The Stormcrow Cycle [Slow-burn Slice-of-Life Tragic Fantasy Romance]

Interlude: A Very Lukios Story, Part IX

Author's Note

As forewarning, I'm still not 100% satisfied with this chapter (true story: I cut 2473 words from the previous draft just before scheduling), so I might make some more changes. I thought I was revealing a little too much with the previous version, but now I think I'm revealing too little. We shall see! (Then again, I might restore parts of the previous version and stick them into tomorrow's update. Maybe. We'll see!)

Otherwise, the next chapter is the last one for the interlude (finally!). Phew! =D

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Nikias leaned into the shrubbery and vomited. He hacked and gasped, then he vomited again.

"Man, Niki." Lukios clicked his tongue, but patted Nikias on the back in what was supposed to be a soothing way. It really only made him retch harder. "How much wine did you drink?"

Nikias glared at him from beneath the black fringe of his own hair. "You gave it to me."

"Yeah, but it was just one goblet. One. And I watered it down."

This was true.

Nikias grimaced and heaved again, but his stomach was empty. Nothing came up except sour bile.

"Here." Lukios tugged him to the left, toward the little burbling fountain. They were making their way back up to the acropolis now, and Lukios was taking them along the wall, away from the crowds.

Nikias would not be caught dead wandering around like this, never mind vomiting. This was why they had left Iphram and Dolus behind; it would not do for his own staff to see him like this. Askles and Epitus had been given the undesirable task of breaking the news of Nikias' early departure to the steadfast pair, but Nikias was sure the two men were up to the challenge.

"What?"

Lukios tugged at him again. "The fountain, Nik. You need some water."

Nikias, as ill as he was, managed to fix the taller man with a look of disapproval. "Are you insane? That hasn't been boiled. It comes out of the wall."

"Yeah? And?"

"Lukios. No. That's disgusting." His friend of eight years only laughed.

"It's fine, Nik. I haven't dropped dead yet, have I?"

And now Nikias was appalled. "That's revolting. Men piss into that water. They piss into it." This was illegal, but that never stopped drunken plethos from behaving...poorly.

Lukios laughed harder. "No one drinks from the pool, Nik. We drink from the spout."

"No."

"Well, if you say so. Guess you like the taste of your own—"

"Lukios."

"Haha! Okay, fine, fine. Hang on." Lukios put his arm around Nik's waist, holding the man up. Lukios loud, vibrant soul seemed to reverberate right through their clothes and into Nik, rattling him, but he wasn't in any condition to refuse. As subtly as he could manage, he tangled his bare arms with his cloak so they were covered. Touching skin-to-skin would be a disaster.

Nikias should have known better than to have any wine at all. He'd taken enough belaruna to fell even the legendary Sa'nuvan, so adding wine to the mix had been a terrible, terrible idea.

How did he let Lukios talk him into these things?

Lukios half-carried the shorter man to the bench, which gave Nikias a very nice view of the fountain. It was a public fountain, and the water from the pipes were relatively clean, but there was no guarantee as to its potability once it had burbled out and into the basin. Did people not boil it? That would prevent—oh. Yes. That did explain things. Diseases often ran through the outer quarters in waves, with very little explanation. It was likely the water, then, so perhaps he ought to start a program—