Gyan smiled as Tradrian stood up, grabbed their empty bowls and stacked them together. He rested his head on an arm as he watched his lover walk to the back of the tavern, the dim light of the dying fire causing his shadow to twitch around. Gyan admired his new vestments, a long dark robe with a dark blue shawl and a white cord wrapped around his waist that hung down to his knees, it was meant to carry a small lantern, but he would be given one after he finished his initiation with Sanberaht. When they had first met months ago, Tradrian was about to become a full fledged priest of the Tribune, but their connection made him realize some truths about himself that Zacsoth would not abide.

Tradrian came back out and Gyan stood up as he approached. Tradian grabbed his hips and pulled him close. As they kissed Gyan grabbed one of his hands and slid it under the top of his skirt.

Tradrian laughed as he gently pulled away, “I can’t be late to the midnight prayers again.”

Gyan held Tradrian’s arm tightly as he slipped slightly when he pulled away, “probably best, I’m not sure I could manage.”

“Oh, you’ve managed quite well when you’ve had even more to drink.” Tradrian let him go and he winked at Gyan, “keep that energy for when I’m back.”

Gyan smiled, his face felt hot, “I plan to. Be safe.”

“I will.”

Tradrian left and Gyan locked the door behind him. Gyan took the stools they were sitting on and put them on the table. Boyke, the keeper, preferred when they were all up so it was quicker when he cleaned in the morning.

Gyan moved close to the fire and watched the dying flames dance. He thought of Harim, Boyke’s brother, he had just started his asesh when they first met, back when they were all owned by Malim, Gyan was nearly done his. A year after that, Boyke and Harim had disappeared, Gyan thought they had been sold off. One day, perhaps nearly another year later, when repairing a road with some others, Gyan saw Boyke and his brother carrying barrels into the tavern. That’s when Gyan learned of the deal Boyke made with Malim and ended up doing the same. 

The fire cracked a few more times before it had died down just to the hot coals. Gyan used the rod to push them to the back and covered the front. He went up the stairs slowly, trying not to make too much noise, though Boyke never seemed to be woken up by anything. As he came up the stairs, he looked at the small ladder that went up the tiny attic that had been his room when he first came here. It was always so sweltering that he never slept well. Now he and Tradrian stayed in the room that had been Harim’s and he slept much better.

He took off his skirt and laid on top of the bed bare. He felt like he was spinning even though he knew he was flat on the bed; perhaps drinking that first bottle on his own before eating with Tradrian was not a good idea. Gyan had to deal with a rowdy crowd early in the evening and had needed to calm his nerves. Before Tradrian moved in, he would have gone to the back to smoke the witches’ weed with Harim, but even though Tradrian was no longer aligned to the Tribune, he still saw it as an unacceptable impurity and made Gyan and the brothers stop. Gyan was pretty sure Boyke still did, but Gyan just drank more when he needed to.

Although, that was not as often now that he had completed his deal with Malim and was not subject to the whims of noblemen in the night. Rather, most nights, when Tradrian returned from temple, he could spend time making love. Tradrian had completely annoyed Gyan when they first met, always interrupting him when he was at the baths in the morning trying to relax. He had a tattoo very similar to Gyan’s, apparently done by the same inkmaster, which is what drew him in. Gyan thought of Tradrian in the baths, his hair slicked back wet, water dripping down his body. He felt himself in the dark and didn’t want to wait for him to return. His mind drifted to other thoughts and he could not finish.

He heard something from the hall and got up, peaking out his door he saw Boyke heading down the stairs. Gyan grabbed his skirt, and made his way down the stairs and through the kitchen.

The back door was open and the dim light of a pipe brightened as breath was drawn through it. It was particularly dark as both Eur and Icus were waning into crescents and patches of clouds covered the stars. He couldn’t make out which robe he was wearing, but most of Boyke’s were plain and covered in stains and patches. Gyan leaned against the opposite side of the door and Boyke handed him the pipe. He took a long draw and held it in before letting it out.

He sighed and handed it back to Boyke, “I miss it.”

Boyke had taken another small draw and blew the smoke at him, “it isn’t pure.”

Gyan let out a light giggle, “neither are we.”

“You best tell him that, he did give up on the Tribune.”

“He spent his asesh training to be one of their priests, it’s hard to break all those habits in only a few months.”

“Aye,” Boyke said, before taking another draw, “some take years.”

“They do,” Gyan said before grabbing the pipe. “Any word from your brother?”

“A letter came a week ago.”

“A week ago? Why haven’t you said anything.”

“I was trying to read it myself,” Boyke crossed his arms, “I didn’t want to bother Tradrian since he had been trying to get ready for the ritual.”

Gyan reached over and squeezed Boyke’s arm, “you know he’d be happy to. He still feels like he owes you and your brother for everything.”

“I feel bad, it seemed like Harim was learning faster when Lanis was teaching him.”

“You’re doing better than me.”

Boyke laughed, “even I feel like you aren’t trying, Tradrian says whenever he tries to teach you that somehow it ends up turning into something else.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Gyan said, looking up to the sky.

Boyke snorted and grabbed the pipe back. 

Smoke drifted softly into the night as the two of them passed it back and forth in silence. 

As the clouds parted, Gyan could see the Pillars above. The Fire Festival would be soon and next month, the Day of Flowers. He was looking forward to both now that he had a family of sorts to share with.

Boyke knocked out the pipe and gave Gyan a pat on the back as he went. Gyan crossed his arms and slouched in the door frame more, listening to the night. It was quiet enough to hear the river just under the trilling of the bugs, the occasional sound of a dog barking or the guards hollering out. He wondered if the clouds made any noise as they drifted by,  if birds could hear them moving like wind or if it sounded more like water, splashing when they flew through one.

A yawn broke the moment and Gyan stood up, closing the door. He moved through the dark building, hearing Boyke’s snores as he came up the stairs. Gyan gently closed the other’s door all the way and went into his room, again sliding the skirt off. This time he got under the sheet and laid on his side towards the wall. Closing his eyes, he smiled in the dark and said, “Lantern guide you.”

---

Tradrian came back out from the kitchen and looked at Gyan holding his head up with his hand, a big, drunken grin on his face. He couldn’t help but smile back. Gyan stood up as Tradrian approached. The top of his tattoo was visible in the fire’s light, a cherry tree that stretched across his stomach from a trunk that went down his leg. Even though he had become free of Markirrten’s chains since they met, it was still his preference to only wear a short skirt during summer. Tradrian knew in the shadows of the tables, the roots of the cherry tree would be visible down his leg.

The last patrons had left a while ago, so Tradian grabbed Gyan’s hips and pulled him close. The tavern’s keeper was like them, so at this point in the night, neither had fear of being caught. Gyan’s breath smelled like the sweet wine they just had, as they kissed he grabbed one of Tradrian’s hands and slid it under his skirt.

Tradrian laughed as he gently pulled away, “I can’t be late to the midnight prayers again.”

Gyan held his arm tightly, Tradian helped to steady him. “Probably best, I’m not sure I could manage.”

“Oh, you’ve managed quite well when you’ve had even more to drink.” Tradrian let him go when he seemed steady, then gave him a wink. “Keep that energy for when I’m back.”

Gyan smiled. Tradrian was amazed he managed to blush when he was already flushed from the wine. “I plan to. Be safe.”

“I will.” Tradrian said as he stepped out the door. He heard Gyan lock the door behind him as he walked to the temple.

Sanberaht’s temple was on the upper river bank on the other side, his walk was generally pleasant as he walked through the noble’s district. Different trees blossomed through spring and early summer, their fragrance was always noticeable even at night. As he had made this walk for several months and wore the vestments, the guards no longer stopped him. 

Even when he crossed the river at the Island of the Owl, there was no fuss. A guard would still escort him across. They chatted about the Fire Festival coming up, the guard’s brother, his wife and children were coming to the city. The youngest keihand had not yet seen the festivities.

A short walk through the other side of the city brought him to the temple. Above ground it served as an apothecary, the priests made different tonics and tinctures for those unable to sleep or dream; underneath is where they met.

Tradrian let himself in and walked down to the ritual room. His teacher, Eremir, was directing the asesh initiates to prepare for the ritual.

He sniffed the air, “Is that the witches’ weed?”

Eremir laughed, “is that what your country Tribune priest called it?”

“They say it’s impure, as it muddles the mind”

“It’s a sacred herb for the Wellspring, but practical for us,” he said wafting some of the smoke, then directed a stern look to Tradian, “remember you are no longer beholden to Zacsoth. Priests elsewhere use this herb; it does not interfere with purity when used correctly.”

“And how does one use it correctly so it does not corrupt?” He said, crossing his arms.

“When it is used for prayer,” he knelt down, sitting on his legs, “we use it along with the incense instead of taking it in directly, to relax the spirit and prepare for the journey.”

He knelt down beside him, the smell did dissipate as the asesh finished lighting the rest of the incense. They knelt down behind them. Tradrian looked around, “are the heitesh not coming tonight?”

Eremir shook his head, “they have been busy preparing for the Fire Festival.”

Tradrian nodded and looked forward. He closed his eyes, waiting for Eremir to begin the prayer. Tradrian was able to advance quickly as most of his training with the Tribune carried over. He knew how to prepare most of the materials for rituals, how to keep ritual purity, many of the preparations for rites were similar and easy for him to learn. The only difficult thing now was to be able to connect with Sanberaht’s Grace. He had instantly lost access to the Tribune’s when he declared his intention to leave. Eremir said that Sanberaht was testing Tradrian’s new devotion.

It had been a dream that helped Tradrian realize his previous path would only lead to suffering and hardship for both himself and Gyan. The Lantern had guided him and for that he was grateful; he fully intended his devotion to Sanberaht and he would do what he had to to prove it.

Eremir began chanting, Tradrian and the asesh followed. He kept his eyes closed, finding it was the best way to keep focus. Tradrian prostrated when the ritual called for it and they went silent. Several moments passed and Tradrian tilted his head up to look at Eremir, usually the next part had begun by now.

As he looked up, it was brighter. He raised back to kneeling and looked around. He was outside, no one around him. There was the sound of laughing in the distance, he rose to see where it was coming from. Buildings formed as if from a mist and he heard the laughing from an alleyway, he followed it. It came to a courtyard, where he saw some kei and kai running around. Gyan was playing with them, trying to get them to play the game correctly but the youngest just kept kicking the ball around as the rest chased them. Gyan looked up to Tradian and smiled as he waved. Tradian waved back. The children turned to look at him and called his name as they all ran to him, hugging as they circled around him.

He felt a nudge on his side, as he turned to look he was kneeling back in the ritual room with Eremir. Tradrian felt his neck tingling, a warm leaving his body.

“I did it,” he said, a smile slowly crept to his face.

Eremir smiled and stood, crossing the room to the altar. He opened a small box and brought it over to Tradrian. Kneeling across from him, he placed it on the ground. Tradrian reached in with both hands and pulled out the lantern inside. One of the asesh came and put the box back on the altar.

Eremir stood, motioning for Tradrian to do the same. Both asesh came over, they took the lantern from his hands and helped tie it correctly to the cord.

“You still have much to learn, but Sanberaht will guide you. Your connection to him is without doubt now.”

For the first time, the asesh smiled at him. “What did you see?”

“It’s not polite to ask the first vision Sanberaht reveals,” Eremir scolded, “often it is a very personal desire.”

“Would the dream that led me to him not be my first vision?”

Eremir smiled and said, “not all dreams are visions, if Sanberaht guided you before into leaving the Tribune, a part of you must have already been considering it.”

He grabbed Tradrian on the shoulder, “whatever he showed you this time was a desire to come to pass, take comfort in the knowledge that it will come to you, but try not to force it, for it may change.”

Tradrian nodded, wondering if he should tell Gyan. Unsure of what it truly meant. The children obviously couldn’t be theirs – but the way they addressed him was so familiar, he felt safe when they were around him.

He helped the asesh clean and put everything away. They chatted about the things they thought Sanberaht would reveal to them, Tradrian simply listened. When they were done, Eremir had come back with some wine. They all drank a small cup together before Eremir and Tradrian left.

They walked together until the island crossing and Tradrian continued the rest of the way home. He let himself into the tavern through the back. Before he went into the room, he put his lantern out, the fragrant smoke lingered around him. Inside, he untied the lantern and put it in a box he had prepared, laying the cord around it.

He took off the rest of his clothes and hung them up. He felt Gyan’s skirt on the ground and hung it up too. He got under the sheet and cuddled him. He could smell the witches’ weed on him, rather, the Wellspring’s sacred herb. It was the Tribune that taught him to abhor it, same as it had done to himself.

He thought of vision, Gyan’s smile as he played with the children. He squeezed Gyan tightly, who turned around and nestled his head into Tradrian’s neck. He didn’t know how they would do it, but knew they would raise all those children together. He hadn’t felt this certain in a while and he felt happy knowing Gyan would be in his future.

Glossary and Explanations