Date: Sat, 29 Sep 2001 12:37:04 EDT
From: Faradhi269@aol.com
Subject: neriam-5

*Due to the archive this story in which this story is located, there is
really very little need for me to state its fictional nature.  However, if
the character descriptions or names match or mimic another person, either
real or fictional, it is entirely accidental.  If you are underage and
reading this, good for you.  Some of the best authors and readers in this
archive are underage.  But I didn't say that, ok?*

	The next several months blurred by for Neriam and Mordeth.  They
both became quite proficient in all of the weapons of the Order, despite
their youth, as Master Adane, the elderly weapons master of the Monastery
of Araman took them under his wing.  For Neriam, he focused on the simpler
weapons, especially the staff, to take advantage of his speed and to
improve on his shorter reach.  Mordeth, however, he trained to be familiar
with all kinds of weapons, even finding a sword-from where, Neriam had no
clue-to stick into his hands so he would be familiar with its weight and
balance.
	The training continued from sunup to well past sundown: endurance,
weapons, hand-to-hand, melee combat, tumbling, situational awareness.  The
boys no longer took the classes in religion or etiquette, farming,
philosophy or the other classes the rest of the Students went through.
They received a not insignificant number of dark looks from the rest of the
children for this, although that was only half the story.  For if they
misbehaved, as Mordeth, despite his liking for order and rules, was
desperate to do (in the form of pranks), their punishments were several
times as severe as the norm.
	One simple prank against Neriam-a slice with a sharp kama designed
to make an almost unnoticeable cut in the rope belt and waistline of his
short pants, then a simple tug when he bowed to the Masters, effectively
mooning Master Adane-left him standing for around three hours, naked, and
holding full buckets of water in each hand with a bucket of manure on his
head while Neriam punched him in the gut, hoping to dislodge the bucket
from the top of his head and empty its contents onto him.  Neriam, despite
his size, hit hard due to his training, and after only about fifteen
strikes, Mordeth doubled over, finding himself quickly drenched in shit.
Adane grinned, then replaced the bucket while the gagging Mordeth tried to
recapture his breath.
	And yet, despite all the punishments they both received for such
behavior, Mordeth could not lose his enjoyment of a good joke or prank.
And his infectious laughter frequently drew Neriam into some scheme or
another.  As the reprisals grew more intense, so did the violations of the
rules, frequently leaving both boys-and Master Adane, though he hid it
behind his smile-howling with laughter.
	Still their abilities grew.  At the end of the first month of this
intensive training, the melee combat lessons already involved five people:
the two boys and three Masters.  By that time, the two had concluded that
an alliance would be the best choice, and the two of them worked well
together in facing down their teachers.  Of course, they lost, but they
gave nearly as much as they got.
	Another month later, and the two boys won nearly half, and another
Master was added.

	When the Incident occurred, the boys had been training under Adane
for six months.  The melee combat training now involved five Masters.  It
was during one of these sessions, which many of the Students, Initiates and
Enlightened frequently watched between their own classes, that it happened.
All seven people employed weapons of a different sort: Neriam had his
staff, Mordeth used a pair of nunchauku. Master Onoma used a pair of sai,
Barduk also chose a staff, Fundinal preferred his kamas, Lelldrin-the
tumbling instructor-used a pair of clawed gloves, and Adane wielded a heavy
longsword-a weapon which drew many eyes from the crowd.
	Neriam and Mordeth fought to cover each other, although not quite
back-to-back, as it would hinder their movements, they kept their flanks
covered as they lashed out constantly with their weapons; blocking,
striking, dodging.  This particular impressive display of prowess was
dampened only by the knowledge that the Masters were holding back to avoid
hurting the pair of boys.
	Yet even with such precautions, accidents do occur, and this day
was no exception.  Master Onoma had lunged at Neriam with his sai, and as
Neriam sidestepped to bring his staff down on Onoma's outstretched arm,
Fundinal swept a parallel but separate cut at his back.  Mordeth, swinging
his weapons to block did manage to block the first cut but the chain of his
right flail caught the haft of the second weapon and instead of being
parried, it was led into his own side.
	Neriam heard his friend cry out and felt a warm splash across his
bare back.  Ignoring the spectators and other participants, he whirled to
see Mordeth lying on the ground at his feet with a large open cut starting
under his right arm and reaching to his navel.
	Fundinal had stepped back, appalled at the accident, and one of the
Enlightened bolted to find the healers.  Wounds were not uncommon in such a
training program, but none save Adane had ever seen anything like the gash
Mordeth now sported across his abdomen.  Neriam screamed, his love for his
friend reverberating throughout his voice.  "NNNNOOOOOO!!!!!"  A sudden,
powerful force whipped up, driving everyone back several feet and knocking
the nearest people to him off their feet.  The dust of the ground swirled
up around him and the ground cracked as his body exploded into light.
Adane, who had the presence of mind to jam his sword into the ground and
hold on was the only one not blown completely away by the sudden gust of
power that radiated from the boy.
	The healers arrived, as did Eldallan the cleric; however, they
could not reach Mordeth through the immense force surrounding the pair.
	"Neriam," shouted Master Adane at the top of his lungs as his feet
waved in the air behind him like useless kite-tails, "you must stop!  You
must let us near you to help him!"
	Nothing happened, the force remaining the same as the boy screamed
out the pain that he, and surely Mordeth especially, felt.
	"Boy," Adane snapped with as much authority and menace in his voice
as he could, "he will die if you do not stop this, this instant!  NOW!"
	The glow, and the push winked out of existence as Neriam's eyes
rolled back in his head and he collapsed to the ground next to Mordeth.
	The healers quickly approached Mordeth, who lay in a large puddle
of dark blood.  Eldallan began to quickly move his hands and speak under
his voice when Master Onoma snapped, "No more magic, you fool!"
	The cleric ignored him and placed his now-glowing hands upon the
large slash.  He held them there, and several people gasped to see the cut
slowly close and cover over with new, healthy skin.
	Several minutes later, the cleric gasped and sat heavily to the
ground, panting and sweating.  "This," he huffed to his students, "is why I
do not heal all your minor cuts and scrapes.  So don't ask."  With a groan,
he lifted himself off the ground and stood slowly, shaking his head in
disgust.  "We were quite lucky this time.  Any longer, and he might not
have survived."
	He spoke then to Neriam, asleep on the ground.  "Listen to me, boy.
You MUST learn control of your gift, whatever it is, or you WILL be the
reason for your friend's death."  He hobbled off as High Master Teramon
arrived and cleared the crowd.
	He listened intently to the statements given by the Masters, and
some of the older spectators and shook his head sadly.  "I do not like the
options that present themselves to me here."
	"It was sorcery," snapped Master Onoma fanatically.  "You must
remove the demon-child from the monastery!  You KNOW that it is forbidden
by the Order!"
	"Calm, Onoma.  I would hear what Neriam will say to defend himself,
given the severity of the situation."
	"But sir," protested Onoma, "what difference does that make?"
	"Well," reasoned the High Master, "if this power can be proven to
have come from Araman, then it isn't really a problem, is it?  The boy may
still have to leave," he admitted, "but then he will go with Eldallan to
the seminary of Araman.  He will not be lost to us completely."
	"And if not," Adane inquired quietly.
	High Master Teramon sighed.  "If not, then the boy must be expelled
from the Order.  Our rules have forbidden in all forms sorcery.  I was
willing to let the first go as a mishap due to the unnatural ways of magic
that Eldallan taught.  This time, he was not reacting to someone's magic.
I have looked the other way for perhaps too long."
	"But sir," protested Adane.
	Teramon cut him off.  "Adane, I know you care for the boy, and I do
not fault you in this.  But the decision is made.  We will wait for him to
wake, and question him.  Depending on those answers, his future will be
determined."
	Master Adane bowed his head, defeated.

	Hours later, Neriam opened his eyes to see the combined Masters of
the monastery sitting in a semicircle before him.  Mordeth sat next to him
as he was also directly involved in this line of inquisition.
	"Student Neriam, I want you to remember the incident this
afternoon," High Master Teradon, wearing long black robes instead of the
normal monks' garb, said.  "I need you to think about what you saw, what
you felt, what you did."
	Neriam nodded and thought quietly for a few moments.  "Well, I
heard Mordeth scream, and I felt this wet splatter against my skin, so I
turned to see what happened.  When I saw this big hole in his chest, I
didn't know what to do.  Part of me said it was an accident, but the rest
of me just screamed that he was dead."
	"And what did you do?"
	"I am not sure," he admitted.  "I lost myself in it.  Sir, Mordeth
is my best friend.  He's looked out for me, been there for me, and I know
there were many times I wouldn't have woken up in the mornings if he had
not been downstairs waiting for me.
	"I see.  And you didn't call out to Araman, nor see his face or any
such sign?"
	The boy lowered his eyes.  "No sir.  I just got so angry and so sad
that I just screamed and lost myself.  Sir, I know I shouldn't have dropped
things like that just to sit there and do nothing, but I didn't know what
to do."
	Teramon widened his eyes.  "You do not know what this Inquisition
is about," he asked incredulously.
	Neriam mutely shook his head.
	The Master all leaned in and muttered together.  High Master
Teramon held up is hand, silencing the group and turned to address the
boys.  "Neriam, although it appears you did not do so willingly or with
intent, you have been found to have used sorcery within our walls.  Given
the chance to determine of our lord Araman had intervened through you, you
say he did not, which Eldallan did confirm earlier.  We thank you for your
honesty.  However, in light of this situation, you must be expelled from
the Order of Araman.  You will be allowed to stay this one night, and we
will supply you with a map and supplies, but come the dawn, you must be
outside the gates, never to return.  You, Mordeth, having apparently
recovered fully will continue your training program under Master Adane, and
we regret that you were hurt so badly."
	Neriam stared silently, too shocked to move.
	"Sir, you can't do this," Mordeth blurted.  "You just can't!  This
monastery has been Neriam's whole life!  You can't be so cruel as to throw
him out on the street!  He has no one, nowhere to go, and for what?  These
energy bursts aren't his fault!"
	Teramon focused his gaze on Mordeth.  "What do you mean, 'these
energy bursts?'  I thought you were unaware of his episode today."
	"I, uh, am sir.  But aren't you describing something like what
happened in the temple?"
	"No, Mordeth, I am not.  This was different.  You will do well to
remember not to speak unless you are aware of the entire situation."
	"Sir, it doesn't matter!  It's not his doing!"
	"ENOUGH, MORDETH!"
	Mordeth spluttered, but in the end, hung his head.  Teramon
softened his gaze briefly.  "Your loyalty to him is noted and speaks highly
of you.  Now, you are both dismissed."

	The two boys, carefully watched by Fundinal and Onoma, returned to
their room dejectedly and sat in silence, not looking at each other.
Mordeth thought intently over his options-What can I do to stop them-he
wondered.
	His thoughts were interrupted later by sobs from Neriam.  He looked
up quickly to see his friend's thin body shaking at the shoulders as he
fought to keep his tears from flowing.  Mordeth rose and hesitantly pulled
him into a hug.
	As he felt his friend's strong arms surround him, protecting him
for the last time, Neriam's self-control crumbled and he drove his head
into his friend's shoulder, crying out his heart.
	Mordeth felt his heart break as he held the sobbing Neriam.  His
mind flashed with images of all the good times they'd shared, and
inexplicably, to the images of Neriam naked.  Without thought, his hand
started stroking his friend's hair and face as Neriam slowly emptied his
loss.  He picked up his exhausted friend and gently laid him on his cot.
The sobbing had stopped, but Neriam held Mordeth as tight as he could, not
wanting him to let go.
	Mordeth stayed next to him until Neriam finally loosened his grip,
the dried tears obvious on his face.  Mordeth's eyes glistened as he looked
at his friend's face, and he bent down to bestow a lingering kiss on
Neriam's soft lips.  As he did so, his mind flared back to sensibility, and
he jerked back.  -What did I just do-he thought frantically.  -What the
hell did I just do?-
	He fled, and so did not see Neriam's mouth curl into a small smile
as he slept.
							***
	When Neriam arose the next morning, several hours before sunrise,
Mordeth was nowhere in sight.  "Oh no, what did I do?"  He looked
everywhere for his friend, to wish him good-bye, but could not find him
anywhere.  Finally, the time had come when he must be ready to leave.  He
left his room, looking back to the small building in which it lay,
remembering the accidental discovery of the bathhouse and the games he and
Mordeth had played so often in it.
	With a sigh, he turned away and met Master Adane alone by the main
gate.
	"I'm sorry that things turned out like this, Neriam."
	"I know, sir."
	"Well, I have some supplies for you."  He held a worn leather
backpack out to the boy.
	Neriam opened it and looked inside.  A coil of rope and a very
small grappling hook lay inside, as well as a thick winter blanket and some
tinderboxes.  A long ivory tube, capped at both ends filled up a large
portion of the backpack, as did some paper parcels that held dried fruit
and nuts.  A full wineskin hung at the base of the pack. A spare set of
clothes and a small leather pouch finished the contents.
	"The tube is a map of the country, Neriam.  Even I have never
traveled across the mountains into the Good Land nor across the great river
into the barbarian tundra, but this map should serve you well.  The pouch
will have some money for you.  Not much, but enough so that you can get a
bed and a hot meal when you arrive in the city to the south.  Krandol is
the nearest city, and it should only take you a few days to get there on
foot unless you rush."
	Neriam hugged the old man, whose eyes shone with unshed tears.
"You've been my son in so many ways, Neriam.  Take this with you to
remember me.  I was going to give this to you on the day you were made
Master."
	He held out a large black quarterstaff, intricately carved and
exquisitely balanced.  It was a little overlarge for Neriam, being slightly
over six feet tall, but it felt...right in his grasp.  "Thank you, Master,"
he said, bowing.  "I will never forget."
	The old man nodded and turned away, not wanting the boy to see his
own weakness.
	"Master," Neriam called quickly.
	"Yes?"
	"Will you tell Mordeth that I'm sorry about all of this?"
	"Of course."
	"And Master?"
	"Hmm?"
	The boy flushed.  "Tell him...tell him that I love him."
	The old man smiled.  "I will.  He loves you as well, I think.  So
much that he couldn't stand to be here.  Be well, Neriam."
	Neriam gripped his staff firmly and turned away.  The large, heavy
gate closed behind him, and he bowed his head.

	He walked throughout the day, following the dusty road.  In his
bag, he found a thick wool cloak that, although large on him, cut out most
of the chill of the early spring winds.  He silently thanked Master Adane
for this comfort, as he wandered perhaps one-hundred yards off the road to
set up a campsite before darkness overtook him.
	By some sheer luck, several low scraggly bushes still hibernated,
and Neriam grabbed some of them and broke them into variant pieces for a
fire.  He searched the rather empty plain around him and sighed.  There
would be nothing to break the wind, and although some dried grass would
help serve as tinder, and so crouched to block as much wind as he could, he
pulled out the piece of flint and small skinning knife with which he'd been
supplied and struck them together, quickly getting the sparks to land where
he needed.  The dried grass flared up quickly, and he placed the tough bush
wood into the small flame until he had a respectable fire going.
	He drank sparingly, not sure how long the water would last, and
munched on some of his rations.  He'd pushed that day, but thanks to the
intensity of Master Adane's rigorous training, he didn't even feel winded,
and only the possibility of getting lost on the way prevented him from
continuing through the night.  Once his small fire was large enough to
drive away the cold, he pulled out the thick winter blanket, pushed the
backpack under his head for a pillow, and lay back to look at the stars
overhead.
	In the clear night, the stars overhead shone brightly, and the boy
looked for some of the familiar constellations.  -There's Ringil-he
thought, -and there's the Sword, over there's the Chalice.  But which is
that?- A simple triangle of bright blue-white stars caught his eye, but he
could not remember the name of it, nor could he remember seeing it before.
As his mind tried to register this irregularity, he fell asleep.

	He woke in the gray light before dawn, when the sky looked like
dulled steel and the light of the sun diffused into glitters in the gray.
Quickly rolling up his blanket, he donned his cloak and kicked some dirt on
the now-cold embers of his fire.  Hefting his backpack, he rolled his staff
onto the top of his foot and flicked it up to his hand with a quick lift.
Gauging his previous path took only a few minutes, and he turned to the
road to continue his journey.
	The next three days were the same routine for Neriam: gray,
repetitive grassland.  As he reached the crest of a small hillock (the
fifth like it in the past four hours), he nearly dropped his staff in
amazement.  At the bottom of a steep path down, the path bent to the right
towards the river.  And on the other side of that river lie the largest
thing Neriam had ever seen before.
	The clay-brick city stood out as a large reddish stain in the deep
gray countryside, offset only by the clear blue of the river.  He walked
slowly down the path and crossed the simple wood bridge to the open north
gate of the city.  A pair of armored guards, resplendent in their shiny
mail looked down at him, but let him pass without incident.  As he entered
the city of Krandol, he felt his eyes about to pop out of his head.  The
average house, built of brick and stone, rose some three floors, although
the occasional tower of five or even six occurred at irregular intervals
along the way.
	He walked, his head craning from side to side as he tried to see as
much as he could in a single moment.  It was this that caused him to (you
guessed it) bump into a large, burly man in somewhat tattered armor who
quite clearly smelled of strong drink.
	"Hey, watch where yer goin'!"
	"Oh, excuse me," Neriam muttered as he stepped around the man.
	"Whadja say, you little brat?"
	"I said excuse me.  Please let me pass."
	"You got no respect for the Guard, eh?  Well, I'll show you some
respect, you little runt!"
	"Sir, please, I really don't want to cause a problem," Neriam
exclaimed, clutching his staff tightly.
	"Hah!  C'mere!"  The man made a clumsy grab for Neriam, who quickly
sidestepped the attack, sticking his staff in front of the man's ankles,
causing him to trip and loudly crash to the pavestones.
	"Sorry," he exclaimed as the crowd around laughed.  Neriam hurried
off, reading signs looking for an inn or place that served some food.
Another street down, he saw a building named the Golden Chalice, which he
entered.  Almost immediately, a well-dressed woman took a broom to him,
shooing him out the door, despite his protests, and he was forced to
retreat against the onslaught.  "Fine, see if I'll go back there," he
huffed as he continued his search for a place to eat.
	He wandered the city for the rest of the day, eyeing buildings
uncertainly, even if they showed signs of food or stating in words their
provisions, not sure what his welcome would be.  As darkness approached,
Neriam's knuckles were white from clutching his staff so strongly for so
long.  As he looked, he noticed a large number of men-workmen, he assumed
from their clothing-entering another establishment.  He followed them and
was greeted by a large red-haired innkeeper.  "Ho now!  What have we here?
A little urchin, eh boys," he laughed.  "What d'ye want?  I'll no serve one
who canno pay."
	"I can pay," Neriam said, trying to make sense of the strong slur
to the innkeeper's speech.
	"CAN ye now," he laughed.  "Well 'en, let's see the money!"
	"How much for a room and a meal," Neriam countered shrewdly.
	The large man boomed another loud laugh.  "We got us a smart'un
here!  It'll be three silver cesters for yer own room 'n board here."
	Neriam nodded and opened his pack, pulling out the small leather
purse.  He opened it and held back a yelp of surprise.  All the coins
inside were gold!  Neriam had never seen a gold coin before, and he was
unsure as to how much they were worth, only that they were worth more than
silver.
	He shrugged and placed one of the gold coins into the startled
man's palm.  "What 'ave we 'ere," he gasped.  "Looks like we got us a
thief," he grabbed for Neriam's hand.  "What's a boy like you doin' with
gold, eh?"
	Neriam reversed the grip, spinning and placing the innkeeper's arm
into a wristlock, placing his forearm over the extended elbow.  "It was
given to me to buy food and lodging," he answered calmly.  "If that's a
problem, I'll go somewhere else."  He shrugged, putting uncomfortable
pressure on the man's arm, and reached out to grab his coin.
	"N-no!  Welcome to the Fair Fish, sir.  I hope you enjoy yer stay.
Room's at the top, 'n the back."
	"Do I get change?"
	"Uh, yes sir!  Sorry, I forgot all 'bout it."  Neriam relaxed his
grip, and he hurried behind the bar, grabbing seven silver cesters and
placing them in his hand.  Neriam gave one back.  "Thank you for your
help," he said as he grabbed his bag.  "Can I have my food sent to my
room?"
	"Of course, sir," the innkeeper nodded, relieved and palming the
coin.
	"Thank you."  Neriam hoisted his pack once more and ascended the
stairs toward the back of the common room.  The tension in the room, which
he had not even noticed exploded in laughter at the fat innkeeper who was
gulled by a little boy.  Even the fat man started to laugh after the shock
wore off.
	"I'll no be caught off guard again," he laughed.  "I'll no make the
same mistake twice."
	The food Neriam received was quite different than anything he'd
ever had before, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to know what sort of meat
he was eating, but there was plenty, and it was hot.  He slept on a
mattress-a straw mattress, admittedly-for the first time, and found that he
rather enjoyed the lifestyle he had.  He woke the next morning refreshed
and went around the city, trying to get his bearings.
	He lived in Krandol for nearly a week, learning the streets and
back alleys, the shops and taverns and most importantly to him: he made
friends among the children of the streets.  As he spent more time with
them, he realized that he'd actually had a good life, if a hard one, and he
was luckier than they were.  He could move nearly as quietly as they, and
he was better in a straight-up fight than any of his companions, although
they DID possess skills that he did not, and many were more than willing to
teach him how to jigger a lock or pick a pocket, such was his own personal
beauty and attitude.  Neriam had quick hands and learned these skills
quickly, although he had neither the time nor the inclination to master
them.  He did learn the rudiments, however, and was thrilled at the
inclusion by the children.
	He and his companions DID, however, frequently break into
warehouses to play, as the streets were often too crowded or dangerous.
They thought it fun to hide amongst the mountains of crates and boxes, or
to run along the tops agile as squirrels or chimpanzees.
	It was during one of these adventures that Neriam stumbled on
something outstretched in the darkness, hearing a muffled cry of pain as he
did so.  His curiosity got the better of him and he moved closer to
examine.  He called his larcenous friends over and asked one of them to
light a candle.  It was done quickly, and the small group of boys looked
into a barred crate to see another boy sitting inside of it.  He was
nursing a bruised leg, apparently Neriam had tripped over it in the dark.
	"What the 'ell is this," exclaimed the boy holding the candle; the
youngest of the group, called Mouse.
	"I'm not sure," Neriam answered.  "Hey, are you all right," he
asked.
	"Does it LOOK like I'm all right," the melodic voice hissed.
	That hurt.  "I'm sorry if it was a stupid question," he apologized.
	"What're you doin' in there," squeaked Mouse.
	The boy sighed, "I wish I knew.  Does anyone even know where we
are?"
	"Krandol," Neriam answered.
	"Where is that?"
	"Southern part of Melkor."
	"Melkor?  Gods, they've gotten me far."
	"Who?"
	"I don't know.  I've never seen them."
	"What's your name?"
	"I'm Alsuin."
	"Where're you from?"
	"The Good Land.  Reardon, actually."
	That caused a lot of whispers among the boys.  "Really," asked
one-a pug-nosed cherub called Mat.  "Are there a lot of Elves there, and
all that stuff?"
	"And are you all really trained from cradle to pleasure others,"
asked the oldest boy, Willim.
	"No no no," Alsuin replied irritably.  "Look I'd answer all your
questions if you would just get me out of here.  I want to go home," he
cried, belying haughty demeanor.
	Neriam looked around.  "Anyone bring their picks?"
	All five boys held out some picks.  "You oughta know better'n that,
Neriam," laughed Mouse.
	They worked quickly, and soon Alsuin was released from his cage.
"Thank you.  Let's get out of here before they come back."
	"You still haven't pointed out who 'they' are," Neriam reminded.
	"Later," he pleaded.
	Neriam shrugged and the boys headed out of the warehouse.  As they
reached the far entrance, a cry from the back alerted them.  "Split,"
hissed Willim, and the boys bolted into different directions.  Neriam
grabbed Alsuin's hand and herded him off to the Fair Fish, where he figured
they'd be safe.  The two of them barged in the front and ran up the back
stairs before anyone could see or say anything.
	"'ere, what's 'e got up to," wondered the innkeeper.
	Upstairs, he got the fire lit and sent down for some food, turning
to talk to the boy.  The figure before him stood only slightly shorter than
he, although even slimmer, although not by much.  He had long, bedraggled
hair and apparently once-fine clothes.  His dark eyes looked at Neriam with
a mixture of fear, uncertainty, and gratitude.  "Let's get you a bath," he
decided.  "We can talk then."
	Alsuin looked at him thankfully.  "I'd really like that."
	Neriam scrounged through his pack and found another pair of his
clothes.  "These should probably fit you.  Come on, let's go down to the
bathhouse."
	They trudged downstairs and Neriam informed the innkeeper that he
wanted the bathhouse prepared.  "And clean this time," he added, holding a
few silver cesters before him.  The fat man snapped up the coins and said,
"Of course sir.  It will be a few minutes, though.  You want to eat first,
eh?"
	Neriam shrugged and looked at Alsuin, who nodded.  "Bring it up to
the room, then," he said before turning both of them back upstairs.
	"Anyway," he chuckled once they got back to his room, "my name is
Neriam.  Sorry if I forgot the introductions."
	"It's all right.  Thank you for helping me."
	Neriam looked at the boy, trying to see past all the dirt and
grime.  "How old are you, anyway?"
	"Nearly thirteen."
	A knock at the door interrupted any further conversation.  Neriam
opened it, tipped the young boy a few coppers (he learned all about how
money worked from his companions in the streets-they didn't even steal too
much from him!) and closed the door.  Alsuin attacked the food ravenously,
and Neriam ate slowly, watching.  There was something about this boy that
reminded him of Mordeth.
	Bemused, he shook his head.  Why would that be?  The two are
nothing alike.  Alsuin's body type was much more like Neriam's: not as
hard-toned, but just as graceful.
	After they ate in silence, they sat back to digest, while Neriam's
thoughts raced.  Another knock informed them that the bathhouse was ready.
They went to the bathhouse and Neriam tipped the boy to have their clothes
cleansed.
	As the two boys, followed by the launder removed to the bath,
Neriam thought about what his next step would be.  Inside the small stone
room stood three wooden tubs, two of which were filled with steaming water.
Alsuin gazed with naked longing at the tub and without a hint of modesty
removed his clothes and slid into the water.  Neriam shrugged and he picked
up Alsuin's discarded clothes, as well as handing the boy his own clothes.
"Have these sent up to my room when they're clean, all right?"
	The boy nodded and took their clothes.  Neriam sat in the tub and
looked over to his new companion.  "So, mind filling me in?"
	Alsuin said, "My master is a very wealthy gentleman back in
Reardon, with connections to some of the noblest Houses.  I am his pupil,
and was to be dedicated on my thirteenth birthday to the service of Amarah,
goddess of love."
	"Dedicated to her service?"
	"Yes.  Those dedicated to her service, which is entirely voluntary
and protected by law, are trained to pleasure their patrons.  The prices
paid for us go to our masters, of course, but any patron-gifts we get for
exceptional work or somesuch we keep for our own to buy our freedom from
it."
	"I don't understand.  If you voluntarily enter this service...?"
	"It's a great honor to buy your way out of service.  It means you
excelled, and if you do it well enough, you could possibly start your own
noble House.  All the Houses stem from this service."
	"Ah."  Neriam still looked confused to Alsuin.
	"What?"
	"Well, it's just that, well...what do you mean by pleasure your
patrons?"
	Alsuin's eyes widened.  "By the gods, you can't be serious!"
	Neriam blushed and looked away.
	Alsuin chuckled wickedly, a startlingly mature sound in one so
young as he.  "Don't worry.  Listen..." He detailed the basics of sexual
intercourse and the natural proclivity towards sex that people have.
	Neriam listened, rapt.  His mind imagined SO many things, many of
which he would later learn impossible to perform, but still amazing to
envision.  He shook his head to clear those thoughts-at least, for the
moment.
	"So why are you here, then?"
	"I do not know.  My master was out doing a favor for the matron of
one of the Houses, and I was home studying when someone stuck something
into my mouth and put a bag over my head.  I think they don't realize that
I'm too young for that service."
	"Too young?"
	"Yes.  The laws prevent anyone who has been dedicated to service to
be, uh, deflowered before their fourteenth birthday.  Anyone who violates
those laws will be severely punished, not by the Guild, as most people
believe, but by the goddess herself."
	"Oh.  So you think you were taken to be a," he hesitated, "pleasure
slave?"
	"I think so.  It makes sense.  But why me?  I think there's
something directed against my master, as well."
	"How far away is Reardon?"
	"A thousand miles and across the mountains," Alsuin answered
hopelessly.
	"Do you know anything about money?"
	"Of course."
	"Do you have any?"
	"No."
	"Is your master a nice man?"
	"Yes.  I miss him very much."
	"Well then, I guess I should take you home, then.  You seem to know
more about the world than I do, and I'll need someone who knows to help me
out."
	"Really?  You would do that?"
	Neriam shrugged again.  "Why not?  I have nothing for me here, and
I'm wasting the money Master Adane left for me."
	They bathed in silence after that.  Neriam stood first, grabbing a
ready towel and drying himself quickly, wrapping the towel around his waist
as he moved across the room for a robe.  Alsuin took quite a bit longer,
and only after Neriam had turned back towards the tubs did he rise, the
water dripping in rivulets down his ivory skin.  Now that he was clean,
Neriam could see his flawless skin and beautiful silvery-white long hair.
He would have thought the boy albino save for his large dark eyes.  His
hairless body was lean enough so that the muscles could be seen beneath his
skin, though not nearly so defined as those of Neriam or Mordeth.  The
first thoughts running through Neriam's head-He's beautiful-threw him off,
and he quickly tossed a towel to Alsuin, who caught it and began to dry
himself, donning Neriam's spare clothes before carefully working at his
long hair.
	"I've never seen someone with hair that long," Neriam managed,
still staring at the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen.
	"My master thought it heightened my exotic nature," Alsuin replied
wryly.  "Of course, he doesn't have to worry about tangles or drying it for
half a day, does he?"
	"I guess not," Neriam muttered.
	They returned to Neriam's room, where their now-clean clothing
waited for them and a fire cheerily burned in the fireplace.  Both dressed
and Neriam filled Alsuin in on his own story periodically getting up from
his seat at the foot of the bed to refill the fuel, omitting the strange
occurrences; but instead alluding to some other severe slaughter of the
rules.
	"Well, if you've had all that training, you'd be more than welcome
in my master's house," Alsuin said when Neriam had concluded.
	"Good.  Then we'll leave tomorrow."
	"Tomorrow?!"
	"You don't want to be found, do you?"  Alsuin shook his head
emphatically.  "Good.  I have nothing to keep me here, and I'd like to get
over those mountains as quickly as possible."
	"Do you know what you're doing?"
	"Not a clue," he grinned.
	Alsuin's return smile looked a bit sick.
	"I'm a fast learner.  We'll figure it out.  But we should get
moving quickly.  We should sleep now, so we can rise early tomorrow."
	"Sleep," Alsuin objected, "but..." he looked out the window to see
night had approached long ago.  "I suppose you're right."
	"Well then, let's get some sleep.  The fire will be out soon
enough."  He drew back the blankets on his bed and slipped in.  "It's large
enough for the both of us.  You might as well get in," he said, noticing
Alsuin's hesitation.
	-Well, what the hell-he thought as he hopped in next to Neriam.
Alsuin looked at the face of Neriam, already asleep beside him and thanked
Amarah for her aid in bringing him this friend.  Then he, too, fell asleep.