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2. Trade

  Belenus

  Belenus fully roused at what felt like his usual hour, however, the room was still dark when he opened his eyes. It was disorienting to adjust to, his body said the sun should be rising, but also remained groggy from poor sleep, and he wasn’t certain what was going on. The sun rose later here than it did high in the mountains and that could be part of what caused difficulty in adjusting. He shifted positions, acclimating to being fully awake while the sun took its time to rise. The bed was warm and comfortable, tempting him to never leave, and the blankets had a nice earthen scent like sandalwood.

  A memory of Fiachra flitted through his mind and cemented. This must be what he smells like. The realization was inescapable and the scent suddenly overwhelming, flooding his mind and taking over with the fact that he was just lying there wrapped in Fiachra’s bedding, surrounded by all of his things. It was too much to deal with upon waking up.

  He threw off the covers and lurched out of the bed faster than he should have, immediately feeling dizzy and almost overtaken until it dissipated with a thankful amount of speed. The room was beginning to lighten with a blue cast and it was a perfect time to get ready. At least it would have been if he had anything to get ready with. The thought of having to continue to wear the same clothes from yesterday was a grating one, but what choice did he have? He threw on the outer layers he removed last night and searched the room for a mirror to touch up his hair.

  The room was nicely furnished with a small table and plush chair but sparse of anything useful and it was clear the room wasn’t regularly occupied. Giving up, he went for the door, intent to find a room with a mirror and was almost immediately confronted by a figure standing across the hall staring at him. He recognized the long wavy black hair, tiered petal dress, and wide angular face for the one who led him through the house last night, Brunaidh. She stood unmoving and watched him quietly, wide face placid.

  “Uh, good morning,” he tested, stopping short at the door’s threshold.

  “Kuut sunhehk.” Her eyes lowered slowly and she seemed to be looking pointedly down but not at the floor. He really didn’t know how to handle this situation and his best guess was to follow her line of sight, where at his feet rested his two saddlebags containing all of his luggage.

  “Oh! Did you bring these up here?” He stooped to drag them into the room.

  “Hu Veylrny pnuikrd dras du oui.”

  “I am really grateful for the effort; this has made my morning!” He said the most general thing he could think of that would likely fit whatever was said and receded into the room shutting the door once out of its way.

  He rooted through all of the options and unpacked clean clothes and his mirror, setting it on the table propped into place by his discarded clothes. He couldn’t remember being as appreciative to change as he was now.

  His travel outfits were generally the same construction, meant for easy movement, full coverage, and dark enough to not stain easily. The variance was in the details of gold embroidered motifs along the trim. He contemplated leaving off the fitted second tunic and leather guards to be more comfortable in the weather, but when he envisioned being near Fiachra half-dressed his stomach churned.

  Fiachra had dressed suitably layered and fitted for travel. To be less than presenting while staying in a stranger’s house was too bare and vulnerable. His face burned with a rush of blood and he had to quickly think of something else.

  He focused on his hair, chagrined that the peculiar fae had seen him as anything less than perfectly composed. With help from the mirror, he managed to restyle his hair into being perfectly slicked back, neatness maintained by a series of braids winding back and interlacing together to overlay the rest of his hair down his back.

  Perhaps an hour had passed when he felt ready and by this time the world outside the window was bright and birds were in full serenade. A hollow pain reminded him he had not yet eaten and was considerably hungry. He reemerged from the room and found Brunaidh standing in the same place, leaving him to wonder if she moved at all. She made no motions to give context on expectations for him and he felt it was out of his jurisdiction to request food.

  “If you’re here to escort me I am ready; I can go to the Atelier to fulfill my agreement.”

  “Fuimth’d oui mega du ryja pnaygvycd vencd?”

  This is getting very inconvenient without Fiachra. He scowled, wishing she would give some physical hint as to what she said when she spoke. She seemed to catch on to his plight because she held up her hand for him to stop, as though he were going somewhere instead of standing in the doorway.

  “Fyed rana E femm kad Veylrny.” She said and glided down the hall disappearing around the corner faster than he would have guessed possible with her short slight frame. In the interim he decided to wait for her return more comfortably by stepping fully into the hall, closing the door, and leaning on it leisurely. She returned after a few minutes walking as quickly as before with Fiachra trailing behind casually.

  “Good morning, Fiachra,” Belenus called when the two were close. He was gratified to have adopted a casual air while waiting. He couldn’t have had real nonchalance in face of Fiachra, who looked far too self-assured.

  Fiachra’s very presence was sleek and elegant with the way his hair was pinned and braided to frame the lilting angles of his face. His clothes were closely tailored from well-fitted trousers to a tunic that hinted at corded muscle underneath. Leather bracers wrapped over his forearms, belts cinched around his waist, and long sturdy boots were clear proof he was never unprepared. His clothes were dark and it made the green leaf embellishments as vibrant as his green eyes. Belenus suspected no matter what Fiachra wore, he would always be invisible in the forest.

  “Good morrow, Belenus,” Fiachra returned, rich voice a pleasant tone. “Do you wish to start immediately with alchemy or will you join me for breakfast?”

  “I’ll accompany; a meal will help greatly to prepare me if I work through the day. Alchemy is extraneous even when conditions are ideal.”

  “Follow me then,” Fiachra continued down the hall passing him. He followed suit and trailed after them silently. “Brunaidh, have you had a chance to check on the kitchens?”

  “Ed ryc paah y frema E femm lralg bnuknacc yht ryja ajanodrehk nayto. Aqdny bundeuhc ryja ymnayto paah yllussutydat vun.”

  “Prompt and thoughtful as ever.”

  “Ed pnehkc sa bmaycina du gaab oui famm lynat vun yvdan ymm fru femm tu cu ev E tuh’d.”

  Fiachra laughed at whatever Brunaidh said, their conversation sounding enjoyably familiar with each other. He felt a keen pain of being an outsider, isolated by far more than language. The feeling persisted until they reached the bottom of the stairs when Fiachra stopped, stepping aside to wait for him while Brunaidh continued out of the room.

  “You’re looking better.” Fiachra’s eyes swept over him appraisingly, lingering on his face as he took the last step.

  “Having an actual bed helped. Travel through the mountains is arduous and it has been a long journey purely to gather materials.”

  “How long has it been for you?”

  “Let’s see,” he thought back over the days spent travelling versus what was planned for. “It’s been about a week to get here, and part of that is due to the large array of ground my deer, Fionn, can cover in a day.”

  Brunaidh came over to them then, appearing from nowhere. “Pnaygvycd ec nayto eh dra tehehk rymm.”

  Fiachra bowed his head in acknowledgement and flashed a smile her way. She curtseyed and left a different direction than where she had gone earlier. Belenus followed Fiachra into a room bright from natural light filtering in through an expanse of large windows. Low seated ledges lined the windows looking just above an expanse of lush gardens. Overall, it gave an impression of being outside. A circular table utilized a majority of the free space stationed in the center of the room and lined by fine chairs. There were more seats than necessary for someone essentially living alone, but it didn’t look out of place for only the two of them. In fact, it felt rather intimate.

  Fiachra sat first without hesitating or seeming concerned about closeness. Belenus picked a chair quickly based on Fiachra’s position. He sat off-kilter from across the table, intentionally keeping distance and not sitting directly in front of him. Between them were two bowls of an aromatic vegetable stew of some kind and an array of different bread to dip into it. Some of the bread loaves were stuffed with smoked meat and their seasonings complimented to make a perfect first meal.

  “What were you planning on making that required you to come here? Why not trade?” Fiachra asked after finishing a bite.

  Belenus thought over his answer, deciding how much he wished to share. “I was doing research and had some ideas on compounding artifice classes. Herbs, poisons, and potions are easy enough to get ahold of with the right trade, but there is no quality control. I need to know the source of each ingredient and some recipes require fresh supplies. I’ll have to replicate results to truly create something new without fluke.”

  “New combinations…” Fiachra trailed off, a look in his eyes growing distant.

  “Where is your mind going to?” He leaned over the table trying to dissect Fiachra’s expression. He couldn’t track where Fiachra’s mind veered to, but when he stared closely he seemed contemplative. Fiachra came to, returning his gaze, then blinked and shook his head.

  “You have picked an interesting set of classes to combine, herbalism and alchemy. Alchemy isn’t an area I have concerned myself with much, but from what I know its focus is on metals. Your notion is a fascinating one.” Fiachra leaned in too, face alight with interest. “Do you mind if I join you in the Atelier? I was planning to let you work without interruption, but I would like to see your process.”

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  “Oh,” Belenus sat aback, “certainly,” he muttered, just short of stuttering. “Usually no one outside of the Master Alchemists takes interest in my work. Before I can do anything I still need to assess if you have what I need.”

  “Of course, I haven’t forgotten.” Fiachra smiled and took a sip from a goblet before him.

  It occurred to him that this was the first smile directed to him and the realization warmed his cheeks. He looked down at the food and bit into a stuffed bread in lieu of responding. A pleasant silence fell over them as they finished breakfast and he caught Fiachra sneaking glances at him as he was doing the same. Whenever Fiachra looked away the light from the windows would catch his eyes and the color seemed more complex than simply green, but he couldn’t quite figure out how. It was distracting and he forced himself to focus on anything else.

  “This breakfast was exactly what I needed this morning, thank you Fiachra.”

  “You’re welcome, but make sure to give your respects to Brunaidh, she’s the one who deserves it.” Fiachra surveyed their empty plates. “Are you ready to go to the Atelier?” He stood and removed himself from the surrounding chairs fluidly and Belenus followed suit. As Fiachra turned to leave the light caught his irises and different colors flashed again.

  “Wait,” Belenus called, prompting Fiachra to pause. He closed the distance between them before he lost his nerve. “I won’t be able to focus until I figure this out.”

  “Figure what out?” Fiachra’s breath was warm on his skin.

  He caught Fiachra’s chin gently, gliding long fingers along his jawline tilting his face toward the window. Fiachra’s high cheekbones cast lilting angles and his olive skin was rich in the sunlight. The soft feel of air on his face stopped and somewhere in his mind, he recognized Fiachra’s breath caught for that moment. Fiachra’s eyes were wide with surprise, irises deep and bright green like polished emerald. He guided Fiachra’s face to a different angle and saw flecks of purple like amethyst.

  “I hadn’t noticed before, but your eyes have purple in the right light.” His voice was soft and he scarcely breathed, becoming so mesmerized that he forgot he was staring into the eyes of someone he didn’t know.

  Beguilement was broken when Fiachra pulled away drawing in a ragged breath. Belenus stepped back clearing his head of whatever had overtaken him.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to get so close.”

  “It was unexpected, that’s all. Come on, let’s get some air outside.” Fiachra led him through a nearby door into the gardens.

  He followed Fiachra along a winding path, focusing on everything around and intermittently looking at Fiachra who solely faced forward. He thought the house the night before was alluring, but it paled in comparison to how it looked now in daylight. He could more clearly see the colors that made up the complex scrollwork snaking up the trunk of the tree and the window frames, although he would have to stand still and study the designs to see what they were, but he didn’t doubt their distinctiveness.

  In too short of a time Fiachra stopped in front of the door to the Atelier and held it open for him. He walked in appraising it with a clearer mind. It was a nice-sized workshop that felt spacious despite the amount of furniture and supplies filling the inside. A few tables lined the walls and the remaining wall space had floor-to-ceiling shelves. The shelves ended at the frames of several long windows that let in light tempered by folding lattice shutters keeping the room dim but easily functional. Books and all assortments of supplies neatly filled the shelves, with some spread across the tables and pinned to the remaining free space on the walls. It balanced being cozy with being maintained and easy to work in.

  “Take a look at anything you might need,” Fiachra said coming up behind him. “I have reference books on herbalism and poisons along with any of the supplies your recipes will require.”

  “At first glance, everything here looks like it was foraged from your forest, I’m surprised to see that’s not the case with the imported ingredients you have hidden about.” Belenus picked up a jar of silver fangs. “How did you even get these?”

  “I have a fair amount of trade with other elves. In fact, it’s to them where most of my work goes.”

  “Do you trap them into deals as you did with me?” He gave Fiachra a wry look, to which Fiachra arched a brow.

  “You’re an unusual case. Everyone knows not to cross me, well, not everyone apparently.”

  “If only someone had warned me.” He walked over to a shelf with several books with silver gilded lettering. He picked one he didn’t recognize and leafed through it, inspecting its contents for quality. From skimming it seemed to contain some depth on curative and lethal properties of flora in Scathwood. Feeling he would learn more about Fiachra in this room than anywhere else, he shut the book and regrouped his efforts to look for something immediately useful.

  He needed enough familiar ingredients to have any hope of creating a fusion between the transmutations he had memorized and new ones. He recognized almost all of what he saw around the room from extensive research, however, very few materials were ones he had any experience in working with. On the second pass, he started on one end of the room and searched through everything over again, taking his time. It would be far easier to use anything in the room to make something than it would to make a troublesome journey home and back. Thinking on possible recipes was becoming increasingly more difficult in Fiachra’s presence. Although Fiachra said nothing and stayed out of the way, it was the fact that he was watching with those keen eyes that was the distraction.

  Eventually, he turned away from the materials when his eyes started swimming along everything. He leaned back on the table beginning to accept defeat. Nothing came to mind that could be deemed good enough, whether it was because it was too simple or too alike to what Fiachra could already make. He needed something impressive. He needed his atelier.

  “You look defeated,” Fiachra observed simply.

  “Don’t know what gave it away.” He crossed one leg in front of the other sinking lower against the table.

  “We’ll go back to the temporary trade agreement then. You’ll provide a personal item of value to ensure your return with whatever alchemy experiment you complete with the items you attempted to steal from me. Have you thought about what item you will lend me?”

  He scowled, considering it once more. Nothing came to mind that hadn’t already been denied. “When I went on this trip I did not pack anything beyond what I needed.”

  “At this point, it would be a waste to leave without the plants you came so far for.” Fiachra approached looking him over with a pleasant expression, but somehow, he felt stripped.

  “I have little inclination to waste this excursion and, in some capacity, I have already agreed to a trade.” Under duress, he added silently.

  “Can’t you think of something then?” Fiachra prompted, continuing to study every inch of him.

  He looked away and held still, keeping composure. Instinctively his hand twitched to a brooch pinned unassumingly to the wraps around his waist. In a fraction of a moment he stilled his hand away from it and glanced at Fiachra.

  “That will do.” Fiachra practically purred, expression narrowing slyly.

  “Not this, it’s too important for a trade of this caliber.” Unnerved, he took a step away moving off the table and toward the door.

  “If you have nothing else…” Fiachra took a step toward him closing what little distance there was.

  Belenus unpinned the brooch and closed his fingers around it to get it out of sight, it hummed with energy against his hand as he held it. Fiachra reached an arm past him pressing a hand to the door and resting weight on it to keep him from attempting to flee.

  “No running, you have already accepted the conditions.”

  “Take some of my clothes instead, or actually accept the gems I offered last night.”

  “Neither of those has importance to you and they don’t have use to me. You’re grasping at straws Belenus.”

  He closed his eyes trying to breathe and calm down, but Fiachra was too close and the subtle scent of sandalwood mixed with the dangerous edge to his words choked out any rationale he would have been able to conjure. Fiachra’s hand slid over his and warm fingers teased the brooch out of his grasp. The humming sensation stopped and he clenched his jaw trying not to crack and looked at Fiachra with a threatening glint in his eyes. Fiachra looked back, level and undaunted.

  “Fiachra, it’s a family heirloom, I can’t leave it in your possession.” In one swift movement, he grasped Fiachra’s shoulders and spun him, pushing him up against the door with a solid thud. He dug his nails into Fiachra’s shoulders feeling substantial muscles. Fiachra’s eyes darkened as they narrowed at him and the air went still. Wrong move.

  Fiachra pocketed the brooch before prying Belenus’s hands off his shoulders, gathering both of them into one hand. In the same measure Fiachra leveraged his weight, flipping their positions, Belenus was pushed against the door with as much force as he had initially used. He resisted, twisting his wrists in an attempt to free himself to no avail. Fiachra pinned his arms above his head, catching him at an angle that pit him eye level, forcing him into an awkward and uncomfortable slouch.

  “I was trying to work with you,” Fiachra said quietly, tone sharp.

  “Not very well, you’re going too far.” He said through gritted teeth. He gained footing underneath himself and tried to surge up to full height, straining to break free. Fiachra kicked one leg out from under him, resulting in a sudden struggle to keep a balance at all. Fiachra never lost purchase on his hold or even struggled. Really wrong move.

  “You went too far.” Fiachra pressed in and Belenus winced in pain.

  “I shouldn’t have grabbed you.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have.” Fiachra loosened his grip only enough to relieve the pain that was starting to set in. He thought better about testing the modicum of freedom and instead took a moment to think.

  “I should have restrained my temper to better handle the situation.”

  “I accept what passes as your apology Belenus, I expect you will keep control at least for today.” Fiachra’s expression softened a degree and he released him then, stepping back a couple of paces.

  Belenus lowered his arms and rubbed his wrists under the guise of fixing the cuffs of his tunic. He watched Fiachra closely, fairly certain he could see the change in expression as he fought to get himself under control. “Are you going to relinquish my family heirloom so we can work out something more fitting of less value?” He ventured, taking a chance.

  “No. I’m keeping it for assurance, especially after this.” Fiachra looked at him now, expression a little warmer but still ungiving. “However, I will allow you to take what supplies you don’t already have to offset the deal.”

  His body went cold and no amount of disproportionate peace offerings would temper the edge of his emotions. He kept silent but didn’t mask his thoughts from showing as he looked around the room. It was beginning to grow familiar and he noticed a lot of things he could use that he didn’t have. Nothing would compare to the brooch but he would make the most of what was available. “As I have no other choice at this point, I’ll accept what you have to offer.”

  “Of course. I try to remain fair and even the circumstances.”

  He began to rummage through jars and boxes keeping Fiachra in peripheral. He mentally reviewed recipes from memory, using focus and action to help shake off the adrenaline from the dispute. Whenever he found an ingredient he knew he would need that he didn’t already have, he set it aside in a tidy pile. By the end of his search, he had a fair collection that would still be easy to travel with.

  “I can do more than I expected to with these.” He looked to Fiachra wondering if he would contest the amount.

  “Then I’m certain what you bring forward will be all the better. I admit I’m fascinated by the prospect of experimenting and what you will create as the result of it.”

  “You understand at least in part how I feel.” Belenus lightened a small amount, tone softening as he imagined the possibilities he could test.

  Fiachra walked over to a covered table lifting dark fabric to a storage of trunks underneath and retrieved one of medium-sized that would fit the collection he gathered. “Here, take this to pack them in and keep them safe.” Fiachra half-smiled, becoming agreeable.

  “This will make travel far easier. I appreciate the accommodation.” When he accepted the box a conflict of emotions arose from the pit of his chest. He understood his own anger, but there was something akin to restlessness stirring. Everything since last night was a gauntlet of fluctuating emotion. Fiachra’s presence was too intense to sort through the mental cluster. “If you don’t mind, I would like to set out soon while it is still early for easy travel.”

  “I understand, there would be no sense in staying when there is no need to, but at least take lunch. I’ll have Brunaidh prepare something for you while you repack.”

  “A fresh meal would be dearly welcome, I have enough food stored for the remainder of the travel back, but it won’t compare.” He ventured to smile at Fiachra and managed a not-quite scowl. He compiled his chosen collection into the box with relative ease. “I’ll return as soon as I have a complete experiment to fulfill our trade.”

  “I’ll keep your heirloom safe for your return.”

  He simply nodded, mood plummeting too quickly to trust the words that would be spoken if he opened his mouth. His hand twitched to the spot where his brooch no longer sat, feeling its absence. He already looked forward to being able to return if only to have it back within his possession.

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