Not Exactly a Secret [Fanfic]
Title: Not Exactly a Secret
Author: MorriganFearn
Rating: M
Characters: Rutger, Dieck, Clarine, Sue, Fir, Klein, Saul
Genre: Romance, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort (still not clear what that is as a genre, but it's prolly the closest to accurate I'll get)
Pairings: Rutger/Dieck
Summary: It's not exactly a secret that Rutger has some aggression to work through. It is a bit of a surprise that Dieck is interested in this. But as the first half year of the War Against Bern rolls on, the status quo they create begins to change.
Title: Not Exactly a Secret - Part 19
Author: MorriganFearn
Rating: G
Characters: Rutger, Dieck,
Genre: Friendship, Romance
Pairings: Rutger/Dieck
Summary: Finally, it's over. Rutger looks pretty good, Dieck thinks. Good enough to have a future.
Previous Part (Siege Camp)
Not Exactly a Secret: Part 19
Dieck thought there was something underhanded about a place that must be warmer than Ilia, and yet left him shivering through layers of wool and sheepskin that had kept him toasty warm in the long Ilian autumn and winter. The wind rattled hollowed out husks of grass on either side of the iced over trail, and cut into him through any weak point it could find.
Luckily the walls of Bulgar were looming close, now, and while the packed ice of the trail from the river to the city made the pace slow going, he had still reached it in half a day, just as the ferryman had predicted. Of course, this deep into winter, half a day had reduced the sunlight perilously close to sun set. He wondered if the cold would be more intense on his windburned cheeks as night came on, or if the lack of having to squint against the bright sun glare would make the journey more tolerable. No wonder Sacaens got so sentimental about their earth: their sky was trying to kill them.
Another party was setting out from the city, driving a small flock of what must be sheep, as Dieck had never seen pillows that plump or fuzzy. Behind them, two guards rode on horse back, as wrapped up as Dieck in dull sheepskin and bright scarves and sashes. Bulked up as they were, Dieck would still guess they were fairly young; they still had all their limbs, and the few older Sacaens that he had seen so far on his journey East were generally missing fingers at the very least.
Dieck hailed the small group when the herd parted to go around him. The shaggy little horses snapped, and one of the guards plowed into the drifts, circling the sheep, and forcing them back together.
“Hey,” Dieck called again, waiting for one of the shepherds to look his way. “I'm looking for a guy, but I don't know where his home is. Who should I ask to find him?”
The smallest of the shepherds and the remaining guard looked at one another. The small one shrugged, maybe a younger sibling waiting for approval. “Try a post house. They have green lanterns hanging outside. You'll have to give a good description, though. Particularly if he's not with any tribe. Regular townsfolk should be okay, but there's lots of outsiders hiding in odd corners.”
Rutger was nothing if not built for odd corners, Dieck mused Still, he should be able to give a decent enough description. Not many swordsmen prowled along with a mane of sandy hair and the attitude of a half feral dog. Besides, the postmistress in Halt Vorbern had said Rutger's letter spoke of what a pain re-learning to ride was with Shin as your teacher, so Dieck could reasonably say Rutger still had a connection with the Kutolah.
He thanked the shepherds, and moved into the city, eying a gate that had once stood open on half wrecked hinges as he stormed past with the rest of the army. It looked newer, though whether this was because a new coat of paint had been slapped on, or because the gate had been replaced, Dieck couldn't tell. More obvious in the outer edges of the city, scaffolding decorated most streets, though the wind streamed merrily through the frames without meeting any human resistance. This might be a reaction to the sun was setting, or because construction halted for the winter. Dieck didn't know, but the empty frames made him feel alone.
Not many people-at least in comparison to the number of houses and tents that clustered in confusing patters around slightly wider open spaces that must be roads-were out and about. The nearest post house was on the main street from the gate, but as soon as Dieck mentioned Kutolah, the sharp faced man behind the counter smiled thinly, and said he had never heard of such a person. Dieck thought about pressing him, but the man's Sacaen over robe had some colorful stripes marked by lines and squares, and Dieck suspected that meant the postmaster belonged to some tribe-probably not one that agreed with the Kutolah, by his response.
The next post house he found was closer to the inner city by three clusters of dwellings, and half way up a well traveled side street. A young woman missing an eye answered his knock on the counter. She had no marks on her clothing that he could see, and she could have passed for Fir in a bad light, but Dieck would have guessed that her family was connected to some net of loyalties somewhere. Did newcomers to Etruria have this kind of problem distinguishing family heraldry?
More cautiously he began his questioning with a vague description of Rutger-Looks Western in coloring, but has long hair, and dresses in the Sacaen style, probably in dark red-the girl was frowning as though something was crossing her mind, but she couldn't place it. As Dieck paused in his litany, she smiled evenly, and ushered him to a low table, bringing out some bitter drink that left a peppery taste in Dieck's nose. If this was the so-superior Sacaen tea merchants were proud of importing, Dieck was glad he hadn't wasted his money on the expensive curiosity.
“Let me look at my round markers. I have only just come into this posting, and am still learning the neighborhoods,” the young woman told him. “Is your friend a tribesman? Many of the tribes have taken on new members from-other places,” she sounded as though she regretted the reality, but it was polite not to say anything negative about the practical steps people took.
Dieck wondered how Sacaens had gotten their reputation for being honest when there were so many unspoken undercurrents to their conversations. Etrurian nobles were often more forthright than this. Others, of course, hid much more. Power was a pretty fickle thing.
“Not that I know, but he's got some connections to the Kutolah.”
“Oh! I might know the house, then! Not many people answer the door when I come around, but-” the young girl rushed off, only to return a few moments later with a map on a leather hide that had been scraped clean enough times to be wearing thin. “Here. It's a, ah-sorry, I'm not sure if the words make sense to you-it's a peace house. They're neutral territory, uh, places where, um, lost people can find their blood again. Each one is administered by a different group. Anyone can stay, tribe or city, though they must abide by the host's rules. That particular building's host duties are taken by rootless Kutolah members, or blood relatives who act as agents for the Kutolah at the markets and with the arbiters and the like. Anyway, when the tribes went to winter pasturage, they took some of the old hosts with them and left some new ones. The Kutolah left one young lady and three men. The lady and the older uncle are very friendly, but the other two are, well, you know tribesmen. Townspeople have roots too deep to be worth talking to. Anyway, if your friend isn't there, they would know where to find him. But talk to the lady. She sees the truth in people and will help.”
Dieck tried reading the map. It seemed to be just for one sector of the city, as the little circles that must denote houses bled off the sides, and one large rectangle that seemed to be suspiciously positioned on a confluence of roads like the great palace of Bulgar could only be half a wing of the total building. The place the postmistress pointed to was nearly hugging the city wall, by a smaller south facing side gate. “What does this peace house look like?”
“Look for the tribe banners. It will have Kutolah black and gold on top, and then underneath will be the banners for any other people staying there. Can you believe they had Djute staying with them before autumn?”
Dieck shook his head, not knowing what he was agreeing to, but assuming this was the correct response. He was glad that the conversation was wrapping up, however, because the further away from that tea he got, the happier he would be. “Thanks for the directions.”
“Certainly. Blessings be upon you.”
Dieck just waved his casual assent at that, and ducked out the door once more. Getting through the city streets was easy enough, but the shadows were so long by this point that he wondered if he would need to beg a room at this peace house if he couldn't find Rutger there. He had his pay of the season, so that shouldn't be a problem, but he would prefer to save it for later in the winter.
The
house turned out to be some cross between a house as Dieck was used to thinking of them, and one of the round gers that populated the Plains. Most of the houses on this set of streets were designed the same way, but this one had two banners streaming from the pinnacle of the roof, one that was indeed colored black and gold, and zigzagged in the way the edges of Shin and Sue's clothing always had.
Missing the warmth of the tea, for all its bitterness, Dieck took a breath of the freezing air, and went to the bell pull. The ring was answered almost immediately by an older man with a few more scars on his face than promised a quiet life, and wrinkles around his eyes that proclaimed that he was at least more given to smiles than frowns.
Dieck nodded pleasantly. “Hey. I was told there might be a guy named Rutger staying in this place?”
The man looked surprised, but pulled back the wicker barrier of the door. “There is-though he's not usually the person to get visitors, aside from Master Karel, of course. Come in. Hey, Rutger!” the man yelled over his shoulder. “Someone wants to see you!”
Turning away from Dieck, he went to a round stove that bisected the wall separating the ground floor into two pieces. There was a kettle on the top of the stove and a water barrel right next to it. Oh no. The stranger was getting out a clay pot that probably stored tea leaves. Dieck wasn't going to be able to survive the hospitality of the Plains for long.
He would have missed the sound of feet on the stairs, he was so wrapped up in trying to get out of more tea, but Rutger's quiet voice brought his senses back to his surroundings. “You're wearing clothes.”
“Don't sound too disappointed,” Dieck turned toward the object of his search. “Turns out it's freezing in winter.”
The glare that greeted him was the same, even after two years. Other things had changed. The dark hollows under Rutger's lower eyelids had nearly vanished-though Dieck wasn't sure if he was mixing up the last memory of Rutger with Zeiss and Miledy's friend, who made everyone look healthy and well rested in comparison. Still, Rutger was looking better than the night when he and Master Karel stole away from Bern's mausoleum of a castle-possibly the only ones not bothering to drink to Queen Guinevere's successful reign.
Well, Rutger had warned him that he would vanish. Bern and its never ending mountains and desperate people had eaten into Rutger like acid on metal. Anyone with half a moment of attention to spare could have seen that, and Dieck had just been glad that Rutger had the presence of mind to warn him. They had seen through what they needed to see through, and then they went their separate ways. You couldn't really ask for more than that.
Dieck smiled to himself as he took in the other changes. Rutger's hair was now mostly tamed in a loose ponytail, and was obviously being allowed to grow passed his shoulders. The sharp line of his jaw and chin had filled out a little more, suggesting that he was no longer burning away whatever food he managed to eat. That was good. Maybe he no longer picked at his food, either. Dieck had enjoyed shifting Rutger's light weight onto his lap and giving him food when they had been lucky enough to be welcomed with feasts after a castle was conquered, but it was a relief to know he probably wouldn't need to do it any more.
But more than physically fitting into his body, Rutger's appearance now looked as though he at least cared somewhat about it. The long jacket fit more tightly to his lithe body than the surcoat had ever managed. That couldn't just be the work of the new black sash, and his choice in cloth dye had changed from the color of drying blood to a softer rose that Dieck had heard was coming in favor among the Etrurian ladies. He's have to remember to tell Rutger that, at some point.
“Mm,” Rutger nodded towards another low table and some cushions. “Take a seat. No, sir, Dieck is my guest. I'll handle the tea.”
As Rutger dashed to the stove, ready to shoo away any help he might get, Dieck found a cushion he liked, and sat with relief. After all, he could tell Rutger to boil his own head in the tea. Still, he thought, as the young man argued with the stove and the wood box, and probably the water, Rutger looked more serious now than he ever had while at war.
Or maybe, Dieck tracked an efficient turn from stove to shelf that left the loose end of Rutger's ponytail unmoved, with each hair in place, he had both his feet in the world now. A man with a death wish was only half holding on to what the rest of the world saw and felt, after all. Rutger had always looked as though he was about to turn sideways and vanish in smoke, like a demon from Missuri legends. Okay, there was just enough shadow under his eyebrows, just enough remaining gauntness, just enough of an air of an unsprung trap left about Rutger that it was still easy to believe he would disappear between one breath and the next. But any vanishing looked as though it would be a deliberate choice, now, rather than an accidental fading out of reality because Rutger had forgotten to take a proper hold of the world that morning. Dieck liked the new solidity in Rutger's movements.
Sword calloused hands put two fine mugs on the table. A reed mat was placed with some ceremony between the mugs, and the kettle and leaf pot settled upon it before Rutger sat down. Dieck shifted over the table a little. “You know, I've had my fill of tea for a bit.”
Rutger leaned forward. “A man who doesn't take the host's drink has no protection against the host's sword.”
“Sword, huh?” Dieck raised an eyebrow. “Could be fun. You did want to see me without clothes on, after all.”
Rutger rolled his eyes. “All wrapped up is a slightly different look for you. Any new scars?”
“Nah,” Dieck shrugged. “It's been a quiet, well, mostly quiet, life for me since you left. By the way, it's not nice to send a guy letters that he can't read. Clarine read the second and third ones out loud.”
“Good thing I got all of my sentimentality out in the first one, then. How was seeing your Reglays?”
His, huh? But that was Rutger all over again, trying to tie Dieck to something more stable than a traveling mercenary contract. Remembering the postmistress, Dieck guessed this behavior was pretty universal for this part of Sacae. “Well, everyone was much the same. Lord Pent is still studying so hard he forgets to eat, and Lady Louise would be willing to support anyone who needed it. They're a good couple. You should meet them some time.”
“I don't think so,” Rutger's voice was dry, but amusement lingered in the side of his mouth.
Dieck outright slid into a grin. “Hey, the invitation is open. Just cross a few mountain ranges and take a river west, and you'll get there eventually. Mind, you probably won't see Clarine or Klein if you don't visit during the summer.”
Rutger glanced dubiously over the rim of his tea mug. He was interested, then, in the doings of his former allies. “Is there some particular reason I have to visit only in the summer season? Has Clarine declared that it is the only acceptable time for shopping?”
“Nah. The kids are just in court from autumn to early spring, now. Their parents are nice enough, but you can kinda tell when Klein and Clarine are off being nobles of the realm it worries Lord and Lady Reglay. Well, Clarine and Klein both decided to put themselves in places the Reglays have tried to avoid, you know? High court stuff and all that was not something they wanted.”
Rutger looked interested, or, at least, he was not rolling his eyes. Dieck swirled the tea in his cup, thinking it was a little weird to be talking abut people Rutge had never met, and the habits of a country Rutger had never understood. “Eh, Lady Louise is glad Clarine's decided to put her powers of obstinacy to constructive use, you know? Lord Pent's has always been worried that she would be forced to grow up too fast, but Klein's keeping a good eye on her, and Lady Louise thinks this might be better for her to be so responsible at fifteen. The kids were busy paving the way for Mildain to return and probably reign, given the old king's health, when I left.”
A cautious nod cut short the detatched gossip from Dieck's end. Rutger sipped his tea, and then set it down again, fiddling with the smooth rim of the cup. “Helping Etruria rebuild isn't on your horizon?”
“Nah. They've got enough people running around doing that. I just get to walk the streets and benefit by seeing all the good stuff of peace, y'know. By the way-that color is coming into fashion up in the northwest,” Dieck nodded at Rutger's coat.
The exasperated sigh and awkward shrug he got in return was exactly what he had expected and hoped for. “That last message you had the Reglay's scribe write out for you last summer,” Rutger paused, looking away from Dieck in as close to a show of embarrassment as Rutger probably could get. “Clarine intercepted it and sent along some swatches of fabric she told me I had to match the next time I went to get clothes made. You can tell her I followed her instructions.”
“Or you could send a message back,” Dieck teased. “Tell her that a year later you're wearing perfectly approved Etrurian fashion that would have you fit in with any of the court ladies-except
that your sash is sable. You'd get drowned in new sashes, or new fabric swatches.”
Rutger's fingers drifted to his waist, a slight smile toying with the edges of his mouth. “She would have to match the jacket to the sash.”
As his fingers went to the tea service again, Dieck saw a thread of sun ripened yellow cutting a thin zigzag through the black. He raised his eyebrows. Huh. “You're actually part of the Kutolah, now? I thought you'd gone off to think important thoughts about the way of the sword with Master Karel. He didn't seem interested in affiliation with any group larger than Fir and Bartre.”
“I'm here now.”
Right. The eternal struggle that was getting Rutger to explain more than the barest thoughts he had about anything returned to slap Dieck in the back of the head. Why had he forgotten this? Oh well, Rutger would not be nearly as cute if he wasn't such a mixture of shyness and bluntness. “Okay, so what happened, then? If you don't mind telling me.”
Rutger tapped the table with his index finger thoughtfully. “I suppose not. Let me see-We left Bern in the high summer and traveled to the plains for the winter. In the spring Lady Sue, Lord Dayan and Shin found us, and used our ger as a gathering point for the stray Kutolah on the Plains. Fir joined us just before we all departed. It was a lot of people, even for the destroyed village we had stumbled across to use as a camp ground. By the summer, Master Karel said I was ready to leave with the Kutolah when they began to travel again. Apparently he finds keeping students for more than a year taxing-even though I was not there to learn sword work-and Lord Dayan had said I would be welcome as a true warrior of the clan.”
Well. So he was a nomad, now. That had not come out in the last message Dieck had received-though the comment about Shin as a teacher made much more sense now. Of course, it was always possible that a message had missed Dieck since he went back to mercenary work after spending a season with the Reglays. “You've found your path thing, then? That's great.”
The mysterious new ghostly smile hovered in Rutger's eyes again. “It has been-different. I've walked a lot of the different roads Mother Earth has for the people of the plains. I've been a townsman, lost my ties much like an outcast, begun spiritual healing, and now I'm a clansman. Lady Sue says so many ways of walking is going to be the way all people of the Plains are going to be, eventually, and I'm needed in the Kutolah. That's why I'm here now-I'm to be a winter agent for the Kutolah in Bulgar. And why are you here?”
Dieck laughed, though he didn't miss that Rutger had filled his tea mug. The drifting aroma didn't smell dry like the previous tea had, though. Actually, it was a little like cinnamon bark. “I got your message last month, and you wanted to know how I was doing. I thought I'd come and tell you.”
Rutger rested his forearms on the table attentively. “And how are you?”
“Doing pretty well. You know there's a lot of work on Sacae's western border.”
Rutger snorted. “Fir told me. Zeiss asked her to be a teacher for civilians in the villages by the Talivar mountains She and Noah are apparently having fun teaching the people left there to defend themselves against bandits, now that most of the army that protected the area is dead or disbanded.”
“Yeah, there's a lot of work for mercenaries in Bern, now,” Dieck nodded. “You know Hugh ended up back at the Bern Manse? Apparently Ray ran off again just after Hugh got the kids to Araphen-they left with the Lycian group a little after you did. Anyway, Hugh tracked him all the way back to the Shrine of Seals in the middle of winter. Not really sure what happened there, but Ray left with Sophia, Igrene, Fa, and, well,” there was a long pause as Dieck searched for the right words.
He was never sure how Rutger felt about the Bernian comrades they had made, and the final member of their party had been the reason the war began in the first place. Mentioning her name casually was weird, considering that she was a massively ancient dragon, but that might be enough to set Rutger off, and Dieck wanted to get used to this new more confident man. Oh well, Rutger would know who he meant. “And that other one. As soon as the passes cleared, they were gone, and Hugh managed to weasel himself a not really cushy job as head of Bern's battlemages. He keeps saying the pay is going to get better once the country recovers, but for now he's running from village to village, trying to find kids to train in magic, and stop any bandits he can.
“I don't understand where they keep coming from. I mean, sure, massive war inside the country borders and mountain land, that's bandit conditions, but they just keep on coming, and coming, and everyone's pretty used to it. I've been working with a decent group of people on the border, and we patrol around twenty villages, but yeesh. No wonder the army was so large and tough if all they did spring to autumn was hunt bandits. I'm getting a decent cut from my guild, at least, or I'd pack it in and see if King Zealot had something easier, like wolf hunting or polar bear wrangling to do.”
Rutger smothered a laugh. “You would choose Ilia when you could be staying in clement Etruria?”
Dieck waved him off. “Ilia's a good place for mercenaries. No one looks down on you, and you got all the respect you could ask for. Besides, the southern border near Sacae isn't as cold as the rest of the country. Wyverns can even fly there year 'round without special protection, if they have to.”
“That, unfortunately, I remember.”
“Hey, it's not like the campaign anymore. Most of the wyvern riders left in the world were deserters like Miledy and Zeiss. It was kinda interesting seeing them run around like Hugh-Queen Guinevere passed an edict that says all people, regardless of rank, are now free to apply to the hatcheries. I don't think it'll shake out so common kids get easily chosen for wyvern knight, but you know, I'd like to live in a world where Bern is more like Ilia than Etruria.”
Rutger shook his head. “I suppose I still have far to go. Those villages we passed through were in terrible trouble, and after the war-no one deserved bandits on their doorsteps. I don't really have the right to be mad at them.”
“Yeah? I don't really have the 'right' to be mad at the whole nobility of Etruria, particularly when I know several decent people, but,” Dieck shrugged, “I'm never going to trust them, even when they hire me. Some stuff isn't forgivable.”
“Master Karel said much the same, though I believe he was looking at it from the other side. I don't think he was ever cast out, but if ever a man was rootless,” Rutger glanced at the cooling tea as he trailed off. “He once told me he owes a lot to Bern. He keeps finding unexpected joys in its mountains.”
“I didn't know he let himself feel joy,” Dieck shrugged. “He always seemed so cool and collected. I'm glad Fir is more lively. Also, can you tell me what you mean by rootless? The postmistress who told me to go here was talking about the same thing, but she used it differently.”
Surprisingly, Rutger colored. He tended towards bronze, even without the summer sun, and Dieck had always assumed that he didn't show embarrassment easily. Now it looked as though he did blush, a blotchy unfortunate red that didn't compliment his hair or his jacket. Which really meant that he had never been truly embarrassed as far as Dieck could recall. Stars, he hadn't even been put out when Thany walked in on them in Arcadia, then?
“It describes several different conditions, but mostly it's used for people, who, through their actions, have chosen to leave where they belong. Either voluntarily, or because they did something that required them to be cast out. It's not a kind thing to say. Though we're using it now for people who've lost contact with their tribe and families thanks to the war.”
“Oh, so I'm rootless?” Dieck grinned. “Is that going to be a problem your shiny new tribal standing?”
“No!” Rutger's defensive scowl was the same as his glare. Some things about him would never change. “Why would you think that?”
“Well, you've got your self settled down so nicely, I wouldn't want to be a burden when I accepted your invitation to stay for the winter,” Dieck gazed at Rutger's reaction, which was slowly draining the blood of his last blush, a lazily smug smile creeping up his face. “Unless the scribe read that last part out wrong.”
“They did not,” Rutger lifted his tea. “A thousand blessings upon you as you take your place on this land.”
“For the winter,” Dieck reminded him, but also took a drink of his tea.
They'd taken long enough talking that the tea was cold, but the flavor was spicy, and Dieck thought it probably would have been good when hot, too. He shouldn't have been so ready to ignore it earlier. Oh well, there would be more tea over the winter, and come the spring when they parted again, they'd both be able to say good bye knowing that they'd see each other again.
Previous Part (Siege Camp)
Author: MorriganFearn
Rating: M
Characters: Rutger, Dieck, Clarine, Sue, Fir, Klein, Saul
Genre: Romance, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort (still not clear what that is as a genre, but it's prolly the closest to accurate I'll get)
Pairings: Rutger/Dieck
Summary: It's not exactly a secret that Rutger has some aggression to work through. It is a bit of a surprise that Dieck is interested in this. But as the first half year of the War Against Bern rolls on, the status quo they create begins to change.
Title: Not Exactly a Secret - Part 19
Author: MorriganFearn
Rating: G
Characters: Rutger, Dieck,
Genre: Friendship, Romance
Pairings: Rutger/Dieck
Summary: Finally, it's over. Rutger looks pretty good, Dieck thinks. Good enough to have a future.
Previous Part (Siege Camp)
Not Exactly a Secret: Part 19
Dieck thought there was something underhanded about a place that must be warmer than Ilia, and yet left him shivering through layers of wool and sheepskin that had kept him toasty warm in the long Ilian autumn and winter. The wind rattled hollowed out husks of grass on either side of the iced over trail, and cut into him through any weak point it could find.
Luckily the walls of Bulgar were looming close, now, and while the packed ice of the trail from the river to the city made the pace slow going, he had still reached it in half a day, just as the ferryman had predicted. Of course, this deep into winter, half a day had reduced the sunlight perilously close to sun set. He wondered if the cold would be more intense on his windburned cheeks as night came on, or if the lack of having to squint against the bright sun glare would make the journey more tolerable. No wonder Sacaens got so sentimental about their earth: their sky was trying to kill them.
Another party was setting out from the city, driving a small flock of what must be sheep, as Dieck had never seen pillows that plump or fuzzy. Behind them, two guards rode on horse back, as wrapped up as Dieck in dull sheepskin and bright scarves and sashes. Bulked up as they were, Dieck would still guess they were fairly young; they still had all their limbs, and the few older Sacaens that he had seen so far on his journey East were generally missing fingers at the very least.
Dieck hailed the small group when the herd parted to go around him. The shaggy little horses snapped, and one of the guards plowed into the drifts, circling the sheep, and forcing them back together.
“Hey,” Dieck called again, waiting for one of the shepherds to look his way. “I'm looking for a guy, but I don't know where his home is. Who should I ask to find him?”
The smallest of the shepherds and the remaining guard looked at one another. The small one shrugged, maybe a younger sibling waiting for approval. “Try a post house. They have green lanterns hanging outside. You'll have to give a good description, though. Particularly if he's not with any tribe. Regular townsfolk should be okay, but there's lots of outsiders hiding in odd corners.”
Rutger was nothing if not built for odd corners, Dieck mused Still, he should be able to give a decent enough description. Not many swordsmen prowled along with a mane of sandy hair and the attitude of a half feral dog. Besides, the postmistress in Halt Vorbern had said Rutger's letter spoke of what a pain re-learning to ride was with Shin as your teacher, so Dieck could reasonably say Rutger still had a connection with the Kutolah.
He thanked the shepherds, and moved into the city, eying a gate that had once stood open on half wrecked hinges as he stormed past with the rest of the army. It looked newer, though whether this was because a new coat of paint had been slapped on, or because the gate had been replaced, Dieck couldn't tell. More obvious in the outer edges of the city, scaffolding decorated most streets, though the wind streamed merrily through the frames without meeting any human resistance. This might be a reaction to the sun was setting, or because construction halted for the winter. Dieck didn't know, but the empty frames made him feel alone.
Not many people-at least in comparison to the number of houses and tents that clustered in confusing patters around slightly wider open spaces that must be roads-were out and about. The nearest post house was on the main street from the gate, but as soon as Dieck mentioned Kutolah, the sharp faced man behind the counter smiled thinly, and said he had never heard of such a person. Dieck thought about pressing him, but the man's Sacaen over robe had some colorful stripes marked by lines and squares, and Dieck suspected that meant the postmaster belonged to some tribe-probably not one that agreed with the Kutolah, by his response.
The next post house he found was closer to the inner city by three clusters of dwellings, and half way up a well traveled side street. A young woman missing an eye answered his knock on the counter. She had no marks on her clothing that he could see, and she could have passed for Fir in a bad light, but Dieck would have guessed that her family was connected to some net of loyalties somewhere. Did newcomers to Etruria have this kind of problem distinguishing family heraldry?
More cautiously he began his questioning with a vague description of Rutger-Looks Western in coloring, but has long hair, and dresses in the Sacaen style, probably in dark red-the girl was frowning as though something was crossing her mind, but she couldn't place it. As Dieck paused in his litany, she smiled evenly, and ushered him to a low table, bringing out some bitter drink that left a peppery taste in Dieck's nose. If this was the so-superior Sacaen tea merchants were proud of importing, Dieck was glad he hadn't wasted his money on the expensive curiosity.
“Let me look at my round markers. I have only just come into this posting, and am still learning the neighborhoods,” the young woman told him. “Is your friend a tribesman? Many of the tribes have taken on new members from-other places,” she sounded as though she regretted the reality, but it was polite not to say anything negative about the practical steps people took.
Dieck wondered how Sacaens had gotten their reputation for being honest when there were so many unspoken undercurrents to their conversations. Etrurian nobles were often more forthright than this. Others, of course, hid much more. Power was a pretty fickle thing.
“Not that I know, but he's got some connections to the Kutolah.”
“Oh! I might know the house, then! Not many people answer the door when I come around, but-” the young girl rushed off, only to return a few moments later with a map on a leather hide that had been scraped clean enough times to be wearing thin. “Here. It's a, ah-sorry, I'm not sure if the words make sense to you-it's a peace house. They're neutral territory, uh, places where, um, lost people can find their blood again. Each one is administered by a different group. Anyone can stay, tribe or city, though they must abide by the host's rules. That particular building's host duties are taken by rootless Kutolah members, or blood relatives who act as agents for the Kutolah at the markets and with the arbiters and the like. Anyway, when the tribes went to winter pasturage, they took some of the old hosts with them and left some new ones. The Kutolah left one young lady and three men. The lady and the older uncle are very friendly, but the other two are, well, you know tribesmen. Townspeople have roots too deep to be worth talking to. Anyway, if your friend isn't there, they would know where to find him. But talk to the lady. She sees the truth in people and will help.”
Dieck tried reading the map. It seemed to be just for one sector of the city, as the little circles that must denote houses bled off the sides, and one large rectangle that seemed to be suspiciously positioned on a confluence of roads like the great palace of Bulgar could only be half a wing of the total building. The place the postmistress pointed to was nearly hugging the city wall, by a smaller south facing side gate. “What does this peace house look like?”
“Look for the tribe banners. It will have Kutolah black and gold on top, and then underneath will be the banners for any other people staying there. Can you believe they had Djute staying with them before autumn?”
Dieck shook his head, not knowing what he was agreeing to, but assuming this was the correct response. He was glad that the conversation was wrapping up, however, because the further away from that tea he got, the happier he would be. “Thanks for the directions.”
“Certainly. Blessings be upon you.”
Dieck just waved his casual assent at that, and ducked out the door once more. Getting through the city streets was easy enough, but the shadows were so long by this point that he wondered if he would need to beg a room at this peace house if he couldn't find Rutger there. He had his pay of the season, so that shouldn't be a problem, but he would prefer to save it for later in the winter.
The
house turned out to be some cross between a house as Dieck was used to thinking of them, and one of the round gers that populated the Plains. Most of the houses on this set of streets were designed the same way, but this one had two banners streaming from the pinnacle of the roof, one that was indeed colored black and gold, and zigzagged in the way the edges of Shin and Sue's clothing always had.
Missing the warmth of the tea, for all its bitterness, Dieck took a breath of the freezing air, and went to the bell pull. The ring was answered almost immediately by an older man with a few more scars on his face than promised a quiet life, and wrinkles around his eyes that proclaimed that he was at least more given to smiles than frowns.
Dieck nodded pleasantly. “Hey. I was told there might be a guy named Rutger staying in this place?”
The man looked surprised, but pulled back the wicker barrier of the door. “There is-though he's not usually the person to get visitors, aside from Master Karel, of course. Come in. Hey, Rutger!” the man yelled over his shoulder. “Someone wants to see you!”
Turning away from Dieck, he went to a round stove that bisected the wall separating the ground floor into two pieces. There was a kettle on the top of the stove and a water barrel right next to it. Oh no. The stranger was getting out a clay pot that probably stored tea leaves. Dieck wasn't going to be able to survive the hospitality of the Plains for long.
He would have missed the sound of feet on the stairs, he was so wrapped up in trying to get out of more tea, but Rutger's quiet voice brought his senses back to his surroundings. “You're wearing clothes.”
“Don't sound too disappointed,” Dieck turned toward the object of his search. “Turns out it's freezing in winter.”
The glare that greeted him was the same, even after two years. Other things had changed. The dark hollows under Rutger's lower eyelids had nearly vanished-though Dieck wasn't sure if he was mixing up the last memory of Rutger with Zeiss and Miledy's friend, who made everyone look healthy and well rested in comparison. Still, Rutger was looking better than the night when he and Master Karel stole away from Bern's mausoleum of a castle-possibly the only ones not bothering to drink to Queen Guinevere's successful reign.
Well, Rutger had warned him that he would vanish. Bern and its never ending mountains and desperate people had eaten into Rutger like acid on metal. Anyone with half a moment of attention to spare could have seen that, and Dieck had just been glad that Rutger had the presence of mind to warn him. They had seen through what they needed to see through, and then they went their separate ways. You couldn't really ask for more than that.
Dieck smiled to himself as he took in the other changes. Rutger's hair was now mostly tamed in a loose ponytail, and was obviously being allowed to grow passed his shoulders. The sharp line of his jaw and chin had filled out a little more, suggesting that he was no longer burning away whatever food he managed to eat. That was good. Maybe he no longer picked at his food, either. Dieck had enjoyed shifting Rutger's light weight onto his lap and giving him food when they had been lucky enough to be welcomed with feasts after a castle was conquered, but it was a relief to know he probably wouldn't need to do it any more.
But more than physically fitting into his body, Rutger's appearance now looked as though he at least cared somewhat about it. The long jacket fit more tightly to his lithe body than the surcoat had ever managed. That couldn't just be the work of the new black sash, and his choice in cloth dye had changed from the color of drying blood to a softer rose that Dieck had heard was coming in favor among the Etrurian ladies. He's have to remember to tell Rutger that, at some point.
“Mm,” Rutger nodded towards another low table and some cushions. “Take a seat. No, sir, Dieck is my guest. I'll handle the tea.”
As Rutger dashed to the stove, ready to shoo away any help he might get, Dieck found a cushion he liked, and sat with relief. After all, he could tell Rutger to boil his own head in the tea. Still, he thought, as the young man argued with the stove and the wood box, and probably the water, Rutger looked more serious now than he ever had while at war.
Or maybe, Dieck tracked an efficient turn from stove to shelf that left the loose end of Rutger's ponytail unmoved, with each hair in place, he had both his feet in the world now. A man with a death wish was only half holding on to what the rest of the world saw and felt, after all. Rutger had always looked as though he was about to turn sideways and vanish in smoke, like a demon from Missuri legends. Okay, there was just enough shadow under his eyebrows, just enough remaining gauntness, just enough of an air of an unsprung trap left about Rutger that it was still easy to believe he would disappear between one breath and the next. But any vanishing looked as though it would be a deliberate choice, now, rather than an accidental fading out of reality because Rutger had forgotten to take a proper hold of the world that morning. Dieck liked the new solidity in Rutger's movements.
Sword calloused hands put two fine mugs on the table. A reed mat was placed with some ceremony between the mugs, and the kettle and leaf pot settled upon it before Rutger sat down. Dieck shifted over the table a little. “You know, I've had my fill of tea for a bit.”
Rutger leaned forward. “A man who doesn't take the host's drink has no protection against the host's sword.”
“Sword, huh?” Dieck raised an eyebrow. “Could be fun. You did want to see me without clothes on, after all.”
Rutger rolled his eyes. “All wrapped up is a slightly different look for you. Any new scars?”
“Nah,” Dieck shrugged. “It's been a quiet, well, mostly quiet, life for me since you left. By the way, it's not nice to send a guy letters that he can't read. Clarine read the second and third ones out loud.”
“Good thing I got all of my sentimentality out in the first one, then. How was seeing your Reglays?”
His, huh? But that was Rutger all over again, trying to tie Dieck to something more stable than a traveling mercenary contract. Remembering the postmistress, Dieck guessed this behavior was pretty universal for this part of Sacae. “Well, everyone was much the same. Lord Pent is still studying so hard he forgets to eat, and Lady Louise would be willing to support anyone who needed it. They're a good couple. You should meet them some time.”
“I don't think so,” Rutger's voice was dry, but amusement lingered in the side of his mouth.
Dieck outright slid into a grin. “Hey, the invitation is open. Just cross a few mountain ranges and take a river west, and you'll get there eventually. Mind, you probably won't see Clarine or Klein if you don't visit during the summer.”
Rutger glanced dubiously over the rim of his tea mug. He was interested, then, in the doings of his former allies. “Is there some particular reason I have to visit only in the summer season? Has Clarine declared that it is the only acceptable time for shopping?”
“Nah. The kids are just in court from autumn to early spring, now. Their parents are nice enough, but you can kinda tell when Klein and Clarine are off being nobles of the realm it worries Lord and Lady Reglay. Well, Clarine and Klein both decided to put themselves in places the Reglays have tried to avoid, you know? High court stuff and all that was not something they wanted.”
Rutger looked interested, or, at least, he was not rolling his eyes. Dieck swirled the tea in his cup, thinking it was a little weird to be talking abut people Rutge had never met, and the habits of a country Rutger had never understood. “Eh, Lady Louise is glad Clarine's decided to put her powers of obstinacy to constructive use, you know? Lord Pent's has always been worried that she would be forced to grow up too fast, but Klein's keeping a good eye on her, and Lady Louise thinks this might be better for her to be so responsible at fifteen. The kids were busy paving the way for Mildain to return and probably reign, given the old king's health, when I left.”
A cautious nod cut short the detatched gossip from Dieck's end. Rutger sipped his tea, and then set it down again, fiddling with the smooth rim of the cup. “Helping Etruria rebuild isn't on your horizon?”
“Nah. They've got enough people running around doing that. I just get to walk the streets and benefit by seeing all the good stuff of peace, y'know. By the way-that color is coming into fashion up in the northwest,” Dieck nodded at Rutger's coat.
The exasperated sigh and awkward shrug he got in return was exactly what he had expected and hoped for. “That last message you had the Reglay's scribe write out for you last summer,” Rutger paused, looking away from Dieck in as close to a show of embarrassment as Rutger probably could get. “Clarine intercepted it and sent along some swatches of fabric she told me I had to match the next time I went to get clothes made. You can tell her I followed her instructions.”
“Or you could send a message back,” Dieck teased. “Tell her that a year later you're wearing perfectly approved Etrurian fashion that would have you fit in with any of the court ladies-except
that your sash is sable. You'd get drowned in new sashes, or new fabric swatches.”
Rutger's fingers drifted to his waist, a slight smile toying with the edges of his mouth. “She would have to match the jacket to the sash.”
As his fingers went to the tea service again, Dieck saw a thread of sun ripened yellow cutting a thin zigzag through the black. He raised his eyebrows. Huh. “You're actually part of the Kutolah, now? I thought you'd gone off to think important thoughts about the way of the sword with Master Karel. He didn't seem interested in affiliation with any group larger than Fir and Bartre.”
“I'm here now.”
Right. The eternal struggle that was getting Rutger to explain more than the barest thoughts he had about anything returned to slap Dieck in the back of the head. Why had he forgotten this? Oh well, Rutger would not be nearly as cute if he wasn't such a mixture of shyness and bluntness. “Okay, so what happened, then? If you don't mind telling me.”
Rutger tapped the table with his index finger thoughtfully. “I suppose not. Let me see-We left Bern in the high summer and traveled to the plains for the winter. In the spring Lady Sue, Lord Dayan and Shin found us, and used our ger as a gathering point for the stray Kutolah on the Plains. Fir joined us just before we all departed. It was a lot of people, even for the destroyed village we had stumbled across to use as a camp ground. By the summer, Master Karel said I was ready to leave with the Kutolah when they began to travel again. Apparently he finds keeping students for more than a year taxing-even though I was not there to learn sword work-and Lord Dayan had said I would be welcome as a true warrior of the clan.”
Well. So he was a nomad, now. That had not come out in the last message Dieck had received-though the comment about Shin as a teacher made much more sense now. Of course, it was always possible that a message had missed Dieck since he went back to mercenary work after spending a season with the Reglays. “You've found your path thing, then? That's great.”
The mysterious new ghostly smile hovered in Rutger's eyes again. “It has been-different. I've walked a lot of the different roads Mother Earth has for the people of the plains. I've been a townsman, lost my ties much like an outcast, begun spiritual healing, and now I'm a clansman. Lady Sue says so many ways of walking is going to be the way all people of the Plains are going to be, eventually, and I'm needed in the Kutolah. That's why I'm here now-I'm to be a winter agent for the Kutolah in Bulgar. And why are you here?”
Dieck laughed, though he didn't miss that Rutger had filled his tea mug. The drifting aroma didn't smell dry like the previous tea had, though. Actually, it was a little like cinnamon bark. “I got your message last month, and you wanted to know how I was doing. I thought I'd come and tell you.”
Rutger rested his forearms on the table attentively. “And how are you?”
“Doing pretty well. You know there's a lot of work on Sacae's western border.”
Rutger snorted. “Fir told me. Zeiss asked her to be a teacher for civilians in the villages by the Talivar mountains She and Noah are apparently having fun teaching the people left there to defend themselves against bandits, now that most of the army that protected the area is dead or disbanded.”
“Yeah, there's a lot of work for mercenaries in Bern, now,” Dieck nodded. “You know Hugh ended up back at the Bern Manse? Apparently Ray ran off again just after Hugh got the kids to Araphen-they left with the Lycian group a little after you did. Anyway, Hugh tracked him all the way back to the Shrine of Seals in the middle of winter. Not really sure what happened there, but Ray left with Sophia, Igrene, Fa, and, well,” there was a long pause as Dieck searched for the right words.
He was never sure how Rutger felt about the Bernian comrades they had made, and the final member of their party had been the reason the war began in the first place. Mentioning her name casually was weird, considering that she was a massively ancient dragon, but that might be enough to set Rutger off, and Dieck wanted to get used to this new more confident man. Oh well, Rutger would know who he meant. “And that other one. As soon as the passes cleared, they were gone, and Hugh managed to weasel himself a not really cushy job as head of Bern's battlemages. He keeps saying the pay is going to get better once the country recovers, but for now he's running from village to village, trying to find kids to train in magic, and stop any bandits he can.
“I don't understand where they keep coming from. I mean, sure, massive war inside the country borders and mountain land, that's bandit conditions, but they just keep on coming, and coming, and everyone's pretty used to it. I've been working with a decent group of people on the border, and we patrol around twenty villages, but yeesh. No wonder the army was so large and tough if all they did spring to autumn was hunt bandits. I'm getting a decent cut from my guild, at least, or I'd pack it in and see if King Zealot had something easier, like wolf hunting or polar bear wrangling to do.”
Rutger smothered a laugh. “You would choose Ilia when you could be staying in clement Etruria?”
Dieck waved him off. “Ilia's a good place for mercenaries. No one looks down on you, and you got all the respect you could ask for. Besides, the southern border near Sacae isn't as cold as the rest of the country. Wyverns can even fly there year 'round without special protection, if they have to.”
“That, unfortunately, I remember.”
“Hey, it's not like the campaign anymore. Most of the wyvern riders left in the world were deserters like Miledy and Zeiss. It was kinda interesting seeing them run around like Hugh-Queen Guinevere passed an edict that says all people, regardless of rank, are now free to apply to the hatcheries. I don't think it'll shake out so common kids get easily chosen for wyvern knight, but you know, I'd like to live in a world where Bern is more like Ilia than Etruria.”
Rutger shook his head. “I suppose I still have far to go. Those villages we passed through were in terrible trouble, and after the war-no one deserved bandits on their doorsteps. I don't really have the right to be mad at them.”
“Yeah? I don't really have the 'right' to be mad at the whole nobility of Etruria, particularly when I know several decent people, but,” Dieck shrugged, “I'm never going to trust them, even when they hire me. Some stuff isn't forgivable.”
“Master Karel said much the same, though I believe he was looking at it from the other side. I don't think he was ever cast out, but if ever a man was rootless,” Rutger glanced at the cooling tea as he trailed off. “He once told me he owes a lot to Bern. He keeps finding unexpected joys in its mountains.”
“I didn't know he let himself feel joy,” Dieck shrugged. “He always seemed so cool and collected. I'm glad Fir is more lively. Also, can you tell me what you mean by rootless? The postmistress who told me to go here was talking about the same thing, but she used it differently.”
Surprisingly, Rutger colored. He tended towards bronze, even without the summer sun, and Dieck had always assumed that he didn't show embarrassment easily. Now it looked as though he did blush, a blotchy unfortunate red that didn't compliment his hair or his jacket. Which really meant that he had never been truly embarrassed as far as Dieck could recall. Stars, he hadn't even been put out when Thany walked in on them in Arcadia, then?
“It describes several different conditions, but mostly it's used for people, who, through their actions, have chosen to leave where they belong. Either voluntarily, or because they did something that required them to be cast out. It's not a kind thing to say. Though we're using it now for people who've lost contact with their tribe and families thanks to the war.”
“Oh, so I'm rootless?” Dieck grinned. “Is that going to be a problem your shiny new tribal standing?”
“No!” Rutger's defensive scowl was the same as his glare. Some things about him would never change. “Why would you think that?”
“Well, you've got your self settled down so nicely, I wouldn't want to be a burden when I accepted your invitation to stay for the winter,” Dieck gazed at Rutger's reaction, which was slowly draining the blood of his last blush, a lazily smug smile creeping up his face. “Unless the scribe read that last part out wrong.”
“They did not,” Rutger lifted his tea. “A thousand blessings upon you as you take your place on this land.”
“For the winter,” Dieck reminded him, but also took a drink of his tea.
They'd taken long enough talking that the tea was cold, but the flavor was spicy, and Dieck thought it probably would have been good when hot, too. He shouldn't have been so ready to ignore it earlier. Oh well, there would be more tea over the winter, and come the spring when they parted again, they'd both be able to say good bye knowing that they'd see each other again.
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