The Professionals Circuit Archive - The Hunting Book One, Part III	  
The Hunting Book One, Part III

 

by Jane

  
 *Book 1
 Part III*

The air was crisp, the mid-autumn breeze cool. From Bodie's vantage point
on the roof his view across the forest was one of flame-decked trees,
orange, gold, scarlet. Summer was long gone and already the wind had begun
to shift northerly, bringing with it the first sharp-edged promise of
winter. 

He shaded his eyes against the bright morning glare, admiring the fine
sight of the forests of Morhod made over into a wash of molten gold; but
the snows would be early this year, and the old folk were prophesying a
long, hard winter to follow. Bodie shook his head over the future, an
admission of some frustration. It was as if the gods were playing a game,
and making the rules up to suit themselves as they went along. 

Three months ago, he had been a warrior in favour in a human tuath; that
had changed in an instant, the moment he recognised the face of the
war-prize who sat chained on Garth's feasting table. Six weeks ago, he had
been high in favour in the elven tuaths, honoured as the human who had
brought a prince out of captivity, returning him to his place at the head
of his family. 

And now? Disgraced, Bodie thought with a grin, returning his attention to
the hammer and nails at his feet. Disgraced, cast out and labouring for
pay in the gentle westcountry where there was no work for warriors because
the nearest enemy lay far in the north. Painted sub-humans, dwellers in
the caves over the mountains of Casdar, neither elven nor human, and more
savage, more dangerous than either. 

Bodie stood astride the pinnacle of the sloping roof, a pile of wooden
shingles at his left, an open sack of nails at his right. Expecting rough
weather as autumn grew steadily chillier, most householders were making
repairs to rooves and fences, and there was work aplenty for the human,
who was bigger and stronger than the majority of elves. When it was done,
he would go to join the men who laboured in the fields, bringing in the
last of the harvest. 

If he craned his neck to look west, beyond the big, stone chimney stacks,
he could see the fields, swatches of gold bisecting the woods, a few
reapers at work, stooking the cut wheat. Raven was there somewhere. At the
thought of his mate, Bodie picked up the hammer, reaching for nails --
eager to have the roof mended and free to occupy himself elsewhere. Raven
worked alone, rarely speaking to the others who laboured around him,
ignoring them as they ignored him... The tales of disgrace had run ahead
of human and disinherited elf, and Bodie admitted that they were probably
fortunate to be given employment at all. 

Nothing would alter the fact that Falcon was dead; and that in the long,
unwritten history of his people, Raven was the only chieftain ever to have
killed a shaman. The injustice of the charge still made Bodie sting, for
if anyone had murdered Falcon, it was the human. Perhaps there was no hope
of absolution from the elves among whom Bodie lived now, but in his own
heart he had admitted the truth more than once -- 

If it came to a choice, Raven or Falcon, one to live, one to die, he would
have hastened the shaman to his death knowingly to win Ray his life... And
would do it again, sin and shame or not. As it was, the life they were
living was tolerably comfortable, and they earned enough to buy the goods
they needed to face a winter on the road. They were travelling, working a
few days here, a week there, and if they were not cherished by the folk
who lived along the way it mattered little, for they stayed in one place
too brief a time to be hurt by unforgiving talk. 

The road led them north-west, chasing the winter into the highlands, and
Raven was rarely happy to be still, not merely because his name was known
and scorned, but because he and Bodie followed a legend into the
highlands... A legend in the form of a man. Raven had accepted the
responsibility for the death of the Kith shaman, and disinherited, left
the lands of his ancestors as a wayfarer with a human companion, his royal
blood forgotten. To him, the punishment handed to him by the Kith elders
was unimportant; Falcon's death, the death of a friend, mattered a
thousand times more. He owed his clan a debt that could be settled in only
one way. With Falcon gone they had no shaman, and it was only fitting that
the man for whom Falcon had given his life should find another shaman. 

The chances of finding one were poor; had it been a horse race, Bodie
would have returned his money to his pocket. But to Raven, it was the
price of his honour as a warrior, as a man, and Bodie felt the elf's
wounded pride as keenly as he felt his own. Raven said nothing of the pain
it caused him, but he smiled less, often brooding, his green-gold eyes
fixed on the fire, blind, his heart weighed heavily by what had been. The
penance handed out by the elders had been, by human standards, mild; the
penance Raven imposed on himself was much more savage... He would find the
Kith another shaman, and only then count his debt to his clan -- and to
Falcon, his friend -- settled. 

And so here we are, Bodie thought with a sigh, the hammer battering at the
long shaft of an iron nail. They followed a legend into the highlands, and
if the human had remembered how to pray, he would have entreated the gods
to breathe truth into the tale. 

It told of a man. His name was Amber and he was as old as the forest;
once, long before, he had lived and worked among the Soren clan, but he
grew disenchanted with the ways of his folk and, when a young shaman had
been trained to do the work of healer, mage and auger, he had left, making
his home in the wilderness where the noise and disquiet of people would
not reach him. Centuries had gone by since Amber had left the Soren, but
as recently as Raven's own youth, not twenty-five years before, he had
been seen. A woodsman had been gravely injured and would have died had not
a young man with yellow hair and golden eyes come upon him in the forest,
and treated him. Amber? It could be no one else, swore the storytellers. 

Raven believed. He *had* to believe, Bodie knew, and he shook a fist at
the wayward, wilful gods of elves and men, promising and threatening in
one. Ray had done his penance in pain, humiliation and despair in the
humans' camp, long before Falcon had died; he had paid his price time and
again, and if the gods wanted more from him, Bodie was angered by them.
Enough had been taken from Raven already. Time for some part of his loss
to be restored. 

A bell rang out, cutting through the crisp autumn air, and Bodie glanced
at the sky in surprise. It was noon already; he had been lost in brooding
contemplation as he worked at the roof and had lost track of time. As he
heard the bell he threw down the hammer and straightened his back. It was
time to eat, and even such as he and Raven were permitted that respite.
His back protested the work, but there was a kind of satisfaction in doing
a job well. The roof looked trim and neat, and would last for many winters
to come. Whether the Soran clan liked -- or even knew -- it or not, a
human had left his mark upon this place. 

The reapers trudged in from the fields by twos, threes, and family groups,
but Bodie was looking for a figure walking alone. A little behind the
others, Raven walked with his eyes on the sky, watching the birds that
were his namesake. His hair was tangled, his clothes dusty, and he was
thin again, his face angular within the cap of coppery curls. Bodie smiled
a little sadly at his mate; Ray looked brown and healthy, but withdrawn.
Lonely, the human thought as he slid down the ladder to the cobbles of the
stableyard. 

Lads from the house brought out big platters of food -- bread, cheese,
fruit, nuts, anything and everything that was seasonable, and even the
smiths deserted the forge to eat. The reapers clustered about the food,
ravenous and eager to have the best of what was offered, but Raven hung
back, looking first for Bodie. 

"What, not hungry?" Bodie chided as he joined his companion at the stable
door, watching Raven wash in the horse trough and pat his face dry with
the hem of the blue tunic he wore. 

"Ravenous," Raven admitted, "but they are like a flock of magpies,
predatory and rapacious. Let them have their way first. There is plenty
for all, and I would sooner have a kiss while I can taste you instead of
the elderberries!" 

Bodie offered his arms and Raven went into them with unabashed gratitude,
seeking the human's warmth. His mouth sought Bodie's blindly, and the kiss
was long and deep. There was a time when Bodie would have been reluctant
to display his feelings in such a public place, but since he and Raven had
been cast out he took a kind of pride in kissing Raven where others could
see. It was a gesture of defiance as much as a reaffirmation of love; and
Ray needed it as much, or more, than he did himself. 

The elf's body was harder than ever, manual labour bringing up his small,
springy muscles. Only in the morning did he feel soft and pliant, and by
noon he was all too obviously a man in Bodie's arms. His mouth was swollen
from the kiss, his eyes hazy with the pleasure of it, and Bodie could feel
his stirring arousal through the fabric of dusty breeches and tunic. 

"Save that for tonight, Ray," he whispered into one curl-capped ear. "We
must return to work once we have eaten." 

"Aye," Raven sighed, kissed Bodie's nose and drew out of his arms. "I need
vinegar for my hands. When the magpies have jostled long enough over the
food, bring ours to the stable while I see to my hands." 

He was gone without another word and Bodie frowned after him for a moment
before pushing in among the elves in search of bread and fruit. As usual,
the reapers made short work of the best, but the quality of what was left
so far exceeded the fare in the human tuaths across the black hills that
Bodie barely noticed that the pick of the meal had gone. 

Hands filled with food, a jug of milk in the crook of his elbow, he
followed Raven to the stable and had deposited their meal on a bale of hay
before he smelt the sharp tang of wine vinegar and peering in the dimness,
saw what Raven was doing with it. His hands were blistered from the work;
his lip was caught in his teeth as he held a rag soaked in vinegar to the
sores, and Bodie swore lividly. 

"Ray, what are you *doing*?" 

"Using the vinegar to toughen my skin," Raven said a little hoarsely. "It
is painful, but it works." 

"That isn't what I meant," Bodie said angrily. "I mean, what are you doing
this kind of work for? You were not born for this! Oh, look at your hands.
They are going to be like leather soon -- and you've had them bleeding
today. Damn! Your hands are too fine, too beautiful for this work." 

"We need the money," Raven said wryly. "Furs and provisions to sustain us
on the trail into the highlands will not be cheap, and we have little
enough left after we paid the horse doctor to treat Lightfoot. Oh, Bodie,
the vinegar is just a little painful, and if my hands are like leather
now, they will be soft again when the work is finished." He looked up at
the human's frowning face. "Kiss me again?" 

Bodie kissed him hard, tongue in his mouth, ravishing. "I will feed you
too -- with your hands soaked in vinegar the food will taste awful." He
brought the food and sat down. "Bind your hands, sweetheart, or the
blisters will be open to the bone by nightfall, and tomorrow you will be
useless." He made a sandwich with bread and cheese and held it for Ray to
bit into it before taking a large bite of it himself. "The harvest will be
in in a few days anyway, and I have almost finished the roof." He held the
bread and cheese for Raven to bite into it again and swore over the elf's
hands. "You'll work no more at *this* kind of employment as soon as we
have our wages in pocket!" 

Raven was blotting the vinegar from his blistered palms and smiled at his
lover's words. "What, then? I am a warrior. I was never trained for any
other kind of work, so labouring is all I know." 

"Let *me* worry about it," Bodie said drily. "When we have money again, I
shall roll the dice and -- and be damned to working! I was born to labour,
but you were never intended for this." 

Hands dry now, Raven reached for the milk, drinking half of it in one
draught. "There are rags over there; would you bind my hands? I'm a little
clumsy, as you'd expect." 

Still swearing, Bodie brought the rags and tore them into strips. "You had
skin like a child," he muttered angrily. "Can you not take the work at an
easier pace? 

"Shirk?" Raven's face broke into a smile, an expression that was all too
rare lately. "Mayhap I could, but not when Hollis is about." 

"Hollis?" Bodie glanced up at his lover's face. "That is a rueful look,
pet. Hollis is causing you trouble?" 

"Not thus far," Ray shrugged as Bodie tied the ends of the bandage, "but
if he was able to say I have shirked, his father would be pleased to take
my wages from me -- and then I would have to labour at *another* job!
Better to work hard at this one, and then be finished once and for all." 

"Wise," Bodie admitted. He did not like Hollis; the householder's eldest
son was an arrogant, ill tempered man, almost human in his manner and ways
-- and the fact that he was one of Raven's race did not sweeten Bodie's
opinion of him at all. He was a swine, and gracefully pointed ears and
fine bones did not alter that. "Hollis is watching you," he concluded. 

Raven was eating a too-ripe pear, the juice getting everywhere, and he
mopped ineffectually at his chin until Bodie used the last scraps of rag
to perform the chore for him, kissing him on top of a mouthful of sweet
fruit and earning a smile. "Hollis is within his rights to watch me. I am
-- an undesirable, remember! And they do not trust you," he added softly.
"Humans are seldom found this deep in the west. Outlanders are always
treated as aliens. I'm sorry, love." 

"Nothing for you to apologise for," Bodie said bluffly. "Stay out of the
foreman's way, if you can. He means you no good." 

"He means no one any good, if it comes to that," Raven said, throwing away
the stringy core of the pear. "The little mute girl, Rhiannon -- you have
seen her? 

"A lovely little thing," Bodie nodded. "Big brown eyes and hair redder
than your own. What of her?" 

"Master Hollis is making her life difficult," Raven said grimly, "and she,
being mute, cannot call out for assistance. I have had words with him more
than once over it." He sighed. "I have no right to speak out to the
master's son, but Hollis would treat little Rhian as I was treated, and I
cannot stomach that, even if I am cast out again." 

One large, square hand cuffed the elf's head fondly, "You would not be you
if you could, my love," Bodie said softly. "We are almost out of time --
the others have gone already. Take care this afternoon." 

He had bent to kiss his lover's soft mouth when a loud, rough voice
intruded from the doorway behind them, and Bodie straightened, seeing the
tension that appeared suddenly between Raven's brows. 

"Princeling? You are late!" It was Hollis, striding up to the stable, tall
and, for an elf, brawny, a riding crop tucked under his arm, his hair tied
down by a leather headband, his muscular frame clad in costly brown
leathers. Raven got to his feet, stepping about Bodie. "Ah, there you are
-- this idle time will count against you, princeling." The title was a
taunt, and Bodie felt Ray bristle, although he said nothing, already
moving, out of the dim stable and back to work in the wake of the reapers.


But Hollis did not move; he and Bodie stood levelly, eye to eye, each
overtly evaluating the other until Hollis smiled grimly. "Something amuses
you?" Bodie asked with a spurious mildness. 

"You do," Hollis told him. "Mooning over the princeling like a love-struck
wench. If he cannot stand the pace it is his own ill fortune. Mayhap he
belongs in someone's bed, warming it, while you toil like a man. There is
money to be had for such labour, you know." The smile widened. 

How Bodie did not take his clenched fist to the master's eldest son he
would never know, and it was only Raven's perverse logic that stopped him.
If they were expelled from this place for causing trouble, employment
would be harder to come by in future, and yet, if they wished to supply
themselves for a journey into the highlands, they had to have funds.
Either that, or steal, and a warrior's honour would not bend *that* far...
Better to endure for a few more days, take the money and *go*. What were
verbal taunts, anyway? Bodie let a smile replace the scowl on his face. 

"You will find that Raven is tougher than you think," he said quietly. 

"He talks well," Hollis admitted. "You would be well to advise him to hold
his tongue, for I will brook none of it in future. If the only sense he
will see is the flat of your hand, teach him that way." 

Bodie said nothing, brushing past Hollis and returning to the ladder
without so much as a backward glance. To acknowledge that the remark had
been made would be to necessitate a reply; and Hollis would be searching
for his teeth among the straw... before two errant members of the Kith
were on the road again, unpaid and further besmirched. He climbed back to
the roof, aware that Hollis was watching him for some time, and the hammer
battered savagely at the black iron nails. 

It was a warm afternoon, save for the cutting edge of the breeze, and
Bodie worked steadily, now and then able to hear the reapers singing at
their toil. None of the voices belonged to Ray; he had not heard Ray sing
in weeks. "One day," Bodie promised himself grimly. "One day, when this is
over, you shall be clad in silk and silver, and smiling." He hammered in
the last nail on the western side of the house and stepped over the sharp
pinnacle of the roof, preparing to tackle the other side. Anger quickened
his pace and he made swift inroads on the work; the sun dipped toward the
hills, unnoticed, and as the world grew dim in twilight he worked on,
listening for Ray's voice. Ray would hear the hammer and come to find him,
when he was finished for the day, and that was soon enough to quit. The
sooner the work was done, the sooner he would have the money in his hand
and the freedom to leave. The road beckoned like a siren. 

Sunset was violent, bloody, and Bodie spared it a glance as it became too
dim to work well. The hammer slammed back into the bag of nails and tools
and he dropped the sack over the edge of the roof, delighting in its
impact with the cobble stones. The reapers had gone for the day, he could
see the last of them ambling for home, and he was frowning as he cast
about for Raven. 

Twilight was thickening swiftly into night, and a quick glance into the
paddock beyond the stable yard showed that Hollis' pony was grazing beside
the warhorses owned by the wayfarers; Jasmin, Wind and Lightfoot were
growing soft and fat with their enforced inactivity. "Ray? Raven!" He
called, but there was no answering call. The blacksmith's lad was still
working by the cooling forge, emptying out the day's foul water, and Bodie
beckoned him. "Have you seen my companion?" 

The boy frowned. "Not since mid-afternoon. He was arguing with Hollis in
the fields -- I heard raised voices. After that, I don't know. I didn't
see the princeling once he went down." 

"Went down?" Bodie echoed. "Went down where?" 

"Fell," the boy elaborated brightly. "I saw Hollis challenge him, but not
what happened after, save that your mate fell." 

And no one had thought it important enough to say a word to me, Bodie
thought lividly. He took the boy by the shoulder. "Where was this?" 

"Yonder," the farrier's lad said indifferently, "where the fields run down
to the back." He left the human with that, picking up his pails and
finishing the day's work. 

Bodie was already moving. Anger quickened his stride as he left the stable
yard and he loped out beyond the paddock where the horses grazed, his eyes
scanning the fields in search of his mate. If Raven was badly hurt, and
had been left to his own devices, injured, there would be trouble as only
a human could make it, and be damned to the consequences. 

He was at the gate into the wheat field when he saw Raven, far off, at the
top of the slope above the stream; he was with a girl -- Rhiannon, the
mute, Bodie saw, and his mouth tightened. So Hollis had gone to the heart
of things and put the spurs to Raven's sides in a spot where he was
already sore. Damn! Bodie castigated himself for a fool -- he should have
known. 

Ray was on his feet at least, through he walked slowly and his head was
bowed. The girl hovered over him, her concern obvious even from this
distance, and Bodie thanked whatever warrior's gods were still listening.
He waited by the gate, watching the two approach; Ray looked tired and
dispirited rather than hurt, and he tousled the girl's head in thanks,
kissing her hand as she left him before they reached the gate. She climbed
the fence and hurried away through the twilight toward the house, where
she slept in the scullery. 

Feet dragging a little, Raven looked up and saw his mate at last; he
managed a smile and pulled his shoulders back, but Bodie saw the effort it
took and was frowning deeply at him. 

"There has been trouble," Bodie said shortly, waiting for Raven to offer
whatever he would. 

"I was unwise," the elf admitted. "It was my own fault." He said no more,
falling into step beside Bodie as they headed toward the stable where they
slept. 

"You're hurt," Bodie growled. "What happened?" 

"I went down to the back to wash after work," Raven said, so quietly that
Bodie had to strain to hear him. "It is over, Bodie; we still have
employment here, so don't fret about that." 

"Who gives a curse about the employment?" Bodie demanded. "Will you tell
me what happened, or must I quiz it out of you?" 

"I spoke out of turn to Hollis," Raven said simply. "He was bothering the
mute girl again; he touched her in a way neither she nor I liked, and I
spoke unwisely." He found a small, rueful smile as they turned into the
stable. "I have paid my price! Hollis was satisfied and -- I think he has
had what he has wanted for so long. Me, in a heap at his feet. Now he will
leave us all alone." 

"You hope," Bodie said beneath his breath. Striking flint against tinder,
he lit a lamp and used its burning wick to light two others; in the light
he turned Raven about to look at him. One cheek was flaming red from a
slap that must have knocked him clean off his feet, and he would bruise
there, briefly. Raven averted his eyes, waiting, and Bodie's brow drew
into a line of disapproval. "What is it, Ray? A slap cannot be the sum of
it." 

Raven heaved in a breath. "It is useless to hide it from you, since we
will sleep together soon. Oh, damn! It is of no matter, Bodie. I earned
this, on Rhiannon's behalf. I had no right to speak so to Hollis. I said
such things to his face as I would have said when I had rank and honour,
and I expect no more than fair chastisement in return, but..." He bit his
lip, and pulled off his tunic, dropping it to his feet and glowering at
it. 

His chest was bisected by a dozen welts, the skin broken in several
places, bruising and swelling marking out a pattern across breast and
midriff. Bodie bit back a stinging oath. "Hollis took that god-cursed
riding crop to you, because you spoke out of turn?" 

"He was well within his rights," Raven muttered. "You didn't hear what I
had to say to him! I was somewhat angry." 

"Angry?" Bodie echoed, seething. "You don't know the meaning of the word!"
He reached out with gentle finger tips, finding Ray's skin hot and damp
with beck water. "Oh, fool! You could have beaten that barnyard hero with
your hands tied! Why did you not show him what a warrior is made of?" 

"Firstly, he had his three companions with him," Raven said ruefully. "And
I may not be so invincible against four of them. Secondly, I have a job
here that will pay us enough to buy our gear for the journey -- and put
enough into your hands that you can dice with strangers, and keep me as a
*princeling* should be kept. Hollis has had his laugh now, and has no
cause to blacken our names or withhold my pay. If the exchange for that,
and for keeping his hands off the mute girl, is *this*, what of it?" 

What indeed, Bodie thought bleakly, shaking his head over Ray's wilful
logic. "You're hurting," he whispered, making the elf sit down on a bale
of hay and peering at his chest in the lamplight. "I'll fetch oil and
cloths; and we shall see how you have healed overnight before we decide if
you work tomorrow. Between your hands and this, I think you have done more
than enough." 

"I am inclined to agree," Raven admitted, catching his breath as Bodie's
cool fingers explored the worst of the welts. "But Hollis will be hard to
convince. We will be gone from here so soon; let it be, Bodie. I have had
worse from a fight, even from a fall when riding." 

Oil smeared thickly over the swollen skin and Bodie muttered an oath.
"Aye, so you have; but falls and fights are not the same. Punishment is
not a word I care for, especially when it is one I love being chastised.
Keep still; I know it hurts, but it will be better for the oil. It is
cloves and lemon grass, and will help you heal." 

It burned, Bodie knew, and he watched Raven clamp his lip between his
teeth until the worst of the pain had gone. A wet rag went onto the oily
skin and was pressed down, and then Bodie was satisfied. "Better," Raven
admitted. "Oh, love, stop fretting. Tomorrow I shall be half mended -- you
know our ways." 

"Little fool," Bodie repeated, wiping his hands and putting the oil back
in the box where the horses' medications were stored. "And all for what?
For the honour of a peasant girl." 

"And now, I am a peasant boy," Raven said mildly. "What would you do, or
hope some passing warrior would do, if the likes of Hollis, unwanted, put
his hand between my legs and sought me out, as if he planned to mate me?" 

"I would hope some passing warrior would kill Hollis," Bodie admitted.
"And I still wish you had parted the man from his head!" 

"If he had been on his own," Raven said wryly, "perhaps things would have
been different! But there were too many, and had I fought -- well, these
little scratches, sting though they do, are nothing beside what could have
been." He managed a cheeky smile. "If they had blacked my eyes, broken my
nose and knocked out my teeth, you would have been less than delighted.
Toothless, crook-nosed, I would have been beautiful, I don't doubt!" 

A moment's horror made Bodie blink. Break Raven's nose, so that it set
crooked, and deprive him of his front teeth? He shuddered, lifting the wet
rag to peer at the welts. "The lesser of all evils," he admitted. "Oh,
Ray, what shall I do with you?" 

"Feed me," Raven said drowsily, "then take me to bed... And love me,
please, for I need it." He looked up at his mate's face in the lamplight.
The lines of anger were still engraved about Bodie's mouth but there was
the light of humour in his eyes too -- a wry, ironic humour, as if he were
asking himself what *he* would have done in Ray's place. Let the girl be
mauled, or speak out and take his chastisement without protest, so as to
save his bones? Some choice! As the elf looked up Bodie stooped to kiss
him, lips feathering over the cheek that had been struck. "If you were
human, you would have a beautiful bruise." 

"I shall not escape entirely," Raven sighed, relaxing under the light
caresses. "I am just tired, love. Really." He opened his mouth to his
mate's kiss and then Bodie withdrew, picking up the discarded tunic and
handing it to him. "Bodie? You are angry." 

"Not angry," Bodie corrected. "Unless it is with Hollis. Oh, go and lie
down, sweetheart. I'll scout up some dinner for us, and a cup of wine, if
I can talk one out of the cook." He gave Raven a wink and turned away,
pausing at the stable door to look back to him, a thin, dusky figure, half
clad in black breeches and boots, holding an oily rag against his sore
chest. The anger was for Hollis, but Ray was right -- they had neither
rank nor station now, and only their warrior blood set them apart from the
peasants among whom they lived and worked. 

The food was simple but there was plenty of it, and the labourers who
serviced this farm helped themselves at the kitchen. Bodie took a wooden
tray and heaped it with bread, fruit and nuts, twin bowls of steaming
broth and a pitcher of mead into which he thrust a poker, red hot from the
fire. The nights were getting cold now, and Ray felt the chill keenly. 

When he returned to the stable, Raven was already cocooned in the sleeping
place. They were using the hay loft and had their sheepskins and saddle
blankets there, hay stacked up about them to hold in their own body heat.
The lamps had been turned out, save one that burned as low as it would on
a bale of straw at Raven's side. The elf needed no light to see well, and
the single lamp was a concession to Bodie's human eyes. 

A platter of food was thrust into the elf's hands, and Bodie spoke in
stern tones. "Eat. You are a wraith already." 

"Must you scold me?" Raven sighed. "I'm at a low enough ebb already
without your anger." 

Bodie blinked down into the huge, bruised eyes. Anger? Was that what he
thought? He shook his head slowly, not trusting his voice for a time as he
looked down at his mate. Ray was pillowed on the hay, their sheepskins
about him, his sore chest bare and his hair in need of combing. "If I am
angry, it is not with you, little chuck. If I seem short tempered -- it is
with Hollis! Now, will you eat? Then I will see to your hair." 

"Don't mollycoddle me," Raven moaned. "You humans are all alike, either
scolding or coddling!" 

Bodie laughed gently. "Do you remember when first you said that to me?" 

The green-gold eyes smiled, though Ray's face was sober. "I do. I remember
it, aye, and regret none of it." He turned his attention to the food, a
bit clumsy, his hands still smelling faintly of the vinegar and bound in
rags. 

"Stubborn," Bodie observed softly. "You work like a peasant and take all
[words missing] to offer when we could be free, out of here, with the
forest for a home. And all for what?" He sipped at the hot mead, chewing
on stewed apples. "To provision us so that we can ride into the highlands
in search of a myth by the name of Amber!" 

Raven said nothing, eating methodically, his eyes on the food, and Bodie
said no more. He knew that Ray had a dream of winning back his lost
honour, to go home at least to live as one of the Kith, if not their
chieftain. His sister. Willow, was their chieftain now; the circlet that
should have been his brow was on hers -- and on that score, Bodie
acknowledged a thread of worry. Willow was a warrior, but not a great one;
and she was not a commander by instinct, as Raven had been. If it fell to
her to lead [words missing] into battle beyond the black hills in the
human tuaths, it could [words missing]. Worse than it had gone for Raven?
Bodie thought bleakly as he ate his meal. Raven, a chattel, a bed slave,
violated by his own grandfather. At least Raven had *lived*: would Willow
be so lucky? 

His food finished, Raven sat back against the bales of hay and [words
missing] Bodie's practised touch as the carved ivory comb worked the days
knots and tangles out of his hair. It was either this, or cut it, and
Bodie would not hear of that. Once the tangles were out he combed the long
curls until they were silky and smooth, and kissed the warm crown of Ray's
head. "There, I have fed you, seen to your hurts and your hair... Hm.
There was something else you wanted, as I recall. Now, what was it?" 

"Don't tease." Raven held open the bed, releasing a draught of musky air,
tantalising to Bodie's nose. "Tease me tomorrow when I am happier." 

A note in the husky voice reached Bodie's heart with a painful caress. He
stooped, lifting Ray into his arms, mindful of his chest. "I have no
desire to tease you at all," he said bluffly, "until you are laughing at
me... It is so long since I have heard you laugh. What must I do to chase
the sadness from you?" Raven did not answer with words, but with a
muzzling beneath his human lover's chin. "Ah, I have an idea. I shall love
you. Yes?" 

"Please," Ray murmured. 

And carefully, Bodie thought as he slid into the bed beside his mate,
trying to work out which position would irritate Raven's chest the least.
At length he chuckled, knowing. Ray was too far gone into a spiral of
pleasure generated by delicate caresses and kisses to hear the chuckle,
his back arching, hands clutching Bodie's shoulders. Big, hard, throbbing,
the elf's cock filled Bodie's fist and he put his head down to lap at it,
urging Raven to abandon himself to the act. Ray cried out as he felt his
lover's mouth close about him, hips lifting in a blind search for release,
but Bodie denied him for a moment, lifting his head and moving up to
smother him with a kiss. 

Loving Raven was like breathing, a part of Bodie's soul, and when the heat
was on them there was nothing else, just the two of them and their
joining. Bodie bent to collect his own pre-ejaculate and used it to make
Raven moist, slick; green eyes, slitted and hazy, watched him as he
lavished attention on the demanding cock, and as Ray understood he was
swallowed, murmuring a husky endearment in a tongue so old Bodie had no
knowledge of it. 

He was beyond hearing anyway. He straddled his lover's slight frame,
letting his weight impale him and wriggling to drive Ray deeply into
himself. Raven's face twisted as he fought his every instinct, holding
back with an enormous effort. He lifted his hips just once, filling Bodie
completely, and they both moaned. Bodie in pleasure-pain, Raven with
delight he could barely manage. Hard to think that once the human had been
afraid of this. 

Slender hands on his pelvis urged Bodie to *move*, and he shifted the
little he was able, hearing Ray's strangled moan from far off. The shaft
within him was as near torture as delight and the desperate urgency seared
his nerve endings. He was about to take Ray's hands from his hips to his
groin when Raven offered them without prompting, and the heat welled up
like a newly kindled fire. Roughened hands caressed him, urging him, and
Bodie squirmed, the dual stimulation drawing climax from him before he was
aware of its swift approach. As he came he felt Ray stiffen beneath him
and there was heat streaming into him, the elf's shaft jerking against his
tender insides. Bodie held his breath, savouring every moment as Ray
softened enough to allow him to fall forward in search of a kiss, and
Raven held him, his sore chest forgotten, his mouth offered in love and
gratitude. 

It was some time before Bodie was aware of what he was about, and he
looked down into a sleeping face, realising that the sounds in his ears
were of laboured breathing as Ray panted beneath his weight. Not even the
struggle to breathe could keep him awake, however, and Bodie smiled. He
reached for a wisp of hay to mop away the sticky film of his seed,
showered on Ray's belly, and mopped at his own legs before stretching out
to sleep and pulling up their sheepskins. Raven murmured in his sleep,
burrowing closer, his head tucked into Bodie's chest. 

"Sweet fool," Bodie told him. "See how they hurt you? Oh, love -- the
price of such honour is too high!" He pressed a kiss to Raven's temple,
his fingers knotting into wayward curls. "They will love and fear you one
day, this I promise! All of them." He closed his eyes, breathing deeply to
inhale the musky scent his every sense identified as Ray. The elf stirred
in his arms but did not wake, and Bodie followed him into sleep in
moments. 

******

The sun rose later and later as winter approached, and the reapers were
already making their way into the stable yard to breakfast before heading
out to the fields when Bodie woke, one arm shielding his sensitive eyes
from the glare. The sky out through the hayloft hatch was bright and
clear, and the weather was on the mend after a week of patchy showers. 

He rolled over, wondered how long Ray had been awake and was surprised to
find his mate still asleep. For Raven to sleep after sunrise was unusual,
and Bodie took the opportunity to study him without obstruction. There was
a paleness to Ray's face that was also unusual, a lightening of his tan
that betrayed strain, and blue rings beneath his eyes. His bones were too
close beneath the surface now, and although he, as an elf, healed so fast
as to astonish a human, his body was marked in a dozen places. 

Here, the broken blisters on his hands, there, the nick of a blade on his
arm, the welts on his chest and a palm-print on his cheek. There were
finger-bruises on his arms too, and Bodie guessed that he had been held
tightly while Hollis had his fun. Other nicks and bruises were consistent
with the reaper's trade, and they would heal and vanish, given a week or
so. It was the marks of Hollis' satisfaction that irritated Bodie to the
point of distraction. 

Still, they too were healing fast; what had been broken skin the night
before was pink scar tissue now, and the bruises that would, in a human,
have been purple, black, were pale and multicoloured on the elf. Bodie
stooped to wake Raven with a kiss. "The sun is up, little chuck. How do
you feel?" 

The green eyes blinked open and Raven heaved an enormous yawn. "I have
overslept, I think!" He smiled, stretching and mouthing a silent wince as
his chest pulled. "I am stiff. The work is hard on the back, you know!" 

"I can imagine," Bodie agreed, "but that isn't what I meant." He kissed
the middle of Ray's chest. "Am I to kill Hollis this morning, or will it
wait?" 

"It will wait," Ray decided after due deliberation, peering at his chest.
"I am only sore. It smarts, nothing more." 

"Sure?" Bodie brushed one swollen nipple. "Will you work, or rest?" 

"I would sooner work," Raven said grimly, "than let him know he has a
right arm strong enough to hurt me." 

"Stubborn," Bodie accused. 

"As a mule," Raven agreed affably. "We will be too late for breakfast
unless we hurry, and I am famished." 

"You go on ahead, grab what you can while I shave," Bodie told him,
rolling out of bed at last. "And for the sake of all your gods, bind your
hands *before* you start today!" 

"A lesson I have learned already," Raven said drily as he wriggled into
his clothes. "Damn, but it is cold this morning." 

"Which will keep Hollis by the hearth till midday," Bodie said glibly.
"How long, to get the harvest in?" 

"A few days, but we don't have to stay here until the work is done.
Rather, how long before the roof is finished?" 

Bodie tapped his nose. "There are shortcuts one can take, and I intend to.
We leave here in the morning, Ray. Time to speak to the master about the
accounting tonight." 

Raven was pulling his boots on, and looked up at his mate quizzically.
"The decision has been made and finalised while I was asleep?" 

"It has," Bodie affirmed. "What happened yesterday will happen again if
Hollis is given the chance. And next time... I will probably kill him,
Ray. When you are hurt I am barely sane, as I've told you before. If you
have been injured in a fight that was fair, I can govern my temper, but
*this*..." He held the collar of the dusty blue tunic aside to look at the
elf's chest. "No more. I don't care *what* you said or did, no more." 

The green eyes glittered and Raven gave Bodie his mouth for a moment. "I
love you, you sweet, foolish human. Show your face the razor while I bring
you something to eat." 

The day passed with surprising speed, and from his place on the roof Bodie
saw that Hollis did indeed hold to home until noon, when the wind warmed.
He saddled his little roan pony and ambled out to the fields -- to play,
Bodie thought grimly, and hoped that Raven had enough sense to hold his
tongue... Ray was not a fool, and not fond of pain, and since Hollis had
had what he wanted perhaps there would be peace. 

Bodie left the roof early, stretching stiff muscles and jogging out to the
gate to meet the reapers. Raven was alone at first glance, but then the
human saw the little mute girl. Rhiannon, tagging along behind him. She
was a gorgeous little creature, her hair like burnished copper in the sun,
her face nearly as lovely as Ray's, her eyes as brown as the plumage of
the wren. Her skin was dusky from exposure, and Bodie saw that Raven had
the ability to make her laugh. He was juggling unshelled nuts for her
amusement as they left the field, and the girl picked up her skirts and
danced with delight, since she could not tell him in words. How old was
she? Bodie wondered. Sixteen? A little older perhaps. If she had had a
voice, some man would have spoken for her before now. As it was, Bodie's
concern was for what would become of her when he and Raven had gone. She
would still be here: and so would Hollis. Did he taunt her only to get at
Raven through her? Or did he really desire her? 

The other reapers had gone on ahead when Ray gave Rhiannon the nuts and
looked toward the gate, seeing Bodie there. He waved, breaking into a
limber jog that sent him into his lover's arms. "Mm, you feel good. Hold
me tight." 

"Hollis has been about for a while," Bodie murmured into the windswept
hair. "Has he bothered you again?" 

"Only with words," Raven said indifferently, nibbling Bodie's ear, "and
words can do me no harm. But I'm worried for Rhian once we have left." 

"So am I," Bodie agreed, lifting Ray's head to kiss him. "When we speak to
the householder tonight, about the accounting, we should tell him about
her. He will have words with his son, perhaps." He looked up over Ray's
head at the girl; she was lounging by the gate, pretending not to watch
them, but her cheeks were flushed, and Bodie hid a grin. She wanted Raven.
Of course -- what did that demonstrate but good taste? He gave his mate a
parting kiss and shooed him through the gate. "They will have demolished
the food by now." 

Before returning to work on the roof, the human strode to the kitchen and
sent word up to the master that the wayfarers were almost ready to leave;
a maid took the message and brought back Morgan's words. "You're to come
to the house at moonrise, and he will settle with you," the woman told
Bodie. "Your pay will be in silver coin, will that suffice?" 

"Indeed it will." Bodie favoured her with the smile he knew had dazzled
women on both sides of the Black Hills, and left to finish the roof; he
was cutting corners with the work now. It would last nowhere near as long,
but it would be spring before the first of the deficiencies showed. If
there was one good blow in winter they would put the damage down to the
wind. 

Hollis was about in the afternoon, riding among the labourers, shouting,
and Bodie accorded him the curled lip of scorn. So long as he kept his
hands off Raven and Rhiannon, he could shout to his heart's content. He
rushed the work and by sunset was done with a few minutes to spare,
returning the tools to the forge and washing in freezing water at the
trough. Ray's voice hailed him as he was patting his face dry, and he
turned to watch his lover come across the yard. The elf was tired, the
spring gone from his step, but there was also an expression of -- relief?
Bodie wondered, that they were leaving now? 

"Come and wash while I sort out clean clothes," Bodie called. "The
householder will speak to us at moonrise, and she's up in an hour. We will
be out of here by midmorning, little chuck. Mm, a kiss first... You taste
of dust!" 

"Surprising," Raven quipped, nipping Bodie's chin.

"And how is this?" Bodie whispered, flat palm against Ray's chest. 

"Sore, after a day's work," the elf admitted, "but worth it... You should
have seen the look on Hollis' face when he saw me. He thought he had cost
me dearly with the switch. He was in a fine fury, but I would not rise to
his baiting, and since Rhian stuck close to me he could not openly go to
her." 

A quick kiss, and Ray went to wash, pulling his soiled tunic over his head
and dumping it into the trough to wash the dust out of it. Bodie smiled at
the brown, thinly muscled back, and went to bring out their clothes. The
Kith elders had stripped Ray to the skin, leaving him nothing, on the
night of the judgment, but they had not counted on a human's perverse
ingenuity, and Bodie had seen to it that he took out of Feyleen's estate
sufficient money to buy the things they needed to begin again. He had
dealt with a merchant from the south, buying clothes and jewellery while
Ray traded for utensils, leather and herbs. Bodie had always liked Ray in
white and gold, and he had spent a lot of the pilfered money on a few
garments that were of fine quality, would last, and were beautiful. 

Washed and dry, Ray climbed up to the hayloft, letting Bodie attend to his
hair for the pleasure of it in the last ruddy wash of sunset, and then he
dressed quickly. The tunic Bodie had laid out for him was gold with blue
and green embroidery about the collar and a big silver brooch to fasten
it. A baldric, scabbardless, clinched it at the elf's slender waist, and
Ray finger-combed his hair, which was long enough now to sweep his
shoulders. There were two thin bracelets of beaten silver, and a ring, and
when he had slid them on he would have passed anywhere for a noble. Royal
blood will out, Bodie thought with wilful good humour as he dressed
himself. His own garb was plainer as suited his taste, his tunic black,
its embroidery silver, the belt that cinched it red leather. He wore no
jewellery -- had never cared for it on himself and had worn the items Ray
had given him simply because they were Ray's gift. If Ray made him further
gifts of items chosen out of love, he would wear them too, but wasting
money' on frippery for the sake of vanity was not in him. What was he,
when all was said and done? A brat who had been trained as a warrior, and
had made good, against the odds. 

"Will I do?' Raven asked, finished dressing. 

"You look positively edible," Bodie said drily. "And I?" 

"Beautiful," Raven said throatily. "Brooding and strong, as always --
beautiful as is the night." 

"Where as you are beautiful as is a sunny day," Bodie smiled, "and we are
well matched. Two halves of one whole, eh?" 

"Aye," Raven smiled, the old, genuine expression of good humour he had
shown so seldom of late. "Now, have we time to eat?" 

They ate their meal in the kitchen, standing in the corner by the big
hearth, drinking ale and spooning hot preserves onto still-warm bread
while they awaited the householder's summons. Morgan was an old man, given
to moods and muddled thoughts, but in his youth he had been an adventurer,
and he had heard of Raven's hunting for a shaman with fascination... Less
quick to damn than the younger folk, Bodie observed, as if a lifetime's
adventuring had taught him that there were stranger things to be seen than
those in one's own barnyard -- and that things were not always what they
seemed. 

They had eaten their fill when a maid came to beckon them, and human and
elf followed her deep into the house, to the door of Morgan's library. The
woman knocked, opened the door and departed, and Raven led his mate into
the room. Its walls were shelved, and there were more books than Bodie
could count. The old man sat in a carved wood chair by his hearth, a rug
over his knees, and his eyes were sharp and bright even if the rest of him
was frail. 

"The roof was well done," he said to the human, "and your payment is in
coin, in the pouch on the desk there... But you, young Kith. My son tells
me you have been a troublemaker." 

"I spoke out of the turn," Raven admitted. "On behalf of a girl." 

"You wanted to bed with one of our scullions?" Morgan asked shrewdly. 

"No. The human is my mate, we were bonded some time ago," Raven told the
old man. "Rather, Hollis wanted to have the girl against her wishes. I
spoke above my station on the matter and --" He shrugged eloquently. "I
was thrashed for my words, so I count the episode closed." 

"Thrashed? Hollis did not mention this." Morgan frowned. "He took his hand
to you?" 

"He took a riding crop to me," Raven said ruefully. "I have paid for my
crimes, and prefer to forget it." 

Morgan was clearly caught between acceptance and doubt. "Show me your
back." 

Raven slipped the silver brooch out of his tunic and opened it. The welts
were more pronounced than they had been that morning, as they had been
rubbing all day. "As I said, he had my price out of me. Is it not enough?"


"For a few words out of turn, rather *too* much," Morgan growled, one thin
fist thumping a bony knee. "Especially for one who was a chieftain! My son
has a heavy hand and a fine temper. Over a girl, you said?" 

"Rhiannon, the mute," Raven said, smoothing his tunic carefully over his
sore skin and replacing the brooch. "She does not desire Hollis, and he
will not take no for an answer. When we are gone, the girl will be alone,
sir." 

The last remark was added pointedly, and Morgan sighed. "There is little I
can do for her. She is a scullion only, and Hollis is at liberty to do as
he chooses with those bonded to this householding... I will speak to him
about leniency, but whether he will listen I cannot say. The evidence of
your own breast will attest to his headstrong nature. I regret your pain,
young Kith, there was little reason for such dealing over words." 

"You didn't hear the words," Raven smiled. "I have forgotten already -- or
will, when I have stopped smarting! If it pleases you to release us, we
will leave at midmorning. 

A second pouch of square cut silver coins lay on the corner of the desk,
and Bodie picked the money bags up, weighing them between his hands. One
was heavier than the other; for remaking the roof he was due more than the
wages of a reaper, and he glanced at Raven's abused hands with a shake of
his head. If there was justice at work in the world, he could not see it.
They left the old man's library with the first good wishes they had heard
since they had been called before the Kith elders, and hurried through the
chill of evening to the stable. Bodie lit the lamps while Ray counted out
the coins, adding them to the funds they had earned along the way. 

"Enough?" the human asked, mentally calculating how much they needed. 

"Enough," Raven judged, emptying the coins into the same pouch and stowing
them in a saddle bag. "From here, we are travellers, woodsmen, with no
thought of labouring for pay." 

"For which the gods are due thanks," Bodie said softly. "Your hands will
be soft again soon... Soft on my skin." He picked up Raven's hands,
kissing the leathery palms, which smelt faintly of vinegar. "Oh, Ray, I'm
sorry." 

"For what?" Raven asked huskily. "You have done nothing." 

"I have brought you nothing but strife," Bodie said honestly. "But for me,
you would have been a chieftain, living a good life." 

"But for you," Raven corrected, "I would have been dead in Garth's camp
long since. And well you know that, so cease this talk. The life we are
living is fair enough: food aplenty, a dry place to sleep, honest work,
and each other when the day is done. I like a little more loving than we
have been getting lately, but in all honesty, I am too tired for it when I
have finished the day! When we are free in the forest, I shall probably
ravish you often." 

"And be ravished yourself," Bodie added, stepping up close and palming
Raven's soft buttocks. "Take off your tunic before you rub yourself any
more sore. Will you have more oil?" 

But Ray shook his head. "It hurts more its properties warrant! I'm half
healed as it is... And I want you." He bestowed a quick kiss and went to
unroll their sheepskins, aware that Bodie's eyes followed his every
movement. 

There was an old legend in the human tuaths, that if a human ever set eyes
to an elf he was done for. He would chase the will-o'-the-whisp into the
sylvan realms and never be seen again... That legend must have begun with
some human who was blessed -- or cursed -- enough to have come upon some
elf like Raven. By no means were all elves lovesome, or even beautiful,
but when they were... 

Thinner than ever, Raven had acquired a grace the majority of women would
have envied, and his hair had been allowed to grow since he and Bodie had
left Garth's tuath. It feathered about his shoulders now, copper-brown and
inviting the human's fingers to touch. Bodie stood back to watch his love
undress, biting back an oath at the nicks and bruises that marred his
skin. Most of the marks were innocent little wounds, but his breast was
still bad, and when Bodie bent to kiss his nipples Ray held his breath. 

"Hurts?" Bodie asked huskily. 

"Not as much as I feared," Raven admitted. "Do it again." He purred as
Bodie began to suckle, and parted his legs for the caressing hand that
sought him out with intimate knowledge, knowing which touches he liked
best, and what would drive him wild. Strong, square fingers, wonderfully
gentle, cupped and rolled his balls, probing until they throbbed and the
slender hips bucked forward, thrusting the elf's cock against Bodie's
belly. Bodie lifted his head with a smile, seeing Raven's closed eyes and
swollen mouth, and kissed him deeply, trying to remember not to crush his
mate too tightly, so as to spare his chest. 

Raven seemed to have forgotten about his hurts, for he pressed tight to
Bodie, inviting everything his lover would give him. Bodie broke the kiss
as they grew light headed, cupping Raven's angular face between his palms.
"Lie down, before you fall down, little chuck. What would you like?" 

"Anything," Raven murmured, sinking down onto the sheepskins and taking
Bodie down with him. "Anything at all. Ah, come here, only hold me." 

After a day's labour in the fields, his body was like spring steel beneath
hot velvet, and Bodie explored it with a new fascination, touching,
tasting, relearning every plane and hollow. Ray was moaning disjointedly,
his mind away on some plane beyond the conscious one, and Bodie took his
weight on his palms at last, taking the time to savour the sight of his
love. Ray was moving, every muscle flexing involuntarily, his hips
uplifted and slowly rotating, soles of his feet braced, fingers clenched
into the sheepskins. The hunger for him made Bodie ache. 

With great care he lifted the elf's weight, surprised again at how little
he weighed, and before Ray was aware of it he was kneeling, the endless
caresses discovering his back and buttocks now. He wriggled to comfort,
his narrow hips lifting in encouragement, although Bodie needed none. The
human knelt behind him, kissing his back as he guided himself into
position, and Raven's husky voice murmured disjointed endearments, until
the words became a cry, his body besieged, plundered, completed. 

The promise of freedom with the morrow had lightened their spirits,
lending their love an extra depth it had not had since they had taken
employment here. Even Bodie, who was usually silent in his coming, cried
out as release ripped through him, his right hand busy at Raven's groin,
pulling climax from him moments later. 

The green eyes sparkled in the lamplight when, much later, Bodie stirred
and pried open his eyes. Ray lay pillowed on him, though he had no memory
of their turning over or courting comfort. "Ray?" he whispered, one finger
tracing the straight, chiselled nose and perfect lips. 

"I love you," Raven told him with a shrug. "Do I need a reason to say it?"


"I hope not," Bodie admitted, hugging him. "I cannot wait to be free of
this place... I belong in the forest as much as you do, I think. My
happiest memories of all our time together are of loving in the sunlight."


"You should have been born an elf," Raven smiled. "Perhaps you were a
changeling -- perhaps you *are* an elf, and your ears are a mistake. Here,
let me look at them." He wriggled up to look, kiss, nibble, until Bodie
was chuckling, then reached down to cup a still quiescent cock. "Hm, if
you were an elf, you would be ready again." 

"I'm no elf," Bodie scoffed. "Not like this bundle in my arms. Let me see,
how does this work?" He lifted back the long, loose curls, baring one
graceful ear, and kissed the point of it. Ray shuddered; at a lick, he was
squirming, and at a tiny nibble Bodie felt the rush of heat, the sudden
hardness pressing into his belly. He thrust his tongue into Ray's ear and
wrapped his legs about the small, hard body as Ray began to thresh about,
not releasing the captive ear for a moment. The elf was wild, bucking and
trying to press himself even closer, though Bodie's arms were tight about
him. His moans and curses were hoarse, desperate, and Bodie could not hold
him still; there could be no holding back now, so he drove him on, licking
and nibbling until he felt the whole length of Ray's body stiffen; then
the human thrust his tongue into his lover's ear again, and it was more
than enough. Cursing, Ray came violently, and was asleep even before Bodie
had relaxed. 

"Ray?" Bodie lifted the sleeping face to admire it; flushed, debauched.
"Ray! I was hoping for a kiss!" But Ray was almost comatose, worn away,
and Bodie merely pressed his lips to the lax, swollen mouth and brought up
the sheepskins. 

They would be out of his place soon enough, and there would be time for
catching up on the loving sheer exhaustion had cost them. There was a lot
to be said for being a warrior, Bodie thought as he settled to sleep... A
labourer's life, by comparison, was aught but easy! 

He woke to the sound of eggs tapping on the floorboards and rolled over to
watch Raven shelling their breakfast. He was still naked, a blanket
wrapped about him, intent on the task, and Bodie smiled. "You went to the
kitchen like *that*?" He demanded by way of greeting. 

Ray looked up, his eyes laughing. "Of course not! Rhian was passing and
tossed them to me. They are still hot; do you want one?" He passed one
shelled egg into Bodie's outstretched palm, and sank his teeth into his
own. "She is sad to see us leave," he said thoughtfully. 

"Sad to see *you* leave," Bodie corrected glibly. "That look of lust is
the same on any face, no matter how young! She wants you." 

"I know," Ray admitted. "Does that bother you, Bodie?" 

"That another person can see how luscious is my mate?" Bodie stifled a
ribald chuckle. "No. Instead, I am inclined to preen like a bower bird." 

Raven's weight landed heavily on him. "Gloating is unbecoming." 

"So is moral lecturing at this time of the morning," Bodie retorted,
tousling the curly head. "You are in better spirits, my lad." 

"We are finished with this place," Raven said, glorying in a statement of
the obvious, "and bound for the forest. And I love you." He planted a
smacking kiss on Bodie's mouth. 

"Would that we had all summer for our pleasure," Bodie sighed, lifting his
lover's weight to see his chest. "You are almost healed this morning...
Nice. Soft and furry. Show me your hands... Callouses! No more work like
*that*, Ray, and I mean it. There are lots of other things you could do,
if you set your mind to it." 

Raven rubbed his leathery palms. "Such as what?" 

"I have never seen a better fletcher," Bodie said honestly, sitting up and
stretching as Raven climbed off him. "Your arrows are the straightest and
best balanced, you have a natural knack for weighting a goose shaft. Also,
I have never heard a sweeter singing voice than your own; if I bought you
a harp you could sit by the hearth and charm your company until they would
shower wealth upon you. And you know the healing herbs, too; if you
wished, you could sell your skills as a healer." 

"I am too young," Raven argued. "In a healer people look for an ancient,
one who has a lifetime's experience. But I *could* be a fletcher, and
singing is no dishonour, if people would listen." 

Bodie kissed his ear. "I shall buy you a harp." 

"Reaping has made my fingers too stiff to play," Ray sighed. 

"Then you will do nothing until they are pliant again." Bodie shivered in
the chill of morning. "Come, dress before you catch cold. We have our
money and can leave at will. Breakfast in the yard, then it is the road
for us. First to Riverside, to market. Furs, leathers and provisions.
Then... north." 

The land rose steeply as one pressed into the barren north; first, the
hills, slopes that became more vicious with every mile, then the
mountains. The first range was well mapped, and they had a chart, drawn on
leather in fine indigo, bought for a pretty price. But beyond the
Mountains of Morning rose the higher, more forbidding range; and no one
ventured into the Casdar ranges without a warband and good reason. The
painted people hunted there -- savage, intractable, unknowable, killing
man and beast alike. 

Their belongings were rolled into the sheepskins and thonged, and they
lifted the heavy leather saddles, slinging packs and all over the side of
the hayloft into the deeply piled straw below. A jug of wine in Riverside,
also, Bodie promised himself, and a new pair of dice, in case there was a
fortune to be made easily along the way. He watched Raven shrug on his
jacket, a weighty garment of deerskin with a collar of winter fox; the
elves did not hunt the animals with whom they lives - -- indeed, they were
unable to digest meat; and when a forest creature died its pelt or hide
was treasured. The jacket had cost a lot of money, but it was worth every
coin to know that Ray was warm, for the elf felt the cold keenly and they
had left Feyleen's estate with so little to begin again. Bodie had a
cloak, very heavy, trimmed with brown fox and fastened with an enormous,
almost lethal cloak brooch, and inside of it he was *too* warm. The cloak
always brought a smile to his lips as he recalled the times he and Raven
had slept wrapped in it, along the road; aye, and loved within it too. 

The reapers were just arriving, and Bodie stepped in before them, taking
his pick of the breakfast. The milk was still warm, the bread hot, and he
and Raven sat on their packs, gazing out at the flame hued forest as free
men. The road beckoned, their feet itched to be moving, and as the
labourers headed out to the fields human and elf picked up their gear and
went to whistle for the horses. Lightfoot, Wind and Jasmin were plump and
sleek after their time of idleness, and came trotting to the paddock gate
to be petted, displaying surprise and excitement as they were saddled.
Bodie would be riding Jasmin, as usual, and Wind would carry their heavier
packs. 

-- THE END --

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