Discordant Harmonies 3: Measure of Resistance

Chapter Ten

Géta had nightmares of this all being a lie, but waking to the dim light from a lamp and the sound of Asthané breathing, asleep in a bedroll on the floor beside his bed was just enough to comfort him. Even more comforting was being fully awake and seeing his Mage seated at a writing table across the room next to the privy's door. It didn't matter that Asthané faced away from him. Géta derived comfort from his Mage's mere presence and the knowledge Asthané was looking out for him.

It made him wince to recall how, in late summer last year, he'd resented his Mage's presence in his healing chamber. Circumstances had been different then, but knowing what he knew now of how much Asthané cared for him, and apparently had back then, even if the feeling had been rather shallow compared to the depth it had now, induced a heavy cloak of guilt. It enveloped Géta as he scratched out mathwork he'd been assigned, further weighing him with the fact he'd been little more than a burden to Asthané when they hadn't been specifically working magic.

And even then, though he knew how much help he could be, he didn't see that it was enough to recompense the weeks of resentment, mistrust, and even hatred he'd nursed before his assignment to Asthané had become a definite thing.

Géta stole peeks at his Mage's back, wishing he could find words to apologize for being mistrustful and resentful all those months ago. He tallied the days, first counting the weeks since they'd been officially matched by his agreement to accompany Asthané out here. First week of Choices, on Vlantil's Day, the seventh day of the week, and they were now at the end of the first week of Respect, on Itai's Day, the ninth and last day of the week. That was forty-six weeks and two days. Géta frowned. Add to that the six weeks prior, when they'd been at opposites with each other, and that was . . . fifty-two weeks total. And a few days, it didn't matter how many. Just a few months shy of a year. And Asthané had tried to apologize all those weeks ago, after their first meeting, which had gone so horribly it had left Géta almost sick with dread of working with Asthané again.

He looked up to speak to his Mage, to ask about that day of Asthané's failed apology, and saw a shadowy form hovering just outside the door. Well, perhaps not hovering, for the newcomer knocked just as he realized they stood there. Now he exchanged a glance with his Mage, who motioned for him to decide if the other should be let in. It wouldn't be Téus by himself, that was for certain, for the other boy had unabashedly stuck his head in the opening whenever the door had hung open upon his arrival.

"Come in."

The door swung in, revealing a very slender, sun-browned man with long blond hair. He looked almost feminine and could have passed for a woman without much difficulty. What betrayed his gender, however, was his voice, deep and resonant, a clear bass with a somewhat lilting, if faint accent.

"May I come in, Asthané?" There was little inflection besides the accent in his voice, and his expression remained primarily impassive, but for the rise of his brows.

"Géta?"

"It's all right." He hesitated a moment as something occurred to him. "Are you Esqué?"

This brought a brief smile—if Géta could call it that—to the newcomer's lips. "Indeed I am, Géta. I thought you may be awake now. How are you feeling?"

Esqué's intense gaze lent a depth and a weight to his words which made Géta want to squirm under the covers to hide. It wasn't a cruel gaze, but one which seemed to request complete honesty, and he wasn't sure how honest he could be with anybody, especially a stranger. While Géta remembered clearly how he'd dumped his sordid tale of imprisonment and torture on his Mage in a desperate monologue, he didn't think Asthané had actually heard the whole story. Of course, Géta had been rather mindless with exhaustion and the pain of the Healing, but he remembered what he thought was quite clearly his words. He didn't want to force Asthané to hear the worst again.