useless power. I can light my path, or start the stove, or a pipe. That’s about it. Not like you, healing people.”
Kei got his fingers a little too close to the flame, but Reji snuffed it out before he could get burned. Immediately, another sprite formed, this time over his belly, and was joined by another which orbited it gracefully, merging and splitting from it in a unrepeating pattern. Kei didn’t mind being the stage for the dance of fire. The warmth from it was curiously pleasant, and he trusted Reji not to set fire to anything important. “It’s so beautiful, Rei-ki,” he murmured. “No one can see what I do inside a body. This...this makes people happy.”
Reji floated the sprite up Kei’s body until, with a slight whoof of air, it popped out of sight right in front of his nose, making him laugh. “So I see,” Reji said. Kei felt too lazy to shift and look up at Reji’s face to check, but he knew he was smiling. “But is it worth the price?”
Now Kei did twist, and found Reji looking back at him with an odd expression. “Huh?”
“I saw you when I mentioned the Lady’s pregnancy, little brother. It still bothers you, being an infertile, doesn’t it?”
“And it doesn’t bother you?”
Kei felt Reji’s shrug as much as saw it. “I’ve got used to it. Not having ties has its advantages too, you know.”
Kei kissed his lover’s broad chest, and licked off a little of the salty sweat raised by their lovemaking. “Why do you come back? I mean, to Ai-Albon. There’s so much more for one like us in Darshek.”
The matter was even stranger when one considered Ai-Albon was only Reji’s adopted home. He’d moved from his birth village even before he’d reached his majority, offering to himself as apprentice to the traders in Fedor’s clan with whom his own family was loosely related by marriage. He’d never gone back home after that, and had in time, become the main trader for the village, the older ones having decided to settle down and farm quietly after thirty years of travelling.
Reji tangled his hand in Kei’s hair and tugged him up for a kiss, and then to settle him more comfortably in the crook of his neck. “More what? More of this? Any more of ‘this’, and my balls would fall off from overuse.”
Kei pinched him and made him yelp. “Don’t be a fool. But that’s along the lines of what I mean. There are more of us, more chances for...love, more companionship. Here, there’s only you and me.”
“Is that not enough, Keichichi? You and Myka, my dearest friends, a task I’m good at, the chance to kick up my heels every few weeks in Darshek—what more do I need? The crying shame is you are not there, my friend. You belong at the academy.”
Kei sighed. “I’m needed here. I’m happy here with Myka.”
Reji tilted his head up. “If Erte had not died, you wouldn’t be here,” he said in a low, serious voice.
Kei pulled his chin out of the gentle grasp. “If Ma were alive, I wouldn’t be needed. I can’t leave Ai-Albon or Myka. I don’t know what your point is.”
“None, except every argument you make to stay, I can make to stay. This is my home, I have a necessary function, and I have people I care for. Darshek is fun, but it’s not my home. Ai-Albon is, more so then ever Ai-Darbin was. So, have you finished with this silly line of questioning?”
Reji was always wiser and more quick-witted than him. He doubted it was just the extra seven years of experience that made it so. “Sorry. I suppose I’ve been thinking today how much I wished I had access to the academy library, but knowing I need to be here. I was projecting my own impatience onto you, and seeing discontent where none existed.”
Reji chuckled and hugged him closer. “That’s all right. If you were always sweet-tempered and logical, I would find it boring and then I might have to flee to Darshek for my fun.”
Kei put an exaggerated pout on his lips, as he slid his hand under the
Kei got his fingers a little too close to the flame, but Reji snuffed it out before he could get burned. Immediately, another sprite formed, this time over his belly, and was joined by another which orbited it gracefully, merging and splitting from it in a unrepeating pattern. Kei didn’t mind being the stage for the dance of fire. The warmth from it was curiously pleasant, and he trusted Reji not to set fire to anything important. “It’s so beautiful, Rei-ki,” he murmured. “No one can see what I do inside a body. This...this makes people happy.”
Reji floated the sprite up Kei’s body until, with a slight whoof of air, it popped out of sight right in front of his nose, making him laugh. “So I see,” Reji said. Kei felt too lazy to shift and look up at Reji’s face to check, but he knew he was smiling. “But is it worth the price?”
Now Kei did twist, and found Reji looking back at him with an odd expression. “Huh?”
“I saw you when I mentioned the Lady’s pregnancy, little brother. It still bothers you, being an infertile, doesn’t it?”
“And it doesn’t bother you?”
Kei felt Reji’s shrug as much as saw it. “I’ve got used to it. Not having ties has its advantages too, you know.”
Kei kissed his lover’s broad chest, and licked off a little of the salty sweat raised by their lovemaking. “Why do you come back? I mean, to Ai-Albon. There’s so much more for one like us in Darshek.”
The matter was even stranger when one considered Ai-Albon was only Reji’s adopted home. He’d moved from his birth village even before he’d reached his majority, offering to himself as apprentice to the traders in Fedor’s clan with whom his own family was loosely related by marriage. He’d never gone back home after that, and had in time, become the main trader for the village, the older ones having decided to settle down and farm quietly after thirty years of travelling.
Reji tangled his hand in Kei’s hair and tugged him up for a kiss, and then to settle him more comfortably in the crook of his neck. “More what? More of this? Any more of ‘this’, and my balls would fall off from overuse.”
Kei pinched him and made him yelp. “Don’t be a fool. But that’s along the lines of what I mean. There are more of us, more chances for...love, more companionship. Here, there’s only you and me.”
“Is that not enough, Keichichi? You and Myka, my dearest friends, a task I’m good at, the chance to kick up my heels every few weeks in Darshek—what more do I need? The crying shame is you are not there, my friend. You belong at the academy.”
Kei sighed. “I’m needed here. I’m happy here with Myka.”
Reji tilted his head up. “If Erte had not died, you wouldn’t be here,” he said in a low, serious voice.
Kei pulled his chin out of the gentle grasp. “If Ma were alive, I wouldn’t be needed. I can’t leave Ai-Albon or Myka. I don’t know what your point is.”
“None, except every argument you make to stay, I can make to stay. This is my home, I have a necessary function, and I have people I care for. Darshek is fun, but it’s not my home. Ai-Albon is, more so then ever Ai-Darbin was. So, have you finished with this silly line of questioning?”
Reji was always wiser and more quick-witted than him. He doubted it was just the extra seven years of experience that made it so. “Sorry. I suppose I’ve been thinking today how much I wished I had access to the academy library, but knowing I need to be here. I was projecting my own impatience onto you, and seeing discontent where none existed.”
Reji chuckled and hugged him closer. “That’s all right. If you were always sweet-tempered and logical, I would find it boring and then I might have to flee to Darshek for my fun.”
Kei put an exaggerated pout on his lips, as he slid his hand under the
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