Fan Fiction ❯ Burning Bridges ❯ The Door that Stands Ajar ( Chapter 11 )

Hardin was grateful for the cloak that Sydney had asked one of the other brethren to loan him during their trip; the day of their departure dawned dark and grey, the clouds overhead threatening to unleash a storm at any moment. It was not ideal travelling weather by any stretch of the imagination, but it could not be helped - and perhaps the cardinal's men would be discontent, their heart not in their work, if they should chance to encounter one another. After a few words of encouragement and instructions to the brethren, it was time for Sydney and Hardin to set out.

Rather than taking the roads by which they had come, Sydney led Hardin north for a time, following the curves of the hills, and eventually entered a forest. The brush was not overly thick, but even in his own heavy cloak, Sydney moved through them easily, making little sound and leaving almost no sign of his passing. He had such swift grace that Hardin felt large and clumsy as he pushed through after him, though he'd been trained to move through such terrain with little effort during his days as a soldier.

It was a good thing, for Sydney had chosen a route that was not travelled often, from the look of it - avoiding roads and even well-beaten paths for the wilderness, and they were moving quickly across uneven ground and through untamed brush. It would not be permanent, Sydney assured him - it was only until it grew dark, and any soldiers placed on the roads would not spot them from a great distance. Hardin matched Sydney's pace easily, if not so gracefully, and they had gone far before the storm finally broke, in mid-afternoon.

Aside from that one assurance, Sydney said nothing as they travelled, entirely focused on plotting their course. With Hardin merely following, it left him plenty of time to ponder all that was on his heart. His thoughts mostly drifted to why Sydney had brought him along, for it was obvious that Sydney needed no help that he could offer, unlike the brethren who had gone their separate ways that morning. To his mind, he could surely have done more good if he had been left to protect a few of those others who had taken him in as their own. It was to them that his thoughts otherwise strayed, and with vague concern. He had little worry over Kermiak and Duncan, who had been sent off together with a few of the survivors from Fentegel, and Kirrienne's party included Branla, whose talent Hardin had witnessed firsthand. Those among the brethren that he was closest to were competent, and he had no doubt that they would take care of themselves and those with them without much difficulty. Even so, there were many that were not so powerful in either swordsmanship or sorcery. If they did not keep a low profile, they could very well be at the mercy of those who sought them.

As well, his mind drifted to the previous night's dream, but after much thought, he decided that it had to be merely a dream, and of no consequence. Even the last vision of Müllenkamp had most likely been only a dream, for although it had never happened to him before, he had heard of people dreaming that they'd awoken when they had not. Truly it was childish to be troubled by dreams, and he put it out of his mind as well as he could.

The rain continued to fall well into the night, when they came to the first road Hardin had seen since their parting with the brethren. Sydney said it was safe to travel them at such a late hour, and so they took an even faster pace, ignoring the water drenching them both. Their cloaks protected them from the worst of it, but the rain was heavy and a cold wind had arisen from the north, making the air unnaturally cool for spring. Thus when they finally stopped and found a suitable place to sleep, only a few hours before daybreak, Hardin was extremely glad that Sydney deemed it safe to build a fire.

A large evergreen tree some distance from the road, with many heavily needled branches hanging low to the ground, provided excellent shelter from the weather, especially when Hardin supplemented them with layers of fallen brush woven among them, as he'd been taught during scouting missions. The wood they found was all wet from the day's rain, and so it fell to Sydney to use his talents to light the fire, but before long, they were being warmed and dried by the small flame. A quick meal was made of the travelling rations they'd brought, and then they unrolled the bedrolls they'd brought, preparing to sleep until they resumed their journey in the following afternoon. Even so, they stayed seated beside the fire's warmth on a fallen log Hardin had found while looking for firewood, remaining in comfortable silence for a bit longer, both wordlessly agreeing that they did not want to put the fire out just yet. Having grown accustomed to Sydney's reticence of late, Hardin was somewhat surprised when the mage spoke.

"So, you dreamed of our Lady, did you?"

Sydney had not spoken to his unsaid words in such a long time that Hardin was startled by the question. "...Yes."

"Hmm..." His head resting on his hand, Sydney idly tapped a metal claw against his lips, deep in thought. "Very interesting."

That was not what Hardin wanted to hear. "It was only a dream, Sydney," he stated, hoping that it was the truth. "There is no meaning in the dreams of a normal man like myself."

"True enough," Sydney agreed, "but our Lady has been known to reveal herself in dreams before, to those she favors." He gave a wry smile. "And sometimes to those she does not. She can be a bit... mischievous. It is a part of her charm."

It was eerie, for Sydney spoke of the long-dead woman as if she were someone he was well-acquainted with. "But... it was certainly only a dream," Hardin protested, as much for his own sake as Sydney's. Was the mage implying that this ancient priestess might favor him... or that she did not? "It made little sense - only a variant of..." He halted in mid-sentence, unwilling to talk about his recurring nightmare. "...Of a dream I have had before. It is not so unusual, what with the smell of the burned village nearby and the stories you'd been filling my head with in the last week-"

Sydney abruptly looked very interested. "Well, there is one way to know for certain, isn't there?" he asked, leaning forward with his elbows resting upon his knees. Hardin drew back unconsciously at the sudden motion before he could stop himself; even in the dim light of the fire, Sydney's curious eyes were sharp, probing. "Tell me about this dream of yours, Hardin," the mage continued. "If it is a mere dream, I will know, and you need no longer be troubled by it. If not, perhaps the gods will grant me wisdom to divine a meaning."

As little as Hardin wanted to talk about it, Sydney's logic made sense, and so he reluctantly nodded. "There is not much to the telling, though. I... was back in the prison, and a fire broke out. Just when I thought for certain that I would either be overcome by the smoke or roast alive from the heat, she appeared, and told me to rise and follow her."

Sydney's eyebrows raised questioningly. "In our tongue?"

"Nay, she spoke gibberish, but her meaning was clear. Once I had gotten to my feet, she ... did something to the bars, and they vanished, and then she walked through the fire outside the cell and vanished as well, leaving me behind. I was... well, reluctant to walk into the flames, to say the least."

"A logical reaction," Sydney affirmed.

"Yes, and so I remained in the cell." Hardin was somewhat relieved that Sydney had understood his reaction, rather than berating him for his lack of faith or some such nonsense. "She reappeared behind me then, putting her arms around me, and asked if I wanted to remain there forever. I did not know what to answer... and then I was on the hillside with the brethren once more."

"You woke up?"

"I thought so, but when I turned to look at the campfire, I found she was still present, dancing about in the flames. It startled me so much that I sat up, and that was when I came awake."

"I see," Sydney murmured, his eyes narrowing to mere slits as he thought the story over. "Indeed, very interesting."

He did not elaborate, and Hardin began to feel a bit nervous. "...It was only a dream, Sydney... was it not?"

"I'm not sure," replied the mage. "Do you remember her exact words? The... 'gibberish' that she spoke?" Hardin shook his head, and the mage frowned thoughtfully. "Then would you permit me to do a bit of delving?" he asked. "I promise that it cannot hurt you, though I imagine you would find it very odd at first."

"Delving?" Hardin was unfamiliar with the term.

"Yes, it involves pulling forth memories of a time or place, and reawakening them - in essence, living through them again, but removed from yourself, as an observer," Sydney explained. "It is not a skill that I often have use for, but I must admit that you've sparked my curiosity."

Hardin didn't care for the sound of it, but seeing Sydney's reaction, he found that he was rather anxious to discern the truth behind his dream as well. "You can try it, I suppose," he agreed, "but I can't be sure that I would be able to make out her words even now."

"If they are indeed her native tongue, I will understand them," Sydney informed Hardin, giving him a reassuring smile as he leaned forward. "I will be at your side. Relax now, and let us watch."

Sydney's right hand rose towards Hardin, the metal claws gently touching his cheek, and then everything vanished in a flash of light.

Due to the thick smoke, it was dark inside the cell despite the flames that leapt up just outside, and Hardin instinctively held his breath before he realized that he felt no heat, and that the smoke did not sting his eyes. At his side stood Sydney, his appearance faint and nearly transparent, effused with a strange glow. Hardin saw the same in his own body when he lifted a hand to examine it; here within the memory, he and Sydney were no more than specters.

Looking down upon the helpless figure lying almost at his feet, coughing, he recognized himself just as he recognized his reflection in a mirror, though it was a bit disconcerting. His own voice came quietly to his ears, murmuring weakly. "Elabrin ti vamota, ext tarin eckra ti radiniata Tamulis..."

The rest of the dream had disturbed him so that he'd forgotten that strange slip of the tongue until he heard himself utter the words again. Next to him, Sydney tilted his head to the side suddenly, narrowing his eyes in thought as his lips silently repeated the last of the strange words. "...radiniata Tamulis..."

Hearing them again, Hardin realized that he recognized the last word from Sydney's lessons, though he could make no sense of the rest of the phrase. "Sydney," he began, but the mage shook his head and raised a metal claw to his lips, continuing to watch the dream unfold.

The jingling that signalled the priestess' arrival rung out, and Hardin watched as she knelt before his dream-self below. "Vyldar, palidas," her melodic voice told him, and the real Hardin turned to see Sydney's reaction. The mage's thin eyebrows raised in surprise, and he regarded the two figures before them with great interest. The words had obviously meant something to him, and Hardin frowned anxiously; so much for his hopes that it had been just an ordinary dream.

He and Sydney continued to watch silently as his dream-self rose to his knees, eventually getting to his feet before the priestess. The idle thought crossed Hardin's mind that it was almost comical that she had intimidated him so - he towered head and shoulders over her. Finally Sydney shook his head, as his Lady's arms enfolded Hardin from behind. "And she used the mindspeak to ask her question?"

"Or something akin to it," Hardin replied, growing steadily more uneasy. "It was not so much speech as it was ideas - not unlike the way dreamers often just... know things in a dream."

"Hmm... that would be the way to do it."

"To do what?"

The scene before them abruptly changed to the hilltop above Fentegel as Hardin's dream of the prison vanished, and he turned to see the priestess whirling amidst the flames of the campfire. Sydney regarded her with faint puzzlement, and Hardin knew it was no use to deny it any longer. "This was not a dream, was it? She was there..."

"To be honest, I cannot be sure," Sydney said with a slight puzzled frown. There was a strange rushing sensation, similar to when Hardin returned to normal consciousness after scrying, and they were once again sitting on the log before the tiny campfire, cold and damp. "It would be strange of her to appear to you in such a way, and she did not visit me last night... though that might be because she knew I would be angry with her," he murmured as an afterthought.

"Why?"

Sydney shook his head. "It's... complicated. Anyhow, though I cannot be certain about the last vision, it seems likely that it was she in your dream."

"Seems likely?" Hardin repeated, dubious. "I saw the look on your face - you recognized her words, though I did not. She was speaking Kildean, wasn't she?"

"Yes, she was. However, I'm not so sure you did not recognize the words yourself - seeing as you spoke in the same tongue only moments earlier - and that means that you could have dreamed them. But then, if you had, would she..." Sydney's puzzled frown grew deeper, and he rested his chin in his hands as he stared into their small fire. "Hmm."

Hardin paused; a dozen questions swirled in his head, and he was unsure what to ask first. "Sydney... why was I speaking Kildean?" he asked finally.

"You did not recognize the words, did you?"

"Only the last."

"I thought not." Sydney paused, seemingly considering what he was to say. "I believe this is not the first time your soul has allied itself with the Dark. The word Müllenkamp greeted you with, palidas... the closest word in our language would probably be 'warrior', but it is rather specific, and therefore not a word she would use towards just anyone. And you recognized the name Tamulis from our lessons, I suppose - the name of the Kildean god of fire; your words were the beginning of an ancient ritual prayer, asking for mercy."

Hardin caught Sydney's meaning immediately. "Reincarnation, then."

"Yes - those who serve the Dark are often given the option to return to this world in a new body, when the old has been destroyed," Sydney affirmed. "I myself have lived many lifetimes, she tells me, and I have always served her in some way; you could say I am fated."

His voice dropped a few tones at the last words, and Hardin thought that he did not seem pleased with the idea. Given his own distaste for the idea of fate, he was not particularly happy about this revelation either. "And I?"

"It would explain much, I suppose... but I could not say." A wry look upon his face, Sydney raised a questioning eyebrow at Hardin. "I could ask her for you, if you would like."

"...That's not necessary." If it was as with Sydney, and his whole life had been plotted out for him - even lives yet to be lived - Hardin knew he would go back to hating the gods just as he had before, no matter how reassuring their presence had seemed to him. If he was to serve them again and again, why could they not intervene at least a little, to make his servitude more tolerable?

"I thought not." Staring down into the fire, Sydney's wry grin changed to a rather cynical smile. "One life's trouble is enough for a man, is it not, Hardin? Sometimes more than enough."

Hardin nodded. If any former lives he'd lived had been as filled with hardship as this last, as curious as he was, he did not want to know about it.

"You know," Sydney said softly, the hesitancy in his voice causing Hardin to look up curiously. "...I have spent some time in prisons myself."

Hardin was surprised at the admission; he could not picture such a powerful and determined man as Sydney being held captive by anyone or anything.

"It was before I gained all of my current power, of course," Sydney continued, a distant look in his eyes as he continued to gaze into the fire. "When you live such a life as I have, filled with visions of important, world-altering events - even the end of this age - which no one wants to hear... it stirs many passions, provokes varied reactions in mankind." He shook his head slowly, a slight smile upon his lips as he closed his eyes in reminiscence. "It was many years ago, and not for a great deal of time - only a few days. Of course," he added quickly, waving a hand through the air gracefully, as if brushing the unpleasant memories away, "since that time I have been within the walls of a few others, not as a prisoner but as a liberator, for there have been times that a follower of mine was captured by the king's men, or the cardinal's. But though I've only the one real experience with the sort of prison that shattered you so, I'm well acquainted with another kind. Since I've grown strong enough in the Dark that no manmade prison - nor death itself - could hold me, I've been held in a more intangible sort. My captor is none but the future itself... the future I have seen."

He paused then, and not knowing what to say, Hardin simply nodded, letting Sydney know that he was listening. "I am not fond of either sort of prison," the mage said after a time. "Especially not when good men are held within. But there is a safety of sorts, there - you know what to expect, and you are provided for, albeit sparsely. There is no effort to be made, no risks to be taken... though life may not be pleasant, at least it goes on without difficulty."

Again he hesitated, and looked up at Hardin. "If you were given the choice in the dream, Hardin," he asked quietly, "if you were forced to choose between suffocating helplessly in the cell or burning in the fire, which would you choose?"

It was obvious that Sydney was not speaking only of the situation that had arisen in his dream, and Hardin's answer came readily to his lips after only a moment's thought. "I believe I'm burning at this very moment," he replied gravely. "We must have a choice, or there is no point to our lives, no matter how many we may live."

Sydney nodded slightly, meeting Hardin's eyes. "I have always chosen to burn as well."

A sudden glint of hunger in Sydney's eyes caused Hardin to catch his breath, as he saw that the words were loaded with more meaning than he had thought. Quickly he reconsidered his initial response to them; he'd been about to reach out to the mage, to touch him comfortingly, but indeed... if Sydney burned, then Hardin knew he had a habit of being little more than dry tinder, able to be ignited by a mere touch.

But would it be so bad, really? They were alone now, only the two of them, and they did not intend to travel further until dusk the following day - what did it matter how the hours were spent until that time? It was really only a question of whether or not it was what they wanted... what he wanted, for Sydney had already made his desires abundantly clear. As for himself, he hadn't thought much on the matter - he hadn't the slightest idea how far would be too far for him.

Examining Sydney's face, trying to find his answers, Hardin found that the mage's mind did not truly seem to be on that matter at all. He appeared worried more than anything - almost a bit frightened, though Hardin couldn't think why he should be.

"I would not willingly send you from one prison to another, Hardin," Sydney murmured, the anxiety in his face growing stronger. "The path I walk is no easy one, and you have not yet spoken any vows. You could leave us, and be free..."

After a moment, Hardin thought he understood, and he gave Sydney a slight smile. "I am free, Sydney."

The words did nothing to ease Sydney's mind, it seemed; if anything, the mage's face grew more frustrated and anxious, and Hardin wondered if he'd misread Sydney's meaning. He again examined his options, wondering if he was willing to take the chance, to simply reach out and touch him, regardless of where it might lead them.

Why do you hesitate, idiot? he berated himself. If it happens, it happens. It's what he's wanted all along, and it seems as though you wanted it too, after all. Why can't you just do what feels natural? The gods know he could use some reassurance after the last few days - or at the very least, some distraction. And this time, we both are in our right minds - neither of us drunk, or half-mad...

Hardin's internal argument was cut off abruptly as his hand reached out as if by its own volition, drawn by the need to soothe away the distress apparent in Sydney's expression. Calloused fingers rested upon thick wool, feeling the smooth firmness of Sydney's back beneath, and Hardin braced himself for whatever might come next.

Instead, Sydney turned away. "I suppose it's about time we put the fire out."

It took a moment for Hardin for realize that Sydney was referring to their small campfire - not until the mage knelt before it, extinguishing the meager flame with a softly murmured word. Darkness settled over them, hidden as they were beneath the thick boughs and needles of the evergreen, and through the noise of the falling rain outside, Hardin could hear Sydney's movements a short distance away, the rustling of his blankets as he pulled them back to lie down. "Good night, Hardin."

Stifling a sigh that could have been either relief or disappointment, Hardin did likewise. "Yes... good night."

It was still raining a few days later, when they arrived at their destination; this was why this area had been named the Graylands, Sydney told him. Though the rain would stop from time to time, and sometimes the sun would even make an appearance, for much of the year the land was indeed grey. Even the deep green of the new leaves upon the trees seemed washed out in the bleak light that managed to fight its way through the clouds.

There had not been much further to go at dawn that day, and so they had continued on instead of making camp at their usual time, and once more took to travelling off the roads as they had when they'd first set out. Coming clear of the trees and thin brush in the mid-morning hours, Hardin recognized the manor before them immediately, but it took a moment for him to place it. It had been many years since he had been inside the walls that surrounded the inner courts and buildings, and at first he could scarcely believe it. "Your mysterious benefactor is Duke Aldous Byron Bardorba?"

Sydney smirked through the raindrops at his skeptical tone. "Surprised, are you?"

"I expected someone less... important." Duke Bardorba was one of the elders of Parliament, coming from an old family with great holdings - and few wielded more power than he besides the king himself. Hardin had come here once or twice with his father during his childhood; he was expected to be the heir to his family's minor holdings, and so had been presented to many of the higher nobles as such. Recalling such meetings, Hardin momentarily worried that this might cause problems - he was a wanted man, after all, and if the duke should recognize him, place a name to his face... But then, the duke had not seen him for a dozen years at the least, he reminded himself.

"You expected some minor noble with a grudge against the monarchy," Sydney commented lightly as they approached the gates. "But no, the duke has been a supporter of my faith for many years - even long before I was born. The teachings of Müllenkamp have been passed down among the Bardorba family for many centuries."

"So, then..." Hardin was mystified, for this information was at odds with what he had heard of the man. "...is he one of your followers in secret?"

A short, cynical laugh was his response. "Duke Bardorba, following such a rogue as I?" Sydney asked, shaking his cowled head. "Not likely, Hardin. Every man's beliefs create a religion unique to himself, and though the duke believes in the same gods as I, he keeps his faith in his own way."

"I had heard that his wife was a prominent figure in the church of Iocus," Hardin muttered, lowering his voice as they neared the walls. Despite the downpour, an unhappy-looking sentry was posted behind the portcullis at the gate, and through the iron bars, Hardin could see another few men approaching. Likely someone had spotted them exiting the woods and sent out a few more servants to greet them and escort them inside - or to aid the lone sentry in driving them away if they were not welcome.

"Oh, she is," Sydney murmured, a note of disgust in his voice.

They were too close to the sentry for him to elaborate, however, and the man called to them over the din of the rain. "Who goes there, and what business have you with Duke Bardorba?"

By way of reply, Sydney raised a hand and pulled the hood of his cloak back despite the chill and the rain, revealing his face. The man froze at the sight of him. "Ah... you," he muttered, not quite hiding his distaste. The others with him did not seem particularly happy with their visitor's identity either, and Hardin thought he even spotted one nervously making the sign of the Rood. "The duke is not here now - he and the Duchess are gone on a holiday to another of his holdings."

Their reaction didn't seem to faze Sydney at all. "We can wait."

After a moment's hesitation, the men inside began to turn the wheel that raised the portcullis, allowing Sydney and Hardin entrance. No one offered to show them inside, but stayed some distance off as Sydney led Hardin to the manor's front door. "Not to doubt your judgment, Sydney," Hardin commented, his voice lowered so that the servants would not hear, "but that lot looks as though they'd turn us over to the cardinal's men without a second thought."

"They would," Sydney agreed, "had they not pledged loyalty to the duke. Though their beliefs are at odds with mine, their honor demands that they obey him, regardless of their thoughts on the matter. He informed them long ago that I am welcome here, and so they will not trouble us. The Duchess may have chosen servants who are of her own flock," he commented with a smirk, "but it is the duke to whom they are sworn. It is rather frustrating for her, I imagine, but quite fortunate for us."

Those in the hall when they entered were more hospitable, even if they seemed no more pleased than those who had met them at the gate, and considerably startled as well. "Ah... Sydney," a moustached retainer greeted him nervously. A few maids passing by stopped and glanced at them in surprise, then hurried on their way after a quick nod of acknowledgement. "The duke has taken leave for a time, I'm afraid-"

"So I hear," Sydney said dryly.

"May I assume, then, that you will be staying here until he returns?"

"You may."

"I see..." The retainer wiped his brow, then nodded to himself. "Well then, I suppose you and your... friend, here, shall be staying in your usual suite. This is rather unexpected, so the rooms are not ready... I'll have someone make the beds - and shall I have hot baths drawn for you both?"

"Yes, thank you - that would be appreciated. We've come quite a long way, and the weather has not been favorable for travelling." He glanced up at Hardin, and gave him a faint smile. The smile looked all wrong to Hardin, though - too tight, and his eyes showed nothing of it. "It will be good to be warm and clean again at last, won't it?"

"Indeed." Regardless of his concerns, Hardin found the idea of a hot bath very appealing after the chill and the mud of the road.

"I'll make it so, then," the retainer affirmed, bobbing his head. "You know the way, Sydney, so I shall excuse myself to make ready. Fortunately your wait will not be a long one; the duke is scheduled to return tomorrow evening." The retainer excused himself with a hasty bow, and hurried off down a hallway.

Hardin looked after him, mildly amused at the effect Sydney had on the servants. "He meant fortunately for himself, no doubt."

Sydney didn't so much as chuckle, even the vague smile he'd held earlier having vanished. "For all of us," he murmured.

Hardin's amusement vanished as well; Sydney usually enjoyed making people squirm. He must have been quite troubled, to not take advantage of this opportunity. "There's nothing to be done about it," he pointed out, hoping to reassure him. "It isn't much of a delay, at any rate - the brethren can take care of themselves, so what does another day matter?"

Sydney gave no answer, but started off down one of the corridors silently. Somewhat puzzled, Hardin had no choice but to follow.

The rooms that comprised Sydney's usual suite were not the largest or the finest that the duke had to offer, but still far more luxurious than their accomodations at Leá Monde. Composed of smoothly carved stone and polished wood, they were furnished with thick draperies, gilded candlesticks, and fine furniture; one heavy wooden door even opened onto a small balcony. Despite the pristine luxury, Hardin found that there was a strangely comfortable feeling about these rooms, and he found himself relaxing a bit. Though he'd never had surroundings so lush even in his earliest childhood, there was a warm, welcoming air about them somehow - perhaps because Sydney was apparently so familiar with them. Without pause, the mage sat down upon one of the thick mattresses on the two unmade beds, which lay beyond a wide archway leading from the sitting room that opened into the rest of the rooms of the suite. Even as drenched as he was, he began to remove his cloak and boots, taking no notice of the water dripping upon the mattress as he did so. After a moment's hesitation, Hardin sat down on the bed on the other side of the chamber and began to remove his outer garments likewise; if it was acceptable for Sydney, then he supposed it was all right.

The two maids who came almost immediately to draw the baths and make the beds said nothing about Sydney's discarded, dripping cloak upon the floor. They regarded him with faint curiosity, and after Sydney had wordlessly vanished into the bath, leaving Hardin to wait behind until he had finished - he had not even bothered to ask, Hardin thought with vague annoyance, even if he would have told Sydney to go first anyhow - they shot him a few strange looks as well. The barely restrained interest in the younger maid's face was so severe, that Hardin finally gave up pretending not to notice. "Is there something bothering you?"

"Oh! No. Not at all," she exclaimed quickly, turning back to her task of making Sydney's bed. She glanced over her shoulder at Hardin once more, though, and he caught a glimpse of a faint blush upon her cheeks. This baffled Hardin - with the reaction they'd gotten thus far from the servants, she certainly could not have taken a liking to him, could she?

Seeing that he'd obviously noticed her staring, her blush deepened. "Excuse me," she murmured. "I just... well, you don't look like..."

"A cultist." Hardin said bluntly, realizing the source of her curiosity. Her eyes widened at the honest admission, but there was no point in skirting the issue when it was so obvious. Besides, their fears were so unfounded that he felt pity for them more than he felt insulted. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm no sorcerer."

"Ah, no... I meant-"

"I'm sure he knows you meant no offense," the older maid cut in, giving her a warning look before she turned back to Hardin. "There are towels and robes within the inner chambers, and more than one bath, so you may go any time. While you are gone, we will make your bed."

There was an expression of disapproval not quite hidden behind the cold politeness on the older maid's face, contrasting sharply with the curiosity of the younger, but Hardin simply nodded politely and stood to go. "Thank you."

There were woven screens of thin fiber surrounding the two baths to provide privacy and when Hardin arrived, he could hear the faint sound of moving water behind the one that was closed. Sydney must have heard the door open, but he said nothing as Hardin went to the other bath and began to strip himself of his garments.

Once Hardin had washed, he simply lay back in the warm water that covered him to his neck, watching the faint trails of steam rising around him. The warmth soothed his weary muscles, penetrating even the chill that seemed to have lodged in his bones during their journey, and he closed his eyes, letting himself relax. He could not recall when he'd last been so utterly comfortable, despite their somewhat unfriendly welcome, and he let his mind drift with the water that surrounded him.

Not a sound had come from Sydney's direction ever since he'd entered, and Hardin thought that was odd. He'd fully expected some sort of comment - and surely designed to antagonize him - about the fact that he was undressing in Sydney's presence. The Sydney he'd come to know had far too wicked a sense of humor to let such an opportunity pass unnoticed, and yet he'd said nothing. Not to mention, the simple fact that he'd closed the screen around his bath was unusually modest for him, considering how he liked to tempt and tease. He seemed to be in one of his distant moods again - or rather, still, for Sydney had barely said two words to him since the first night of their journey, when by the fireside the mage had actually shown some signs of being human - by his own choice, for a change.

Again with the dance of approach and withdrawal, Hardin thought with a sigh, and he wondered once more why Sydney had bothered to bring him along. At least he'd managed to get plenty of peace and quiet, and possibly more rest than the brethren, who would have had to be on their guard constantly without Sydney and his warding spells. It seemed wrong that he and Sydney should be enjoying this luxury when their companions were in such poverty and danger, but as he stifled a yawn, he decided he could handle that mild guilt for a hot bath and a soft bed. He and Sydney had been on their feet since the previous evening, and they were accustomed now to stopping at dawn to sleep. Though Sydney never seemed to show any signs of weariness no matter how little sleep he got, Hardin was exhausted, and he knew Sydney must be as well.

The next thing he knew, he was startled by a faint splashing sound, and glanced around in surprise. After a moment, the disorientation passed, and he realized that the warm water must have relaxed him a bit too much - he'd dozed off while still in the bath. Not much time could have passed, though, for he recognized the sounds beyond the screen as the results of Sydney leaving his own bath. Soft, familiar footsteps passed through the room not much later, and the door closed behind the mage, leaving Hardin alone in silence. Best that he get out as well, he thought with a yawn - however long he'd been dozing in there, the water was growing tepid.

After toweling himself off, he returned to the front rooms of the suite and found a fire already burning in the hearth, taking the edge off the chill that was ever present in large stone buildings such as the manor. Between his relaxed state, his weariness from the previous day's travel, and the slight chill in the air touching his still-damp hair and skin, the thought of simply climbing between the sheets and wrapping himself in the thick blankets was nearly irresistable. He had more important things to think about, however; he'd already discovered that Sydney was nowhere in their suite, and he found this curious. Besides, he had been hoping to ask a few questions about the situation here in the duke's manor - he did not want to do anything that might be offensive towards their hosts, particularly when the servants had only accepted them as guests grudgingly. Though Sydney had claimed they had sworn to obey the duke unwaveringly, Hardin had seen enough of human nature to know that not everyone's oaths could be trusted, and he did not want to wake up the next morning with a templar's halberd to his throat.

As tired as he was, he honed on Sydney's familiar aura with the Sight, and perhaps unsurprisingly found him in a room that appeared to be a library or study, his metal limbs all but concealed in a thick white robe he'd left unfastened, simply draped over his shoulders. The walls were lined with bookshelves that reached to the ceiling, and each was filled with tomes of all sizes and colors. Sydney's eyes passed over them slowly, taking in the names on the bindings, and after a time selected a thick, worn volume - the Zodiac Brave Story, Hardin saw upon closer examination. He let the viewing slip away as Sydney took his choice to a desk and chair in the corner; apparently Sydney was not researching, if he was simply reading ancient legends, and Hardin supposed it was all right to interrupt him.

The Sight guided him through the unfamiliar halls, past servants who either pretended not to see him or bobbed their head nervously and stepped aside as he passed, giving him a wider berth - apparently word of the unusual visitors had spread quickly through the manor - and he easily found the library. It was more impressive than he had first thought, for it was comprised of more than one room that was just as filled with books as the one he'd scryed upon, and most of them were larger besides. As Hardin entered the room he'd seen earlier, Sydney glanced up briefly from his reading and gave him a nod. "What is it?"

Hardin frowned at the words, for it was a rather cold greeting for Sydney even in his more irritable moods. "Are you busy, Sydney? There are a few things I'd like to know, about the duke and his family and servants..."

"I can assure you we will be safe here," Sydney told him flatly, "if that is what you were wondering. Though the heirarchy of Iocus' religion is filled with hypocrites, the majority of the common believers are earnest. They speak the truth and keep their oaths, for to them Iocus is a deified saint, not a dead man. Thus they believe oaths sworn to him to have meaning, and they therefore keep them faithfully. The disciples of Iocus are not all bad - it is those who knowingly spread a false gospel and exploit the simple faith of the people for their own ambition that I take issue with."

Hardin nodded. "I suppose that's a fair assessment," he agreed. "If you say it is so, then I will trust you. But also I was curious about how this came to pass," he added, cautiously looking over the adjacent rooms with the Sight to see if any wary servants were eavesdropping. He saw no one, though, and so proceeded. "You said that the Duchess is indeed of the Iocus faith, as I'd heard - does she know of her husband's beliefs? Do his servants?"

"They know that I am to be allowed to stay even when the duke is not here," Sydney replied, and impatience was audible in his voice even though he didn't look up from his reading. "Does that not make the answer to your question rather obvious?"

Hardin was rather taken aback by the overtones of irritation in Sydney's voice - he hadn't said anything out of line, had he? "Not necessarily," he pointed out. "I haven't the slightest idea what the history is between the two of you, if he is not a follower of yours as you said earlier. Why would he support you and the brethren anyway?"

"That is the business of Duke Bardorba and myself." As the mage raised his head to regard Hardin, there was an unmistakable look of annoyance in his eyes. "You look tired, Hardin - why not go back to our rooms and sleep?"

Hardin was growing somewhat annoyed himself - considering his snippy attitude, Sydney was the one who sounded like a cranky toddler in need of a nap. The mage suddenly shot Hardin a glare so vicious that he had to force himself not to stumble backwards; doubtless Sydney had heard that idle thought, and it certainly hadn't improved his mood.

"A... all right, Sydney," Hardin conceded after a moment's thought, holding up a hand in surrender. Whatever was bothering Sydney, apparently he was doing nothing but bothering him all the more, and no matter how confusing Sydney could be, that was not what he wanted to do. "I'm sorry to trouble you."

Sydney nodded in acknowledgement, and seeing that Hardin had turned to leave, he went back to his reading. Hardin, however, paused just outside the door, then looked back at the mage. For once he looked almost like an ordinary man, leaning on one robed elbow upon the desk as he gazed down at the words on the pages with a slight frown on his face.

"...Sydney."

He looked up impatiently at the sound of his name, and the intensity of his eyes ruined the illusion of normalcy. Hardin ignored it in his determination. "Don't forget that you are the one who suggested I come with you," he reminded the mage. "Whatever your purpose was in doing so - and I still haven't the slightest idea what that might be - I can offer you little assistance when I don't understand the situation, and less if you simply send me away when I ask."

Sydney regarded him for a moment, then returned to his reading once more. Hardin was becoming quite tired of being ignored, and so returned to their suite as Sydney had suggested. Regardless of Sydney's rudeness, the truth was that he really was tired, and some sleep would do him much good.

Wherever they were, there was almost no light to illuminate the slender figure that lay beside him, little more than a faint silhouette, but there was a faint, almost familiar jingling noise that he knew he should recognize.

...Who...?

The slim figure sat upright, and though he still could not make out the features of his mysterious visitor, the chiming of gold against gold finally found its place in Hardin's mind, telling him who it was that now sat atop him, and he froze at the realization. As anxious as this should have made him, he could not bring himself to be entirely afraid, for long, slender legs straddled his, and soft lips nuzzled against his shoulder, slowly moving across to nibble at his neck playfully.

She...? What would she want with me?

The answer would have been rather obvious, were it anyone else, but Hardin could not bring himself to believe it. The slim figure straightened again, and he flinched as he felt the touch of supple fingers skillfully unbuckling the belt at his waist, then tugging at his shirt, pulling it over his head effortlessly. As the slim figure leaned forward again, the soft lips kissed across his stomach and downward, and silken veils brushed against his sides. He made a valiant effort to remain calm and still beneath the rather sensual onslaught, but between his fear and his arousal, both growing stronger with each touch, it was growing more difficult by the second.

This... can't be right. She couldn't... oh, gods - she is!

Unbidden, a groan burst from Hardin's throat as the fingers began busying themselves in a very enjoyable manner. In spite of himself, pleasure won out over anxiety for control of his body, and he was unable to keep himself from reaching up to take hold of the slender waist, pulling the gently curved hips into alignment with his own. Running his fingers along the inside of one sleek thigh, he felt more than saw the figure move atop him, back arching and hips pressing against his as he found the catch that would release the heavily ornamented belt. Placing the other arm around the smooth-skinned back, he drew the slender frame down to lie atop him, stroking the soft hair that brushed his shoulder. Soft, warm lips found his own, and he closed his eyes in ecstasy. When the kiss ended, he dared to open them again, and caught his breath as a trace of light glinted in the eyes.

The eyes were not the emerald green he'd expected to see, but completely colorless, piercing his very soul with the intensity they held as they darkened with ruthless passion into a deep grey, framed by wayward strands of pale hair.

His own eyes opened with a start to take in the sight of the suite in Duke Bardorba's manor, and he slowly came to the realization he'd been dreaming. Still half-asleep, he pressed his palm against his forehead wearily, trying to banish the sight of those eyes, the memory of skin against skin.

After a few moments' confusion, he realized that someone was knocking on the door of their suite. Looking around, he did not see any sign that Sydney had come back, but it wouldn't be Sydney at the door; he hadn't locked himself in, and the knock sounded rather hesitant.

With a yawn, he sat up, and cleared his throat. "Yes...?"

The door opened, and a young servant girl poked her head in timidly. "I'm sorry, milord, if I woke you... Lord Sydney told us that you should be awakened for dinner."

A glance at the window told him that it was indeed likely early evening, though it was difficult to tell through the clouds. "Ah... yes. Dinner." It was a good idea, for he and Sydney had been living on travelling rations for several days now, and at this point he could use more nourishing food at least as much as he needed rest.

"The dining room isn't very hard to find," she murmured hurriedly, "just through the front hall, which you probably remember is at the bottom of the stairs... but if you like, I can wait for you to dress, and show you the way."

That wasn't something she looked forward to, quite obviously, and Hardin shook his head. "I'll be able to manage fine, I'm certain. Thank you." After a hasty curtsy, the girl vanished as quickly as her legs could take her. By the gods, the poor girl looked as though she thought he'd eat her alive for waking him - what kind of idiot rumors had she heard about Sydney's followers?

No matter, Hardin thought, running a hand over his weary face as he stifled another yawn. They would not be staying long, and he would not bother them any more than he had to. Now, to dress for dinner... but first, he thought sheepishly, remembering the dream the girl had awakened him from, he could use a few minutes out on the balcony. A few minutes standing in the nice, cold rain. At least it had not been another visitation, he thought as he let the falling water cool and wake him - as unnerving as the dream had been, it had not been particularly unusual - and at least it had not been the prison again

After having dressed, he found the dining room easily, but at first was not certain he was in the right place. A few servants were bustling about in the kitchen, but the dining room itself was empty, and Sydney was nowhere in sight. Seeing his curious glances around the room, one of the women in the kitchen came out to greet him with a kind smile. "Looking for Sydney, I suppose?"

"Yes..." The short, somewhat plump woman was the only servant he'd encountered thus far that hadn't cringed, glared, or been stiffly formal to him since his arrival, and it surprised him a bit.

"Ah, he rarely takes his meals in the dining room during his stays here," the woman told him. "Since you're looking for him here, I suppose he wasn't in your rooms when you left, no?"

Hardin shook his head, and the woman clicked her tongue. "I suppose he's in the library, then - I'll have someone take him something."

Apparently Hardin's puzzlement showed on his face, for the woman smiled. "You were not expecting someone here to fuss over your friend, were you?" She leaned a little closer to Hardin, lowering her voice to speak to him confidentially. "Though Lady Ellemir has filled the duke's holdings with servants of her own choosing, there are a few remaining who have been in his service for longer than she has even known him - the duke would not part with his best cook, for instance," she explained with a meaningful nod, "and most of us do not share their prejudices. Sydney has come to us many times before, and I have always thought him to be a fine young man, regardless of his beliefs or whom he chooses to bed."

Well, that explained why the maid had been staring at him while making their beds. Suddenly he had to fight off a blush as deep as the maid's had been - was that what they all thought he was?

Seeing Hardin's sudden discomfort, the cook winked at him. "Don't worry, I do not intend to ask or jump to any conclusions - it's none of my concern. No concern of anyone else's, either, so you just ignore them."

"I shall try," Hardin agreed. At least someone in this place had some common sense, thank the gods.

"Very good, lad - very good." She was fussing as if she was his or Sydney's mother, but already Hardin felt much more at ease than he had only moments previous, and he allowed himself to let his guard down. "I'm afraid we don't have anything special to serve you and Sydney as our guests here, but we've done what we could..."

"What they could" was more than enough, Hardin quickly discovered - the meal they laid out before him wasn't lacking for quality or quantity. Even if it was not the choicest cuts of meat, and it was not the best season for vegetables, the food was still fresh and hot and far beyond what he and Sydney had been dining on, and even more so than the brethren's usual meals.

As he dined, Hardin took a moment to scrye upon Sydney, to see if he too was enjoying his dinner, wherever he might be. As the cook had suspected, he was still in the library, and someone had indeed taken some food to him. It sat untouched, however, as Sydney continued his reading.

Alone in their suite after dinner, Hardin was visited twice by servants that evening - once a maid asking if they had blankets enough, and once by a young man who brought more firewood, for the night was cool. Both times, Hardin expected it to be Sydney returning, but he apparently continued his reading until well after dark, and finally Hardin gave in to his body's urgings and went to bed; Sydney would sleep when he was tired enough, he supposed.

He had no idea how late it was when he was finally awakened by the sound of the door, and opened his eyes to find Sydney returning at last. Even by the relatively dim light of the fire, partially blocked by a screen so that it would warm without keeping them awake, Hardin could make out his troubled expression, the dark shadows under his eyes betraying his weariness as the mage sat down upon the bed, beginning to undress. "Sydney, is everything well?" he asked softly.

The mage started at the sound of his voice, pausing halfway through removing the robe he'd been wearing. "Everything is fine, Hardin," he told him after a moment. "Go back to sleep."

Still dubious, Hardin hesitated for a few moments longer, until Sydney's eyes flashed with sudden anger. "Go to sleep, Hardin," he repeated, his soft voice suddenly turning harsh. "Or does it please you so much to watch me undress? Shall I do a little dance for you as well, as a common whore might do?"

Hardin's eyes narrowed. "What is wrong with you?" he asked incredulously.

Sydney remained silent in his anger, and Hardin tried to make his sleep-fogged mind focus, tried to think what brought on such an outburst. It dawned on him after a moment, what the cook had said about the other servants' impressions of Sydney, and what they must have assumed of him - no wonder Sydney was a bit sensitive about such a thing at the moment. "Forgive me, Sydney," he murmured. "You know that is not how I think of you, not at all." Despite the dream, despite the moments that had passed between them, desire was not among the first emotions that came to mind when he thought of Sydney; at the moment, concern blocked it out entirely.

Even so, he obediently turned onto his side, facing the wall to give the mage the privacy he asked, and tried to fall asleep once more. As for the soft, melancholy sigh he heard from the other bed, Hardin pretended that he did not hear it. Surely they would both feel more themselves in the morning.