Jason

  Jason was in the room next to the kitchen, having lunch with the rest of Laude Granthor's staff. The food was simple: flatbread with spiced lentils and stewed greens. They even had cooled fruit juice from the cellars.

  They sat together at the long wooden table with benches after the nobles had eaten.

  He tended to be quiet during meals, listening to the rest of the staff. Today, the conversation was about the young Val.

  "I just think he's so handsome," Essie said with a dreamy smile.

  "Don't tell me you think he'll fall in love with a maid," scoffed Anne, her mother, and the cook. "Plus, I've seen him. He's practically a skeleton."

  The pretty teenage girl shook her head. "That's because he's sick. He's already getting better."

  She had been looking more closely than Jason had assumed. She always dashed so quickly in and out.

  "What's he even sick with?" Orion, one of the guards, grumbled. The big man had a brutish sort of look; his short-cropped hair was unflattering given the size of his ears. He had taken off the dark green armored jacket while he ate, and was just in a loose tan collared shirt. He took a long drink before answering his own question. "Not that it matters. Nobles have weak constitutions. He might just stay that way."

  "Well, I still think he's handsome," Essie said.

  "I wonder the same as Orion. What's wrong with him?" Anne leaned over to Jason. "You must know, since you are working as his personal servant."

  Jason took a sip of his drink as all eyes fell on him. "Not my job to know."

  Orion winked at him. "Chasing a promotion, eh? Don't blame ya. A personal servant is a better job than a bricklayer and a twenty-something errand boy. "

  Jason glared at him. "It is, and it's none of your or my business what he's sick with."

  "So what do you talk about?" Essie asked, her curiosity more innocent.

  Jason shook his head. "We don't talk. He sleeps a lot, and when he doesn't, I read to him."

  Anne grinned and winked. "What do you read to him, then? Those smutty romance novels? Looks like you have competition, Essie."

  Jason could feel his face getting hot. Before he could respond, a voice came from the doorway.

  "Unfortunately, no. It seems Jason is quite fond of tedious war poetry." Leaning against the doorway was Val Alensar with a wry smile.

  The servants scramble up to bow. Jason bowed as well, panicking. He hadn't said anything wrong. Surely, Val Alensar would realize that Anne was joking. His heart was pounding.

  "I seem to have gotten lost on my way to the garden. Jason, would you show me the way?"

  "Of course, Val D'Ambrosia." He bowed again.

  "Let's take the quickest route. I tire easily."

  Anne bowed low. "The quickest route is through the kitchen, sir. But it's not clean, as I'm still making the mid-day meal."

  "Given how delicious the food is, such a thing is forgivable." He grinned, and she preened.

  Had he always acted like this? Jason didn't remember his manners being so refined.

  "Come this way, Val." He said, wanting to keep the encounter as short as possible. His food lay half-eaten as he escorted Val Alensar through the kitchen. It was, of course, quite clean, though some food was cooking on the stove. Anne kept things impeccable, a quality demanded of all Laude Grathor's servants.

  They stepped out into Anne's herb garden. Val Alensar paused, as if lost in thought. He was breathing hard.

  Jason watched him crouch down in front of the herbs and pull off a leaf. He rubbed it between his hands and sniffed it. Then he reached the flower bed. He picked a pink flower and held it to his nose for a long moment. Then he tucked it behind his ear. He looked over at Jason. His one blue eye was especially bright, and the brown one almost black, as if he straddled two worlds.

  "Is that a peach tree?" he asked and grinned. Jason hadn't seen Val Alensar smile so much and never with such joy.

  "Yes, though I'm not sure they are ripe yet."

  Val Alensar picked a few that were within reach. He then walked through the grounds, looking up at the sky and trees.

  It was like Val Alensar was a prince from a fairy tale, freed from a curse. Jason followed, not sure what to do.

  Val Alensar sat down beneath a large tree close by. His movement was something between sitting and collapsing. He patted the ground next to him, and Jason obeyed.Val Alensar pulled out a knife from thin air and started slicing the peaches.

  "Where did you get that?"

  Val Alensar looked at him askance. "From the kitchen, we walked through."

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  Then he handed Jason a slice, popping one into his own mouth.

  Jason held it for a moment before eating it.

  Val Alensar chewed with obvious pleasure, slicing and eating several more pieces. He didn't offer another piece until Jason ate the one he had. "It is a bit under-ripe, so you don't need to take it."

  Jason took it, and Val Alensar smiled again, his face like the sun coming from behind the clouds. Val Alensar looked back up at the sky. Jason studied him for a moment. His hair was growing out, and a short beard helped his face look less stark.

  Essie was right, he was handsome.

  Jason looked away from him. Only trouble would come from such thoughts.

  "You know, if you want to become my personal servant, I would want you to open up a bit more," Val Alensar said, still not looking at him.

  How much of the conversation did he hear? But Jason had done the right thing, so there was nothing to fear.

  Val Alensar continued, "Then again, I don't trust you either."

  Jason's stomach clenched. This wasn't good. He needed the money from this job.

  Val Alensar tossed the knife into the air, distracting Jason.

  "Careful," he said automatically.

  Val Alensar caught the knife, then, in one fluid motion, sent it into a nearby tree.

  "I finished the peaches," he said, as if that explained it.

  Jason stared at the knife, then back at Val Alensar. He shifted and lay on his back. "The moon is out. I always like how the moon looks in the daytime."

  "It's quite pretty."

  "You know, I should probably trust you a bit. After all, you've seen me at my weakest." He was twirling a leaf between his fingers. "I was tortured and starved. That's why I'm like this."

  It wasn't as if Jason hadn't seen the signs… and the doctor's report on Laude Granthor's desk. Yet, hearing it said in the open was jarring. Val Alensar's gaze was distant, as if he wasn't speaking about himself. Jason wanted to hug him, take his hand…

  He didn't move. "I once got in trouble for being too open once, but I will try, Val."

  "You really need the money, eh?" Val Alensar's laugh was harsh. "Don't force yourself. I shouldn't have asked. I don't take advantage of people like that…but…can you call me Alensar?"

  Not for the first time, Jason wondered who this man was. He had the manners of a noble, but sometimes slipped into an accent Jason couldn't quite place. It didn't make sense at all.

  Why was he tortured? What crime had he committed?

  Jason didn't know what to say. Val Alensar shivered.

  "Should we go back inside…Alensar?" Jason said.

  Alensar smiled at this. He got up very slowly, and it took all of Jason's willpower not to offer him a hand up. Alensar walked over to the tree with the knife. He tried to pull it out, but stopped after three tries.

  "Can you?" He sounded so broken, as if he wasn't the one who put the knife into the tree.

  Jason got it out with ease. He first held it up, then by his side, unsure what to do with it.

  "You can return it to the kitchen," Alensar said, walking to the main entrance of the house.

  It was only a few hours later that Jason realized Alensar hadn't gotten lost on his way to the garden.

  ***

  The bright ring of the bell greeted Jason as he entered the shop. The shop sold clothes, kitchenware, tools, and other odds and ends. It had a mild musty smell that was more comforting than off-putting. Jason suspected there were less savory things in the back of the shop, but he tried not to think about that. Most importantly, it was the only place that sold books in his part of town.

  "Jason, lad, it's been a few weeks. You had me worried that my last recommendation offended you." Mr. Andrei stroked his substantial gray-streaked beard, which contrasted with his nearly bald head.

  Jason smiled back. "Nothing like that. I've been taking care of a friend of mine. He's been very sick."

  The lie left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. Well, it was more like a half-truth.

  "That's good of you, though I would expect nothing less. Well, go ahead and browse. If you have some thoughts about the last one, I would love to hear them."

  Mr. Andrei looked back at the book he was reading before Jason came in.

  Jason started coming here when he was a child. The shop was in the direction he wasn't supposed to go, but it was close enough to his house that it seemed safe. He was pretty young, maybe 10 at the time? Mr. Andrei sold him a book for almost nothing, then let him know he could exchange it for another one when he finished. It took him a couple of years to realize that's not how book stores were supposed to work. But it took several more years for Mr. Andrei to accept his money.

  When things got hard, they went back to the old arrangement.

  He scanned the shelf, not sure what he was looking for. He went back to the counter.

  "I've been doing more work for Laude Granthor. She's paying me more," Jason said.

  "Good! Glad to hear it. You deserve a lucky break." Mr. Andrei smiled warmly.

  "I wanted to get my friend a gift." Jason paused, trying to say it right. "His accent is similar to yours, so I thought maybe you would know what to recommend."

  Mr. Andrei raised a brow. "A friend with an accent like mine?"

  They had known each other for years, but never talked about it. His father hadn't approved, but hadn't stopped Jason from coming. Not that his father was here to say anything anymore.

  "My friend is Karangasz, I think? I'm not sure, because he only speaks that way sometimes when he's tired or stressed. But I suppose not all Karangasz people like the same things. That was stupid of me. I've just been reading the War Songs to him, and well, he was polite about it, but then I realized he didn't like them that much, but I don't know what he does like…"

  "Does anyone truly like War Songs?" Mr. Andrei seemed amused. "Why would you choose that, of all things?"

  "It's a great work of art!"

  In reality, he had chosen it because his previous employer liked it. But Val Alensar was nothing like Val Elrich, so why had he thought they would like the same books?

  "I don't think anyone wants to listen to great works of art when they are unwell," Mr. Andrei teased. "But I do have something that might be of interest to your friend. Hold on."

  He went to the back of the store.

  He came back with a small paper-bound book and gave it to Jason. The book didn't have a title on the cover, but when he opened it, Jason saw it was called "Karangasz Folk Tales." No author was listed.

  "Sometimes scholars from the college come by with some academic curiosity about the Karangasz. I started publishing that to give them something that isn't actual contraband." He shrugged. "The laws get hazy, though, so I don't put my name on it."

  Jason felt like he was being told a secret. "I didn't know you had a printing press."

  Mr. Andrei shook his head. "I sold it a few years back. Only a few copies of this little book exist, and I don't plan to make it again."

  "How much-"

  "It's yours. I think you'll like it, even if your friend doesn't."

  Jason impulsively grabbed a dartboard sitting nearby. "At least let me buy this."

  "You're a good lad." Mr. Andrei seemed even more amused. "But no need."

  "I mean it!" Val Alensar had thrown a knife that one time, so maybe he would like it?

  "Ha, well, darts or throwing knives?" he was wrapping up the book, along with another one that he hadn't said anything about.

  Jason had no idea. "Both?"

  Mr. Andrei laughed. "Sure thing. I’ll add some playing cards too. That can be fun when you are sick. And how's your mother?"

  "Good, she's happy I'm working more."

  They chatted about the small things in life for a few more minutes before Jason left for work. He unwrapped the books after he left. The second one was the newest installment of a fantasy series he liked. It was technically illegal, since it was from across the border, but it was the sort of contraband no one cared about too much. He would return it, according to their old arrangement, but the book of folk stories he would keep. He suspected Mr. Andrei had been waiting a long time to share it with him and finally found an excuse.