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Guilt has always been a powerful motivator. Throughout history, it has started more wars, destroyed more families, and set more pens to a page than anything known to man. Of course, most people go through life completely ignorant of the fact, but as a sens, I have experienced all three outcomes more times than I care to count. I have learned to live with the first two, but the last will always be a difficult proposition, especially when it touches me personally. I stumble over the words, for just when I need it most, my eloquence tends to fly to the wind, leaving me speechless and dumb.

What to do? What to share? Where should I begin?

The ink is slowly drying on the nib of my pen, and here I sit, wracked with guilt and afraid. For the first time in my life, I am of two minds on the subject of honesty. Never have I been so divided. Half of me is for revelation, the other against. Should I add my personal slant to Keiran's narrative or do I hold my peace?

Perhaps, had our life together been more circumspect, involving he and I alone, everything would be less convoluted. But that was not to be. So many beginnings … so many false starts! So many ends! Each one offering renewed hope. Each one threatening to be the last … Keiran has decided to hold nothing back, and to those who'd hold this against him, I beg of you, do not presume to judge. We are not the people we once were. Some sixty odd spans have flowed beneath that bridge and we are older now. Wiser? Perhaps. If age indeed brings wisdom, then we are so; I honestly cannot say. But wisdom aside, we are older and more experienced than we once were. Battered shapeless and forged anew, we have been tempered on the anvil of life. Nothing will ever be the same.

But if I speak of that, I will have jumped too far ahead. For I was speaking of beginnings and, like my lifemate, I've had my own sputtering share of fits and starts. Haven't we all? Is that not the pathway of life? From the day we are born to the day they place us in our tomb, do we not fall, pull ourselves up and resume our journey? Therefore, let it be known here and now that I have played the roles of bungling novice mage, deeply trouble priestly acolyte, and heart-sore star-crossed madman, not to mention beleaguered overworked general, plus a host of others, far too many too troublesome to name. Not bad, I suppose, for a lonely affection starved orphan whose foster sire was absent far more than he was there. And that was but my public life. My private life was even more chaotic, for I was born dual, neither man, nor woman, but a deliberate mix of both.

To this day no one knows why the ancients thought it important to create a creature such as I. But it is certain they forgot to add in the emotional consequences such an identity conflict could pull forth. For few, if any, knew how to approach me, and that included my Da.

Don't get me wrong. Adelard du Wolfe loved me with all his heart. I was the child of his beloved after all. But rarely did he confide in me, for Da had his own share of burdens: hidden truths and broken promises that I never knew existed until it was far too late to lend a hand. Even so, I never had any cause to doubt his affection. He loved me well enough in his own way and always did his best to keep me from harm though his own life was fraught with danger. Self-bought, self-sought… Da was always looking for trouble, and strangely enough, it was through this, his life-long obsession, his driving desire to right a terrible wrong, that I learned a valuable lesson which eventually helped me to put my own life into perspective. Revenge is little more than a spiritual poison that devours all hope, all joy, all trust… no matter how carefully you plan.  For in the end, all that remained of a once proud man was an empty burnt out shell.  His frustrated anger had all but consumed him from the inside out.

I would say more, but that would have been Da's tale to tell, and it is truly unfortunate he never wrote it down. I know the source of his compulsion, but not the particulars, and although I can and will refer to it from time to time, I will never be able to relate it in full. Nevertheless, since my very existence laid at the crux of his torment, our lives were forever intertwined, irrevocably joined through a snarled web of love and hate, fear and devotion. He loved me. In truth he adored me. But as I matured the lines of my face reflected the source of his pain so keenly he could never stay long in my presence.

Therefore we are fortunate, Keiran, Alysian and I, that our tale took a differing fork along the path of life. True, our life together has had more than it's share of ups and downs, highs and lows, but we are fortunate, fortunate because the good which followed has long since outweighed their influence, fortunate that we have had each other to lean on, for we could have easily followed his example. It was hell, once, but now... I can honestly say it has been a good life over all and I would not trade it for any other.

Because along the way I've had the fortune to become the heart-sworn confidant of a feisty fledgling king, the bearer of his young, the heirs of his kingdom. Note here, that I lay no claim to their parentage; for all that they sprang from my flesh.  Oh I was there to shape and guide them, I was there to watch them grow. I was fully active in their lives as they will be quick to profess, but once they drew breath and left my flesh, my maternal duties were over. After that it was up to him.

As a fem, I fear I am but a sorry example of maternal devotion. I may be dual, but at that time in my life I simply did not have it in me. Oh I will always love my sons with all my heart. But for reasons beyond my control, for the longest of times, it became difficult for me to even look upon their faces without a touch of fear. I needed time, time in which to mend, time in which to heal, a healing which is ongoing even to this very day, because there was a great gaping hole in my spirit, a wound that was inflicted with their creation, which left an emotional scar that will never truly fade. Perhaps it would have been kinder had I not conceived at all, but that was not an option we had. Life does not always give one a choice.

Sorry Dram.  Sorry Del.

To read that will hurt I know. But if Keir can be brutally honest in admitting his shortcomings, then I, too, must be the same. The trouble is, my sons, children born of rape are rarely wanted; no matter how sweet, how loving, how wonderful they are when they appear. The trouble is, even though you were not to blame or even a true outcome of that soul-wrenching fit of violence that eventually led to your creation, you were tied to the event all the same.

I can honestly say now that I eventually came to terms with that duplicity and have chosen freely to absolve you of all guilt, even that by association, for none of the above was your fault. But my sons, whatever you do, whatever you think now, however you read between the lines... you must remember this: Keiran was not my attacker and he is thy true sire. It is his blood that runs in your veins, his and no other. Thy origins are fully honorable albeit difficult to relate.

That's confusing, I know. But don't ask. I beg of you, don't dig. If you do, neither of us will speak of it. It is too painful a matter to approach head on. Hence, I ask of you. Wait. The truth will come out in time. I know not which of us will deal with the matter of my shame, but most assuredly one or both of us will touch on it.  It was the high point of our lows, the cusp about which all things turned.  It is the reason why we are what we are today. We simply cannot ignore it.

But with all things, both good and bad, there must be a true beginning, a point from which all things evolve, and my relationship to Keiran is no exception. As for our life together … it began with a handshake, a handshake that I'll remember to my dying day.

Knowing him as I do now, his behavior that night was rather self-evident. But at the time I knew him not at all. To be perfectly honest, there was so little we did reveal during those first few tentative days. No doubt because most of the time I was floating in a pain-filled fog of utter confusion. Oh we spoke a great deal.  There was little else we could do at the time. Only not much came of it.  We are both so good with words. We hurl them about like weapons to hurt and protect, and anyone unfortunate to be caught in the crossfire rarely comes way uninjured.

Still, I remember that handshake.  Goddess above, who wouldn't!

I had been standing for what felt like hours, making small talk.  Hello.  Yes.  How are you? Why thank you, you're looking rather nice yourself. I hated it. My feet were hurting, my mind going numb. My tongue was beginning to trip over itself. I was making all sorts of blunders, but no one seemed to care. It wasn't my mind or my tongue they were after, so few even noticed my gaffs and my companions were wise enough not to point them out.  In short, I was miserable and my arm ready to fall off if one more enthusiastically hopeful suitor pumped it just a tad bit too hard, when suddenly, without warning, there he was; my tall, thin, preternatural love.

Such tragedy.  Such beauty.  Such grace.  No man born should have had a face such as his. It was enough to make any fem's blood boil with jealousy.

In short, he took my breath away; for all that he was abnormally pale and thin to the point of gauntness. His eyes were so heavily shadowed; he didn't even look alive, more akin to some poor dead godling dug up from the grave and dressed in borrowed finery, but look I did. Because I could easily see that fed and cleaned up he would have been a truly beautiful sight; not that he wasn't already clean or beautiful.

His hair had been brushed until it fell like waves of polished onyx and his face artfully painted, not a lot, just a touch, a tiny tasteful attempt. Someone had taken great pains with him that night to get him to the state he was in, but that someone had not been Keir. Something inside told me… this was not right, this was not real.  Everything about him was too controlled, too pat, too rigidly bound. He was there in the flesh but his mind and his heart were elsewhere, far from the chaotic madness of Dameon's hall.

Ah… My poor haunted love. He frightened me, I think, when first I looked upon his face.  Frightened and intrigued.  He looked so sad, so lost, so alone, like a starving, beaten stray in need of a home.

Someone introduced us, his master, I believe, but I really didn't pay attention, for as I reached out to shake his hand, he bowed his head with a small shy smile, a real smile, not the bland, blatantly fake one he had had pasted to his visage but moments before. It was such a small thing, really, but it lit up his face like the sun; and had not things turned out as they had, I might have pulled him aside, then and there. Hauled him off into our small isolated group and made everyone blanche with shock. That's how strongly his appearance affected me even then. But that was not to be, for even as our fingertips touched… all hell broke loose inside my head.  It was a mind-storm of monumental proportions. It was over in a matter of seconds and as that storm subsided, for a brief flaring moment, I thought I caught a glimpse a similar eruption within those dark sullen night-blue orbs. Then he ducked his head once more, opened his mouth to speak… and disappeared, quite literally beneath a sea of swarming flesh.

Now I have truly been in fear of my personal safety only twice in my life, which is odd given the manner of life I led. But as long as I am able to defend myself, no matter the odds I face, I have always been able to accept the outcome. And yet, that night comes close to being a third, if only because there was naught I could do. I was armed, aye, but I dared not draw my blade. This was a friendly gather, after all, held at the home of my mentor and long time friend, an important man in the community.  It would have been a grave breach of etiquette for me to even attempt to fight my way free.

Fortunately, Jamiel, my ever watchful second, snatched at my belt, hauling me bodily back into the embrace of a nearby alcove, as our companions slipped into place, interjecting themselves between that tiny niche and the maddening surge of that mob. And in the press Keiran disappeared. To this day no one knows what set it off, but it was a very-near riot. He was engulfed in an instant, gone without a trace.

Concerned for his safety, I stood on tiptoe, frantically peering above the crowd as best I could.  But though I could clearly see the small elderly mule he had been with, Keiran was nowhere to be seen, which was no mean feat seeing that he, like I, stood taller than all of Dameon's guests.  No matter where I looked, no matter how hard I tried; I could not locate him in the least.  It was as if he had never existed. I would have doubted my sanity, but I could not deny the evidence of my arm, for it throbbed and tingled long into the night.

First contact.  Beginning number one.  It took forever for Dameon's house guard to arrive.

After the excitement died down and the party returned to a semblance of normality, I eventually tracked him down, or should I say, he found me, for that is exactly how it came about. After that I caught sight of him, repeatedly, standing off along the fringe of the gather, glass in hand, his tired sad face so full of fear and dread, staring in my direction. But if by chance our eyes met, he'd duck and disappear. It didn't tale much of that for me to realize he was actively avoiding me, and that piqued my curiosity. I was so used to the opposite reaction. Eventually I could take no more and asked Jamiel to find out why he was behaving is such an outlandish manner.

Curious himself, Jamiel disappeared and was gone for the longest of times, but when he returned all he would say was that it was probably for the best. That the one who had caught my eye was a local pariah, a heigalama healer with rather loose morals and a serious lack of common sense. Of course even as he said this, his eyes sparkled with a familiar mischievous light, so I knew my nonchalance in the matter had not fooled him in the least. It had been a long time, spans really, since I had shown an interest in anything or anyone outside the tightly woven circle of my work; and from his point of view, the hook was sunk. He was relishing the chance to watch me squirm in Keir's snare. But Jamiel was not about to do my dirty work. Oh no, not he.  We were good friends, true, but our friendship only went so far. Past indiscretions on both our parts had scored a heavy indelible line beyond which neither of us dared to venture. So I ignored him, biding my time, and hour or two later, after the party had begun to wind itself down to its natural conclusion, I asked the others to hunt Keiran down once more, knowing that if I gave the task to Jamiel, he'd only laugh in my face. I asked them to fetch for me "that healer I met - the one with the sad blue eyes', and oddly enough, they each knew whom I meant.

I had some pretense going at the time, a headache I believe, but I'm certain my request left no doubt in the minds of my men that I was thoroughly smitten and a bit mind-touched as well. Because Jamiel had learned a great deal about my swedh in his absence and had related most of it in tantalizing intervals throughout the evening, giving us all quite an earful, so much so that Kev was openly salivating each time Keir drifted into view and Corwyn was beside himself with jealousy.  Keiran, it seemed had talents galore which had nothing to do with healing.  But none of that mattered where I was concerned.  All I could think of was his sad blue eyes and that shy sweet smile, nothing else mattered, nothing else seemed real.

Fortunately or unfortunately, depending upon how one looks at it, they came back empty handed. He had already left. And he had done so alone, on his own, to the dismay of a rather large number of people, so I knew deep inside that I had made an impression as well.

As for the next day, the less I say of it the better.  Because I will readily admit that I have done a great number of stupid things in my life, but going off and climbing an unstable rock-face while faced with the possibility of flux takes the cake.  Nevertheless, climb I did, for I needed to break the tension, I needed to clear my head, and we all know what came of that.  I came damn nigh on clearing it right off my fool neck.

Still, Keiran has stated that he wishes to speak of that event in detail and my part in this bewildering equation didn't even come into play until much later on the morning of the day after that troubling descent.

But the truth is… Keir is not the first person of whom I will speak. There was another I met that day, someone who tied the two of us together in a way I have never quite understood; one who formed the third leg of our triad, for triad indeed we had.

Alysian del e' Elori.  Lyss for short, Lyssan to his friends, and Healer Elori to those who knew him best, his patients; the ones he cared for and loved with all his heart.  Healer.  Confidant. Mediator and mentor. One whose heart is far too large, whose love to this day was true and pure, whose devotion and loyalty was never to be questioned. Alysian.

How do I describe him, my beloved's delicate little bird? How can anyone describe one's rival, one's truest friend, one's downfall… one's hope? To do so would be to attempt the impossible, but I shall. For I remember well the first time I saw him, because it was also the first time I truly saw Keiran, Keiran as he can be, as a thoughtful considerate lover and not some dark tragic figure out of a forgotten morality play.

I had awakened to an overfull bladder and a nagging feeling that I was not alone. My head felt as if it was stuffed with lead. Moreover, I remembered every segment of that hair-raising tumble in vivid lucid detail, from the gut retching barely audible twang of that first strand popping to the sight of my leg crumbling beneath me. I simply could not get it out of my thoughts. Each time my concentration flagged, I relived the event over and over again, repeatedly. It was enough to drive me mad. So I attempted a body scan to take my thoughts from it's insane cycle and failed, miserably. I simply could not focus. I knew I was in a bad way. I had to be. There was no way around it. No one took a tumble such as that and walked away uninjured, or even moderately injured. But how bad was bad? Would I ever walk again?

So I tried once more, concentrating on the things I did know, on the then and now, on what I could feel and not what I feared. My sword arm was in a cast and immobilized across my chest, which was in turn wrapped so snug that inhaling deeply was out of the question. But my left one seemed intact. It was badly bruised and painful to move, but all five fingers responded exactly as they should as I carefully flexed and stretched them out along the edge of my coverlet. Then as I blindly worked my way down my torso, cataloguing my injuries by feel alone, my world fell apart. I could feel each scrape, each tear, each bruise. I could feel the ointments which had been slathered on my face and hands, but none of that truly mattered, for as I ran that haphazard mental check, I made a startling discovery. I could no longer feel my leg.

My leg… my leg… my poor shattered leg! How could I live without my leg? How was I to fight? How was I to lead? How could I defend myself?

It was all I could do to keep from screaming. But panic was getting me nowhere fast, so I bit down hard on my fear and opened my eyes for the very first time that morn, and immediately wished I hadn't, for I was nowhere I knew and that did not bode well.

Over the spans, I had made plenty of enemies, not all of whom dwelled within the Matorian Basin. To get to where I could do the most good, I had stepped on far too many toes and some of my foes were decisively deceptive, a few even called me friend.

In a way I was grateful for the distraction. My mind was no longer locked into that self-destructive cycle, but now it was racing off in another direction altogether. My first problem of the day was location. Who had me? Where was I? Was it a safe house or what?

I vaguely remembered someone rappelling down that ledge to reach me, someone who had, in my pain-filled delirium, looked an awfully lot like the healer I had met the night before, but surely that had been nothing more than a figment of my over-wrought imagination, of that I was absolutely certain. Why would any healer have put himself in such a dangerous position?

I quickly discerned that I was in a small faintly antiseptic room, which had but one door and one window. There were coarse heavy curtains on the window, pulled closed to block out the sun. But the curtains were thin in spots and badly faded and the bed I was on was comfortably wide, wide enough for two, perhaps three, so it wasn't a clinic. A house then, I thought with reasonable certainty. In a clinic there would have been no curtains to block out the light and the bed would have been something easily replaced, a cot or pallet, something quick to set up, tear down, or burn, if necessary. I was in a residence of some form, a home perhaps, but it wasn't Dameon's villa nor any place that I was familiar with. This much I knew. No doubt I had been quietly tucked away in the first place they could get me to, in a room that seldom saw use, which made sense in the light of my reputation. Far easier to hide me away in plain sight than to mount a round the clock guard… Far safer, too… Guards drew attention and easy to circumvent, where there was a will there would always be a way, and if my enemies learned of my condition, the will would be evident.

I crossed off the first item on my mental checklist. I still had no idea as to where I was. But it was a start in the right direction, which was something I sorely needed. I wasn't in a cell and was reasonably comfortable… well, as comfortable as anyone who had gone cliff diving could be; therefore I concentrated on those things I did know, to avoid fretting about those I didn't. I was in a bed, in someone's home, far from the cliff and safe, for the time being, anyway.  But whether I would stay that way and for how long, and whether that home was in Amberdale was debatable.

From the angle of light which was struggling to make its way through the curtains, it was early morning, or at least early in the day. But I couldn't say what hour. My inner clock was out of kilter. I had been unconscious for far too long, and the thin gray light that did trickle in did little to dispel the gloom.  Still there was more than enough light to see by, so I put it to good use in order to solve problem number two. Who was I with? For it certainly wasn't anyone I knew.  Jamiel would have been curled up at my feet, sound asleep, sawing logs, snoring loudly, like the faithful hound he was, though in truth he was more like an overblown mother hen.  And the others would have been positioned near my head, one to a side like a pair of bookends. Keven and Corwyn seldom did anything apart.

Nevertheless, every good warrior quickly learns to identify the presence of others even when they are not in his line of sight. It is his first line of defense, at times his only protection; therefore I was quick to locate the other occupants of the room, two to be exact, providing my hearing had not been damaged in my tumble. But then it really wasn't all that difficult an accomplishment. For as I carefully eased my head to one side, there they were in plain sight, not four feet away on a freestanding bed that was no doubt a match to mine.  I could see right away that this wasn't the first time they had shared their sheets, for they were curled up in an oh-too-friendly ball and neither was fully dressed.  It was a decidedly comfortable tangle, arms and legs going every which way and back, and one of the two I knew. I knew this because Keiran's face was turned in my direction, and wrapped in his embrace, with his back to me, was a tiny, fair-skinned blond-haired cherub.

At first I was far too shocked to react, too stunned to even think.  I had been told that Keiran was heigalama, a lover of men, only his bed partner appeared too small, too delicate, too tiny to be a full grown man.  A child then, I thought to myself and I wondered at the gall of it; that this healer swedh of mine would inflict his perversions on me in this way. Then Alysian stirred, stretched like a cat, and sat up, dragging his hair from his eyes with the back of his arm, revealing a impressive string of stars as he did, a full five in total, emblazoned upon the inside of each forearm.  Healer!  My mind screamed in disbelief.  By the Lady he's healer and he's... he's...

I made some sort of sound, something that hovered halfway between a gurgle and a gasp and he turned to smile at me, the knowing half smile of a fem who knew he had made a lasting impression... a dual-fem who was comfortable with who and what he was. And what he was... was magnificent, there can be no other word for it. For this was no small child and if Keir was beautiful in an ethereal sort of way, Alysian was the earthly word given flesh, even then, with his eyes full of sleep and his hair, an untamed tangled mass of golden curls that tumbled about his face. There was no thought of jealousy in my mind, only hunger, as I laid there staring, my body responding instinctively with a familiar surge of warmth, a surge I had not felt for over eight troubling spans. Then he made matters worse as with a smothered yawn, he stood and padded over, sinking down at my side with a satisfied sleepy sigh. "Goddess," I wailed inwardly, "can't he see what he's doing? Can't he tell?"

"Morning... I think."  He murmured mind to mind as he leaned down to grope about on the floor, coming up with a rumpled, tunic. His send was sultry and dark, all furry and soft and warm, not at all as I expected. He frowned at the garment, smoothed it out a bit, then shrugged it on, not the least embarrassed by my all too frank appraisal of his more salient features, but then Alysian was never body shy. Oh he may have acted the part from time to time, because he was an outrageous flirt, but the underlying truth is, he simply didn't care. He knew what he looks like and if it pleased people to look, then he was known to oblige them the opportunity. Of course a look is all they'd ever get. For Alysian was highly particular about the people he brought to his bed, particular, selective, and intensely loyal, and he made that clear to me from the start.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he silenced me with a gentle insistent finger across my lips.  "Keir's tired."  He sent reaching out to touch my hair. "His nights have been difficult enough as it is and he really needs to rest. Is there something I can do in his stead?"

My bladder chose then to grumble, threatening to release its hold if I did not find surcease soon and healer that he was, he knew instantly of my problem. His face grew thoughtfully concerned. Then without a word he rose to hunt down something in the press. At first I felt he had misunderstood for I had no idea as to what he was up to, but it wasn't long before he was back with an earthenware shush pot. It was embarrassing to say the least, to have him toss aside my furs in his frank let's get to work way, but he reacted not at all to my body's response, as he carefully eased back the lips of my sheathe and guided my member into the pot, so easily, so confidently, so matter-of-factly that nothing I felt inside could interfere, and after a few awkward moments, nature held its sway.

It was only then, after the fact, as he re-adjusted the furs about my legs that my earlier fears came rushing back and I stopped him with a frantic touch.

"Wait!" I wailed and craned my neck to see, though my eyes were squeezed tight in negation. He knew instantly what was amiss and without a word switched the furs to one side and helped me to sit, supporting me with an arm about my shoulders while I blindly reached down with my one good hand to determine by touch, that which remained. I could not bear to open my eyes. I could not bear to look. Even before I could make contact, I grew dizzy with fear and needed to be helped again. I needed to know but I could not face the truth.

"It's whole." He sent encouragingly.

"Then why can't I feel it?" I howled in return, shaking my head in fretful denial. "What use is it? How will it hold my weight? And who the hell are you?  What are you doing here?  You were... He was... I thought... I mean he's..." I felt my face go hot.  Fear had loosened my tongue and I found myself praying that I hadn't angered him, because upset as I was then, I could not have dealt with that.  I needed someone with me, someone to take my thoughts away from the truth, the fear, and Keiran was fast asleep. I crack one eye and then another, afraid of his response.

Alysian flashed me a thin wan smile and shook his head.  "Shhh!  Please, calm yourself.  You are fretting needlessly.  You'll wake him if you don't.  It's only a pain block that you feel… or rather you don't feel.  Keir wanted you to rest, so he temporarily deadened the nerves.  Feeling will return… with time… in time, and when it does, you'll understand why he did.  And no… I'm not angry… You have every right to be confused.  My given name is Alysian del e' Elori.  Healer Elori.  And I'm Keir's friend.  But if you wish you may call me Lyssan.  Most do.  WE seldom stand on formality here within the hall, at least not amongst our kith and kin.  And as for why am I here, well… I've been assigned to give him a hand."

And a lot more than that, I thought to myself uncharitably, as he glanced back across the distance at the still slumbering Keir, who was by now stretched out across the bed like a fat well-fed cat, for all that he was so thin.  But then, from my vantage point, I saw something flicker across his face and felt a rush of shame. Goddess, I thought, he loves the man. And when he looked back at me, I could not meet his eye.  For there was an undercurrent of sadness there, midst a familiar well known hunger, and it was obvious his life was difficult enough to endure without my adding to it.

"Relax, Cordelain. I'm not angry… not anymore. Oh, I'll readily admit you caused quite a stir with your rather abrupt appearance. And last night I truly was ready to eat you whole for breakfast… raw. But not anymore… I'm not making any promises, mind you, but I don't bite…  not unless I've good reason to, that is."  He sent with a spurt of soft mental laughter; then he touched my hair again and shook his head, his eyes missing no detail.

"Lady Above! You're an ungodly mess... and this hair!  How do you live with this mop anyway?"

"I live very well, thank you."  I snapped in return and the tension broke between us.  Out maneuvered, I had responded exactly as he hoped. He lifted free a hank and started to comb its braids loose it with his fingertips. Then mid-move he froze with a mischievous grin and jumping to his feet, ran to the press once more. This time, when he returned, he had a course bristled brush in one hand and a set of delicate silver combs in the other.

"Keir's" He sent with a soft amused chuckle. "I gave them to him as a mid-winter favor last Deep, to wear when he's out on the town, but he never uses them unless I force the issue. He claims that they pull, which is a bunch of hogwash if you ask me, for I wear them all the time since he won't. He's just lazy, through and through, and doesn't like to fuss. He'd rather bat his eyes and play the simpering fool than spend time before a mirror.  Still they cost me a pretty penny, so you might as well help me get my money's worth."  And settling into place at my side he spent the better part of the next few hours like that, talking in send, while he tamed my wayward locks. He had to be careful.  My head was exceedingly tender and if he pulled too hard, it hurt.  Oh Lady how it hurt. And there was nothing he could do about the dirt and grit, except to comb it out. But I learned a lot that day, not about Keir per se, for he was as tightlipped and closed mouth about my swedh as any true confidant should be.  But I did learn a good deal about the Hall and how it worked.  How many healers there were in residence… what their purpose was, and about Andris, the Head Master.  Along the way, I also learned about Alysian, himself, and how he fitted in.  Not much really, for he was as tightlipped about himself as he was about my swedh. Even so I was an old hat at social intrigue and I knew how to gather information from the answers he did give as well as the ones he did not.

At some point in that interlude, Keiran woke, mumbled out some form of greeting and staggered for the door.

"And where do you think you're going?" growled Alysian with a thin no nonsense grin.

"To the head, where else? Damn it, Lyss. You're becoming rather tedious. You're not my keeper and I'm not ill. I'm also not under house arrest. I am allowed to come and go as the need fits." He snarled back in a sleepy grumble.

To my surprise, Alysian only shrugged. "Then make yourself useful.  Dump that out, will you, and bring it back... " He pointed with his brush towards the end of the bed and Keiran flashed him a dangerous look. But he picked up the shush pot and headed for the door without a word of complaint. "And don't forget to rinse it out. It'll smell up the room if your don't." Alysian yelled at his back as the door came slamming back. Then he went back to work, teasing out a rather nasty snarl.

"Ever so often you'll need to bring him down to earth."  He added out loud with an amused smile, as he carefully fought his brush through the mess.  "Being the highest ranked healer in the hall goes straight to his head. Of course, most of the time you'd never know it.  He underplays his abilities something terrible and you will find yourself wondering if you're dealing with a child. Still, you're in good hands, sirra.  For he's the best, not one of... but the best."

Alysian's speaking voice had thrown me for a loop.  I had expected something along the line of a tenor, like Keiran's. But in reality it was a full-blown contralto, so low, deep and oh so sexy, that I had to force myself to blink. He chuckled at my reaction and tossed his head.  "I'll never quite be what you think I am...  will I?"

It was a confusing, troubling challenge and all I could do in return was shake my head, slowly.  After a time I worked up the nerve to ask.  "So... tell me.  Just what part do you play in this, Lyssan?"

"Part?  Play?"  Whatever do you mean, sirra?"  He retorted lightly with another flippant toss of his head.  But he knew what I meant.  He combed for a time in silence, his face thoughtful and sad, listening I think for Keir, and when it became apparent that his return was not eminent, he sighed and put down the comb.  "I'm not at all sure that my part is important, sirra.   I... he's a friend, that's all, a friend."

"Friend?"  I prompted quietly.

"Yes," answered Alysian a little too quickly.  "A true lifelong friend, which is all I will most likely ever be. Keiran doesn't have a place in his heart for anything more serious than that, I'm afraid. He's been damaged, Cordelain, emotionally. Warped beyond all belief and he's never truly healed. Still, I must warn you.  Don't push your luck.  Regardless of what you may have heard...  We may not have much, Keiran and I, but what we have... it is ours... and he's not known for sharing... neither am I."

I closed my eyes with a troubled sigh and lay there for a time while he continued to work on my head. So much for my dreams of conquest then, for either of them… Though it wasn't until he spoke, that I realized that he too had managed to trigger not only my body but also my curiosity as no one else had for oh so long. But I had been warned off, thoroughly warned. He had seen my reaction and he had made himself clear. Both he and Keiran were off limits. After I had digested his words thoroughly, I felt brave enough to ask, but I kept my eyes closed as I spoke.  I had no desire to see his pity.

"Partners, then?"

I could feel his shrug through his movements as he carefully fought his way through another stubborn knot.  "Of a sorts, I suppose."  He replied after a pause, his voice softly apologetic.

"I'm sorry, sirra.  Really I am.  It was wrong of me to snap at you like that.  You can't help what you feel or what happened.  It's just... It's... well, you've managed to show up at a rather difficult time. For we've been having problems, you see... he and I, serious problems... but we're working on them... at least we're trying to.  Only, we've been working on them for well over a span now and not much has happened.  Partly because Keir's been having trouble in another area as well and it is difficult to concentrate on the one when the other takes up so much of his energy.  I won't lie to you... it hasn't been easy, to watch him slowly fall apart at the seams... and I've been giving it my all. So if things don't work out, it won't be for the lack of trying on my part. It's... well, I just wanted you to know how I feel.  I'd be a fool not to realize what might happen now that he has someone else he can turn to, someone who will understand how and what he feels far better than I could ever aspire to.  I'm not stupid, neither am I begging.  It's just... I... I don't know exactly how to say this so you will understand... I... I'm very aware of my situation right now and all...  and I know things are going to change.  They have too.   Having you in his life now, having someone who can support him, as only a swedh is known to do, is bound to alter things dramatically.  But I'd like to be given a chance."

I found myself relaxing beneath his hands and realized he was using a type of healing, a sort of quiet subtle soothing current to help ease away my concern.  It was a tact I had used far too often myself to ignore.  So with a soft uneasy laugh, I reached down, snared his free hand in mine and broke the link.  Caught in the act, he gave me a shy uncomfortable grin.

"It must be hard."  I murmured soothingly, reversing our roles; odd that I would have said that. All of our earlier conversation aside, Alysian was still unknown to me.  But pain such as his has always been difficult to ignore and my sympathies were stirring.  I was feeling rather generous.  I could afford to be generous.  As an outsider, I had a freedom he did not.  Only he did not want my pity.

"Oh I know exactly what he is... the question is, sirrah... do you?"

"I got a real earful at Dameon's bash."

Alysian stiffened and pulled away.  "What you got was a load of crap.  There's Keir and there's Keir... and the world out there..." He growled angrily waving a hand towards the door.  "Hasn't a clue."

I suspect he would have said more, that I might have learned something important had we've been given the time, but the door opened then without warning and Keiran drifted his way inside.  And drift is the only description I can apply to the way he moved.  Oh he was bound to the floor by gravity, as much as you or I, but his training on the dance floor was so much a part of him then, that he was like a leaf in flight, fluttering along aimlessly, touching down briefly here and there before lifting off to fly again.

"A clue about what, ducha?"  He asked with a rather large yawn.  Then he carelessly tossed the shush pot down in a corner and came over to sit on the bed beside Alysian.  With a sleepy grin, he slipped one arm around Alysian's waist and lifting his hair, nuzzled at the back of his neck like a cat. As he did that I caught sight of a strange thumb wide scar scoured across the palm of each hand.  Curiously new and freshly healed, they were still angrily red, the sort of scar one would receive from a dangerously deep burn, and I wondered why I had not seen them that night in Dameon's hall.

"Phaah!"  He exclaimed pulling away with an outrageous display of feigned fastidiousness.  "You need a bath!  I need a bath.  And you..." He remarked lightly, pointing at me with a long slender finger and a grin that stretched from ear to ear.  "Most assuredly need two.  Too bad we can't get you into one just yet.  Mayhaps… tomorrow or the next… What do you think? Can I get those hung-over lugs of yours to carry you down?  Do you think they'll be sober by then?"

Hung-over lugs? What was he talking about?  I must have stared my confusion, I was doing an awful lot of that this morn, for he threw his head back with a merry chortle and tousled Alysian's hair as he stood. Then he absently made his way to the press and stared into it for a time.  It was then, I think, as I watched him move across the room, that I began to realize that Keiran would never walk. He'd drift, he'd float, he'd soar, at times he'd stomp and run, but the plain simple act of walking would always be out of the question.   As incongruous as it seemed, that part of Jamiel's report was irrevocably true, my swedh was indeed a dancer, a dancer who healed… a healer who danced. I could not deny it, but where did the one leave off and the other begin… and how had he gotten this way? Both professions were lifelong guild slots, whose memberships were held to the exclusion of all others. As such, Keiran was an anomaly, a curious troubling anomaly, and I began to understand why he attracted so much attention. The elidian society was both freer and yet more constraining than that of our more human brethren.  We were freer with our bodies, freer with our emotions, but our lifestyles were rigidly structured. We were governed by tradition. We lived it. We breathed it. It governed the shape of our lives and how we lived them; and Keiran flaunted its boundaries with every breath he took.

My reverie was abruptly shattered by a soft disgusted oath.  "Lyss, love, where are my robes? All Adrian seems to have sent down for me are a couple of leggings and one rather tatty sweater."

Alysian shrugged silently, gathered up my hair; then carefully twisted it, up and out of the way, pinning it into place with the combs.  He had done all that he could do for now and until it was washed; there was really little anyone else could do to bring it into line. It was too dirty, caked with blood, dust and grime, to be anything but rank, but at least he had made an attempt.  Then he grinned at me and winked, before going off to find Keiran's missing robes.  What he meant by it I could only guess.  But I had a sudden underlying suspicion that I had found a friend.

I decided then and there that discretion was not the finer part of valor and did a little probing of my own.  Alysian had done his best that morning, to find out what made me tick and I knew that he'd share his thoughts with Keir.  So now I was determined to do the same in reverse. "How long have you two been together?"  I asked offhandedly.

"Hmmm?"  Asked Keiran absently as he tried to simultaneously pull on his pants and look in my direction. He did a graceful double hop; then did up his leggings up with a smile as my words finally broke through his concentration.  "Oh, you're talking about my little bird!  Forever... I suppose."

Little bird?  What an odd description.  A cat, or kitten, perhaps, something playful and wise, with a definite mind of its own, but I couldn't see Alysian as a bird.  "He seems rather nice."  I remarked lamely as Keiran snatched up his shoes and sat down on the side of my bed.  He pulled one on, frowned, took it off and shook it hard for a moment or two, then tried again.

"Nice.  Yes, I suppose so.  But he can be a real bitch when he wants to. So don't get on his bad side. Still, he's been a good friend, loyal companion, and a loving devoted partner for longer than I care to remember."

There was something about the way he said that last that made me wonder what he meant.  "You two work together often?"

Keiran looked up with a puzzled frown.  His hair was falling across his face, but I could plainly see the questions that lurked behind his eyes.  He shrugged and decided for the time to play along.  He pulled on his other shoe.

"From time to time. Alysian's a lone wolf around here. He has his own list of clients, not many, but they're extremely loyal, and he helps out at the clinic on a regular basis. And the cloisters send for him from time to time, as well.  I mean he's licensed and bonded and well, you saw his arms. He's damn good, almost as good as me, but the truth is… well, most people take one look at his curves and refuse to take him seriously. You know how it is... Fems aren't supposed to have talent; they're only good for one thing...  so we keep him close at hand.  Use him to the best of his abilities here, so to speak.  And in truth, I don't think he minds, both of his parents are hall bound healers... were I mean... his Da died of lung fever last winter... We had an epidemic of a sorts... hit the city hard and he got so caught up in his patients that he forgot to take care of himself until it was far too late, but his mamier is still about.  He's one of the proctors in the children's wing.  And well... this hall has always been Lyss's home.  He was actually born here in this wing, in a room not far from this very one.  You'll probably be seeing a lot of him though, for Adrian has released him from his usual duties to give me a hand... seems I have developed a bit of a problem.  But he's got Cordovan blood and I'm Cordovan, so with us it doesn't come into play.  Are you aware of the difficulty?"

I serendipitously looked around the room with more than one pang of misgiving.  Keiran's off-handed reply had done much to answer my earlier questions.  I now knew exactly where I was.  But then I caught sight of Keir's expression as he watched that tiny bit of information sink in and realized that he had let the information slip on purpose, and from the look on his face, I wasn't so sure I wanted to know why.

"Ah..." I sighed dramatically. "The great Cordovan incompatibility.  Yes, I've witnessed its effect from time to time.  We've quite a few Cordovan bloods making their way through our camp.  Kind of puts a kink into things, doesn't it?  Picking yourself up off the floor every time a friend pats you on the back?"  And that was how the morning went.

I really didn't learn all that much about them, only that he and Alysian had been childhood sweethearts, pledged and heart sworn since the age of thirteen.  It was not an official partnering, not yet anyway. No contract had been signed; but it was a constant and comfortable drift, and most of the Hall tended to view them as a life bonded pair. That much he did reveal. Still there was something in the way he answered my queries that made me wonder why Keiran wasn't too sure about that fact himself.