II. Where the Wind Calls
For a long time, people told Hawke he was a man of bad ideas. Leaving home with nothing to his name? Not bad—just full of adventure and being his own man. That deal a few years ago making him look over his shoulder every so often? Not bad, per se—it made him more aware of his surroundings. Gotta look on the bright side. Everything had a glimmer of something good, so he never quite believed them until tonight.
Going into a very magically cursed forest with no real plan? Pretty bad. And now, unscathed and alive somehow despite the number the treant did on him, he walked out of that bad idea and into another one: taking the magician back to the tavern for what they were owed. He should have just let the guy continue on his way, nose deep in his notebook—magicians were always bad news, especially if they were cute and this one definitely was—but Vahn was so endearingly naïve, Hawke couldn’t leave him to get eaten or robbed or let whatever lurk in the night get him.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
Except Vahn still had his nose in his notebook and kept on writing. His scrawl was practically illegible, all loops and dashes, but the ink never tarnished even as Vahn pushed his hand across the page to continue writing. There was a few times Hawke had to guide him away from a ditch near the side of the road, but for the most part, Vahn kept instep even as distracted as he was.
Nah. It wouldn’t be bad. They’d get a nice meal comped, rooms to stay in and bam, be on their way. Perfect night. Hawke was enjoying himself, thinking of titles for a new song he could string from this whole misadventure. It’d be great.
He almost believed his own lie until they entered the roadside tavern and the common room erupted into a chorus of cheers from everyone who’d been watching the forest to see if Hawke would live. A few eyes flitted to Vahn, confused because Hawke certainly hadn’t set out with a fledgling magician, but they cheered anyway.
Damn it. Hawke had wanted a quiet night.
Normally, this kind of crowd would have made Hawke feel alive. All he’d need was his lute, something heavy to drink, and they’d all hang off his every word. Sometimes he’d even get company for the night and all was good. Not tonight. Most eyes immediately glued onto Vahn and then he started talking about magic. Magic that. Magic this. It might have made Hawke grumpy how easily Vahn enraptured the audience with what sounded like nonsense and he stewed with his drink.
What didn’t help was he’d been traveling for three days on foot with very little cash to his name. All he wanted at this point was a hot soak, fluffy pillows, and an entire day spent asleep.
Whatever Vahn was explaining was dense. Something about how because Illusion Magic was Lunar Aspected, Solar Magic was its antithesis—whatever that meant—and it hurt Hawke’s head trying to follow the more minute details which Vahn lovingly gave. Drunk people made the best audience sometimes—Hawke knew this by experience—and they were wowed, stunned, and cheered whenever Vahn brought the technical explanations back to how they beat up the treant. Every time there was a lull—like Vahn eating a mouthful—someone ordered him another tall glass. Kept the words rolling. Vahn headed the questions with grace, even the stupid ones, and Hawke started tuning it all out.
The tavern was filled with stranded merchants who’d either been robbed by the selfsame treant or ones who’d been waiting for the problem to fix itself. Too bad they didn’t get any goods back, but Vahn insisted there was a mage out there likely with their things given the way the magic was fashioned. They took that well enough, but it probably helped they were drunk. Otherwise, there were also travelers simply on their way and locals filling up the place.
Still, they lingered on every single word when Vahn spoke of magic. Honest to goodness magic from up above. Not the hedge magic people cobbled together down here.
The more Vahn spoke, the more he drank; he was slowly definitely getting drunk. Every new round gave him yet another glass and his cheeks were flushed as he simply downed them alongside the more boisterous of the crowd. Somehow, his words stayed even and enunciated, but that was likely because magic had to be enunciated. When he began to draw spell diagrams to further his magic explanations, even his lines were steady and sure.
Hawke had to admit the diagram drawing was endearing. Vahn was so excited explaining the technical reason why Solar Magic cut through the illusion. No one understood it, but they certainly listened and oohed and ahhed.
Endearingly naïve. Yes. That was what Hawke was going to call this chapter.
He was full enough another bite would be a mistake and sufficiently buzzed. Good a time as any to retire. He left Vahn captivated in a back-and-forth with a merchant how they could utilize Solar Magic to not get illusion-napped again (something about coins and Solar Magic—Hawke was already lost and so too was the merchant he bet), and headed up to the counter near the front entrance. Night air stole inside from the opened doors, chilling the flush in the room, and Hawke breathed in deep to clear his head.
Diana worked evenings to mornings and was there like usual (her grandmother kept an eye on things during the day). She was a plucky, curvy woman about Hawke’s age. Bright blonde curls framed her round face and dropped past her shoulders in little feathered waves. Cute. Had absolutely no interest in cavorting with tavern goers, but she seemed to like Hawke well enough he’d been able to build a friendly rapport.
Her dark brown eyes were set on Vahn until Hawke approached and she set a cat-like grin on him. “Someone’s stealing your limelight,” she teased.
Hawke rolled his eyes and leaned against the counter. His body was starting to feel the day’s work. Everything was sore. Even places he didn’t know he’d used. “Yeah well, he did most of the work.” He wiggled his fingers—his go-to gesture for magic—and Diana giggled. “All I did was smash.”
“Big man smash,” Diana said and he rolled his eyes again. “Liked the food? Grandma said I had to make sure we made something big because she had faith in you. Maybe you can regale her tomorrow.”
“Maybe I could.” Hawke smiled at the thought. “Think I could get a room on the house, too?” His smile widened into a grin and Diana snickered. “Come on, we deserve it, right?”
“We?” Diana lifted her eyebrows and leaned in. “Together?”
“Uh.” Hawke coughed and tilted his head away from her. “Separate?”
Diana pursed her lips and gazed over his head. Hawke turned and followed it. Someone had taken his seat by Vahn, leaning in close. Vahn was downing another full glass to the cheers of the patrons still lingering this late.
“You sure?” Diana asked. “You know what he is right?” She eyed Hawke and he gave her a weary look back. She sure was going to tell him. “Oh, come on, don’t look at me like that. He’s a Wayfarer Magician. Tell me you’ve heard of them.”
Hawke had already guessed as much. Wayfarer Magicians were mages who finished their tutelage up above, but instead of getting snapped up by Lords and Ladies down here and up there, these mages were given leave to explore the Wild Magic down here to continue learning to maybe become a High Magician. More of them died than lived. People here hated the idea. Some upstart magician coddled to oblivion let loose with no leash.
Hawke grimaced, remembering the bangles Vahn wore that glistened beneath the candlelight even now. One leash.
“He’s a baby,” Diana said.
“He is not.”
“All right, not literally.” She drew out the word and Hawke shook his head. “You know what he’s after—any hint of magic. I bet it’s why he went in the forest.” One of the merchants put an arm around Vahn to draw him closer. Vahn didn’t even seem to notice. He was deep in another magic ramble. “Bet that guy’s gonna say his dick is magic and your mage will be all over it.”
Hawke dipped his head back. “And that’s his problem, not mine.”
Diana jiggled his arm. “Throw the poor guy a bone.”
If not for Vahn, Hawke still would have been trapped in the forest. He glanced at the table again. Endearingly naïve and clueless. He simply chattered on and on about magic, oblivious to the world. Hawke brushed his hair back. “Fine. I’ll share the room. Happy?”
Diana had already pumped her fist in a silent celebration and Hawke reached over to shove it. She giggled and stepped back. “What?” she asked all innocent. “This way I only have to give away one free room. Running a business here, you know. Do understand.”
“Room with a bath?” Hawke tried his luck.
Diana huffed and propped her hands on her hips. “You drive a hard bargain mister. Fine. No one’s bought premium in days, so I’ll let you use it as an act of good faith.” She took a key from the board behind her. “I’ll let Sharla and Max go and fill it. Give them a few before you go knocking.”
As Hawke pocketed the key, she slipped into the kitchen behind her to find her coworkers. The kitchens had been cleared shortly after Vahn’s last portion and the ale had stopped flowing. Probably for the best this late. Hawke drew his gaze back to their table. Vahn was a rapt audience this time as the few remaining patrons traded stories back and forth about their own harrowing forest adventures. He was so curious, wide red eyes twinkling as he nursed another full drink someone must have given up.
Magicians weren’t supposed to be cute. They were supposed to be haughty little shits worrying about the dirt underneath their fingernails and how to magic it away. Most of the ones he’d met thought themselves higher than all the people down here and made sure everyone knew it.
“All righty then.” Diana returned and propped her elbows back on the counter. “Got them getting the bath ready.” She leaned closer to Hawke and smiled. “Aw, look at your face!”
Hawke soured it.
Diana snorted and slid a knowing glance toward Vahn. “You know, that little mage does seem like the eager to please sort. You like that type.”
“No,” Hawke immediately said.
“Could be fun!”
Hawke batted at her arm and she batted him right back. “No mages. Easier that way.”
“Aw, come on.” Diana pouted. “Not all of them are like Trice.”
Hawke made a mental note to himself: stop making this tavern home. Diana was starting to know too much about him given how often he was here. He gave her a look, no humor behind it, and she lifted her hands in surrender.
“Just saying,” she said. “You know, you’re so grumpy when you don’t get to sing.” She wiped off her apron and nodded toward the table. “When your little friend finishes up there, they should be done with your room. No more food! Magicians have abysses for stomachs and he’s already eaten so much!”
She wasn’t wrong. Vahn had polished off five full plates of the house special chicken and sausage without so much as a burp. That wasn’t even counting all the soup and bread. Then he’d washed it all down with more pints than Hawke could knock back and still see straight.
Hawke pushed off the counter and headed back to the table. Vahn was drawing yet another diagram in his notebook, something way over Hawke’s head and he doubted the merchant still clinging to Vahn understood it either. Not that he was looking at the notebook; his eyes sat fixed on Vahn. Up and down the curve his back made as he leaned over the table. The others around him tried to feign interest, but he’d lost the crowd. When Hawke sat back at the table, all of them left except for the one just shy of feeling Vahn up without his knowledge. That one only looked over when Hawke cleared his throat and immediately retracted his arm.
“Hey!” Vahn greeted Hawke, his voice warm. “There you are—oh.” He glanced around the table and his smile turned lopsided. Of course, he hadn’t noticed he’d lost the crowd. With the distraction, the last merchant made his leave, but Vahn simply shrugged. “Guess that explanation was way too technical.”
Hawke looked over the table and found a scattering of old coins across it. Most of the currency had switched to solid coins of various denominations, but some of the old ones, from before cities lifted into the sky lingered. Not worth much. They had holes in the center and many people had taken to making good luck tokens out of them. There was a small cord around one of them and something glimmered across the face of the coin, making the whole thing hum.
“What were you doing?”
Vahn’s eyes lit up and he plucked the stringed coin into his hand. “They were wonderful sounding boards! I made a little trinket to catch illusions.” He held it up to his eye and then handed it over to Hawke. “You can have it! I have other ways to catch illusions.”
“How do I use it?”
“If you suspect an illusion, look through the hole.” Vahn wrapped his fingers together and leaned his head on his hands. “The Solar Magic I infused on the surface will let you see through it.”
Hawke gave in and peered through the hole in the coin, turning it on Vahn. No illusion there. There was a shy little smile on his lips and he averted his gaze when Hawke took the coin away.
“I’d let you try, but I don’t really have any spells prepped.”
“I appreciate it.” Hawke slipped the cord around his neck and let it rest against his chest. Might come in handy. “I got us a room.”
“A room?”
Hawke snickered. “You really think I’d let us sleep out in the stables?”
Vahn straightened his back. “A room for me too?”
“One room for us, yes,” Hawke amended. “Diana’s stingy. Are you all right with that? You don’t cast magic in your sleep, do you?”
Vahn snorted and waved his hand dismissively. “Not since I was a first year. They very quickly break you of that habit.” He glanced over the table and his eyes widened as though fully realizing what all had transpired across the table and his stomach. “Oh. Oh dear. I ate a lot.”
“I think you drank more,” Hawke said. “Can’t believe you kept it all down.”
“Magic consumes it,” Vahn explained, a sudden twinkle to his eyes. Hawke bit back from groaning; he didn’t mean to get the guy going with another explanation. “Using so much like I did, especially something I’m not well-versed in, works up an appetite. I could probably eat more, but I’d rather not risk it in case I’m wrong.” He drummed his fingers on the table and his gaze darted from Hawke and toward the counter. “So… you were buying this meal, right? I don’t have much money.”
Hawke laughed and clapped the table. “It’s covered,” he said and Vahn grinned. “Are all Wayfarer Magicians mooches like you?”
Vahn scoffed. “I am hardly a mooch,” he said. “We actually have very generous stipends, but I sort of got robbed of most of it the first week I came down and I haven’t quite gotten a hold of them for another one.” He shrugged. “I’ve been doing fine. Mostly.”
“Is there any other way to recharge magic? Just in case?”
Once more, there was a twinkle in Vahn’s eye. He was leaning on the table, knees on the chair now like he was too excited to sit down properly. “Yes! Since I am Lunar Aspected, that means I can honestly soak in magic from the moon and stars.” He was practically wiggling and Hawke nodded, understanding. “You, on the other hand, you’re Solar Aspected. So, you’d get it from the sun.”
Hawke lifted an eyebrow. “How can you tell I’m Solar Aspected?”
“You smell like the sun,” Vahn said and swirled his finger in a ring of condensation a cup had left behind. Hawke refrained from sniffing himself—he wasn’t sure he smelled like anything but the road at this point. “Anyway, food’s better for recharging. Less sitting and waiting.”
Vahn didn’t look like the type who’d hold still and wait for his magic to come back. He was already gently pulling the mugs close, making them neat, and began stacking his dishes. Once he finished, he sat back in his seat properly and Hawke nodded toward the hall their room was in.
“Think you can walk straight enough to get to our room? Diana even sprung a bath for us.”
“I’m not that drunk,” Vahn insisted. “Promise.”
Hawke didn’t quite believe him—Hawke was sure he’d said the same many times and promptly faceplanted into the floor—but to Vahn’s credit, he didn’t immediately fall upon standing. He wavered until he caught himself on the table with a chuckle. Got his coat on and bag strung across his shoulder all on his own, but leaned a little too far to one side as he walked. Hawke kept a hand near his back just in case he toppled, but let him have some dignity. Didn’t need to carry the poor guy to the room.
“Oh, a bath,” Vahn mused as they walked down the hall. It was quiet and dim this time of night, few candles flickering in the holders on the wall. “I miss the ones we had in the Floating World. They were always warm and fuzzy.” He stopped so suddenly and Hawke almost threw him forward by running into him. “Oh!” He spun to face Hawke, eyes wide. “Are we taking one together?”
“W-What?” Hawke sputtered and shot a wild look down the hall to make sure Diana hadn’t heard. Didn’t need her to tease him any more than she already did. “No. No. Where did you get that idea?”
Vahn tilted his head. “This is not the Floating World. You don’t enchant your baths here, so it’ll grow cold fairly quickly. Oh!” He clapped his hands together. “Wait, I have a spell!”
Hawke bit back a groan. “As long as it doesn’t blow up the tub, I’m game.”
The mischievous grin on Vahn’s lips did not reassure Hawke one bit. “Promise.”
☉
Thankfully, Vahn did not blow up the bath, although Hawke mused it would have made for a funny song. Hawke let him have it first; since he’d done the legwork and probably missed the Floating World, Hawke figured the little indulgence couldn’t hurt. When Hawke got in, it was so warm he could have melted. He didn’t even mind the whiff of magic across the surface or the glimmers dancing across the water. All he needed now was a massage and it’d be the perfect night.
The room itself was small, but only because half of it had been taken over by the bath. It was a wooden tub set upon rough tiles with a water pump controlled by the tavern staff. There were slats beneath the tub itself with coals stoked below it to keep it initially warm, but as Vahn guessed, it wouldn’t have lasted between the two of them without his magic. This side was sectioned off with a wooden screen and on the other was a typical inn room. Wooden floors, wooden walls, some attempt at decoration to make the place look cozy, the bed in the center, the wardrobe beside that where Diana had Hawke’s belongings tucked into, and then a small writing desk. Simple and basic. All a guy could ask for.
As Hawke soaked, he found himself drumming his fingers along the sides of the tub. He was itching to play his lute again, but baby needed a tuning he’d been slacking off on giving her. Just listening to Vahn’s stories and then what he’d gone on and on about while he soaked was enough to get the strumming fingers going, though. Maybe before they parted ways in the morning, he could embellish the fight in the forest, sing for a morning crowd, and bam, spin another local legend.
It’d get him enough cash to get him elsewhere, at least. He’d been fidgety (Diana’s teasing notwithstanding) and maybe it was simply time to move on. There was always somewhere new to linger. Hawke leaned his head against the tub and closed his eyes to listen. The window over the bed had been opened and in came a chorus of crickets singing now that the illusion was over. He never thought he’d miss the noisy bugs, but he had. Vahn didn’t make a peep—he’d probably talked himself out—and nor did anything else outside.
The silence gave Hawke some peace of mind. One more night would be fine.
Time to get out of the tub. As soon as Hawke had pulled himself free, the magic dissipated like a sigh. He unstopped the drain, letting the water loose into the pipes around the tavern. The process always made gurgling noises in rural areas; in a proper city, the whole process was seamless. He took one of the soft towels Diana had also left and took care drying all his sore joints and muscles. Only when he ruffled the towel through his hair did he notice the magic tracing the fabric, but he couldn’t help but smile. It sapped the water right from his hair, leaving it dry and soft. No wonder Vahn’s hair had been dry when he came out.
Guy was too clever for his own good. Hawke finished, leaving the towel on the side of the tub, and dressed in the clean pants he’d pulled from his bag earlier. It felt good to be clean. Couldn’t always afford a bath and this one was more divine than it had any right to be.
Hawke peeked around the screen and like he suspected, Vahn was fast asleep on one side of the bed. He was a tiny lump curled up beneath the blankets with only his hair showing. The window above the bed was open, letting in a cold breeze, but Hawke left it be. Moonlight illuminated the top of Vahn’s head. It probably helped with the magic regeneration or whatever he was talking about earlier.
And Hawke hated he found Vahn cute. He couldn’t lie. The guy was, endearingly so, and he had such an easy to listen to voice. Except this was it. They’d go their separate ways in the morning and Hawke wouldn’t look back. Wouldn’t want it any other way.
While Hawke had been soaking, Vahn had spread his items across the writing desk. Hawke immediately snooped, curious more than anything else, and peered into the bag the magic book disappeared into. No sign of it inside—in fact, it was just dark. Interesting. Hawke elected not to touch it. No magic curses for him, thank you very much. The other items Vahn had spread out was his notebook and quill, a small pouch of what appeared to be cards (also not touching for fear of curses), and a set of folded clothes.
Hawke left it all be and checked the room’s door. Locked like he left it. Good. Safe. He breathed out and faced the bed. He had his hands at the rim of his pants before he forced himself to a stop. No. Pants were staying on tonight.
Gently, Hawke pulled the blankets back on his side of the bed and slipped in. Vahn didn’t stir. Good. Hawke would have felt bad if he’d woken Vahn up. As he made himself comfortable, he refrained from turning to scoop Vahn up. It’d been a long time since he shared a bed without the cuddling part and he’d almost moved on instinct. Instead, Hawke made it a point to face away from Vahn and closed his eyes.
Sleep came quickly and Hawke was glad for that. Meant less thinking. Less worrying about sounds he couldn’t parse around them. He only awoke when he rolled over to find the sunlight and warmth streaming in from the window above him and when the morning bird songs had replaced the crickets.
And it smelled strangely of oranges and cloves. Was that what sunshine smelled like?
Blearily, he opened his eyes, blinking back the bright spots the sun made in his vision, and glanced at his side. No Vahn. Probably a good thing; when he’d rolled over, he’d immediately stretched his arm over the spot. Whatever the orange clove smell was must have been him, then. Hawke intended to sleep for about five more minutes—the sun felt so nice this morning—when his gaze caught the rope drawn from one end of the room to the other across the area the wooden divider had been. It was pushed back, revealing the tub, and Hawke blinked again. Clothes were strung along the rope. Vahn’s clothes given the menagerie of color from fabric to fabric, and then Hawke’s own, drab in comparison.
Each piece had magic sparkling across it. Hawke sat up, words failing on his lips, and he caught sight of Vahn admiring his handiwork. Hawke meant to say something, but the words stuttered as his gaze shot down. Vahn was dressed in a single white shirt that hung a little above the knee and the sunlight did an amazing job shaping the outline of him underneath it. And his lack of pants.
Hawke hadn’t given it much thought last night—they’d passed each other so quickly and Vahn had gone right to bed—but now, awake and aware, Hawke’s thoughts honed in on his bare legs. They were nice. Very bare. Very nice. Hawke immediately flopped back into his pillow to look anywhere else as a sigh eased out of his throat. Vahn faced him. He hadn’t even tied the shirt right in the front. The collar dipped down past his collarbone.
Diana’s teasing voice danced around in his head. Could be fun! she’d said.
“Good morning!” Vahn said. “I hope you don’t mind.”
The lack of pants? Hawke’s lips burned as he swallowed the words. He dragged both hands down his face, telling himself this was fine. “Don’t mind what?” he forced out.
Vahn pointed at their clothes. He had actually hung them with diligent care on second glance, not a wrinkle in sight. “I wanted to clean our clothes. Solar Magic has a fantastic spell for it and I couldn’t wait to try it out. All I had to do was ask Diana for an orange, some cloves and—oh! And rope.”
Oh no. Hawke sat back up. “You asked her for rope wearing that?”
Vahn blinked and glanced down at himself. He smoothed the hem and tilted his head. “Oh. I guess that’s why she was giggling. I was just so excited. I wonder what she thought the orange and cloves were for…” He chuckled and didn’t look embarrassed in the least.
“Of course, she’d be giggling,” Hawke grumbled, throwing the blankets back.
“Is… is that a problem?” Vahn frowned and fidgeted with the sleeves. “Is it your reputation?” He clapped his hands to his mouth. “Oh no, if this ruins it, I can go back and insist—”
“No, no.” Hawke waved his hand and sat on the edge of the bed. There was a small cup of water on the headboard near his side and he took it. “If anything, it’ll help my reputation. I was more worried about yours.” A little lie. Maybe. Hawke was definitely never coming back here. Diana’s teasing would be relentless. Maybe he could escape through the window.
Vahn scoffed. “Mine? Please.” He turned away and Hawke sipped some water. “Mages have sex all the time. I’ve no need to be coy about it here.”
Hawke choked on the water and sputtered it back in the cup. “Excuse me?”
“What?” Vahn asked and stared at Hawke, incredulous. “What do you think mages did up there between classes?” He turned and headed to the writing desk. “Honestly, sex is one of our few valid outlets while we’re there. It’s only natural. Obviously, you don’t have to partake, but it’s incredibly easy to find an eager partner.”
Hawke needed Vahn to stop talking about sex. Desperately. He did not need this right now and bit it back, swallowing the desire down the best he could, and cleared his throat. “Our reputations are fine then. Good.” His gaze shot around the room for another conversation. The writing desk had way more on it now. Like his knives, sword, and his lute. Panic shot through Hawke’s chest. “What else did you do?” His voice gave away the sudden panic and he hated it.
“I didn’t touch your lute,” Vahn said quickly. “Well, except to move it. I understand something dear to someone when I see it.” He gently touched the lute’s wood and quickly ceased and pointed at the knives spread out. “I cleaned all your knives and strengthened them too as thank you for helping me in the forest.” He turned away from all his little projects and leaned his back against the table, crossing his ankles.
Hawke wasn’t sure how he felt about Vahn’s lack of urgency in finding pants, but the magician was smiling so endearingly, Hawke had to look past it.
“Want to learn magic?” Vahn asked, a twinkle in his eye.
Hawke raised his eyebrows and laughed. “I’m not a magic guy, remember?”
“Oh, come on.” Vahn pushed off the table and pulled Hawke up. His hands were warm, magic tingling across them, and he took Hawke to the clothes. The bangles hummed as they moved closer to the magic and Vahn readjusted them. “You—”
“Wait.” Hawke pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do me a favor: put pants on.”
Vahn glanced down at himself a second time and thank the goddess, his cheeks flushed. “Oh.” He laughed. “I am so sorry. You must like my legs. That explains your reactions.”
“Please, don’t phrase it like that.”
“Like what?” Vahn gave him that damning coy smile and plucked a pair of his pants from the rope. “Am I wrong?”
Hawke bit back from replying a resounding yes and simply turned away. His face was too warm thinking about it and watching Vahn move. He shouldn’t have been worried about him; the naïve magician could handle himself, this Hawke was sure about now.
“There,” Vahn said and Hawke turned back around. The pants were dark and tight—hugging the shape of his legs—but no skin showed. “I apologize for misreading you and teasing you.”
Though Hawke wanted to tell him it wasn’t that—the teasing would have been cute in any other circumstance—but he couldn’t tell him to his face magicians were bad news. He just shook his head and drew his hand over the clothes. “So? Magic. You really think I can do this?”
“I believe you can.” Vahn waved his hand over the magic and it trailed after his hand, dissipating. “Everyone’s born with an aspect and since yours is Solar, this should be easy.” He pulled Hawke closer. “Magic wants to be used, even if you only have a speck of it. Repeat after me.”
His desire to teach was so endearing, Hawke couldn’t tell him to stop.
“Sun, I beseech you,” Vahn intoned, the magic licking his lips as a hum as he no doubt held back from actually casting anything. “Clean that which I have displayed for thee.” He waved his hand slowly in front of himself and glanced at Hawke. “Sometimes it helps to have an arm motion too.”
Hawke cleared his throat. “Sun, I beseech you,” he said and his voice tickled his throat as it escaped. Not an unusual feeling, but it would stop there. “Clean that which I have displayed for thee.” Vahn took his wrist and made him do the arm motion too, but nothing happened. It wouldn’t.
Vahn pursed his lips. “Hm.” He faced Hawke, tapping a finger on his chin, and suddenly pressed his hands against Hawke’s throat. Hawke jerked back, throwing him off, and Vahn flinched. “Your magic is in your voice,” Vahn stressed like it made everything make sense. “Something must be stopping the cast in your throat.”
“You can’t know that,” Hawke said, feeling his own throat.
“I can see magic,” Vahn explained. He gently came closer and kept his hands behind him. “I should have asked before touching—my apologies. My peers and I in the Floating World were a little free with one another. My magic tends to come from my abdomen. It’s different for everyone. But I’ve seen it tumble on your words. May I feel your throat?”
Hawke swallowed and listened again to the morning unfolding outside. The birds still sung. Merchants were leaving and their wagon wheels creaked along the road. Nothing there. Hawke still struggled on a simple yes, freezing on when Vahn had deduced the magic came from his throat. What had he done in the forest to make Vahn curious about it? He was getting sloppy or the illusion spell had reacted against it.
“Fine,” Hawke finally said and dropped his hands. “I’m telling you though: not a magic guy.”
“Mhm.” Vahn hummed, not convinced. He gently pressed his hands to Hawke’s throat this time, feeling it up and down with his thumbs. It was a soft but sure touch, moving with precision. Hawke immediately stopped thinking about Vahn’s hands (and where else he might like that kind of touch) and simply waited for him to finish.
“Try again,” Vahn said.
“While you have my throat in a vice?”
Vahn snorted. “Surely, my fingers aren’t that tight.”
Hawke swallowed, feeling his pulse quicken beneath Vahn’s hold, and he repeated the incantation. Vahn’s fingers softened and his eyes narrowed.
“That is peculiar,” he whispered, peering up at Hawke.
“What is?”
“It’s there and it’s powerful. Except it won’t rouse the spell.”
Hawke sighed. Probably for the best. “Yeah, well. Never bothered me none.” He gently pried Vahn’s hands from his throat and let go. “Can’t do it. Guess I deal with smelly clothes.”
Vahn was still lost in thought, his brow furrowed, and Hawke let him turn the words over in his head. Not being able to cast little spells never bothered Hawke and it wasn’t unique to him. Not everyone was a magician, after all. Vahn turned away, a silent incant upon his lips, and his spell flickered back to life. A little impressive; he hadn’t even needed to concentrate.
As Vahn returned to the writing desk, Hawke nabbed a shirt for himself. He pulled it on, tucked it into his pants, and by the time he was decent, Vahn had bent over the table to write. Hawke should not have looked. Vahn had already apologized for misreading him (even though he hadn’t), so Hawke would do well to not stare at his ass and how amazing the pants hugged it while he bent over for one second. He looked elsewhere and the glint off his bangles caught his eye. They were still humming.
“So,” Hawke said and Vahn paused. “What’s with the bangles? You haven’t taken them off once. Did you take them into the bath too?”
Vahn lifted an arm. The bangle slid down, the hum of magic quieting. “You can hear magic, can’t you?” he whispered.
“Sometimes,” Hawke said. “I’m a bard. I have an ear for many things.”
Vahn eased out a sigh. “I can’t take them off.” He left his pen on the notebook and turned around. “I said so yesterday: they can disable my magic.”
“At just a touch?” Hawke crossed his arms. “That seems dangerous.”
“Sometimes,” Vahn amended. “It was reacting to the illusion’s overwhelming magic, thinking I must have been the one that cast it. They aren’t quite used to me yet.” He rubbed his wrist around the bangle absentmindedly. “Magic can be volatile and violent, especially down here. This is to keep us in check.” He dropped his hands, but still wouldn’t look at Hawke. “Such is life. I’m getting used to them. We practice with them in our final year in the Floating University and I only had them disable me twice.” A shudder worked its way through him and he returned to his notebook.
Gone was the excited magician dying to teach others magic. Hawke felt bad for asking. He cleared his throat, trying to move on, and noticed the deck of cards had moved since last night. Three cards were displayed. He pointed at them, drawing Vahn’s gaze, and he couldn’t resist smiling when Vahn’s entire mood brightened.
“What are these?” Hawke asked, although he doubted he needed to.
“My Arcane Magic.” Vahn gathered the deck and gently thumbed through it. “I made it my focus in school and had to make my own deck as part of the curriculum. Usually, I use them to point me to my next destination. They’re also an easy way to make money down here.” He gazed at the three remaining on the writing desk.
The images were too abstract and vibrant for Hawke to look at them directly. Probably magic paint. “What do those tell you?”
Vahn eased out a slow breath and glanced at Hawke. Oh, great. Hawke bit back the words and tried not letting it show on his face. It probably told Vahn to kill him.
“Well.” Vahn drew his finger across the first one. The magic in the ink shimmered against him. “This is the past. It means journey. The journey I began a few months ago.” He moved his finger to the middle card and it turned into jagged rods pointing at the center. “Middle is the present. Change. Something about my journey has facilitated change.” He glanced at Hawke before pointing at the final card. It had two lines along the image, one red and one blue. “And this is a coupling card. Not necessarily sexual or romantic. Just two people together. I have divined the spread’s meaning as I should continue my journey with my newfound traveling companion.”
Hawke paused. “Who’s that?”
“You,” Vahn said and smiled wide. He held his cards closer. “Where are we headed?”
“Wait. Hold on.”
Vahn gathered the offending cards and placed them face down with his deck. “If you’re worried about being strung along on some wayward magic adventure, I am fine with you choosing where we go. And, if all of that is not ideal for you, I don’t have to go with you.” He fiddled with his cards, gently thumbing through them without looking up. “I just know I did this spread three times and thrice got this outcome. Cards seldom lie.” He slipped the cards into their star-stitched pouch. “I’d do it again, but any more than three times is bad luck.”
He’d said it all very quickly like Hawke wouldn’t believe him. He’d seen Arcane Magic at work before. Practitioners were all over the place down here. Not necessarily with their own magic made decks, but most of them were scary good with advice.
“I have no aim,” Hawke said. “I go where the wind calls me. You’re better off divining another destination. Not what you should do.”
But Vahn was smiling. “That sounds romantic,” Vahn said and set his cards down. “I can try that. Better than hopping from tavern to tavern looking for rumors of magic. Not everyone here is open to helping me. Not like you it seems.” He gently began gathering everything on the desk. He was gentle with the knives, sliding them back into the belt he also must have repaired. The leather looked as good as new.
Everything pointed to Vahn being an amazing traveling partner. All the tiny spells he could do could make life so much easier. Except Hawke had been traveling alone for so long, his thoughts froze on the very same scenario. He was used to being alone. Adding a second person to the mix made him nervous. He’d told himself no more attachments. They made things worse, yet here he was, making an endearingly naïve and cute attachment.
“The forest was… illuminating,” Vahn continued. “Traveling alone would have killed us both.”
He wasn’t wrong. Hawke hated he’d taken such a risky job, but he’d needed a place to stay and Diana was stingy. It worked out only because he’d come across Vahn.
Ah, to hells with it. “Nothing will change your mind?” He settled an easy grin on Vahn.
“Likely not.” Vahn’s lips quirked into his coy smile. “Besides, I’m curious about you.” He reached up and gently touched Hawke’s throat before withdrawing. “And bards are fascinating. It might be nice to listen to you perform.”
The statement alone made Hawke’s body buzz. He’d meant to stay level-headed and think about it from a pure business standpoint, but then Vahn had to say that. All apprehensions melted and his grin turned warm.
“You know what,” he said and on one hand, hated the way Vahn’s face lit up, but also enjoyed it all the same. “Yeah, I’ll let you come with me.”
“Good!” Vahn clapped his hands together. “Now, I have an idea. An illusionist had to have done that to the forest and they must be a master of it. If I can just find them—”
Hawke’s laugh bubbled out of his throat before he could stop it and Vahn cut off from saying more, eyes wide. “Hold on there,” Hawke said. “I thought I was in charge.”
“Oh.” Vahn chuckled meekly. “I already forgot our agreement.” He gave Hawke a teasing look. “Where is the wind taking us?”
Nowhere, but Hawke liked seeing the mage flustered. “Maybe the winds are actually taking me there. You really think one illusionist made all those spells?”
“Definitely.” Vahn’s eyes practically sparkled.
“Let’s collect our stuff. I’m sure Diana’s heard something.”
Once again, Hawke let himself believe that maybe this whole thing wouldn’t be so bad.
🙡🙢
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