Chapter 10:
The City of Granseal
The days of this mission were a torment to Kazin. Under any other circumstance, he would have been eager to reach Granseal as soon as possible, and thus to dispense with this distasteful duty as soon as he could. But such was not to be.
Ordinarily, the return journey to Granseal wouldn't have taken much more than a day and perhaps a half. However, Bowie had made him responsible for the well-being of the three travelling under his leadership. Bowie, in giving him this misison, had indirectly made him responsible for the safety of every single man and woman in the field. And though it was unlikely, he could not neglect the possibility of any danger on the return journey. None of them had expected the abduction of Sir Astral after all. And Sir Astral was my equal thrice over.
Morbidly he pondered the way that the shaman had taken the old wizard. He'd forgotten the ratman's name, but certainly not the spectacle. He had an iron amulet that completely overwhelmed Astral's senses. A relic, of the Ancients, I suppose. Kazin sighed and put it out of his mind. There was no good in futile wonderings.
The upshot of war was a slow, cautious journey to Granseal. A trip that once would have taken less than two days at any kind of stretch was now at least four days long. Four days in Sarah's company. Four days in my own company, if it comes to that.
He sat, knelt, studying the ground dispassionately for signs of any movement in the area. Not that it would mean much. It could be Yeeli war parties, a hidden patrol of the Galamani, Gerhalt's returning forces, anything. It could even be a group of travelers, for that matter. The ground was a bit more scuffed here and there, but as far as a timeline was concerned... It could be anything. A trilling sound broke his concentration. Kazin's eyes lighted on a fat robin, puffing its chest out for the benefit of another.
"There's something sad about those birds." He had not heard the sound of footsteps.
He glanced back at Sarah, felt his cheek twitch, and grunted. He rose to his feet. "There's something sad about all couples." She had nothing to say to that, so after standing there for a moment or so with her, Kazin walked forward, trying to work the stiffness out of his joints. Nothing. Always nothing. "Winter is coming," he observed, more to himself than any other present. "The mornings taste of frost."
He looked about the encampment they'd made the night before, weary. It was scarce an ecampment worth speaking of, just a slight clearing they'd made do with on the very edge of the forest. Kazin did not much care for the location, truth be told. There was something vaguely disquieting about trees that had stood at the apex of the three great tribes of Grans for untold centuries. But they offered cover. From any enemies and from the weather.
A war in winter. Kazin had faced worse prospects, but not many. He'd have to hope that Bowie could achieve victory before autumn faded away. He ground to a halt in midstep. Bowie. Already the guilt was gnawing at him. He'd treated Bowie worse than he deserved. When it came down to that, though was their anybody he'd treated with any degree of fairness that night?
It was ridiculous. I resented... I only wanted... He clenched his staff hand for a moment, breathing hard. He couldn't even say that he resented the way he'd been treated, prior to the attack on the Rhyl. Oh, he could, but he had not been treated poorly. Kazin had talked to most of them, concealed his own displeasure much as he was wont to do now. Damn it, I was just trying to survive outside of Bowie's graces. I was just... His shoulders slumped half an inch. I was just...
But such categorization would serve him not. It was enough to know that his response the night after the Rhyl had been misguided at best. There is some cause for legitimate irritation to be sure; Chester, Bowie, Jaha and Sarah are all particularly arrogant in their dealings with each other juxtaposed to the rest of us, and Jaha is not graceful about it. Nonetheless, amusing to talk to though I may be, how can I expect myself to be worthy of note without having done something of note? It did not absolve the others of blame, it merely tightened the links of blame that wove them all together.
With a grunt he raised and lowered one shoulder. Then he did the same for the other. Sarah said from behind him, her voice slighlty subdued, "Rick's jus-"
"Fearless leader!" The centaur's own cry drowned out Sarah's voice. Kazin turned to face Rick, and as he did so, the centaur brought his gallop to a halt. "There's no immediate evidence of enemy movements on the plains."
Kazin refrained from pointing out that on the plains, there could be no other signs of movement. "Very well. We move out then. Rick, take point. Randolf at the rear." With that he stepped forward, resigned more than resentful, to the necessary formation. A centaur was ideal for taking point, if only because of how quickly a centaur could get from one spot to another. Scouting, leading the group forward, running back to warn them, these were all valuable qualities. Kazin was hardly adept at concealment, and he doubted that Randolf was either. Anyway, the elderly dwarf leading the rear lessened the risks of ambush.
And that left him and Sarah as the magic users together in the middle, prepared to respond either way. Kazin tried not to mind the necessity of such contact, and he had been mildly surprised to find that he didn't actually mind the contact. Sarah was enjoyable enough company, though they didn't talk a lot on the march. ... No, indeed the problem was in the realization of the distances between them. Sarah had Bowie to occupy her and the context of growing up in Granseal, unlike Kazin. In permitting himself to brood, Kazin could slip into a melancholy reverie, but that aspect of their friendship rarely seemed all that vital when he was engaging with her. And that, he had to admit ruefully, was almost more depressing than the fact of the distances themselves.
Sarah cleared her throat. "I didn't realize... I mean..." Kazin glanced over at her, and immediately sharpened his attention on the fact that she was twisting her staff in her hands. For her to be ill at ease struck him as most unusual. "What you said back there," she went on at last, "sounded rather bitter."
Kazin arched an eyebrow, pondering the best way to answer that. It was a complex subject to embark on, and there was certainly some information that Sarah had best be kept from. The question, essentially was almost unrelated to him in some respects, and yet not others. He coughed. "Perhaps it was an extrapolation. When one looks upon cognizant romance, one sees a..." Bah. This clinical phraeseology is doing nothing for her. "A... It's like nature. The natural has a perfect natural union through which it works, and people attempt to mimic that. But our mimicry is still only an illusion. Still an imperfection" He paused for a moment, pondering whether or not to go on, when he realized just how pompous that must have sounded.
Sarah bit her lip, looking as though she were trying to contain a smile. "Is this all... firsthand?"
"Largely not." Kazin looked back ahead. He did not particularly feel that this was a subject on which he would benefit from talking to Sarah. "I've found little time for such things in the course of my life."
At that, she did laugh. "You're hardly an old man."
He didn't know what to say to that. "No, I suppose not." She was silent for a while after that, and Kazin was grateful. He enjoyed talking to Sarah, truly he did, but there some things that a man must hoard to himself. And her... her fondness for me is in no wise better for her than it is for me. She takes so little of what I could give, but I cannot reciprocate such an arrangment.
There were times, it seemed to Kazin, when a man's heart might burst from no apparent cause. Not the stress of life, for Kazin had been dealing with that as long as he was alive. Being of elven descent, he didn't even have lines on his face to give appearance to the struggle, merely hollowed bones. Not the stress of love unrequited, for Kazin had accepted his lot in life. There were times, not many, but a few, like that night where the self pity controlled his thinking, but he recognized now, that most of the arrogance he saw was in perception only. And the real arrogance was mostly unconscious, mostly harmless. No, Kazin had learned to accept much. He talked to people, he learned things, he understood the nature of living. If he couldn't measure up, then he would be beaten down, and that Kazin could accept. Until a brief moment when I did measure up. That took me aback. He snorted, almost amused.
It was not even the stress of this mission. Working so closely with Sarah revealed things to him, the warmth of her pesonality, her belief in the equality of life, her vitality, all these things that he vaguely coveted, but there was little of the bitterness until he was left with the night to survive, on his own, shading his baser desires. It was... humanity, perhaps that could so distort the truths of the heart. It was the limits of life, the limits of perception that endlessly showed a man his own banality, his own faults. It was the eternal merciful ability to misjudge things, to be distanced from the perfection of the elements of nature that could endlessly break a man's heart. In our imperfection, we are truly perfect. And that is a fact that we cannot accept. That is a vision of terror. And so we break our own hearts, just to survive.
"Rick," he said tonelessly.
The fresh-faced centaur held back for a moment, looking over his shoulder. "Fearless leader?"
Kazin smiled a bit sadly at that. Rick had been calling him that ever since he had been summoned to Kazin's side for the sake of this mission. Bowie's way of showing me that he values me. And the irony is, I spent too long waiting for what was always there. "I'm not fearless, Rick."
"Oh, but you lept into the very maelstrom of violence in the center of the Rhyl, my lord. Your courage is of a greater kind than most."
Kazin snorted laughter. "And it scared me stiff once I realized what I was doing. Be that as it may, I want you to keep your eyes open. Any guarded spot that you see, by a river, a few trees, anywhere that has a bit of cover, we'll stop there immediately for the day." He glanced up at the sun. It was starting to descend from its highest peak in the sky. "I don't mean to be on these plains by the time we must stop if we can avoid it. The Galamani will slay any Granserians they see, and there's no cover here in the night when we must sleep."
"Ah." Rick nodded. "As you command, fearless leader. Shall I roam ahead?"
"Stay within shouting distance," Kazin dismissed him. The centaur threw a sharp salute and a bright smile before bursting off into a sharp gallop. Kazin supposed they'd be walking for some hours yet; any obvious cover would be visible on a plain where there was so little of it. Indeed, he could take comfort in that. Kazin did not find dignity in struggle, but he felt absolved by it. The strain of any struggle is enough to slowly erase all that consists of self. The power of self is so lessened that strength returns, even in the weakness.
"Are you alright?"
Kazin started at the sudden intrusion of Sarah's voice. "I... yes. Why do you ask?" Silently he cursed himself. Obviously she asked because she thought he might not be well, and was concerned by it. The politness, however, would draw her out. And, frankly, that was the one thing that Kazin found still frayed the edges of his phislosphical equinamity. Her efforts to reach out to him as a friend, like this. Friendly conversation he could accept, but this...
"You've been very quiet." Her tone quite clearly said that there was more to it than that, but she added nothing further.
"There hasn't been much I've needed to say," he replied, too brusquely. Her comment rankled him. It stung. She would not question Bowie if he were giving the orders now. "As it comes to that, it might be best if we save conversation for later. Sound carries out here, my la... Sarah." She frowned at him, but did not reply. That in itself startled Kazin. Sarah was not the sort to bottle up her feelings. It was part of what he loved in her.
The march continued on in silence, and Kazin's bad humor started returning to him. Bloody fool. She'll never respect my accomplishments no matter what I do; I'm no bloody hero like Chester is, or Jaha even or... Bowie. Oh, Kazin didn't grudge Bowie his honors, Kazin was done with dissembling. The occasional rage he felt for Bowie was mostly unconnected from what the man himself had accomplished. But still. He glanced at Sarah out of the corner of his eye. Was it so much to ask that he be given some credit for his own acts of valor?
A moment later, he realized the reversal, and almost gave vent to a burst of full laughter. But he restrained himself, having no wish to make himself anymore the butt of his own joke. He shifted his shoulders slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position for his pack. He could accept the contradiction. When you came right down to it, Kazin supposed that he could accept just about anything, when properly distanced from himself. It was all forgotten a minute later. Everything was. He paused for a moment, leaning on his staff. The sun was high in the sky, and getting hotter. "We'll stop long enough for a drink," he commanded quietly.
The three of them stopped, knowing that Rick wouldn't get too far ahead without checking to see if they were keeping up. Kazin took out a jug of water, swishing it around a bit, and then he uncorked it, offering it first to Randolf. The craggy-faced dwarf took it without comment, and took a brief pull at it. Kazin shrugged slighlty as he handed it to Sarah. Randolf seemed to have no end of stamina. Sarah's drink was a bit longer than Randolf's had been, and she looked slightly guilty as she handed the water back to him. Kazin would not have cared if she'd drunk all of it. He lifted the jug to his lips, and stood there for a minute, feeling the weight of what he was about to do. To drink water. To reaffirm his own survival, to accept the cycle of rejuvination. A heavy task indeed. He drank, one mouthful or two swallows, near enough that it came to no difference. Then he recorked it, slipped it back into his pack and began trudging forward again without comment.
He glanced over at Sarah again. The guilt was gone from her face. The frown. Even the distance had left her eyes. It was just pysical exertion now, first this step, then the next one, and, oh yes, do not forget the one after that. Kazin turned his eyes back ahead, comforted by the single universal truth of things; it was all forgotten a moment later.
---
Kazin was finding more and more solace in his pen. His writings. Occasionally, the realization of that disturbed him, if for no other reason than the fact that he wasn't very good at it. Good at it. Huh. He might have laughed at that, but truly what was humorous in it? All people had their own vaguely pathetic habits. And Kazin had much to be grateful for. The end quality of his writing was not the point, merely writing was enough to make him feel all the more clearheaded. It was the profundity of extrapolating one's own soul, one's own nature, that led to the momentary release of the banal. The utter pointlessness of every construct of the mind.
Kazin was not old by his people's standards, but even so, he had lived in war, in turmoil. He had lived on Grans. He had seen the moment that struck anyone, just before death claimed them. It was banality then, always and eternal. There was nothing beyond the swirls of flesh that a man or a woman could call their own. And yet, if such were the case, then how so did people so thoroughly construct the rest of their lives?
Kazin hunched slighlty closer to the fire, his nose almost touching the paper, his lips moving slightly. He had moved on to a sujbect that intrigued his attention most greatly. Quickly he sketched out a few lines, a hard jaw there, perhaps the slightest amount of too long hair... yes. A king, he deemed the figure before him. A reasonable man, a most reasonable man, but hard. A king of justice. And yet, thought Kazin, raptly engaged in his character study how then does justice not consume itself? A truly just king would be a tyrant, in the proving of justice. Kazin felt that he could draw some comfort from that. All souls were equally wretched and wracked with torture. Only in pain and death are we truly equal, and banality is the ultimate equalizer.
"What are you writing?"
It took him a moment to realize that the question was directed at him. As soon as he did, a slow flush crept through his cheeks. He had grown used to his introspective interlude, and to have another voice intrude upon it was... unsettling. And yet, it was Sarah's voice. That was not displeasing. And yet, the question touched on something that he didn't like so much. There is weakness in what I'm doing. I've suffered, and all men make philosophy out of suffering. He felt his eyes watering, felt the tears beginning to gather. He was sitting, and yet his knees still shook, wanting to bring him down to some sort of genuflection. And in suffering, men fall to their knees and weep.
He looked away from the paper, into Sarah's maroon eyes. Such expressive eyes, really. Beautiful? Perhaps. That was not a question Kazin presently knew the answer to. But it was something else he loved about her. That earnestness with which she'd look at you, yes that was something that he loved. Something that validated. "Everything," he muttered, his voice hoarse, looking into the fire.
A line crinkled the fine white skin of her forehead. "What did you say?"
He was still for a moment longer. And another moment after that. The shift and weave of the fire was easier than admitting that once again, he was guilty of temporization. Guilty of being a man. They'd stopped here, in this little grove of trees for the night, and had even decided to risk the fire. There hadn't been a choice in that of course; the nights were getting colder and only dead men camped with no fires when the ground started to freeze. It was a scenic backdrop he realized. The few trees sheltering the flickering fire, the four of them huddled as close to it as they could for warmth, the mountain stream to the east. And they'd made good time too, they could probably reach Granseal tomorrow. And now I don't want the journey to end. He thought about weeping again, and then realized that he'd let the silence go on.
"I... sorry," he croaked at last, still hoarsely overcome with himself. "I've been focusing more than writing."
Sarah arched a sardonic brow. "I'm not certain that I grasp the difference."
He laughed, and for a moment the sound was free of condescension, of bitterness, of the broken being that he was. For a moment he laughed. "The meaning," he said. "I've been extrapolating meaning. This, right now? A character. An idea, a concept. All of that." He waved his arms about. "Everything is the meaning, because people gave rise to the meaning. People define all. People are the ultimate meaning of everything."
"That's... philosophic of you." She sounded more bewildered than angry. And Kazin realized abruptly that she might have had cause for anger. Not just at his oblique rambling now, but the whole of the journey thus far fell into a different perspective. They were, for better or worse, acquaintances. He wasn't willing to go so far as friends, because their connection was more tenuous than that. Sarah was affectionate with him, because she was affectionate with everyone she liked. And she told him things, yes, but most people told Kazin things. He was in some fashion aloof, and that seemed to draw people to him. But even he could rise to higher pinnacles of aloofness. And never had Sarah been more alone than on this journey. Her thoughts were of Bowie no doubt, and Kazin had been short with her.
On impulse he said, "You have a very intriguing nose. It calls attention to itself. Makes a... a line."
The eyebrow shot back up. "... Thanks."
He searched himself for the rush of anger that should have accompanied that exchange. Stammering compliments was hardly something that Kazin wanted to make a point of doing, but the bitterness was not there. Not presently there. He shook his head, fixing his attention wholly on her. "I'm sorry," he apologized again, more easily this time. "I suppose that I've just had a lot on my mind." On the whole, he was rather satisfied with that little stroke. It was true, of course, but Sarah would presume that he was speaking of the stress of command.
She nodded, her own face relaxing slightly. The moment stirred some disquiet back into Kazin's soul, though. All of these small lies that I tell her... for love. It would be one thing if I could claim that it was just wrong, but it's stupid as well. And yet, I... He blew out a bit of breath. Admitting the truth of the situation to Sarah was not an option, of course. It would be bad enough for him, to say nothing of her. And just when they all needed their focus the most. No, Kazin would not wreck Grans for the sake of his own misguided feelings. He knew his duty. And my own fear. "People are lines, you know," he said.
Sarah's brows rose again. "Beg pardon?"
He made a weak sounding chuckle. A dry sound. "Sorry." His mouth quirked. "I seem to keep doing that. It's just a thought I've been having."
"Well?" He looked back at her, not quite catching her meaning. She smiled slightly, though there was something wistful about the expression. "It sounds interesting. What do you mean by that?"
In another moment he was choked up with emotion. "People are lines," he rasped, hoping that he could diffuse his own tension by answering the question. "Lines. And lines are..." He could feel the skin on his face folding, deepening. "Refractions. Lines are but refractions of an illusion. There's nowhere to go on a line, nowhere to be. There's only... pain there."
There was silence for a long moment and Kazin slowly realized what he'd done. Fool. Bloody fool. I've tipped my hand too plainly; how can she square that with anything she might believe herself? I just said that existence is suffering, and she... He swallowed hard. It wouldn't be so bad if he could just make up his bloody mind. He could be self-indulgent, self-pitying, and generally pathetic or he could be philisophically accepting. Jumping back and forth between the two was fast exhausting all his strength.
Sarah asked quietly, "Do you really think there's that much pain in the world? I haven't." She looked into the fire, her face showing signs of dissolving into another bout of tears. "But I'm not sure anymore."
Because your heart's been just as wounded as mine. Fucking poetic. "I don't think Bowie would disagree with me," he said with breezy cruelty. He could feel a little shame at that; it was a cheap shot, and he didn't want to hurt Sarah either. Dammit, hurting you is the last thing I want to do. I'd cherish you, if I had half the bloody chance. He ignored the shame though. He hadn't on the night of Ryhl, that was part of what had made him so bitter then, so defensive. And it felt good to be assertive for once. Another little betrayal. Well when have any of them offered me the full range of friendship they should have? He knew he was slipping back into irrational anger, but he ignored that too.
Sarah's face twitched, and in a moment Kazin could feel himself softening again. Bowie and Sarah. He tried to remind himself of that, though it was hardly true. Bowie seemed to have no idea how Sarah hung on his every word. Then again, Bowie seemed not to realize just how compelling he was to the opposite sex generally. Bowie and Sarah. He tried to reach for the hurt again. The hurt made him angry, and anger he preferred to pain. But he was closer to despair than anger now. It was disgraceful, how easily she moved him, how easily such quick flickers of expression from her made him want to forgive her everything. And what's to forgive? That she loves me not? He stared blackly at the ground.
This had always been the worst part of the journey. The two nights they had already stopped for, in the making of this journey had been some of the most miserable that Kazin could recall ever having suffered. Sarah's thoughts were always distant, her endless longing never far from the surface. And the fact that she was so open about it was partly his own fault, he had to acknowledge. Sarah was too open for dissembling anyway, but he had made it easy for her to open up to him. She considered him a friend to whom she could confide her innermost feelings, and while he doubted she had any particular relationship with Randolf or Rick, he himself was already here. That was all it took. The situation wasn't Bowie's fault, it wasn't Sarah's fault, it wasn't even Kazin's fault. And that was the worst part of all. There was no blame to be found anywhere. No blame to find, to release the tension. No, that Kazin had to fabricate.
His voice was hard as he finally said, "It's easier to mark your own pain than it is happiness. Easier to notice."
She looked at him again, her eyes luminous in the deepening chill of a dark evening. "It doesn't take that much to be happy though. Being with people that you... love."
The little catch in her voice spoke volumes. Kazin knew that he should step into the role of comforting friend here, but he abruptly resented the assumption. Plenty of people spilled their confidences upon him, and he didn't coddle them all this way. "So it is," he drawled. "What about competing definitions of love? What about differing expectations, misclassfied and misunderstood emotions? Pain spins itself easily."
Sarah opened her mouth then closed it. To his baffled rage, she didn't look hurt or even shocked. "What's the solution then? Inaction?"
For a moment he felt dizzy. His hands were suddenly sweating and the pen slid from between his fingers."If that's what it takes initially, then yes." He was careful to keep the trembling from his voice. Steady man. It means nothing. And of course, it couldn't mean anything. Because the only man that Sarah had ever wanted was Bowie. Or a hero, now that he chanced to think on it. That indeed might be the key to Sarah's affections. A heroic figure. His gut clenched at the thought of it. It was not the desire he resented so much as his own shameful weakening to that point. "You do," he said coldly, "whatever it takes to maintain a level of hurt you can live with."
She flinched, making Kazin feel absurdly angry. If she would just defend herself from his assertions, regardless of which one of them was right, well that would be something, but no, she had to let his comments stand unchallenged. And it wasn't the fact that he had hurt her again that enraged him, that he resented. It was the happiness they had shared together, limited though it might be. It was the friendship. "Sarah," he began, resolved, but to his horror, he could feel the emotion building up in his voice. In a moment, his eyes were wet with the desire to weep. Not here. Please not here. "M-my... I me-mean..." He took a deep breath. "It's j-just that it works f-f-for me."
It was disgraceful, how much he could debase himself, how much he could beg. But a man must own his shame. It is all that he has. The tears stung at his eyes. He had always been asked to give up more, too much. And yet, in this cruel world, he could not prevent himself from loving. Why must everything strike at a man's soul? Sarah... "I came back didn't I?" he muttered, not really sure what he was saying. Came back to what? To her endless questions? To her pain, to her needs? Or to his own? Bowie and Sarah.
He could feel the tears gathering, squeezing, pushing against his control. Bowie and Sarah. Sarah loved Bowie because he was stronger. That was the only reason, the reason over the world for why a woman gave her heart to one man rather than another. Women had to do that, to increase the survival rates of their own children. Magic had taken some of the dangers of childbirth and lessened them, but that was still a powerful impetus. He took a deep breath, all thoughts of writing forgotten. He had reached out to Sarah tonight. And he'd hurt her too. And he didn't know which one made him more feel like crying. He cleared his throat, searching for something to say. Be quiet or you'll just make it worse.
Surprisingly, Sarah spoke up then. "Thank you, Kazin. I think I needed to hear that." And she smiled at him, with such real sweetness that it broke Kazin's heart.
Needed to hear that my foot. You say that now because Bowie isn't here to get angry at. The anger gripped him again. "And what," he began when a low chuckle cut him off.
"You say a lot mage, but it doesn't all add up. And that's what people are." He turned to see Randolf looking at the two of them, amusement written across his craggy features. "Let me tell you a secret," he resumed in a bear-like growl. "Get to be a decent age and you'll have seen your share of grief. And of happiness too. People stop meaning that much after a while." He shrugged. "Still, some are nicer 'n others. Lines you say? No. People are the sum of their parts. Sometimes that's a greater sum, happens to be lower on occassion as well. Makes no matter."
Kazin turned to look at the dwarf, and for a moment, he thought his heart would burst all over again. Only this time in joy. "Because," Kazin rasped in excitement, "pain is notional."
Randolf's face was set in a series of disapproving wrinkles, but he nonetheless managed to give Kazin quite a significant glance. Kazin bowed his head, for a moment quite overcome. His truth was... absolved in Randolf's truth. Yet it was not excused, not forgotten, not explained. It was linked. It still had an edge. He lifted his gaze to the sky, his eyes full of his unshed tears. Oh gods, thank you for this.
Sarah harrumphed in the background. "I don't like the idea that you just stop caring," she muttered.
Kazin just shook his head, drew his knees up to his chest. He was even smiling now, and the realization of that struck him as particularly absurd. But Randolf had spoken a truth. Not just a truth, but a transcendence. A geometry of words. For that, Kazin would be grateful. And if he could just believe what the dwarf had asserted, well did that not absolve his own pain? He owned it. It was notional to the point of being definitional to his being and no other's. It was as much a lie as it was a truth. And in that was a release. A man might fall to his knees and weep in exchange for such a gift.
"Sarah," he said, still shaking his head, looking across at her. In this single moment, his heart was full. "You do whatever works. Whatever shows itself to you to have benefit to your aims. That's all."
Her face had stilled, become pensive. She opened her mouth, closed it, turned her attention down to what was left of her ration of meat for the night. "You always say something like that." She made a wry face. "Because it works, right?"
For a moment, Kazin felt tense, but even he knew that she had only meant it jokingly from the first. Sarah had no idea what truth she had just stumbled on. It works to keep you to the extent that I do. That thought made him want to curl back up into hard misery again, but he couldn't do it. He'd exhausted himself of misery, at least for a few hours. The bitterness would doubtless return, but for now Kazin could relax back into philisophical equnamity.
The soft sound of clip-clopping hooves precluded any further response on Kazin's part, and for that he was grateful. It had not been an enormously productive conversation; it had merely brought him into closer contact with his patheticism. And if they kept on at this point, Kazin ran the risk of hurting himself again. And thus hurting her. And if he kept repeating that experience, his heart just wouldn't be able to take it. Giving out would be the worst thing he could do.
Rick collapsed into a sitting position by the fire, his legs curled beneath him, his face more tired than anything else. "Cold night," he said, his tone as cheerful as ever. "Good thing I drew first watch, eh?" He commenced to silently struggling with the clasps of his armor, trying to shift it off for the night. And that, Kazin had to admit, was reasonable. It would have to be draining to walk around armored all day, let alone all night. Nonetheless it made him uneasy. There was no reason to suppose an attack was imminent, but still...
With a careless shrug, very nearly happy, Kazin rose to his feet, his staff swinging from his hand. "Well, it's my watch then. I bid you goodnight." Sarah nodded, her eyes distant, biting her lip. Kazin had noticed that she did that whenever she was concerned. It made him feel slightly guilty. He shouldn't really, but he knew well enough that he'd run close to the point of foolishness tonight. He paused long enough to bend back down and tuck the scroll he'd been working on into his robe. He might want to resume the study later, though it suddenly seemed a ludicrously self-indulgent act of idiocy, or perhaps to work on something else. It couldn't hurt, anyway. With that, he strolled off, his heart lighter than it had been at any recent point he could presently recall.
He knew that he should feel bad at this point. He and Sarah had quarreled, or at least come as close to it as they ever had. But in that, there was release. There was vindication of a man's soul, in such a pain. And pain, as Randolf had pointed out, was notional. A huge smile grew on his face. Distantly, he heard the voices behind him, Sarah pressing for something...
Randolf's gruff tones were clearly audible. "Be back in a minute or so. I need to go piss." At the sound of the stumping steps, Kazin smiled some more.
Ah. He's looking for me. Man to man, or subordinate to leader? Kazin didn't slow the pace of his own walk. If Randolf wanted to talk to him, then he could bloody well do it while Kazin was stationed on guard where he ought to be; at the riverside. After a few more long strides, he came to a halt at the bank. The water was beautiful, in the moonlight, he thought. It made him a little regretful that he'd never studied the mastery of the freeze spell. But only a little. There was enough requisite coldness in Kazin's heart for him to not be seriously interested in finding more. He drew in his breath sharply.
Coldness... yes, that's it. That's why I'm aloof isn't it? Sarah's melted some of the ice, so I'm slipping and dithering badly, but at my core I am... not an emotional personality. He smiled. That understanding could sustain him.
He heard the heavy crashing sound of Randolf's steps, and turned to greet him. He opened his mouth, and Randolf's fist promptly crashed into it. Kazin went sprawling, feeling slightly dazed. But then the ache set in. The brunt of the blow had been at his jaw, but Randolf's fist had crashed up quickly, catching him in the mouth and nose as well. Kazin shook his head, tired again. "That was forward," he muttered, his voice thick. "Might I ask the occasion?"
"Fuck," Randolf muttered. "You're mercurial." Kazin didn't bother answering him. He felt very little at the moment, and he thought it best to let Randolf say whatever it was he wanted to say; though he was not particularly angry, he wasn't particularly eager to repeat the experience either. And if he let himself take control, anger might start to fray the edges of his calm, and Kazin would rather put that off as long as he absolutely could. "Here," Randolf said at last, offering Kazin a hand. "Get up."
He accepted the gesture, noting the strength in the dwarf's hands. Admiring the strength within him. "Sarah's going to wonder what happened to my jaw, you know." It was a statement of fact; he could already feel it beginning to swell.
Randolf shifted from foot to foot, but he seemed pretty unapologetic. "Listen," he growled. "I saved you back at the fire because you were floundering around. If you want to know, personally I'm kind of disgusted by what you did back there. You were one step away from taking advantage of her, and whatever Bowie thinks or doesn't think about her, that wouldn't excuse you." Randolf sighed a little. "Still. Sorry for you giving you that crack, but..."
"Why? I deserved it."
"See here," Randolf rambled on, scarcely acknowleging Kazin's comment, "I didn't do it for you. I didn't even do it for Bowie, if that's what you're thinking. I did it because you were given a job, and that's to command. And I got enough professional pride to do what I can to keep you from fucking up." Kazin arched an eyebrow, but Randolf wasn't done. "You're not a bad commander, mage. You've got a fair head on your shoulders, for most things, and I've seen you fight. You're good. Better than a mage ought to be. But your problem is that you get too wrapped up in yourself." Randolf stumped over the river, and dropped his breeches, commencing to relieve himself as he had said he would, back at the fire. "I might've let it go back at the fire, but when you left grinning like an idiot, I thought that the message might not have sunk in." With a grunt, he shifted his weight again, and started to lace his breeches back up. "So. Now you know. Just don't fuck it up, and we won't have to go through this again."
Kazin stood there for a moment, smiling as he considered everything. It didn't add up, of course, but then nothing ever did. Kazin didn't let that bother him. Randolf finished with his breeches, and started to stump away again, when Kazin called out, "But if you meant what you said, that nothing matters that much, that you just can't be bothered by the suffering in the world... well why do anything?"
Randolf turned, and glowered at him, but it was an understanding kind of glower. "Hell," he snapped. "I know what's right."
Kazin nodded, and turned to stand his watch. What was right indeed?
---
Sarah walked quietly along, her heart in her mouth at seeing the strong walls of Granseal. It's only been a few days. Ah, but she loved her home. The simple dusty streets she'd grown up, playing in with Jaha, Chester... Bowie. She clenched a fistful of her robe, blinking back the involuntary tear that his image summoned up in her.
Bowie... she wasn't certain how to categorize her reactions toward him anymore. Kazin had been right to say that he had other depths than the boy she'd grown up with. Kazin. She slid a sidelong over towards him. He strode on, seemingly unburdened by anything. After the last night, though, Sarah had to wonder. Kazin was a little cold, of course. She had always known that he was likely to dismiss anything that didn't involve a great deal of thought and analysis beforehand, such as emotional wants and needs, but of course he had them like anybody else. And last night, he had spoken so bitterly.
She distracted herself, pondering what could drive Kazin of all people out of his comfortable, dry, understated view on life. Of course, he was new to command and that was probably straining him a bit, but surely it wouldn't have actually disturbed him that much? Kazin had always championed the notion that ability was the greatest indicator of a person's worth in any specific capacity. The subtext, of course, being that he had ability. No. Was he in love, perhaps?
The idea of Kazin in love was so amusing, that she gave vent to a peal of lighthearted laughter. He glanced over his shoulder at her, a quizzical eyebrow raised, his face the same as always; long, guarded and handsome.
Really, she thought, struck by the idea, he's just as handsome as Bowie is. Yes... That was a possibility that actually had some merit. Kazin was given to a certain amount of self-deprecation, perhaps, but not bitterness. Not melancholy. On the other hand, his nature precluded the possibility of him actually falling in love. If he did, he was certain to resent it. Thus the bitterness? Or had he been approached by some woman? He was, after all, very handsome. That was possible. But who? He saved Sheela's life, so maybe she... But no, Sarah doubted that. Sheela would have been able to talk to him about a relationship in an adult manner, and that was something Kazin would certainly appreciate.
With a shrug, she walked on, idly wondering if it had actually happened. It didn't seem likely, but it was a good way to pass the time. Without lingering on Bowie.Of course, even with Kazin doing his best to cheer her up, forgetting Bowie for a few days was still hard. Particularly given that she didn't know what to do about that anymore. She'd been thinking that she would just tell him, but now with war breaking out again... But if not now, when? And she couldn't deny that she wanted Bowie to make the first move either. It's what he should do, at, least.
She tossed her head from side to side, frustrated by her inability to refrain from this line of thought. It was a waste of her energy, if nothing else, and she doubted that Kazin found it very easy to stomach either. That stirred a twinge of guilt in her. She'd relied on him to comfort her, and while that was understandable, it wasn't entirely fair. No wonder he'd gotten a little impatient. It was remarkable, really, that it had taken that long.
Kazin ground to a halt, abruptly, shading his forehead with a hand. "They seem to have security well in hand at least," he remarked. He waved a weary hand. "Alright then. Rick, if you would announce us..."
"Of course, fearless leader." The centaur nodded compliantly once, and strode off, a bright smile on his face. He took approximately half a dozen steps forward, before halting, waving at the wall.
Sarah came to a halt next to Kazin. The mage's eyes were narrowed. "Trosk?" he murmured. Sarah squinted along with him, realizing that he was trying to see who had command on the wall now. But why?
Rick was shouting, "An expiditionary force un-" And then he started screaming. Sarah stared dully at the centaur, not quite understanding somehow. He was reeling backwards with a shaft protruding from the joint between shoulder and chest... They're firing arrows. The realization gave her a funny little fluttering sensation in her chest. She made a fumbling gesture with her hands, and then started to run forward.
"No!" Hard fingers grabbed at her arm, pulling her backwards. She shrieked as she stumbled, looking backwards at Kazin. She redoubled her efforts to get forward.
"Let me go! Rick! I've got to help him... they're butchering him!"
"And they'll do the same to you!" There was no mistaking the fear in his voice. "If you get in range of their bows, they'll shoot you down." Already his voice was somehow cooling down.
And then Randolf was there, axe gripped firmly in his hands. "Both of you, shut up. Look! They're opening the fucking gates!"
Sarah's eyes jerked back forward. Rick was staggering away from the walls, but there were what, four or five arrows in him now? She couldn't be certain. But the gates were indeed swinging open, though ponderously. Never had Sarah been so glad for how heavy those gates were. "But why," she heard herself shouting. "There must be some kind of mistake..."
"People don't shoot arrows at you by mistake! One, mayhaps, but not lots!"
Kazin abruptly let go of her arm, and she looked back towards him, ignoring Randolf's increasingly frantic glower. "No," Kazin said, but very quietly, as though to himself. He took a deep breath, and flung himself forward. Sarah took in a horrified breath, prepared to scream. In that moment, something crystallized. Kazin was dry, yes, cold, yes, even rude, but he couldn't prevent himself from caring about people. His warmth he hoarded to himself, and that was perhaps what made him seem to glow around the edges, despite himself. Kazin loved. That was all that mattered in him.
He was glowing now, his hands outstretched, and Sarah watched, openmouthed as sheets of heat poured off of him, sizzling, crackling burning. This was a blaze spell like nothing she had ever seen. A veritable wall of flame was crackling out, rising, blocking the arrows, stopping any pursuit party in its tracks. If ever anyone had doubted that Kazin was worthy to serve even as Sir Astral had, let them see this sight.
"Rick," she said, her voice wispy. "He's trying to save him as much as save us all."
"He's doin' his job," Randolf agreed with her, and they stood there a while watching the flames, burning hotter than any flame had a right to. The sight was awe-inspiring for anyone who understood magic at all. It wasn't as simple as just picking up a spell book and learning a few words. It took time, sometimes years, and intense concentration. Not everybody had the gift. And not every practicioner could summon equal amounts of any given element. Kazin's command over fire was truly a spectacle to behold.
And then, he came out of the flames, his back bent a bit, his hair gleaming as brightly as burnished copper might. The heat poured off of his body, but he didn't slow his walk. His jaw was clenched, his face drawn. "Keep moving." Smoke was pouring off of him, and the wall of fire was beginning to recede.
Sarah stared, for a moment overcome at the thought that she knew such a man. Even so clearly weakened, Kazin had never looked more a god. Nor had his eyes ever blazed with as much fury. "Rick..." she said weakly, her own thoughts still too jumbled to speak clearly. "We have to..."
"I tried," he snapped. "But now, keep moving. Just keep moving. Or we're all dead."
Sarah's mind was curiously clear, even if she had trouble speaking, just at this moment. Kazin's hurt was the same as Bowie's. The only difference, is that Bowie would have found a way to make it work.
---
Zellar had always found the sound of his boots clacking against the castle stonework soothing. But now, he was in a hurry and a damn uneasy one at that. The Castle seemed far too deserted for it to be natural, and, of course he implicity mistrusted anything out of the ordinary. Ordinary! Hah. He amused himself with the thought that General Mrell would never again be seen walking through these halls. Another link to the king, weakened. Another man that Bowie had prefered to him, gone. Another man who had doubtless heard his father's slurs.
The king was the first man to see, of course and from there the rest of the army. His mind, increasinlgy absorbed, he failed to take heed of the sound of running feet until the soldier was nearly upon him. "Colonel!"
Zellar ground to a halt, his gaze startled. He studied the soldier before him with thinly veiled suspicion. Zellar prided himself on knowing as many of the soldiers as he could, on being on good terms with most of the lads. They all knew well enough that most of the successful innovations to the army over the last several years had come from him, not Mrell. That had been one of the reasons Zellar had gotten his last promotion in the first place. "Will," he said, with neither favor nor hostility. "Where is everyone?"
"The Lord Minister requests your presence at once." The words were spoken with a certain amount of insolence, and that Zellar liked least of all.
"I must see the king." If there was anything, he supposed, that would get a troublesome messenger off of his back, it would be a meeting with the king.
Will's eyes glittered with amusement. "Ah, but the Lord Minister is calling upon the king himself, presently."
Zellar stopped at that, and suddenly the summons fell into a different light. Mrell had said as much, said that old Graig had been plotting some kind of action... "Indeed. Well. Let's get on with it."