Darkness Descending

He kept on using Kaunian. Because it was not his birthspeech, he paused every now and then to search for a word or an ending. To Vanai, that deliberation made him sound more impressive, not less. And he sounded more impressive still because he obviously did care about what happened to the Kaunians in Gromheort and Oyngestun.

Vanai wasn’t used to sympathy from Forthwegians. Vanai, lately, wasn’t used to sympathy from anybody, though her own people were less harsh to her now than when Spinello had been visiting Brivibas rather than her. Tears stung her eyes. She looked away so Ealstan wouldn’t see. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?” he said--she’d startled him into Forthwegian.

How was she supposed to answer that? “For worrying about my folk when you don’t have to,” she said at last. “Most people these days have all they can do to worry about themselves.”

“If I do not worry about anyone else, who will worry about me?” Ealstan said, returning to Kaunian.

“When you speak my language, you sound like a philosopher,” Vanai said; she meant his delivery as much as what he said. Whatever she meant, she made him laugh. She laughed, too, but persisted: “No, you truly do.” To emphasize the point, she reached out with her free hand and took his.

Only after she’d done it did she realize she’d astonished herself. Since Spinello began taking advantage of her, she hadn’t wanted anyone male, even her grandfather, to touch her. And now she’d touched Ealstan of her own accord.

His hand closed on hers. That was almost enough to make her pull away--almost, but not quite. Even if she didn’t finish the motion, though she must have begun it, for he let go at once, saying, “You must have enough things to worry about without putting a Forthwegian you scarcely know on the list.”

Vanai stared at him. They were much of a height, as was often true of Kaunian women and Forthwegian men. Slowly, she said, “You care what I think.” By the way she said it, she might have been announcing some astonishing discovery in magecraft.

He heard her surprise. “Well, of course I do,” he said, surprised in turn.

Plainly, he meant it. Having been used and scorned and condescended to so much, Vanai hardly knew what to make of caring. She astonished herself again, this time by leaning forward and brushing her lips across Ealstan’s.

He wasn’t too swarthy to keep her from watching him flush. Something sparked in his eyes. He wants me, she thought. Seeing that should have disgusted her. It always had with Spinello. Somehow, it didn’t. At first, she thought that was because Ealstan didn’t forthwith try to grope her, as Spinello would have. Then, belatedly, she realized the warmth inside her had nothing to do with the weather, which, was on the chilly side. I want him, she thought, and that was most astonishing of all: she’d been sure Spinello had curdled desire within her forever.

“Vanai. . .” Ealstan said in a hoarse voice.

She nodded and, much later than she should have, set down her basket of mushrooms. “It will be all right,” she said, not pretending she didn’t know what he had in mind. Then she found something better to add: “We’ll make it come out all right.”

And, in spite of everything, they did. It was, clearly, Ealstan’s first time. Had it been Vanai’s, too, it probably would have ended up a clumsy botch. As things were, what Spinello had made her learn came in handy in ways she hoped the redhead would not have appreciated. She guided Ealstan without being too obvious about it.

But, after a while, she began to enjoy what they were doing for its own sake. Ealstan didn’t come close to Spinello as far as technique went; maybe he never would. It turned out not to matter too much. The Algarvian’s touch, no matter how knowing--perhaps because it was so knowing--had always made her want to cringe. Ealstan cared for her as Vanai, not as a nicely shaped piece of meat. That made all the difference. How much difference it made she discovered when she gasped and arched her back and squeezed Ealstan tight with arms and legs, Major Spinello utterly forgotten.

Ealstan stared down into Vanai’s face, only a hand’s breadth below his own. His heart thudded as if he’d just run a long way. Next to the delight that filled him, the pleasure he’d got from touching himself hardly seemed worth remembering.

He started to lean down to taste the sweetness of her lips again, but she said, “You’re not as light as you think you are. And we’d better get dressed before somebody who’s looking for mushrooms comes along and finds us instead.”

“Oh!” Ealstan exclaimed. He’d forgotten about that, and was glad Vanai hadn’t. He scrambled to his feet, yanked up his drawers, and threw on his tunic. Vanai’s clothes were more complicated, but she got into them about as fast as he did.

“Turn around,” she told him, and brushed leaves off him. Then she nodded. “No stains on your tunic. That’s good. Now you take care of me.”