And So It Begins (9 page)

Hunched inside the poor protection of his sodden cloak, Kherin barely felt the touch on his arm, though the gelding was aware of the moment when the trader changed direction. Kherin was content to let his horse follow, and he watched the road become a rough-hewn path, well used but not beaten, and similar to others they had passed thus far. Derek had told him where the paths led, but little could be seen from the road, even when the weather was clear.

Way-stops, the trader had called them. Rough stone structures that may have once given a degree of comfort, but in recent years had been reduced to nothing more than what they actually were: temporary shelters. Derek had also warned him of their likely condition when they had passed the first of the paths that cut from the road, and added that no amenities would be found in the dwellings. Their beds would again be their cloaks and bedrolls, and their only food the provisions they had brought with them. But they would be dry, and for the moment that was enough.

L
ITTLE
could be seen of the way-stop, other than the darkened shapes of the shelter and its adjacent stable—built larger to accommodate both horses and loaded wagons, though likely deteriorated enough that only the most desperate travelers used them now. Kherin didn’t argue when Derek stopped them at the stable doors, and he let the trader take the reins from his hands before sliding to the soggy ground. He knew which packs to remove from the horses and did so without being asked, then left the horses in Derek’s care as he made his way to the promised relief of a solid roof. The heavy door was unlocked and opened easily with a nudge of his shoulder. He staggered inside with a deep sigh—and was rewarded with the stuffiness of decay.

A flash of lightning revealed the scattering of refuse covering the bare floor, though whether natural or man-made, he couldn’t tell. He waited for his eyes to adjust, listening to the rain, and was thankful to hear no movement within. Icy rivulets of water ran down his cheeks and neck and trailed chilling fingers under the collar of his cloak, more noticeable now in the near complete darkness. He let the packs slide from his arms to join the debris at his feet as the first tinges of exhaustion crept over him. Thunder rattled a window, and he could just pick it out high in the wall across from him. The next flash of lightning showed the smudged but unbroken pane. His boot crunched as he took his first cautious step.

A nudge in his back as the trader stepped in behind him shuffled him forward, and the storm became muted as the door was closed. The sudden silence was immediately oppressive.

“There’s a well in the stable with clear water, and some grain not yet infested with bugs,” Derek told him, sounding almost subdued in the stillness of the shelter.

Kherin only grunted. Maybe desperate travelers weren’t that rare, or maybe they simply chose to shelter in the stable rather than inside these decrepit walls. It certainly wasn’t unusual for conventional traders to choose to stay with their goods.

Kherin’s boot crunched as he took another hesitant step.

He was forced to shuffle again as Derek maneuvered around him, and a moment later he heard the sounds of debris being brushed aside, undoubtedly with hands and feet.

“A torch might have come in handy,” Derek muttered as he worked. “I don’t think there is anything in here large enough to burn.”

“Or dry enough,” Kherin added, squinting to pick out shapes on the floor. He could only assume a fire pit of some sort was also inside the shelter somewhere.

“Oh well, perhaps it’s best we don’t see exactly what we will be sleeping in.” The trader’s voice was as calm as ever as he left off the task of sweeping. “I suppose we will just have to make the best of it. See if you can pull some dry clothes from those bags. The spare cloaks as well, if you grabbed the right ones. The bedrolls will be too wet to sleep in.”

He didn’t sound perturbed in the least, as if this were completely normal. But then again, Kherin thought irritably, for Derek it probably was. Another flash of lightning through the dirty window showed the trader had already removed his cloak.

Kherin huffed softly and forced himself to the task without speaking. What he pulled out, he did by feel, caring little whether the clothes were fine or plain, and he was relieved to feel the heavy cloth of the spare cloaks near the bottom, the fabric completely dry. Barely seen hands took the clothes he pulled free and spread them in the area that had been cleared, covering what dirt remained. The cloaks followed, one spread for a blanket, the other rolled into a makeshift pillow.

“We’ll sleep on our clothes,” Derek explained, though Kherin hadn’t asked. “Our body heat will warm them, which will make them seem warmer when we dress in them in the morning. It won’t keep them clean, but we’ll be better off for it tomorrow. Are you hungry?”

Kherin wasn’t, though he should have been. Meals had been sparse and quick, eaten hurriedly in what little shelter they found on the road. But he was thirsty. He didn’t relish the idea of venturing out to the stable to retrieve their waterskins, however.

Derek laughed softly when he said that aloud. “Come. Let me show you something.”

Kherin could see well enough by now to follow the trader across the room, and he crouched next to him as he squatted in the corner. Derek brushed lightly over the floor, using only his fingertips, until he found what he was looking for. A small ring attached to a wooden section of the floor was pulled, and the clinking of metal chains sounded as a tiny door swung open. One end of the chain was attached to the wood of the door, while the other vanished into the ground below.

A well!

Derek confirmed the suspicion when he pulled the chain up, hand over hand, until a small bucket reached the top. Not much larger than a mug in any city tavern, the water it brought up was nonetheless fresh, and Kherin swallowed it gratefully. He was too thirsty to have qualms about drinking out of the bucket itself, and he offered no complaint at the slight metallic taste the water held. He drained the bucket quickly and retrieved the second bucket himself.

“These way-stops used to see much more use,” Derek said as he moved back to the bed he had made. “Even if they aren’t maintained any longer, the wells are still welcome to those of us who know they exist.”

Another peal of thunder shook the glass as Kherin drained the bucket a third time, and though he was tempted to take yet another dip, he instead let the bucket drop when he was finished, then closed the cover with another clinking of chain. Derek had resumed the task of spreading his wet cloak, and Kherin joined him, adding his own to the carpet they were creating, though the chance of them drying before morning was nearly nonexistent. They worked quietly for several moments before Kherin broke the silence.

“Derek, why were you at the Mouse?”

The question had been lurking in the back of his mind ever since he had grown sober enough to realize Derek wouldn’t have chosen the Mouse for entertainment any more than Kherin would have before that night, and the curiosity had only grown as he continued to stay in the trader’s presence. But simple curiosity or not, Kherin immediately felt the change, though he could see very little in the darkness.

Derek wasn’t normally reticent in sharing his secrets with either of the princes, and he was far too experienced to be thrown off guard so easily, but a sudden burst of lightning flashing through the window showed the trader crouched on one knee, still, if not quite tense, his figure limned in a brief show of silver. And then the lightning vanished and the image was gone. Kherin waited, though he was beginning to feel uneasy.

“If I said I was there on business, would you leave it at that?” Derek asked at last, not exactly hesitant, but almost warily. Any further signs Kherin might have caught were hidden in darkness.

“Most likely, yes,” he answered cautiously. “Since I can’t see you engaged in any of the usual business taking place at the Mouse, I assume it was your own that took you there. If your business is none of mine, just say so.” He finished with his cloak and sat back, balancing on the balls of his feet. “I was just curious.”

“I was there to see a whore.”

Kherin blinked at the frankness of the answer, but he covered his surprise quickly enough. “Like I said, that’s your business. I wouldn’t think you would buy a whore from the Mouse, though. There are safer places in Delfore to find them, you know.”

Derek’s chuckle surprised him even more, and Kherin heard movement as the trader stood. “An informer, Kherin. Not a personal venture.”

“One of your spies is a whore at the Mouse?” Kherin nearly laughed at the idea, but not because the revelation was so unbelievable. Whores generally did learn things they shouldn’t from drunk and therefore unguarded customers, and probably earned a good deal of coin from selling more than their bodies. In truth, the kingdom’s most knowledgeable spies were also the most obvious—and the least considered. It was simple, conspicuous, and overlooked. And it was hard not to laugh.

But he managed it as he stood, swiping the damp hair from his face, a smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t know whether to ask who she is or how you managed to recruit her. Or him.”

Something soggy and wet slapped his chest, and Kherin let it fall without trying to learn what it was.

“That
is
none of your business, my prince. I was there only to gather information, a task which was interrupted, as I recall.”

Kherin’s smile faded. “I remember well enough, thank you,” he answered clearly, keenly aware of the change of subject. It was irritating how Derek could be as bad as Adrien at reminding him of his faults. “Like I said, I was just curious.”

“And no doubt expecting a more intriguing answer,” the trader mused teasingly. “Now get out of your clothes. It won’t do you any good to sleep in them wet.”

Kherin nearly snorted at that, but complied without arguing and was not at all surprised to find that Derek even undressed with much more efficiency than he did. Goose bumps appeared as his skin was exposed, but though the air was cool, it didn’t seem particularly cold.

“Never let your suspicions provide your answers,” Derek continued quietly. “It’s one of the easiest ways to become disappointed. And it’s the first rule in becoming a successful trader.” He had stripped completely and begun the task of spreading his wet clothes beside the cloaks without bothering to don anything dry. Kherin noticed, and knew he would soon be just as bare as the trader, but again, the trader didn’t seem concerned about his own or the prince’s nakedness. Kherin knew what he would have liked to attribute the trader’s ease in that particular matter to, but this wasn’t the time or the place to test the waters of intimacy beyond his own fantasies, any more than the washroom at the Crossroads had been.

Instead, he snorted aloud this time, though softly. “I’m a prince, not a trader, so I guess I don’t have to worry about that.”

Derek didn’t answer, but took the clothes from the prince’s hands, one piece at a time, having covered a large portion of the floor by the time they were both naked and chilled. Then he stepped back over the makeshift bed, drawing Kherin with him with a touch to his arm.

“Come, let’s get what sleep we can. With luck, we’ll be in Gravlorn tomorrow.”

Kherin hoped the trader was right. He stretched himself out on a dry cloak with a surprising sense of relief, and pulled the edges around him, even as Derek did the same. Talk didn’t resume, and with no other distractions, it didn’t take long to become aware of the blunt stones beneath him and the uneven ridges that pressed uncomfortably on his back and thighs. He flexed his fingers to work out their stiffness, and he knew by morning his whole body would be paying the toll for this night. Thunder rumbled around him.

“Come,” the trader said quietly, shifting closer as he spoke. “It’s going to be a cold night without a fire, and body heat will do well to keep us warm.”

Kherin granted at least that much was true, though it was odd that, even now, he didn’t feel cold, just tired. It was the heaviness of the air, rather than the chill, that seemed the most discomforting, but he let the thought go as he told himself the cold would undoubtedly leech in soon enough, and he shifted over until Derek became a solid presence at his side. The chill of Derek’s skin was surprisingly comforting, and Kherin nestled into the coolness as the stark awareness of their intimate positioning increased. He closed his eyes as he breathed in the smell of rain and wet leather that seemed almost a part of the trader himself. Damp strands of long, dark hair brushed against his cheek as Derek reached over him to draw the cloak more securely, though he felt it when the trader hesitated and pulled back. Derek lifted a hand to gently brush the hair from the prince’s face.

“You’re warm,” the trader said quietly, studying the prince’s face in the darkness. “You feel feverish. Are you feeling well?”

Kherin gave a slight smile. “Well enough, considering,” he answered as lightly as he could, pointing out with his tone that the circumstances were far from ideal.

But cool fingers continued to brush his skin, and even in the shadows he could see Derek’s frown at the heat he felt. He knew being in the city—any city—would have been better if he were indeed falling ill, but they both knew there was nothing that could be done at the moment, and Derek finally drew a breath with the sound of resignation. Derek’s only move then was to tuck the cloak closer around them.

Kherin sighed as he burrowed again into the coolness the trader offered. Then the sigh gave way to a yawn, and he relaxed. Derek followed, though more slowly, and one hand slipped over the trader’s hip in an almost unconscious movement as sleep began to take him. Derek made no argument against it.

Neither woke when the next crack of thunder shook the stones.

D
EREK
stirred, pulled out of sleep as awareness of the heat pressed against him grew stronger. He was on his side, and though he remained far from fully awake, the hardness he felt pressing against his own made him twitch his hips forward. He relished the feel of his stiff cock sweeping over the hard shaft of another. Recognition invaded his waking senses, bringing with it the awareness of newly heightened pleasure, and he began moving against the velvet heat stretched against him, pressing into the contact, answering and encouraging it as a slow pattern of teasing and touching ensued…