Healer of Sakkara

Chapter 3 - Insight

"Even so," Iksthanis said, settling at his side, "I know in my bones that I would never harm a lover."

"A lover..." Zenír repeated half under his breath, and turned away, knowing from the heat in his face that he blushed like a virgin.

Feelings had grown between himself and Iksthanis over the last year or so — so slowly he hadn't noticed at first. Among all his companions, 'Thanis had always been the most thoughtful and aware of his needs. He always made sure Zen had a proper serving at meals, and helped him navigate new and difficult spaces without making him feel like an invalid. Gradually, though, his care had grown more attentive, and more intimate. A casual touch, a word, an inside joke, a small token here and there: little things added up to become something that neither could ignore: sweet as honey, hot as coals; sharp as steel and dizzying as heights.

When Iksthanis touched him, Zenír imagined sparks of fire on his skin; when he got close, Zenír's stomach fluttered and his heart beat as if he'd run a mile. He'd never reacted in such a way to anyone, and it had taken him a little time to understand what it meant.

Their friendship had outgrown its bounds, and from attraction had edged towards love.

"The only lover I want, if he'd only deign to be mine," Iksthanis said, and gently turned Zenír's face back towards his own with the palm of his hand.

Zenír felt the warmth of his breath and imagined the brush of his lips. "If you will have me as I am, then I am yours," he whispered.

Iksthanis released him with a sigh, making Zenír miss the warmth of his nearness and shiver at its loss.

When the silence stretched too long, he lowered his head. "Have I said something wrong?"

Iksthanis sighed again, though it was a fond sound, and took Zenír's hand.

"No. I only wish you could see yourself as I see you: beautiful and strong. I want you to understand that you are a gift to me, not a burden. Until you do... I will dream, and wait for your heart to catch up to mine."

Zenír frowned. "'Thanis..."

"Never mind," the other man said, and patted his hand. "Come — we've been summoned to the council chambers again. Apparently our young p'yrha has gone missing, and our friends here are considering what is to be done. You wouldn't happen to have any idea where he's gone, have you?"

"No more than do you," he said.

"Mm. He's gone after Sev, plain enough. What will you tell the council?"

"The truth," Zenír said, allowing a hint of humor to color his tone. "I haven't seen him."

-✵-

Together, the pair walked back through the orchard, hand in hand.

Iksthanis took care to offer Zenír support without leading him. He had never thought less of the other man for his lack of sight; on the other hand, he knew Zenír thought so little of himself that he would never complain and would never ask for help — especially when he most needed it.

"You must be feeling better, to walk all this way," Zenír said as they passed from the orchards into the vineyards that clothed the little hills upon the valley's northernmost side, leading up to the great edifice of stone. That grapes could grow at all at this elevation was a wonder, and Iksthanis presumed it was a gift of the earth here, warmed by subterranean fires.

"Yes, thanks to Galen, and to Hadrix. Between the p'yrha's power and the medic's skill, I feel nearly myself again."

'Nearly' was a stretch, but Iksthanis didn't want to trouble Zenír with the minor details of his recovery — how his ribs and shoulder ached, and the pain in his leg that plagued him daily. He was more than grateful, though, and more than content with his lot. It was a miracle he was alive at all, much less up and walking.