"Why did he have Gojen stay behind?" Gokur asked as he and Sandorin hiked up the short, winding path to the glade that Hakkien had described. "Gojen's got just as much dust as we do."
"I imagine Hakkien wanted to test his theory about Gojen's parentage," Sandorin said, and he unfastened his chest-plate and let it fall with a soft thud onto the grass. The glade was indeed beautiful. A small, rocky cleft rose along one side, and behind a stand of trees water cascaded from the top of a small grotto, spilling into a burbling pool at its base. Next to the pool, a gentle hill rose, its grassy banks dotted with wildflowers. "I'll go first." He shed his tunic, maille, and pants, until he was left wearing only his small-clothes and the long silk shirt that protected his skin from the maille. Once he stepped behind the trees Sandorin removed the rest of his clothes and stood under the pounding water, washing the dust and sweat from his body with the bar of soap that Hakkien had given them. It was the first time in weeks that he truly felt clean; although their stays in the various inns had been comfortable enough, there had only been washbasins and pitchers of water for bathing.
When he finished, he put his silks back on and went back into the tiny clearing. "Your turn," he told Gokur, tossing the soap to him.
Gokur stripped down to his small-clothes and joyfully ran over to the grotto.
Sandorin pulled on his pants and tugged his tunic over his head, and he decided to leave his maille draped over his chest-plate. It would be nice to spend the evening without wearing armor, he thought, and after he fingered his damp hair into some sort of order he lay down on the soft grass and watched the clouds moving across the sky, while he listened to birdsong and Gokur's off-key singing. He closed his eyes, enjoying the peace of the place.
He opened his eyes when Gokur plopped down next to him, his chestnut-brown hair glistening with droplets of water.
"That felt wonderful," Gokur said. "I can see why Hakkien doesn't want anyone to know about this place." He rolled over to face Sandorin, propping himself up on an elbow. "You look different without your armor," he said. "You look more comfortable."
"I never wore armor until I left Kinza'an," Sandorin replied. "I was born during the Second Peace."
Gokur smiled. "I'm older than you, then," he said, "although I was too young to fight in the battle against the Demon King. And I never understood why my lord father cut us off from the Elves; I had several Elvish friends, and it made me sad that I was forbidden to see them again."
"He was angered that my father was given the guardianship of the Jewel of Darkness," Sandorin said. "He wanted it for himself."
"And we all know that my father was rash in his anger." Gokur reached over and touched the Jewel that sat at the base of Sandorin's neck. "I mourn your loss, Sandorin, but I am glad that you were in that place, and that you freed me from my father's terrible curse."
The pads of Gokur's fingers rested against his skin, and Sandorin felt as if their warmth burned into him. "I don't want you with me out of gratitude," he said.
Gokur smiled. "No, not gratitude," he replied, and he leaned over and brushed his mouth against Sandorin's.
Sandorin slid his hand up into Gokur's damp hair, keeping their mouths together as he returned the kiss. He pushed Gokur back onto the grass, moving so that Gokur was beneath him, and kissed him again, slow and deep, reveling in the way Gokur's body moved against his, the feel of Gokur's hands in his hair, and the hard press of Gokur's arousal against his hip.
Gokur reached down between them and pressed his hand against Sandorin's stiffening manhood. "Supper shouldn't be for awhile yet," he whispered against Sandorin's jaw, his lips curved in an impish smile.
They rose and returned to the tiny grotto, exchanging heated kisses as they shed their clothes once again. They explored each other's bodies with eager hands and mouths, and as they coupled beneath the waterfall the rushing waters drowned out their pleasure-noises.
When they had dressed again and returned to the cottage Hakkien set them to work readying the table while he sent Gojen off to bathe.
"Is he really a Demon, Hakkien?" Gokur asked as he took a pile of plates from Hakkien's cupboard.
"Half-Demon," Hakkien corrected, "but yes. He hails from a town that is near the Western Wastes, so it's not outside the realm of possibility that some of the exiled Demons would go there. I believe that his father was one of Kougaa's clan, since Gojen saw the fire-runes I made."
"How is he?" Sandorin asked.
"He's fine," Hakkien replied. "He even said that a number of things from his past made more sense now. He's fortunate that he looks almost completely Human—"
"Almost?" Sandorin interrupted. "He looks entirely Human to me."
"He would, to anyone who had not met one of Gyuuma's clan. Gojen's hair is an unusual shade of red, as are his eyes, and he shares those features with Prince Kougaa." Hakkien handed him a fistful of cutlery. "None of the Humans living today would know what the people of the Fire Demon Clan look like, so Gojen will be able to continue living among them."
They had proof of Gojen's mood when he returned. "How about that?" he said to Sandorin while he helped move platters of vegetables to the table. "I always thought I was just a lucky bastard who happened to be a bit stronger and quicker than most."
Their silence was a companionable one while they ate their meal of fish stew, vegetables, and fresh bread, and Sandorin enjoyed the warmth of Gokur's leg pressing against his under the table.
"We'll have to get another horse for you before we leave tomorrow," Gojen said while they cleared the table of the remains of their supper.
"Oh, we won't need the horses," Hakkien said. "Hakuu will take us where we need to go." He nodded at the dragon who still slept in his basket. "He can reach quite a respectable size when needed."
Gojen blinked at him. "You travel in town with another name, confound visitors with a maze of paths, and now we're going to just fly out of here on a giant white dragon?"
Hakkien raised an ebony-colored eyebrow. "How little confidence you have in my abilities. Do you not think I can cloak us with invisibility? Child's play." He folded his arms in mock indignation, and then he raised one arm to tap a forefinger against his lips. "But speaking of abilities, I think I might concoct an elixir tonight," he said. He walked around the room, perusing his shelves, and he choose a few worn volumes and stacked them on top of the shaman's journal he had read from earlier.
"I'm afraid I only have the one guest room," he said, and he nodded at Sandorin and Gokur, "you two can share the bed in there. Gojen can have the rare and highly sought-after privilege of sharing with me."
Gojen laughed. "Sharing a bed with a wizard could be dangerous," he said, winking at Hakkien.
"Quite," Hakkien replied, a small smile playing on his lips. "Although I think I might be up a bit late." He gathered the books and then pointed down a small corridor. "The bedrooms are just this way, and the only thing I ask of you all is that no one enter the room at the end; it is my work-shop, and it would reflect poorly on my hospitality if anyone were to unexpectedly explode. Good night, gentlemen," he said, and he walked to the end of the hallway and disappeared behind the door.
