Magic's Pawn

Tylendel glanced from the hand resting lightly on his own to Vanyel's face, and half-smiled into his eyes. 'No,' he replied quietly. 'Not anymore.'

The quiet, the peace of the shadowed grove let them ignore everything except each other. Caught in the spell of that place and that pose, neither paid any attention to the passing of time -

Until Vanyel stumbled forward, propelled by a hard shove in the small of his back. Tylendel grabbed him to keep him from falling, both of them too startled to do more than emit rather undignified squeaks of surprise.

Gala danced backward a few steps, making sounds Vanyel would have been willing to stake his life were laughter. It was pretty obvious that she'd shoved him into Tylendel's arms with her nose.

Tylendel burst into gales of laughter; he clutched his stomach, nearly incoherent, and gasping for breath. Gala snorted and bobbed her head, and he doubled over again.

They're talking, Vanyel finally realized, as Tylendel wheezed. Or - well, I guess she's teasing him. Gods above and below, all the stories are true! I wish I could hear them.

His stomach fluttered uncertainly, and he tasted the sour bite of what could only be jealousy. Tylendel and Gala were sharing something he never could - something they'd had for years before he had come along. In this, he was, he would always be, the outsider. That realization condensed into a hard, cold lump in his throat, and besides the bitter taste of jealousy, he shivered in a sudden chill of loneliness. And just a touch of doubt.

He could really have about anyone he wanted, couldn’t he? So why should he bother with me? How can I know if he means what he told me?

But before he could throw himself into a mire of depression he found he had his hands full; keeping the trainee from falling over, while Tylendel struggled to breathe around his laughter, and gasped like a stranded fish.

'You wouldn't!' Tylendel choked, as tears ran down his cheeks, and he pulled away from Vanyel to advance on his Companion in mock threat - the effect somewhat spoiled by the fact that he had to catch hold of a tree trunk as something she 'said' made him bend over again with laughter. 'Don't you dare! Gala, I'll do no such thing! You rude little bitch!'

Gaia danced in place, her hooves making no sound at all in the thick carpet of needles. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and Vanyel had, for one moment, a disconcerting double-vision image of the prancing Companion and an equally mischievous young woman of about Tylendel 's age, laughing soundlessly at her Chosen.

This was worse than before. Vanyel felt completely alone - and left altogether on the outside.

Tylendel, not noticing his distress in the least, managed to get himself back under control, and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand as he straightened up.

He assumed a stern expression. 'Now see here, you wicked young lady,' he began, when she turned the tables on him by whickering and reaching out to nuzzle his cheek.

Vanyel saw his eyes soften as he folded immediately. 'Oh, all right, I forgive you,' he sighed in defeat, putting his arms around her neck and resting his cheek against hers. 'But you had damn well better not - '

What it was Gala had 'better not' do, Tylendel did not verbalize; nor was Vanyel entirely certain he wanted to know. He had the sneaking suspicion that it would be no little embarrassing.

Finally Gala shook herself free and shoved her Chosen in Vanyel's direction - a good bit more gently than she'd shoved the latter. And as if in apology, she paced forward and gave Vanyel a brief caress with her nose, rather like a soft kiss, before trotting off into the blue twilight under the pine boughs and out of sight among the trunks.

Silence followed her going.

'Well,' Tylendel said, at last. 'That was Gala.'

Vanyel replied with the first thing that came into his head. 'You really love her, don't you?'

'More than anything or anybody except you and Staven,' Tylendel replied, almost apologetically. 'I'm not sure I can explain it - ' He bit off what he was saying, as if something in Vanyel's expression told him how depressed this meeting had made him.

'Van,' he reached out hesitantly toward Vanyel's shoulder, then pulled his hand back, as if unsure whether to touch him. 'I didn't bring you here to hurt you.'

His very real distress forced Vanyel to pull himself together and try to analyze his feelings, instead of just wallow in them.

They were, to say the least, mixed. 'I think I'm jealous,' he said, after an uncomfortable pause. 'I know it's stupid, she can't ever have you the way I do - but I can't ever share your thoughts the way she does.'

'Huh. You wouldn't want to - ' Tylendel began.

'But that's not the point,' Vanyel interrupted, backing a few steps away. 'I can't know that. You can tell me, but I can't ever know that, can I?' He wasn't sure what to do or what else to say, and so fell silent, turning away slightly and looking out past Tylendel into the shadows that had swallowed the Companion.

'Van,' he felt Tylendel's hand fall lightly on his shoulder, and turned to look into his eyes. 'Do you want to talk about this? Do you want to hear about what it's like for us, how it started? Do you think that will help you understand?'

Not trusting his voice, Vanyel nodded.

'This will take a while; pick a spot to sit. Unless you'd rather go back to the room?' Tylendel raised one eyebrow inquiringly.

'No, I like it here; it somehow seems more private.' Vanyel faltered, and covered his hesitation by looking around for a good place. He finally chose a spot at the base of one of the bigger trees beside them, between two