? They'll find out tomorrow, won't they?"
"Yes, but-"
"Don't be contrary. I'm not asking much. No ceremony, just make everything official now so that I can get a good start in the morning. There's much to do yet, and a month is only a short time."
Mehmed glared at his advisor peevishly. "If you're in such a damned hurry, why don't you begin your preparations tonight?"
The advisor answered by kissing his sultan, deeply, on the mouth.
"If you'd rather," Radu purred knowingly.
"Never mind."
A servant's footsteps padded across the turf outside the alcove, and the pair separated, gathered their weapons, and parted ways, unseen.
Olrox woke feeling tainted. Isolated from them as he was, Olrox silently thanked God for his own brothers.
'I wonder how long I've been sleeping?' He was stiff, as though he'd lain in bed a long time. He bent his arms above his head and arched his back. His spine popped pleasantly in several places, but his palms had never met the mattress. 'What?' Craning his neck backward, Olrox was met with the sight of his coverlet and pillows laying innocently three feet beneath his body.
"God in Heaven!"
In an instant he'd fallen to his bed again. Olrox sat up, gingerly rubbing his neck and staring around the bed posts and curtains wildly, half thinking he'd been the victim of a practical joke. But there were no ropes, no mirrors, nothing but his own familiar furniture, which he'd been floating above only moments ago.
Sighing, he got unsteadily to his feet and went about his nightly routine, feeding without much enthusiasm and sitting down to his work. He made little progress, however, too distracted to concentrate on the unending invoices, requests, and reports. 'How did I do that...?' He was nibbling idly at the nib of his pen when it unexpectedly cracked, interrupting his thoughts with the gritty charcoal taste of ink.
"Blech!" Jumping to his feet, Olrox spat a gob of ink into the wastepaper basket next to his desk, dropping the ruined quill in after it. 'That was my last pen,' he lamented to himself. 'So much for being productive.'
As it turned out, he wouldn't have accomplished much, pen or no pen, because a few minutes later, there was a knock at the door.
Thinking that it was one of the servants, Olrox threw open the door. "Well, what do you... Oh. Hello, Torio."
The bird-man beamed cheerfully. "Olrox, friend, good evening! Not working too hard, I hope?"
"Do I ever?" Olrox smirked halfheartedly. He opened the door wider to let Torio in, but was pulled out into the stained glass hall instead.
"Have I come at a bad time?"
"No. Why?"
Torio tipped his head to one side in confusion. "It's just that you have ink spattered all over your face. It is ink, isn't it?"
Sighing again, Olrox allowed his expression to soften. "Of course it is. Clumsiness on my part, it's nothing."
Chuckling, the tengu wiped his friend's face clean with the cuff of his robe. "Then you must be very clumsy today indeed, to have made such a mess." He noticed Olrox's downcast gaze. "What's wrong, Olrox-kun? Something is troubling you."
Olrox mentally shook himself and waved off Torio's concern. "Nothing of importance, Torio. I'm just a bit preoccupied lately."
"We haven't spoken since Master Dracula's recovery. I thought you'd be happy. Instead I find you sulking alone in your chambers."
"I'm not sulking, I'm... I'm not sure what I'm doing. Maybe I'm having trouble settling back into my regular duties." He shrugged. "A crowded hall isn't the place to discuss such matters, anyway."
Torio glanced around at the small sea of faces, several of which were watching the pair with interest, and acquiesced. "Come with me," he beckoned, and wove through the crowd. Olrox, a little surprised at the command, followed without argument, creatures clearing a straight path through the large stone room.
"What you need, friend," Torio continued, once they were out of earshot, "Is a quick change of pace. I always get depressed and lazy when I'm bored. You've never seen my rookery, have you?"
With some surprise, Olrox realized that, no, in all the months he'd lived in the castle he'd never been to the tower that Torio managed. "No. It never occurred to me."
"Then you shall come now and see it. I've an important task that must be done there immediately, and you're the only one I trust for help."
Thus hooked, Olrox found himself trudging through what must have been over a mile of hallways and stairs, even though he'd have rather stayed in his own rooms. He had to admit he was curious. 'I wonder what his tower looks like...if it's anything like a Japanese dwelling. His descriptions of them were so strange.'
But all his wondering aside, nothing could have prepared him for the chaos that met Olrox's eyes the moment they entered Torio's chambers. Black birds, ravens, crows, even a few starlings, congregated on every available surface and flew in every direction. The air was filled with a cacophony of caws and shrieks. He was beginning to become rather nervous when Torio caught his eye, grinned, and stepped out into the melee of birds.
Clearing his throat, Torio let out a bird cry so loud and piercing it made Olrox wince and cover his ears. The multitude of avian life immediately silenced and perched quietly around the perimeter of the room. The tengu looked back at Olrox a bit sheepishly and motioned for him to come in. "Sorry about that. They tend to act up when I'm gone."
"That's all right. I just wasn't expecting quite so many," Olrox said, warily eying the birds as he joined Torio in the center of the circular tower room. "There must be hundreds of them."
Torio looked around at the host of birds and nodded. "Yes, that sounds about right. They come and go through the windows. You should see this place when they're all inside; it grows crowded!"
"There are more...?" Olrox muttered.
"But now for the task I mentioned," Torio said, turning serious again. "If you don't mind, that is."
"What is it?" Olrox hoped it had nothing to do with birds.
Sighing, Torio shrugged out of his outer robe, leaving his torso bare. "Stand back a bit, and I will show you." Confused but curious, Olrox obliged. The tengu stood quietly for a moment, head down, eyes unfocused, for a long moment. Finally, Olrox noticed that Torio's shoulder blades had been gradually gathering into unnatural bulges. Suddenly, with a noise of tearing skin and popping joints, Torio's back exploded outward in a cloud of dark feathers. With a yell, Olrox leapt back.
'What in all hell was that?!'
Daring to look at his friend, Olrox was surprised to see, not the gore he'd expected, but a pair of large black wings unfurling from Torio's shoulder blades. With a contented smile, the bird spirit stretched arms and wings toward the ceiling, feathers fully splayed, before folding them easily behind his back.
Olrox simply stared. "Mother Mary," he whispered.
"Well, I am a bird spirit, after all..." Torio lowered his eyes shyly. "They're really rather disgraceful at the moment."
"How so?" Olrox still stared awestruck at the enormous wings. 'How can he bear the weight of them, I wonder? They must be very heavy...' "They're incredible."
Torio sighed and beckoned Olrox closer. "It's the feathers. You see these here?" He cupped his left wing in to show the underside feathers. Olrox nodded appreciatively, with no idea what he was supposed to be noting. "Now look at these." The tengu tipped the wing forward to show a bit of the feathers on the top. By contrast, these feathers were dull and tattered, some pointing out in odd directions, others broken and hanging loose.
"Oh. What's wrong with them?"
"There's nothing wrong exactly, it's just that back home we helped each other maintain our wings." He shook the wing slightly and watched in irritation as five or six ragged feathers dropped to the floor. "I can't reach the back myself, so I've been unable to preen them properly." As he spoke, he demonstrated, pivoting around in a vain attempt to touch the back of his own wing. Olrox stifled a laugh. "It's months until my next molt, and they're unbearable," Torio said, giving up dejectedly.
'And so the ulterior motive becomes plain.' Olrox nodded. "You want me to clean your feathers for you."
"If it's not too much trouble, yes please."
"Of course it isn't."
Torio beamed. "Arigato!"
"If it will stop your moaning."
Feathers ruffled. "It was an honorable request."
"It's a very round-about way to ask for a simple favor, you must admit."
The tengu shrugged slightly, the gesture exaggerated by his wings, and led Olrox to a low, low table surrounded by large cushions.
Olrox watched his friend take a seat on one cushion and look up at him expectantly. 'They really do sit on the floor, then.' Hoping he didn't look too put-out, he seated himself similarly and let Torio arrange his wings so that Olrox could reach both easily.
The vampire brushed his fingers over the mass of untidy black feathers. "What am I supposed to do with them?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Torio said, "I forget that you have none of your own. There is oil at the bases, where the wings meet my shoulders. If you'd spread that over the surface of the feathers, and pluck out the ruined ones..."
Nodding, though Torio had his back to him, Olrox gingerly felt for the spot of oil. The bird man had tried to point it out, but he obviously couldn't be very specific. At some point, his hands met skin, making Torio yelp and shy away.
"Sorry!" Olrox apologized, embarrassed. "I must be frigid."
Torio glanced back, humor in his eyes. "You are a bit chilled, my friend. Have you fed yet?"
Olrox sighed. "Yes. It's the drafts."
"Not much to be done about that; no matter, I was only surprised."
Quiet returned. After a moment more of searching, Olrox found the oil gland and set to work preening his unusual friend's huge wings. Settling into a rhythmic pattern of plucking, finger-combing, and spreading oil on the coal-black feathers, Olrox let his eyes and mind wander, taking in the strange room around him.
Besides the low table and cushions, the stone floor was covered by large, rectangular mats made out of some kind of woven grasses or rushes, Olrox couldn't tell what. Large, elegant scrolls of alien calligraphy hung from the walls, along with a rack holding five slightly curved, single-edged swords. These seemed to hold a place of honor in the room, and were lovingly well cared-for. 'They have no hilts. How very odd...'
Shelves and wooden pegs had been hammered into the mortar; and all of them were crowded with birds. They were eerily silent, save for a few muttered croaks, all closely watching Olrox and their master. Unnerved, Olrox's gaze slid up the walls, where rank upon rank of small, dark eyes stared back at him with shocking intelligence. In the highest rafters, where only a few particularly large ravens perched, there was an enormous nest. It was clean and finely made, lashed securely to the rafter beams by supple green branches. 'That explains the lack of a bed, I suppose. I should have expected as much.'
Running out of curiosities to ponder, Olrox let his gaze fall back to Torio's wings, let his mind slip back into the well-worn track it had been in for weeks before his friend had interrupted. The monotonous movement of his hands kept time for his thoughts. Why had Vlad behaved so strangely the night he'd awakened from that death-like sleep? And why had Olrox neither seen nor heard anything of the older vampire since then? 'Is he angry with me?' Olrox puzzled to himself, smoothing a few stray feathers back into place. 'Was it something I did? Was I wrong to push him away like that...?' He worried his lip with his incisors, his hands still, his work forgotten. Numbly, he raised a hand to his throat again, feeling the quickened pulse there, a chill jumping up his backbone at the very thought of...
"Hmm?" Torio murmured brought out of whatever trance he'd fallen into while Olrox groomed his bedraggled plumage. "Did you go to sleep, friend?" he asked good-humoredly.
Wincing, Olrox shook himself free of his reverie, and with a mumbled apology, continued his tidying. 'I can't. I couldn't ever...' He started on the other wing. 'He should understand that. He must have known how frightened I was; why didn't he say anything? Not a single word! How can he criticize my behavior when I don't know how I'm supposed to behave?'
"Ouch!"
Olrox had angrily tugged out a healthy feather by mistake. Embarrassed, he held the feather up, frowning at it. "I'm sorry, Torio. I wasn't paying attention."
Torio shrugged. "Keep it. You can always use one more pen." He waited until Olrox had settled back into his cleaning, then asked, "What is it that troubles you, Olrox-kun?"
"What do you mean?" Olrox answered absently.
"You well know what I mean," the tengu admonished. "You've been unnaturally quiet, and your hands are beginning to shake; I can feel it through my quills."
Olrox shook his head. "It's nothing," he said tightly.
"You insult me with a lie, friend."
Without warning to either Torio or himself, Olrox's temper flared. "Be insulted, then! It's my worry to tell or keep as I wish; take your pointed nose out of my business before I break it!" The threat echoed and bounced off the stone walls, startling birds that cawed in protest.
Torio sat stunned, feathers ruffled. Olrox felt his words hanging heavy in the air, and immediately regretted them. 'Why did I do that? He was only trying to help me...' "I'm sorry, Torio," he said timidly. "I shouldn't have shouted."
"That's all right, Olrox-kun. I shouldn't have pried." Torio's own voice was a bit shaky.
"It's no excuse. I'm sorry. Blessed Mary, I don't know what's wrong with me." Olrox covered his face with his hands, pulling into himself. Torio turned to face his friend, concern making him look nearly comical. Gingerly, he set one wing against the vampire's back in a sort of pseudo-embrace. Olrox accepted the soft warmth of feathers and wing with listless passivity.
"I'd like to think that you trust me, friend," Torio said softly, "If you don't wish to share your burden with me, I won't press the matter."
Feeling guilty and ungracious at that, Olrox offered, "I do trust you, dear Torio. I'd trust you with my very life." His voice faltered; he hesitated. "But this is something I simply cannot confide to you. Not even you. It shames and terrifies and hounds me and I don't understand..." He lapsed into silence again, and for once Torio did not try to bring him back to wakefulness, was content to let his companion sit is silent sympathy.
'I gave up my humanity without any real fight, and now I don't know what I am,' Olrox realized, dejected. 'I'm a ship without any anchor. I've been thrown into an incomprehensible hell, and the one person who could possibly help or console me has cut me loose. I'm lost...'
After a few minutes of quiet thought, Olrox waved Torio's wing away and stood. "I should go. I'm sorry for being such awful company."
Torio smiled, though it was a little forced. "You're apologizing far too much, Olrox-kun. It doesn't suit you."
Olrox trudged back to his own quarters with his shoulders slumped, feeling wretched. His mind twisted around his new revelation, running through it forward and back again, accomplishing nothing save sinking Olrox into a deeper melancholy.
He reached his chamber door and stepped inside, intending to go to sleep for a while. He'd almost reached the door to his bedroom when a soft cough stopped him from the fireplace. Olrox turned, and was confronted by the sight of Vlad sitting silhouetted by the guttering fire. The younger vampire stood rooted to the spot in fear, unable to speak around the lump rising in his throat.
Vlad stood and began to approach; Olrox found himself shaking uncontrollably, yet couldn't move away. His elder noticed this and stopped where he was in the center of the room, looking very much chagrinned.
"I..." he began, and then lost his nerve. They stood with locked eyes for a few tense heartbeats. Visibly collecting himself for the first time, Vlad broke the silence. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
Olrox laughed, quietly, hysterically. It startled Vlad so that he took a step back, flummoxed. When Olrox's laughter dissolved into hitching sobs Vlad was in more familiar territory, and came forward again to stand near Olrox, though not near enough to touch him. He looked forlornly at Olrox, whose down-turned face was hidden by his hair. "I'm not sure..." He searched for words. "I lost control of myself," he finished lamely.
Olrox fought his tears, managed to stop the sobs that forced their way up from somewhere in his chest. "It's all right," he croaked. He wished Vlad would leave. Reaching up, he dried his eyes with the lace cuff of his shirtsleeve, staining the white red and ruining it.
Taking hold of Olrox's shoulders in both hands, Vlad forced the distraught man to look at him. "No, Olrox. It's not. I've wronged you, wronged you gravely." Olrox wept again at the words, but the knots inside him loosened slightly. Vlad glared at a spot on the wall and continued. "I should have come sooner and said this, but..." He paused again. "I've been cowardly. Copil, I couldn't bring myself to even look you in the eye."
Olrox must have made a small noise of acceptance, though he couldn't remember, because Vlad pulled him into a tentative embrace. Olrox complied out of habit, resting his head against the taller man's chest, listening to the heart within. But all illusion of security the gesture once held was gone. Any tender feeling from the older vampire was now jarring and paradoxical in Olrox's eyes.
Sensing Olrox's glacial attitude, Vlad ended the farce and released him. He sighed, smiling weakly, miserable. "I don't ask you to forgive me now. I know you cannot. But someday, perhaps, we can put this unpleasant business behind us...?"
If he was hoping for agreement, he didn't get it. Olrox turned away, head bowed. "Please go, domnule."
Vlad opened his mouth to reply, but thought better of it and nodded, resigned for now. He left without a parting word.
Weary, overwrought, Olrox dragged himself into his bedroom and readied for bed, undressing and brushing his hair mechanically. Climbing into bed, he brought his knees up to his chin, wrapping his arms around his shins, wrung dry of tears. 'I'm alone. What good is he when there are so many secrets between us, so many mysteries I must accept...' He was too tired for anything more than the simplest self-pity, and fell into an uneasy slumber with the unseen dawn.
Opa! Jeezus, how melodramatic was that? This was all written between the hours of 10:30 and 3:00 a.m., usually while listening to goth rock, which could explain...things. And stuff. I'm so damn tired. There was more I wanted to do with this chapter, but...bleh.
Nasser- My Physics professor's given name. He strikes me as the type who'd take part in international espionage.
Speaking of which, Radu is a bitch, isn't he? I love villains... This chapter was more character development than anything else, which bugs me. I'm going to kick the pacing up a notch or two to get to the SotN storyline. I've still got a lot of ground to cover and I want to finish this accursed story by spring.