Magic's Price

Vanyel yielded to Stefs wishes, and sprawled facedown on the bed. Stefen straddled him and reached into the top drawer of the little bedside table.

“What-” Vanyel began, turning his head to look; then when Stefen pulled out a little bottle of what was obviously scented oil, asked in surprise, “How did that get in there?”

“I put it there,” Stef said shortly. “Get your head back down and relax.” In a few moments, his warm hands were slowly working their way upward along Van's spine, starting from the small of his back. Vanyel sighed, and gave himself up to it.

“Now, what doesn't fit in the way Kilchas died?” Stef asked. “And don't you start tensing up on me. You can think and stay relaxed.”

“Kilchas has a little enclosure up there,” Van said, thinking things through, slowly. “The roof is glass. If he doesn't want to, he doesn't have to go out in the cold. I can't see why he would have been outside, and he certainly wasn't dressed for the cold.”

“What if the glass was covered with snow or ice?” Stef countered. “It probably was, you know.”

:I agree,: Yfandes said reluctantly :Everything else was.:

“Good point. But why was he wearing slippers, rather than boots?”

Stefen rolled his knuckles along either side of Vanyel's spine while he thought. “Because he didn't know the glass was going to be iced over until he'd already climbed the stairs to the roof, and it was too far for him to climb down and back up again just for his boots. He was an old man, after all, and his quarters are down here on the ground floor.”

Van gasped as Stef hit a particularly sore spot. “All right, I can accept that, too. But he's had that observatory for years. He always knows - knew - exactly where he is up there. Why should he suddenly misstep now?”

“Because he didn't,” Stef answered immediately. “He was doing something he'd never had to do before. He was cleaning the glass on the roof of his little shelter, trying to chip the ice off. He lost his balance, or he slipped.”

:That sounds just like Kilchas. Stubborn old goat.:

Vanyel tried not to tense as Stef hit another bad knot and began working it out. “Why not get a servant to do it?” he asked.

“No time?” Stef hazarded, as the fire in the fireplace cracked and popped. “This thing he was going to be watching-it would have been about to happen, and he figured if he had to find a servant, then wait for him to do the job, he'd miss part of what he wanted to see. Either that, or he was sure a servant wouldn't do it right. Or both.”

:That sounds like Kilchas, too,:

The air filled with the gentle scent of sendlewood. Vanyel felt sleep trying to overcome him and fought it off. “If he just fell -” he said, slowly, “Why, when I felt him die, did I only feel pain? Why didn't I feel him fall?”

“I don't know,” Stef said, pausing with his hand just over Van's shoulderblades. “I don't know how these Gifts of yours are supposed to work. But Kilchas was an old man, Van. What if he was already dead when he fell? What if his heart gave out on him? That's pretty painful, I guess. And if his heart suddenly gave out, couldn't that cause his Companion's to do the same? Maybe that's why he was found the way he was.”

Vanyel closed his eyes, suddenly too tired to try to find something wrong with what appeared to be a perfectly ordinary situation.

“You're probably right,” he said, :'Fandes, do you agree?:

:Quite reasonable,: she said, wearily. :That's very typical of heart- failure; the shock goes straight to us, too. And Kilchas' Rohan was as old as he was. That's a much more logical explanation than foul play - it's just that so few of you live long enough these days for your hearts to fail that I forgot that. I think we may be overreacting because we're tired and we're so used to treachery and ambush that we ignore other answers, love.:

“ 'Fandes agrees with you -” he began; the Stef started something that had nothing to do with a therapeutic massage, and he murmured a little exclamation of surprise.

“Have we disposed of the topic, ashke?” Stef asked, breathing the words into his ear, his chest pressed against Vanyel's back.

:I think,: Yfandes said tactfully, :that it's time for me to get some sleep. Good night, dearheart,: