Seven Brothers Blessed [ Lore of Penrua: Book IV ]

[ 13 ]

"Will you go to him now?" Uachi asked. By moonlight, he gathered their cups and the jug half-emptied of mead.

"In the morning," said Diarmán. "I'm tired, and near-drunk; if he smells the mead on my breath, he will have more evil things to say."

"Very well." Uachi led the way off of the balcony, through the wide, open wooden doors at the end of the largest upper hall of the house. Behind him, Diarmán swung the doors closed. The heavy iron latch echoed through the corridor.

"Will you be walking me to my room?" asked Diarmán. It was very gloomy, the lighted sconces few and far between, but he leaned in to whisper the words. Uachi saw the gleam of his eyes, smelled the honey and alcohol on his breath.

"Surely you know the way," he said.

"Could I not hear the grin in your voice, I'd be petulant about that. Let me pretend to be helpless so that you may play the gallant."

With a snort of amusement, Uachi gestured ahead with the bottle of mead and began to walk. "Had you wanted a gallant, you chose the wrong man."

"Just you wait. If you care for me, you will change."

Uachi grunted.

"Soon, you will be offering me your elbow at every turn, handing me down from carriages, plucking me flowers—why, I might even see you in a lace cravat every now and then."

"Don't get your bloody hopes up."

"That's the fashion in the capitol, I noticed. All sorts of cravats, worn with a pin. It will make you stand out here in Narr where we dress in doublets and tunics like civilized men, but I've always wanted a peacock for a beau."

"Have you? You don't choose them very well, then. A stable boy and now me."

"Corain was his name," said Diarmán. He slipped his hand through Uachi's arm, folding his fingers into the crook of his elbow. "I do him a disservice, calling him simply 'the stable boy'—he was more to me than that."

"A peacock, then?"

Diarmán laughed—laughed a little too loudly for the late hour and the silent halls. Uachi glanced behind them and then up ahead, alert for opening doors.

"No, I'm afraid," said Diarmán. "Dingy tunics and straw in his hair. But I have had a peacock or two in my time."

"Well, then, you may find another, if that's what you want. I am not one to wear feathers."

Uachi could feel Diarmán's questioning look and heard the concern edging his tone when he said, "I was joking, you know."

"So am I." Uachi folded his arm in slightly, pressing Diarmán's fingers into the crook of his elbow; his hands were too full to be used. "No one but me could bear your company, I'm certain of it."

Again, Diarmán laughed. He pushed Uachi's shoulder, and the mead sloshed in its jug, threatening to spill. Uachi had not been able to find the stopper in the dark outside.

"This is it, is it not?" he asked, stopping outside of Diarmán's closed chamber door. From within glowed the light of a lamp, peeking around the edges of the door. He turned toward the man, raising the jug of mead. "My mission is accomplished. Shall I leave this with you?"

Diarmán faced him, looking him in the eye. He closed his hand over the handle of the jug, over Uachi's fingers. "Yes, please. And you may leave this with me, too."

He rose onto his toes, his free arm sliding over Uachi's shoulders to pull him down. His first kiss landed half on Uachi's chin, the abruptness of it making them clumsy. But Uachi moved into the embrace, meeting Diarmán's next kiss readily.