Early morning sunlight kissed the eastern rim of the valley, but the basin itself remained shrouded in blue-gray shadows as Triss, Behn, and Obi prepared to depart.
Galen joined Sev, Iksthanis, Zenír, Anira, and several others to see them off, gathering in a group near the stone bridge that led the way out of the valley.
He hugged himself unhappily as he watched Behn adjusting the straps of his sturdy pack, while Obi helped Triss fasten her travel cloak in place with a simple wooden brooch.
"Don't worry, Gale," Behn said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Triss will take care of me. And look how I've hardened up!"
He flexed his biceps, which were indeed sizable.
"Just imagine what a few more weeks on the road will do. I'll be hero material!"
"You're already hero material, Behn," Galen said, smiling. "You gave up everything to help a friend, and now you're putting yourself in harm's way again. That's what heroes do."
"Well, you know." Behn blushed and glanced at Triss before leaning closer to Galen and whispering, "Hot hero material, I mean."
Galen laughed and drew his friend into a hug. "You're right. A few more weeks on the road should do it," he said, and sniffed against the threat of tears.
"Meanwhile," Behn whispered near his ear, and inclined his head towards Sev, who was helping Obi with his pack. "Keep an eye on that one. He looks at you the way I'd look at a hot savory pie."
Galen merely nodded. He hadn't told Behn about the strange little kiss, or the words that had accompanied it, and he didn't know he would have, even if he'd had the time. It had changed his plans, but his feelings remained confused, especially considering what he meant to do now.
"Hey, where's mine?" Triss shouldered her way between them and crushed Galen in her arms. "Don't forget about us, and be safe, little shrimp."
Grimacing at the old nickname, Galen pushed her away. "Everyone's a shrimp compared to you."
Triss laughed and patted his head. It was true she was taller even than most Thrynian men, who were among the tallest in Sakkara.
"Maybe I'm part Dweller," she teased. "You can tell me all about them when we return. I'm a little jealous, actually. It will be fascinating to see what you discover."
"Yeah, it will," Galen agreed noncommittally and looked away.
Triss laid a hand on his shoulder. "This isn't goodbye, you know," she said more gently. "It's just 'see you later.' We'll be back together before you know it."
Galen nodded — that was one thing he could agree on — and gave Triss one last embrace.
And so, with words of farewell and well wishes, the trio turned their backs on the Haven and crossed the narrow bridge. Galen watched them go, and felt as if a string tied about his heart grew tighter with each step they took, urging him to follow them. Instead, he stayed where he was, watching until the travelers reached a sharp bend in the path. Obi disappeared first, and then Triss; but Behn stopped and turned back to wave.
Galen returned the gesture with a bitter-tinged smile, and then Behn followed the others, and his friends were gone.
-✵-
In the days that followed, Galen did all he could to make himself useful around the Haven, dividing his time primarily between the House of Healing and the kitchens. He did so partly to take his mind off Triss and Behn, and partly from a genuine desire to be useful. But in further part, too, he had another motive entirely.
Whenever someone called for something from a storeroom or cellar, he volunteered to fetch it, thus learning the locations of such places and what each contained; and often, if he could do so without it being noticed, he took more than he was sent to collect.
In helping to provision Obi, Triss, and Behn for their travels, Galen had seen a storeroom full of gear. Like most places in the Haven, it wasn't locked, and after seeing off his friends, he had returned there and selected a small pack for himself. Having managed to get it back to his room without being seen, he stowed it beneath the pillows on his bed and filled it with the things he 'collected' on his errands.
In short order, the pack was full, and nearly as well-provisions as those Triss and Behn had been sent off with. Then, Galen had nothing more to do but wait.
In the meantime, he rested and ate, and did everything he could to regain his strength. For the first few days he tired easily, but by the fourth he walked the perimeter of the valley basin before noon and spent an hour sparring with Iksthanis in the evening. At first, the larger man went too easy on him, but Galen had grown increasingly proficient with the staff, and finally coaxed the gentle giant to really challenge him. When he had as many bruises as he usually got from Triss, he was satisfied.
Later that evening, when the valley was dark and the sky lit with stars, he went to one of the naturally heated pools to soak his sore muscles and consider the next phase of his plan, which was nearly upon him. He had heard the Hands had finally cleared the entrance to the tunnels, and suspected Sevhalim would depart the following day.
For his part, Sevhalim seemed determined to avoid him, and had not spoken more than three words to him since the evening they had argued in his room — the night Sev had kissed him and claimed to care for him as more than a friend.
That was the other reason he kept himself busy. As soon as he held still long enough to think, his mind went straight to that, and to what 'more than a friend' meant, which caused a strange, tingly sensation to flutter at the base of his stomach.
He didn't like it. It was a complication he didn't need or want, and he was happy enough to ignore it for the moment.
Dragging his mind away from such thoughts, Galen closed his eyes and went through the list in his head again — everything he'd stored in his pack, the steps he would take, and when he would take them.
Soft footsteps interrupted his mental inventory, and he opened his eyes to see Sevhalim coming down the path towards the pool, dressed in a bathing robe with a towel over his shoulder. It seemed he hadn't seen Galen yet, so he swished his hand through the water to make a sound and alert the other man to his presence.
Sev looked up, saw him, and stopped.
"Galen. Forgive me for disturbing you."
He turned to leave.
"You're not disturbing me," Galen called, surprising himself as much as Sev. "There's plenty of room."
Sevhalim hesitated, and for a moment Galen thought he would ignore the invitation, but at last he turned back and approached again.
"Thank you. I will join you, then, if you don't mind."
Galen nodded, then looked away as Sev shed his robe and slipped into the water at the opposite side of the pool, as far from Galen as he could get.
For a while neither spoke; then Sev broke the silence.
"They've broken through to a passageway," he said. "It's in bad shape, but definitely Dweller-made. Tomorrow they'll shore it up a bit, make sure it goes somewhere, and then..."
"Then, you'll leave," Galen said.
Sev nodded. "This is a safe place, Galen. I wouldn't leave you otherwise."
"Because I'm the p'yrha."
"Yes, and..." Sev hesitated, then seemed to change his mind about something, and shut his eyes. "Yes. Because you are the p'yrha," he said.
Silence fell again. Then, moved by some strange impulse, Galen rose and got out of the pool, drying himself quickly and wrapping himself in his bathing robe.
"Galen, wait," Sev called, beginning to rise as well. "Stay; I will leave you in peace. I did not intend—"
He fell quiet and sat back down as Galen approached and knelt at the water's edge. Resting one hand on Sev's shoulder, conscious of the smooth warmth of skin and the firm strength of muscle beneath, Galen leaned over and kissed him lightly.
"The first was stolen," he whispered. "That is given. You may keep it to remember me by."
Then he rose and walked back to his room without a backward glance, leaving Sev as still and silent as if he had been turned to stone.
-✵-
As Galen walked, he touched his fingers to his lips and smiled. He now knew what he'd wanted to know, and it made what he intended to do a little easier.
When he reached his room, he went straight to where he'd hidden his pack, then nearly jumped out of his skin when someone knocked on the door.
Shoving the pack back under the pillows, he took a calming breath before answering the knock, then sighed with relief when he saw it was only Zenír.
"Zen! Are you lost?" he asked.
"Not if you are Galen and this is your room," Zenír said evenly.
"Oh. Well... what can I do for you?"
Zenír held out a little box, which Galen took. "Obi left that with me," he said. "I intended to give it to Sevhalim, but I think that you may need it more."
Carefully lifting the lid, Galen recognized the special Yuthraki salts that masked odors.
"Do I smell?" Galen asked, doing his best to hide his surprise at the timeliness and utility of the gift.
Zenír smiled. "You have a distinct and pleasant scent; but there are times when it is best to have none at all."
"Zenír..." Galen hesitated, but the other man shook his head.
"Tell me nothing; then I will not have to lie. Sometimes one must accept one's fate, and sometimes one must take fate into one's own hands. I think you have already decided which sort of time this is, and I agree with you. That is all I will say." He turned to leave and paused. "I feel we will meet again, Galen; but until then, may the gods guide you, and grant you luck."
He left, and Galen stood without moving for some minutes, staring at the little box in his hand. Then he nodded to himself, as if concluding a long, silent debate, pulled his pack from beneath the pillows again, and stored the box carefully within.
Some hours later, in the quiet darkness of early morning, Galen slipped from his room and passed silently outside, making his way towards the far end of the valley, to the place where the tunnel had been found. There, he waited in the thick brush beside a boulder until a lone figure appeared.
As he had suspected that he would, Sevhalim came alone. He was the sort of man, Galen had surmised, who preferred to slip away without fanfare, without tearful goodbyes, and without giving anyone (like Galen) the chance to argue with him. The gamble had paid off.
Galen watched as he approached the excavation site, a light pack on his back and an unlit lantern in hand. He wore tan leather boots with soft soles, a simple brown cotton shirt, and sturdy canvas trousers. Galen congratulated himself on having chosen similar apparel, though his was the simple gray color favored by the inhabitants of the Haven, from whom he had effectively stolen it.
Sev paused before the entrance to the caverns and turned back towards the valley, perhaps for a silent farewell to those he left behind, and then he lit his lantern, stepped through the entryway, and disappeared.
Galen counted slowly to one hundred before wriggling out of his hiding place and sliding down to the path. There, he took a last look at the valley, and at the stars that were just then beginning to fade before the coming dawn; and with a deep breath — his last of the open air for who could say how long — he turned and slipped through the opening, and followed Sev into the dark.
~ End of Book One ~
[A/N: Don't worry! Book Two will continue from here (not a separate story -- I think) and will follow Galen and Sev, Triss and Behn, and show more of Iksy and Zenír.]