to read?"
She had gone a funny color.
"Aelle," said Rhuun, "who is this?" She thinks I'm the rain? Really?
"This," she said with all the adolescent distaste she could muster, "is my brother Ilaan. I'm to look after him. For obvious reasons."
"Can I have some of that sarave ?" asked Ilaan.
"No!" they said in unison.
"What happened? To your face?" asked Rhuun.
"Niico," the boy answered. Rhuun passed him the bottle.
"He's got a thing for Niico," said Aelle, with an impressive eye roll.
"I appreciate perfection," said Ilaan. "He hasn't come around to my way of seeing things." He took a tentative sip of the sarave . "This is disgusting."
"Ilaan hasn't come around to keeping his mouth shut," Aelle added. "So Father said he should spend more time with me to learn how to behave. Also, to keep him from being dismembered."
"Next time I'll get you sarave that tastes like something, not that your Dirt Brew here isn't a fine choice," Ilaan told them. They both looked at the boy.
"What? The cook likes me. She won't tell anyone if a bottle here and there vanishes. And who would she tell? Your mother? Doubt it. That's a conversation no one wants to have. Although, she is pretty amazing. Your mother, I mean, not the cook."
"How has he not already been dismembered?" asked Rhuun.
Ilaan grinned and pointed at the ceiling. Instantly a very narrow band of focused fire leapt from his hand and a tiny hole to the sky opened. It was no wider than a finger. The thin shaft of light pierced over three feet of rock and made a pinpoint circle at their feet. He said, "For some reason no one wants to practice with me. Niico only did this," pointing at the quickly fading burn, "because I was distracted. He actually spoke to me."
"Big day in Boy Town," said Aelle. "I am sorry, Rhuun, but I'm stuck with him."
"I hear you can't do much of anything at all. Tough luck on that, Beast." They ignored him.
"Doesn't your father think I'm a bad influence, what with my ‘tough luck’ and all?" Rhuun had often wondered about that, and since they'd already brought up the subject of their father, he figured he could ask.
"Oh, no," said Ilaan before Aelle could speak. "No, just the opposite. I mean, if you were the child of some poor peasant or soldier or something, you'd be even bigger target practice than you are now—no offense."
"Too late," murmured Rhuun.
"Aelle wouldn't have come within a hundred miles of you. Your mother, being your mother—now that makes you the very best kind of friend for Aelle to have—according to Father. It was his idea. Got big plans, does our dear father. High seat shaped plans."
Aelle threw her hands up and a sheet of fire blasted towards the boy's face. He waved his hand at it and it vanished.
"That," gritted Aelle, "is the only reason he's still alive."
Rhuun sat back down against the wall, watching the two of them argue. He felt as if he were watching a performance at Court, except he could follow what was going on and no one was looking at him or whispering behind their hands. He understood that Aelle's friendship hadn't been completely her idea—she was too pretty and too conventional to seek him out. It was just luck that she’d decided to keep coming back. And she thinks I'm the rain? No, that can't be true.
And her brother? There was something about Ilaan that said he'd stick around, if only to be the center of a gossip whirlwind when they'd appear anywhere together.
"So," said the boy, bored with arguing with his sister, "What’s good to read down here in the Book Mausoleum?"
He picked up the fallen biography. "General Kaata? Really? I'd rather take my chances out there," he nodded in the direction of the practice yard. Rhuun said nothing. "I see," Ilaan said. He noticed the scars Rhuun had already collected up and down his arms. "Aelle, why don't you and I go see the cook and I'll get us something without quite so much dust in it. Beast, don't move. We'll be right back."
Beast , thought Rhuun. I
She had gone a funny color.
"Aelle," said Rhuun, "who is this?" She thinks I'm the rain? Really?
"This," she said with all the adolescent distaste she could muster, "is my brother Ilaan. I'm to look after him. For obvious reasons."
"Can I have some of that sarave ?" asked Ilaan.
"No!" they said in unison.
"What happened? To your face?" asked Rhuun.
"Niico," the boy answered. Rhuun passed him the bottle.
"He's got a thing for Niico," said Aelle, with an impressive eye roll.
"I appreciate perfection," said Ilaan. "He hasn't come around to my way of seeing things." He took a tentative sip of the sarave . "This is disgusting."
"Ilaan hasn't come around to keeping his mouth shut," Aelle added. "So Father said he should spend more time with me to learn how to behave. Also, to keep him from being dismembered."
"Next time I'll get you sarave that tastes like something, not that your Dirt Brew here isn't a fine choice," Ilaan told them. They both looked at the boy.
"What? The cook likes me. She won't tell anyone if a bottle here and there vanishes. And who would she tell? Your mother? Doubt it. That's a conversation no one wants to have. Although, she is pretty amazing. Your mother, I mean, not the cook."
"How has he not already been dismembered?" asked Rhuun.
Ilaan grinned and pointed at the ceiling. Instantly a very narrow band of focused fire leapt from his hand and a tiny hole to the sky opened. It was no wider than a finger. The thin shaft of light pierced over three feet of rock and made a pinpoint circle at their feet. He said, "For some reason no one wants to practice with me. Niico only did this," pointing at the quickly fading burn, "because I was distracted. He actually spoke to me."
"Big day in Boy Town," said Aelle. "I am sorry, Rhuun, but I'm stuck with him."
"I hear you can't do much of anything at all. Tough luck on that, Beast." They ignored him.
"Doesn't your father think I'm a bad influence, what with my ‘tough luck’ and all?" Rhuun had often wondered about that, and since they'd already brought up the subject of their father, he figured he could ask.
"Oh, no," said Ilaan before Aelle could speak. "No, just the opposite. I mean, if you were the child of some poor peasant or soldier or something, you'd be even bigger target practice than you are now—no offense."
"Too late," murmured Rhuun.
"Aelle wouldn't have come within a hundred miles of you. Your mother, being your mother—now that makes you the very best kind of friend for Aelle to have—according to Father. It was his idea. Got big plans, does our dear father. High seat shaped plans."
Aelle threw her hands up and a sheet of fire blasted towards the boy's face. He waved his hand at it and it vanished.
"That," gritted Aelle, "is the only reason he's still alive."
Rhuun sat back down against the wall, watching the two of them argue. He felt as if he were watching a performance at Court, except he could follow what was going on and no one was looking at him or whispering behind their hands. He understood that Aelle's friendship hadn't been completely her idea—she was too pretty and too conventional to seek him out. It was just luck that she’d decided to keep coming back. And she thinks I'm the rain? No, that can't be true.
And her brother? There was something about Ilaan that said he'd stick around, if only to be the center of a gossip whirlwind when they'd appear anywhere together.
"So," said the boy, bored with arguing with his sister, "What’s good to read down here in the Book Mausoleum?"
He picked up the fallen biography. "General Kaata? Really? I'd rather take my chances out there," he nodded in the direction of the practice yard. Rhuun said nothing. "I see," Ilaan said. He noticed the scars Rhuun had already collected up and down his arms. "Aelle, why don't you and I go see the cook and I'll get us something without quite so much dust in it. Beast, don't move. We'll be right back."
Beast , thought Rhuun. I
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