Autumn rains were chilly, but not quite in an unpleasant way. Early in the season yet, summer still lingered making the bite of the late night drizzle a nice contrast to the remaining heat.
He shivered slightly as a breeze picked up, but the general pleasantness of the evening remained.
Of course, he could have been slogging through a blizzard and likely his mood would have still been cheerful.
It would depress him, to realize how badly he had fallen, if he were not already upset by the fact that reciprocation was impossible.
Sighing softly, feeling the weight of the ‘package’ being delivered that night, he shoved back loose strands of hair and turned down the street that would take him to his goal – a dark, beautiful manor at the edge of the respectable district.
Lamps flickering with witchlight kept back the shadows on the street in front of it, and somehow only made the shadows behind the massive stonewall deeper. ‘No entry’, said that wall, ‘not without permission.;
He bypassed the lamps with familiar ease, hand touching the wrought iron gates with all the weight and firmness of a feather. They swung open smoothly, just enough he could slip in, and closed behind him, never once making a sound.
His boots were equally silent as he walked the cobblestone drive leading up to the house; a drive which had not seen a carriage for at least a decade and – probably longer. A single lamp, flickering with the familiar blue-violet witchlight, shone beside the dark, gleaming wood of the front door.
Rather than approach it, however, he turned off the drive and walked alongside the house, turning the corner and walking down about halfway – three stories up a single window spilled out golden light.
The wall was as familiar to him as the rest of the house, not even the dark an impediment as he scaled it, hands and feet knowing all the grooves and chinks which eased the arduous climb.
Gently he pushed the window in as he reached it, then hopped neatly from wall to sill, crouching there to steal a few seconds to watch, heedless of the way he dripped water on the sill and the lavish carpet beneath it.
Hex.
Unlike practically everyone else, Hex’s hair was completely unmarked. It fell halfway down his back, bound loosely in a normal ribbon, the gold-brown color of the tea he was so fond of drinking. Currently his head was bent over one of his many magic books, a thoughtful frown shaping dark lips, warm orange firelight bathing his fair skin.
The hour was late enough Hex had discarded his robes; they lay thrown over the back of a chaise near the fire, with an open book laid face down over them. More books were piled on the chaise itself, a smaller stack on the floor before it.
Piles and piles everywhere; he swore the mess grew with his every visit.
Something was troubling Hex, but the wizard had never said what – only gave him new tasks.
Perhaps it was the cool night wind which finally stirred Hex from his thoughts and into motion, sitting up straight and turning to the window. Talis knew he’d given no sign of arrival, yet Hex had known he was there.
“Ah, Talis,” Hex said quietly. His accent was clipped, but his voice soft, betraying his northern origins where his coloring did not – a mixed breed, many said, but never where he could hear for the spells of Wizard Hex were among the very best. He turned his head to glance at the clock above the mantle, then turned back to Talis. “I had begun to worry.”
Talis slid neatly from the sill to the floor, raking back his damp hair, shrugging out of his cloak and crossing the room to hang it on a hook before the fire. He listened to Hex close the window, not needing to turn and watch to know how fine Hex looked, the quiet, elegant way he moved, the way the simple breeches and lawn shirt clung just so slightly to the slender body, the way strands of hair would slip free to brush along fine-cut cheekbones before being shoved irritably back.
He did turn, however, reaching for the pouch at his thigh and swiftly undoing the various fastenings before pulling out an object wrapped carefully in velvet. “As requested.”
“Thank you,” Hex murmured, accepting the velvet-wrapped object, and Talis could see the tension bleed from his shoulders.
As always, he bit back his curiosity. It was none of his business, no matter how he might feel about this client who had somehow become so much more than that.
Hex stood close, far closer than was necessary, as he unwrapped the velvet to reveal the three tiny crystal balls hidden at its center. The costly crystals seemed to absorb the firelight, like embers frozen and yet still burning. “Thank you,” Hex said again.
“No problem,” Talis said, then coughed to clear his throat, displeased at the roughness of it. “The job wasn’t that hard, in the end. He was so enamored of the idea that the case of wine deposited on his doorstep was from ‘his lady love’ that he never questioned the veracity of the note. He was dead to the world – easy in, easy out. With your help, of course.” He reached up to touch his hair; most of it was black, but here and there were strands of vibrant color. The deep, rich indigo strand he was particularly fond of.
So costly a spell was normally beyond his means. Until he had begun taking jobs from Hex six months prior, the only spells he had been able to afford had come from the derelict section of the city he was forced to call home.
“Mm, I’m glad,” Hex said with one of his soft, almost fragile-looking smiles. “Speaking of which, you are due another. Have you decided what you want?”
Talis shrugged, less interested these days in the costly spells he received in payment than in how it would feel to have Hex’s fingers weaving them. “Perhaps a ward against the winter which will shortly be upon us?” he finally said, realizing as he spoke that it was actually a good idea. Work always picked up in winter; which had struck him as odd years ago. These days, he tended to think people simply grew bored. He could not count the number of times A had wanted him to steal from B, who wanted him to steal from C, who wanted him to steal from A, until by winter’s end they had all stolen from each other and ended the season precisely as they had begun it.
So something to protect against the cold would be very fine indeed.
Hex laughed softly and moved to the smallest of his six spell chests. All were neatly lined up against the farthest wall, either on the floor itself in the case of the three large ones, or on tables in the case of the small ones.
The one Hex opened was filled with ribbons – a dizzying array of colors, patterns, widths, and lengths. Perfectly ordinary in appearance, except for the way the colors seemed almost to ripple here and there with a shine that could only come from spell silk.
“Shall I weave it anew, or replace the heat ward?” Hex asked as he trailed his fingers through the various ribbons in a seemingly lazy fashion, at last selecting one which was a sharp, icy blue, half as long as his arm in length.
Talis shrugged and leaned against the curving back of the chaise as Hex drew near. “Replace the heat ward, I suppose. I’ll not really need it now.”
“Then we should give you an additional spell, perhaps, as my promise was each spell to last six months and you’ve had it only four.”
“It’s fine,” Talis said, wishing his voice would stop turning all low and husky. He could not seem to help it, though. Hex just had that effect, and by the look in those pale gold eyes… He swallowed and held still.
Hex reached up and gently touched a deep orange strand of Talis’ hair, murmuring softly. A moment later he tossed aside the barest frayed bits of deep orange spell silk; the strand of hair which he’d touched was now only black.
Murmuring more soft words, Hex began to weave the blue ribbon through the same strand of hair, the words a strange song as he worked. Talis barely noticed them, more interested in the voice itself, the warm, gentle fingers braiding the ribbon into his hair.
He felt the soft tug as the spell set, the ribbon dissolving, turning the chosen strand of hair the icy blue of the ribbon. He reached up to touch it, wondering vaguely how it looked against all the others – indigo to make him less noticeable, dark green to keep his strength up, bright blue to help his speed, palest yellow to ward against other spells, pale silver to mute the sounds he might make, and a vibrant red to be used in an emergency.
Fingers tangled with his as Hex reached up to double check the spell had properly set, and when their hands fell away from his hair they remained tangled. “Talis…” Hex said his name as softly as he said everything else, but with a hesitancy now that Talis always found as sweet as he did painful, because from the first night it had happened it had always been more about loneliness and need than emotions a thief should not be feeling for a client.
It had been the end of winter, the start of spring, the night brutally ravaged by an angry storm. The thunder had shaken the house, the lightning flashed so often and so fiercely it had killed the witchlights.
Neither of them had been themselves that night, each tired and weary and frustrated beyond endurance, and sense had fallen long before that.
Hex was always calm, and quiet, a man used to taking utmost care lest he weave a spell wrong – but he had been as fierce as the storm that night, his kiss drawing blood. Talis had matched him however, leaving bruises and scratches of his own.
When their private storm had calmed, so too had the one outside. Hex had dozed off on the rug before the fire where they had finally collapsed. Talis had reassembled his clothes and fled, certain the best client he had ever had would never contact him again.
Only a week later Hex had in fact contacted him. No mention of their storm had been made, but when he had returned triumphant with the book Hex had bid him to steal, they had once more wound up on the rug before the fire.
It happened rarely, and each time was a torture he Talis did not think he could bear again – yet bear it he did, for sanity and sense seemed to falter entirely whenever he was around this strange and beautiful wizard.
This time was no different. Hex tasted like tea, which Talis could no longer drink without a pang, smooth and rich. He moaned softly as the kiss deepened, hands finding purchase on Hex’s shoulders, warm and solid beneath the fine lawn.
A whisper-soft sigh was fed into his mouth in reply, and Talis kissed harder to hide his pain. Words were never exchanged between them in this. Hex, perhaps, had no need of them, and Talis kept silent for fear of saying what he dare not.
Delicate fingers smoothed away his shirt and Talis shivered as the cooler air washed over his skin, shuddering hard as warm hands banished the momentary chill. He moved to take care of Hex’s clothing in his turn, making more soft noises as he bent to taste what was now laid bare. Hex’s skin was fair, but not pale as was the fashion; he spent just enough time outside his skin was every so slightly sun-kissed.
Talis lapped at one nipple before biting it gently, murmuring soft approval at the shiver that elicited before moving to the other to repeat the treatment.
Then his head was urged up and he was treated to another devouring kiss as those hands mapped his body, moved to work at the fastenings of his pants, shoving them down, away, and he barely kept from toppling as he was tugged away from the chaise and pressed gently down upon the rug.
Heat from the fire washed over him, but was wholly insignificant against the heat of the hands and mouth upon him. He gasped and jerked as their cocks collided, slid together, and spread his legs to fit Hex between them.
Impatiently he reached up to pull away the ribbon still holding back the beautiful brown hair, sighing in satisfaction as it spilled down over Hex’s shoulders, a soft curtain that smelled faintly of herbs and a hint of lemon, tangling with the scents of lust and burning wood.
He bit back an urge to speak, taking a kiss when he thought he might not be able to hold back, wishing more than anything he could voice what he felt, that he might hear what he wanted in return. That somehow this beautiful wizard might love him, instead of just finding in him a skilled thief and occasional warm companion.
A long, needy moan escaped as warm, slick fingers pressed inside him, teasing and stretching. He writhed and gasped, begging noisily for more, groaning low as the fingers slipped away to be replaced by a blunt, hard heat.
Holding fast to Hex’s shoulders, he moved in time with the fevered thrusts, biting his lip when words threatened, taking a kiss when he could no longer bear it, feeding moans into the mouth that took his in time with the thrusts, the hand that wrapped around his cock and tugged. He tore away only to scream his climax.
When he could see and breathe again, Hex lay atop him, breaths already slowing as the wizard succumbed to sleep.
Talis wondered, sometimes, how often Hex actually slept. He suspected rarely. For the past year he had been set to collect one strange magical object after another – books, talismans, relics… Yet never had he divined the reason for it all, nor did he dare ask, and Hex had never volunteered the information. Always Hex toiled in his study, frowning over some tome or object, never truly happy even when he smiled.
One job for one spell was their bargain, and occasionally a too-brief moment of mutual pleasure. That was the extent of their relationship, and Talis dreaded the day it finally ended.
He felt Hex’s weight settle as the wizard fell completely to sleep, and waited a moment longer before carefully shifting out from beneath him. His emotions were in tangles, hopelessly knotted and beyond saving, as he fetched his clothes and cleaned up in a washbasin near the door he suspected lead to Hex’s bedroom.
Dressed, he hesitated. Always he left when it was over, resisting every temptation to stay and see if just maybe… With a rough sound he broke the thought off, and looked around the messy room, biting his lip with indecision.
Oh, bother it.
Sighing at himself, he moved first to settle Hex more comfortably on the floor, covering him with a blanket which lay over the back of a reading chair, tucking the discarded robe beneath his head as a pillow.
Then he moved to make the various stacks of books as neat as possible without upsetting their order. Finally he gathered up discarded dishes, and tossed out the used water in the basin.
Taking a last look around the room, wishing there was more he could do, that he could think of a reason to linger a while longer, Talis crossed the room to fetch his cloak from the hook where he had left it.
Swinging it up around his shoulders, he knelt briefly to brush a strand of hair from Hex’s face, fingers lingering on the fine cheek, then stood and swiftly crossed to the window, climbing out of it and back down the wall, across the yard, and back out into the streets.
*~*~*
He was not sure what made him do it, beyond feeling lonely. Perhaps that was enough, combined with his hopeless infatuation.
The previous night’s job had gone sour, through no fault of his own, but the client had taken it out on him anyway. Absently Talis reached up to touch the bruise on his cheek, wincing slightly. He let his hand fall away with a sigh and wondered again at his own stupidity.
Yet knowing he was stupid, that his actions were in every way foolish, did not slow his steps any as he passed through the wrought iron gate, across the yard and up the wall.
He clung to the rough stone, wishing he could swing over as usual and slip inside – but Hex had not called him for a job, and it would come off at best as creepy, at worst as a loss of work, to be caught watching.
Knowing that, though, was not enough to stop him, as it never had been. He did not come to watch often, only when he had suffered a miserable day and wanted to remember there was something good in the world.
His fingers twitched with an urge to push the window open, as he watched Hex toss a book impatiently aside and pick up another. Lines of anxiety and exhaustion were etched deeply into Hex’s face, and Talis wanted badly to soothe them away. Nearby was a cup of tea, and Talis was willing to bet a lucrative job it had gone cold.
What would it be like to be more than just a thief and warm body? He could make fresh tea whenever it got cold, dropping it off and perhaps easing those lines of worry with a kiss, distract Hex from his exhausting work for a bit…
A stupid, idle fantasy that he needed to give up. He was a thief only because he had run away before his mother could sell him to a whorehouse. More than once he had feared he would have to sell himself, but in the end he had managed to help out a pickpocket, who had told shared his secrets in return.
He had been a thief since he was…oh, ten or so, he supposed. He must have been close to seven when he ran off. It was never something he had bothered to remember. That had been fifteen years or so ago. If thieves bothered to work as other professionals did, he would have long ago earned the rank of Master.
Which meant he was so far from being able to take up with a highly respected wizard – one who, it was rumored, did things for the royal house – it was laughable. He was stunned that Hex would resort to hiring a thief, and burned to know what exactly he was doing that he would not only purchase a thief, but spend a year and a not insignificant fortune on it.
Mostly, though, he just wanted to see Hex happy. The first time he had thought that, he had not known what to make of the thought. Always he looked out for himself first…but he had realized later that had been shattered upon their first meeting.
Hex had shown none of the blustering displayed by so many, hiring him while pretending they were not. Or the snide arrogance of those who seemed to thrive on the danger of hiring a thief to steal some bauble. Stupid. What danger was there in passing over gold before toddling off to bed while another did the real work?
No, Hex had never been like that. He had been…almost surprised, as though he had not expected anyone to actually respond to his quiet request. Then he had been cautious, which was smart. Talis knew more than one idiot who had been caught by a Guard in disguise.
After that, he had simply been…Hex. Quiet. Gentle. Focused. He had stated what he required, given Talis plenty of information to work with – and while they had agreed on a gold price, that had shifted later into spells for payment. and though their initial agreement had settled on a fixed gold price, that had later shifted in spells for payment.
Talis had tried more than once to pinpoint when exactly he had fallen in love, but it seemed something that it had either built so slowly he had not noticed until too late, or had been there all along, waiting to be realized.
A muffled rapping sound jerked him from his thoughts, and he watched as Hex set his book aside and crossed the room to open the hallway door. Talis frowned at the man who stepped inside – he was dressed with remarkable plainness. Brown everything, simple cuts. Someone trying a trifle too hard to appear inconsequential. Certainly as he shoved back his hood, the features were too fine and austere to be common.
His frown turned into a glower as Hex greeted the man with a kiss to the cheek – perfectly normal, quite brief, but still. He scowled at the part of him which that wondered wistfully what it would be like to have Hex greet him in such fashion.
The air tonight held an unpleasant chill, and Talis reached up absently to tug on the icy blue strand of hair, muttering the activation word. High above, the moon was only a sliver in the sky; the perfect night for thieving – especially when what he sought were a few stolen glimpses.
Hex and his visitor moved beyond Talis’ range of sight, and Talis debated half a second before he quickly dropped below the window and moved to the other side, peering carefully around the edge to see where they sat in front of the fire – Hex perched on the chaise, the stranger in the chair.
Books toppled as Hex’s boots accidentally struck them, and he righted them absently, attention split between the books and the stranger, and Talis wondered if he was the only one who could see how tired Hex was, how strained.
Didn’t anyone take care of him?
Why couldn’t he? Was that asking too much?
The books fell neglected as the conversation between the two men grew more intense. Hex shook his head, motioned things that made no sense to Talis, raking a hand through his hair in frustration, until his shoulders drooped and silence fell.
Talis glared at the stranger, who had obviously caused this additional tension and misery.
Except…the stranger looked just as unhappy.
The stranger stood up and held out his hands, which Hex grasped and held tight. Gently the stranger tugged him up and the two embraced, then the stranger pulled away with a soft kiss pressed to Hex’s cheek.
He left as suddenly as he had arrived. Talis barely noticed. His eyes were only for Hex, who slumped back down on the chaise and buried his face in his hands. Talis shook with the effort not to climb through the window and comfort him.
His limbs ached with the effort of holding himself up, but he could not make himself move – not until he saw Hex slump, settle into what Talis knew was deep sleep.
This time, he did not hesitate, not even to give himself some semblance of dignity. Pushing the window open he absently activated the necessary spells and slipped soundlessly inside, padding across the carpet and scooping up the blanket lying across the back of the chair.
Gently he wrapped it around Hex’s still form, carefully brushing back loose strands of hair, nudging him carefully into a more comfortable position. Sighing at himself, he Talis moved to the fire and threw a few more logs on, taking up the poker to stir the embers with perhaps more ferocity than was strictly necessary.
Setting the poker aside, he moved back to Hex’s side, kneeling to tuck the blanket more securely around him, unable to resist stroking the line of his cheek. Nor could he resist leaning forward just enough to brush a whisper-soft kiss across barely-parted lips.
A fool. He was nothing, but a great fool.
Tearing himself away, he stood and strode back across the room, climbing out the window and pulling it securely shut before scaling down the wall.
He made his way through the streets of the city, habit alone keeping him to a pace that was swift, but unremarkable. Nothing drew attention like walking too slow or too fast, especially at so strange an hour of the night. Around him, the world was silent, mist curling in pockets here and there, breaking up the shadows, dulling the already weak light of the few street lamps. It was a lonely setting, but one with which Talis was all too familiar.
Somewhere a door creaked, followed by the rough, metallic grate of a lock being turned. A shadow in a nearby corner stirred his attention, but a moment later the shadow padded across the street in front of him, giving a soft mew before leaping neatly onto the wall of what Talis knew was a butcher shop.
The sliver of moon was his only light as he reached the derelict parts of the city he called home. He nodded to the few men and women still walking the streets, smelling of alcohol, sweat, and stale sex.
His room was in the back corner of a lot that had once been a proper house, but was now divided up into apartments. It had its own door, had probably been a salon or something once. Now it was only his apartment, containing nothing more than his thin mattress and few clothes.
A thief he might be, but hardly wealthy. It amused him, sometimes, to listen to the tales in the fancy taverns on the well to do side of town. Nonsensical things about dashing thieves seducing princesses, ending their days fat and wealthy.
He would settle for one month where he did not have to worry about food, rent, or someone deciding he would make a fine target. Even now the scents of a cool autumn night were replaced by the smells of mildew and dust, traces of the alcohol and cigarettes upon which so many of his housemates depended.
Sighing, he allowed himself a few fanciful thoughts of what it would be like to curl up with Hex on his chaise, perhaps read a book that made him smile for a change, exchanging lazy kisses…
He sat down hard on his mattress and tugged off his boots, laying down with a thump and pulling his cloak tightly around him. Even with the new spell Hex had given him, at some point in the next month or so he would have to start making enough money to set aside for either a good blanket or firestones.
Perhaps if Hex needed him again, he could trade a job for those instead of a spell. He wondered what Hex would think, if he asked for such a thing. Talis worked hard to push the image of successful, cool and aloof thief, ; the idea that he did it for pleasure more than money, that he wanted for nothing.
Even the most successful thieves could use more and better spells – but how many of them would need to ask for something as trivial as firestones? It would tarnish his image, and that would lose him customers…and he did not want to risk causing Hex to think less of him.
Stifling another sigh, thoroughly sick of himself, Talis buried his head in his arms and tried to think of other things. Two more jobs were set, and they would hopefully pay well. Winter’s rush was already beginning; juggling so many jobs at once was difficult, but nothing he could not handle.
He had just begun to drift off to sleep when the teardrop crystal at his throat flashed bright blue.
Immediately he sat up, blinking back the recently-descended sleep, fumbling for his boots.
Why on earth did Hex need him now? Talis’ heart sped up – had he figured out Talis had visited him without reason? Surely he would not have connected…but it was nearly dawn, what other reason?
Swearing, he locked his room back up and took off into the night, back to Hex.
Reaching the house, he made swift work of the yard and wall, slipping neatly inside. “You pick a strange hour to call a thief,” he said quietly, wondering if he was about to get in trouble.
Hex smiled weakly from where he sat on the chaise, the blanket spilled across his lap, hair loose around his shoulders, the ribbon which had held it fallen on the floor. “I’m afraid I’m in rather a hurry tonight.” He rubbed his eyes tiredly and stood up, stumbling slightly. “Tea,” he muttered. “Ah—one moment, Talis. I’m sorry to have disturbed you at such an awful hour. I can only excuse myself by saying it is a dire situation indeed.”
“It is no trouble,” Talis replied calmly, striding toward him and pushing Hex back down on the chaise. “I’m a thief; I work when others sleep. Have you any tea here?”
He got a sleepy blink in reply, then Hex nodded and tried again to stand.
“Sit,” Talis repeated, and moved to the table where he could now see the tea. He touched the pot and cup. “It’s cold.”
“All the same to me,” Hex said tiredly.
Grimacing, Talis nevertheless obediently filled the half-empty cup and took it to him.
Warm fingers slid against his as Hex accepted the tea.
Talis moved to the chair, resisting an urge to sit next to Hex on the chaise. “What did you need?”
“I am afraid I am about to become a terrible client,” Hex said with a long sigh. “It has recently come to my attention that a certain man has returned to the city. He has something I very badly need, if I am ever going to—” He motioned vaguely with his free hand, gulping his tea before continuing. “He will likely be leaving again tomorrow.”
“You need me to steal this object tonight?” Talis asked. “That—such a last minute job would be impossible, or close enough to it.”
Hex closed his eyes, nodding miserably. “I have no other way of getting it…not methods I am willing to use, anyway, for otherwise I would be as bad as he.”
Talis nodded. “I make no promises. Thieves are not by nature reckless; it would make us very poor for the job. This is reckless. We will see if I can manage it anyway.”
“Talis…” Hex looked at him, eyes so – damn it, he would do anything for them. It was not fair. He supposed a criminal, however, had no right to complain about unfairness.
He stifled a sigh that would accomplish nothing and motioned vaguely for Hex to continue. “What can you tell me?”
“You are looking for a book,” Hex said. “A magic book, obviously. It’s black, bound in blue leather, letters and runes in silver. The pages are specially treated spell silk. It will be locked, and likely hidden well away. It will bear no title, only protective lettering.”
Talis nodded. “Where will I find it?”
“The home of Duke Borlin. It is only be sheerest chance I even know he’s in the city; despite my efforts, he slipped in largely unseen.”
So the stranger had been an informant of some sort, or perhaps a partner in whatever Hex was trying to do. Talis did not know why that relieved him, it was not as though they had ever once acted like they were anything but companions.
Still, if Hex could nor be his, at least he did not appear to belong to someone else.
Of course, if he had, Talis would have beaten that person senseless for not taking better care of Hex.
Focus. He needed to focus.
Duke Borlin. That was dangerously close to the part of the city that butted up right against the royal palace. Guards were nearly three times as thick there as anywhere else. Rare was the job he was willing to accept that took him to that area; there had been five in all his years of thieving.
He knew the house, of course. Never mind he was far more familiar with the city than even most natives, only an idiot would not know to whom the massive black and red structure belonged. It towered, dwarfing everything around it; even Hex’s not unimpressive estate paled by comparison.
In size, anyway. In matters of taste…even his own humble room was a step up.
“Do you know anything of its defenses?”
“I know I can neutralize them,” Hex said, standing and going to his spell chests, throwing open the one filled with ribbons – then he moved to another, pulling out two longer, wider ribbons.
Talis tried not to stare. The spells in his hair cost a small fortune each – the finest spell silk, the kind that sold for a sovereign a square inch. The ribbons Hex carried back were all at least a foot in length, the larger ones two inches wide. A brilliant range of colors, the spells set by a true wizard. Hex’s skill alone could easily triple the price of a single ribbon; the cost of the bolts in the larger trunks commanded prices he dare not think about. “What are those?”
“Protective measures,” Hex said, a frown of concentration on his face as he carefully laid the ribbons over the back of Talis’ chair. “Stronger versions of your ‘muting’ and ‘unremarkable’ spells. One to protect against any curses that might be laid.”
“Whatever I’m doing, I doubt it matches the cost of those spells,” Talis said firmly. “I’ve always managed just fine before, I’ll manage now.”
Hex frowned. “No. I assure you the good Duke is a hundred times worse than anyone could possibly imagine.” The weariness and strain that suddenly overtook his face drew Talis up short.
His protests died on his lips. “As you like, then,” he said, and did not look up or move as Hex slowly weaved the smaller ribbons into his hair, voice soft and musical, enough to send him into pleasant slumber were he not so tense himself.
“You’ll have to remove your shirt,” Hex said quietly as his hands fell away. “So I can cast the last two spells.”
Right. Life was not difficult enough, now he had to sit here and feel Hex’s hands upon him. Nodding stiffly, Talis obeyed, swiftly unlacing his shirt and pulling it over his head.
Warm fingers trailed feather light across one shoulder, down his arm, and Talis fought hard not to shiver. Then he felt the cool kiss of spell silk pressed to his wrist before Hex began slowly to wrap it around his arm in a loose spiral, murmuring the spell all the while.
He felt a wash of cold, then a flash of heat, as the spell took, and could not resist finally dragging his eyes around to see. All he ever been able to afford were the most basic spells, which were always woven into hair, occasionally wrapped around fingers or wrists like rings and bracelets. This one was a long chain of blood red runes wrapped from wrist to shoulder around his arm.
Already Hex had moved to his other arm, and when the spell set it took the form of a rich blue-black. The marks shimmered ever so faintly in the flickering light of the fire. “These…”
“No curse should be able to touch you,” Hex said quietly. “They each counter and block different things; together you should be well covered.”
Talis nodded and tugged his shirt back on, wishing he knew how to feel. Slowly he stood up. “I should be going then,” he said.
“Be careful,” Hex said quietly. “I’m sorry to ask it of you.”
“I’m a thief,” Talis said with a smile. “Stealing is what we do.”
Hex nodded, but did not look at him.
Talis wondered what would happen if he requested a kiss for luck. He decided not to push what luck he had, however, seeing as he must be wearing at least seventy-two sovereigns worth of spells.
He was at the window when he felt Hex behind him, and turned even as fingers wrapped around his wrist – a mouth took his before he could speak, deep and thoroughly consuming, and Talis moaned despite himself. Hex had never kissed him like this, fierce and sweet and somehow desperate.
With a rough, ragged sound Hex broke the kiss, and those beautiful gold eyes were so very close, blazing with things Talis did not understand. “If anything goes wrong, Talis,” Hex said, voice low, unsteady, “just run, come back here. Don’t take too great a risk.”
Talis wanted to say that for Hex, he would attempt to steal the moon from her mother sky, but the absurd words stuck in his throat. Instead, he nodded and clumsily climbed out the window and down the wall, back out into the familiar dark of the city streets.
In took very little time to make his way to the portion of the city he preferred to avoid at all costs. He marveled at the strength of Hex’s spells, as he bypassed guard after guard. None gave any indication of having seen him; true invisibility was impossible, but clearly Hex managed to come very close.
He paused a few feet from the looming black gate of Borlin Manor. This was where things got truly difficult – he had never properly cased this house. He did not know all the ways in and outs, how often various people went in or out…nothing, except that he had never met a thief who had attempted to steal from this place.
Taking a deep breath, calling up an image of Hex, a memory of the kiss that still lingered on his lips, he moved forward and swiftly scaled the wall. If he had to beat a hasty retreat, having to go back over the wall would not be the best way to do it, but he was not certain he had much choice.
The yard was full of shaped hedges and ornate statues, a strange combination of life and lifeless, all bathed equally in the weak of shadows of a moon-sliver night. He moved through it slowly, memorizing the lay of them that they might serve rather than impede him later.
Nearing the house itself, he immediately discarded the idea of the front door and any of the windows. Protections or not, a house like this every crevice would be somehow rigged to notify the residents of an intruder.
Except, perhaps, those too high for anyone to take the risk.
Anyone but him, because climbing had always been the skill which separated him from his fellows. Nodding to himself, Hex moved around the manor until he found a corner of it darker than all the rest. Reciting a silent prayer that he would not plummet or otherwise bring about his own demise, he began to climb.
It was hard, every step felt it took ten years. Attempting to climb an unfamiliar wall in near-perfect dark was the height of stupidity. Everything in him railed against the foolish recklessness of it – but images of Hex made him do it anyway.
He was shaking with fear and exhaustion when his fingers finally gripped what felt very much like shingles, and he barely bit back an audible groan of relief as he pulled himself up onto the roof.
The sky was still dark, but he knew before too long dawn would begin to push back the night. He would have to work swiftly and hope that luck was with him. A book as valuable – and dangerous, he suspected – as the one Hex had described would not be easily found or taken. Normally he would take weeks to prepare for such a venture as this.
That he had not already been captured was nearly awe-inspiring.
Moving to the small attic window he could just see by the light of a sliver of moon, Talis reached into his boot and pulled out the second-smallest of his lock picks. Among the new spells Hex had given him, clearly one improved his night vision. He had suspected it as he moved, but now he knew it for certain – there was no other explanation for the fact that he could see the lock just clearly enough to work.
It opened almost immediately, no match for his skill. He slid the pick back into his boot and pushed the window open, climbing carefully inside.
Surprisingly, there was very little in the attic. He had expected to be forced to wade through obscene amounts of clutter, but apparently the Duke was too neat and ordered. Or someone in the house was, anyway.
He moved slower than he would like, unfamiliarity forcing the issue. The attic was a strange combination of smells – dust and soap, stale air mingling with the fresh pouring in the open window.
The door was easily located, and the improved muting spell given him by Hex prevented the pitfalls of squeaking steps and floors.
In the hallway, he stopped. Each step in this job was more difficult than the next. He did not have time to go through every room in the house. He did not have time to go through even five of them. Swiftness was his only option – swiftness and accuracy.
Duke Borlin was respected by all and sundry; that respect was largely instilled by fear. He knew, vaguely, that Borlin was considered an arrogant and rigid man. Arrogance at some point always spilled into over-confidence.
He had stolen from hundreds in his career, and all his experience had taught him several important things: A vain man kept his valuables with him. A lazy man put them where he could reach them easily. A cautious man concealed them. An arrogant man hid them in plain sight.
Nodding to himself, Talis focused on finding the stairs. A few wrong turns later he found them, and moved as quickly as he dared down three flights to the ground floor. Most often libraries were kept in public areas of the house; hopefully that would hold true here. If the Duke had a private library elsewhere, then his luck had likely run out.
In the entrance hall, he looked carefully around. So many hallways, so many doors. With every passing minute, he appreciated his lonely single room all the more. It wasn’t much, but he rather thought that was better than too much.
Of course, Hex’s home had always seemed a fine enough balance…
Cursing himself, Talis focused. An arrogant man who would be leaving in the morning…the library still seemed the likeliest place…and the Duke was clearly not the type to delay, which meant the room in question had to be close by that the book could be quickly retrieved…
Shrugging to himself, resigned to having to try doors, hoping he was not triggering spells he could not sense, Talis began exploring.
He found the library on his eleventh try, nearly falling over from relief.
Moving swiftly now, taking the risk, he lit a few necessary lamps and began to search the shelves in earnest.
It was disconcerting how quickly he found the book – in plain sight, wedged between two that looked similar, on a shelf crammed with books on history and government. Quite, quite easy to overlook if one did not know such a book might be here.
He turned – then dropped to his knees screaming pain.
“Well, you are impressive.”
Gasping for breath, Talis looked up as more lamps were lit, eyes watering with pain as he watched the tall, wide, dark man who loomed only a few feet away.
Duke Borlin leaned against his desk and folded his arms across his wide chest. No light seemed to reach his eyes, perhaps absorbed by his pitch-black hair and beard. His night robe was a deep, jewel red; the color did not suit him. “You are a most impressive little thief, and I can guess who sent you – but I’m afraid neither of you is good enough.”
Talis said nothing, merely doubled over with another cry as pain flared up anew. He saw hazily that he had been trapped in some sort of spell cage – so the carpet must be partly made from spell silk or some other spell soluble material. Damn it.
“I see you have an escape spell in your hair,” the Duke said idly. “A waste. No living thing can escape that trap you so neatly stepped into.”
No living thing…
Talis moved with all the speed that kept a thief in business and out of prison, fighting the pain to draw the thin knife kept in his right boot, cutting off the red lock of hair and closing the black book around it, biting out the activating word before collapsing with a scream of pain.
The book vanished, and with that he would have to be content.
Unfortunately, the Duke would not let him pass out, and the pain of the magic trap was joined by a hard backhand. He heard a snarl of rage and through blurry eyes saw the Duke pick up his knife.
No—
He felt a tug, then a sudden release of pressure, then the sensations were repeated. His vision cleared a bit and Talis realized suddenly that the Duke was cutting off his hair. No – Hex had given him those spells. Rough words, nothing like the beautiful ones Hex spoke, washed over him and he let out a cry of dismay as the broken spells turned into frayed and tattered ribbons wrapped around the messy remains of his black hair.
If pain had not already forced tears, he would have been shedding them then.
Fresh pain exploded as fists and magic attacked him.
“I will show those fools. How will he like seeing the body of the thief he hired in front of the gates? That will teach him—”
The bellow of pure, unadulterated rage came to him as if from afar.
As suddenly as he had appeared, the Duke was gone.
Talis realized a moment later that he was no longer trapped in the magic cage.
He tried to stand and immediately collapsed. Fighting tears and pain, he crawled on shaking limbs to the door, pulling it open before making his way into the hall. Go. He had to go. But he would never get over the wall, not like this.
Nearly sobbing in agony, he nevertheless continued to move, expecting any second to be overtaken by a servant or guard or something. Despite his fears, he reached the front door unhindered. Grasping the massive door handles, he slowly and painfully pulled himself up, breathing heavy as he waited for the world to stop spinning.
When he finally thought he could trust his feet, he fumbled with the door and managed to get it open, then step by step made his way down the drive and to the gate – which opened with only the slightest touch, almost as though it had never been locked.
Thanking whoever had given him such incomprehensible luck, hoping they would continue to grant it, Talis slowly made his way through the streets, stopping often to catch his breath and let the dizziness fade a bit.
The morning was a hazy, misty gray when he finally reached Hex’s house. Dragging himself up the drive, he rapped the knocker hard three times – and then collapsed.
*~*~*
He had no idea where he was, though he knew it was not a place he should be.
The room was all blue and gray, simple but obviously costly furnishings and fabrics. Sunlight spilled in through slits in the closed curtains.
Slowly he sat up, frowning as he realized something was strange.
Then it struck him, and he realized that several things were strange – he was not in pain, his hair was gone, and he was naked.
His hair he knew, and misery washed over him anew to realize it would be months before his hair was long enough to hold spells well. All the spells from Hex were gone…including, he realized suddenly, those which had been on his arms.
A spell cage…those were illegal. Highly illegal. He better understood why now, and hoped he never had to endure another.
Hex…he had managed to reach Hex’s house, and remembered nothing past that. So was he somewhere in Hex’s house? His heart sped up at the thought, and he wanted suddenly to see his wizard.
As if summoned, the door opened and the wizard stepped inside. Just beyond him Talis caught a brief glimpse of the room he had visited so many times in the past year. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “Hex.”
“Talis,” Hex greeted, polite, somber, brow furrowed slightly. “You’re awake; I’m glad. I was beginning to worry that I’d wrapped you in the healing spell too late.”
Wrapped…healing… Talis choked. “Healing spell?” he managed, the words strangled. No way. He could never afford to repay so costly a spell. If Hex had wrapped him it, then it must have been a full bolt of spell silk and one covered in healing runes. The price for that…
“I know what you’re thinking,” Hex said quietly, moving to stand beside him, soft fingers ghosting over his cheekbone. “There is nothing for you to repay.”
Talis shook his head and started to protest – but those delicate hands trailed through the bedraggled remains of his crudely shorn hair, stuttering his words and thoughts to a halt. His hair. A stupid thing to be upset about; hair grew back. But he sensed his time with Hex would shortly be over, and those strands of color were all he would have had to remember…
“Oh, Talis, I’m so sorry.” The words were whispered, filled with misery.
He could not bear it. Reaching up he took hold of one of the hands running over his ruined hair, holding it tight, wishing he could soothe in an entirely different way… “I’m a thief; it has its risks. This isn’t the first time I’ve taken a beating for a job gone awry. Did you at least get the book?”
“Yes,” Hex whispered, face twisted with agony. “I thought the worst, and was desperately trying to discover the truth even as I—” He broke off with a sigh. “Let me start at the beginning; you have helped me nearly from the very start of the mess, and after such cruel treatment you deserve the full of it.”
A soft sigh, and the hand in his tightened. Gold eyes met his gaze, something flickering in them. “A little over a year ago,” Hex said slowly, “the crown prince was stricken with a deadly, highly illegal curse. The royal wizard managed to delay its effects, but nothing more. Breaking the curse was beyond him, though he tried.” A faint smile twisted his face, Hex trying but not quite managing amusement. “He is my cousin, and knew I probably stood a better chance. So the King bid me find a cure, and put every resource he could at my disposal – silk, spell books…”
He looked away, staring at nothing, seeing things not there, fingers now idly stroking Talis’ hand, as though seeking comfort. Talis cautiously returned the gentle petting; Hex seemed not to notice, and eventually resumed speaking. “The problem was that we did not know the exact nature of the curse; neither did we know the caster. It took me three months alone just to puzzle out what precisely was used to cast it, how it was cast…all those items you collected were clues which led me to all that, and eventually to who had cast the curse. That I learned only recently, with the crystal balls you stole.
“Ordinarily, I could have simply used the power of the royal house given to me, but throughout we have avoided tipping off the Duke that bit by bit we were puzzling out his curse. He obviously did not know until too late that we were close to solving the entire puzzle. Thanks to you, we actually obtained the book that held the curse he cast – I have found nothing even resembling it anywhere else. Once we had the book, we were able to activate the spell net we’ve had ready for him for some time now. That’s why he probably vanished right in front of you…”
Talis nodded, glad to have that mystery solved. A spell net. It made sense. They would have had it prepared well ahead of time, but of course they dare not risk capturing the Duke until they knew how to get the book…
“What’s become of the Duke?”
“Dead,” Hex replied quietly. “After seeing you near dead on my doorstep, never mind what he did to the crown prince, I cannot say I am sorry. That does not make me a good man, but I find I do not care.”
Talis nodded, barely hearing the words, all of it too much. He focused on what he could understand – that everything was over. Hex no longer needed him. He asked anyway. “So you will not be requiring my services further?”
“No,” Hex whispered, tugging his hand free. “I—Talis—I should apologize. For more than just nearly getting you killed, I mean.”
Miserably he waited, knowing exactly what he would hear.
Hands gently cupped his face, tilted his head up, and it was not fair at all that he was helpless beneath that gold gaze. “Talis,” Hex said softly, making his name as lyrical as spell words. “I’m sorry. I know it must have seemed at times that – that I used you.”
Talis cringed.
“This past year, I have done nothing but work. The strain of trying to break the curse has weighed so heavily upon me for so long, I scarcely know what to do with myself now it’s finally over. You—that first night—” He broke away and dropped his hands, looking away. When he finally spoke, the words were faint. “You took my breath away. I was stunned a thief could look as you did, move as you did. Whenever I thought I could take no more, thinking of you, seeing you, kept me going. If I—if my behavior—” He huffed in frustration and finally turned back, chin lifting as he determinedly met Talis’ eyes. “Somewhere in all of this, I fell in love with you. I have no more jobs for you, but I was hoping…it’s selfish, I know…”
Talis stared at him, unable to believe what he was hearing. “I’m just a lowly thief. You’re—apparently cousin to the royal wizard.”
Hex kissed him, sending his thoughts scattering, because it was exactly the way he had kissed before Talis had gone off to Borlin Manor. Sweet. Fierce. Desperate. Talis clung tight and kissed back with everything he had tried so hard to bottle up and he hoped Hex had meant what he said because there was no way he could give this up now.
The kiss ended slowly, Hex nibbling at his lips before finally pulling away. His gold eyes burned. “Talis…please don’t go. I’m begging you. I don’t care. Stay a thief. Do something else. Only don’t leave me.”
“Why?” Talis whispered. “I’m a poor, simple thief.”
“Because the moment I saw you, I realized I’d always been an incomplete spell. You’re the final word which sets and activates me. I know I’ve been horrible, and that I nearly got you killed…”
Talis fell back against the pillows and dragged Hex with him, sinking one hand into that beautiful hair, tugging away the ribbon. “You make my dreary world bright,” he said softly.
Hex smiled, a real, full, utterly stunning smile. Then the remaining space between them closed, and their kiss seemed the final word on a spell that would never end.