Rexi and Talon

By Onyx Tao

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16. 'Zackton Silvercane'

"... then as you are safe in my arms, rest and slumber, Talon," the half-orc said, letting the magic course through his words. It was a potent magic -- one of his strongest -- and one that could easily have put a dozen or so Talons to sleep. Focusing the entirety of it on the half-elf in his arms practically guaranteed the result, that Talon would snuggle up to him, and finally, finally, rest.

And with luck, not quite remember the first part; that he was safe in Zackton's arms. Did that constitute cheating, though? It was a compulsion ... but Talon had asked for it, and it had nothing to do with any other emotion. Still too close to the edge ... Zack sighed. Sometimes even his best intentions didn't entirely hold up. The feeling of safety would linger for a fortnight or more, unless he dispersed the magic.

Cheating, he reminded himself. It would invalidate his test. And Talon was already asleep ... it's not as if he'd wake back up. And the magic was his, to use as he saw fit ... stop delaying. A few soft words, and the suggestion he'd structured around Talon dissipated, apparently without effect. There.

Of course, Talon was asleep. Zack considered his own needs for a moment; what he really wanted to fuck Talon, but ... not until he had a fix for the bleeding. He could make inquiries, see if such a periapt were available, but ... it didn't sound like the kind of thing that could be had easily. Not like a potion, not a common thing at all.

No, he'd almost certainly have to make it himself. He could, of course, it was just money -- which he had in abundance -- and time. The last could pose problems. If he'd known he'd need it, he could have built it on the boat -- ship, he corrected himself, he could have enchanted it on the ship. It didn't seem serious enough to trade any of his favors with his patrons when he could accomplish it himself; those, he held for the things that were outright beyond him. No little favors, then. Not for the first time, he missed Darz. This was exactly the kind of thing that had made her so useful. Identify a need, tell Darz make it happen, and a few days later -- results. Laziness. Or a sign he was overextended; that he was moving too fast, his plans weren't ready.

I didn't plan for that, Zack thought, and then I didn't leave enough slack in plans to adjust for unexpected events. He had left some, simply not enough. Making the periapt would probably require three or fours days of exactingly precise magic-making, and although he was no stranger to that, it wasn't fun for him in the same way that, say, four days of rehearsal and choreography would have been. But it's the only way I can have the dance I want with Talon. And he wanted that. Yes. He'd have to block some time out for crafting, wedge a little more time in, somewhere.

Zack moved Talon a little closer to him in the bed, slipping an arm over him, taking a deep breath of the sweet scent of the half-elf, half-human skin ... all the delicious complexity of human, muted by the elven, hinting at things that were not quite there but all so almost ... and it took a great deal of effort not to pull him yet closer, not to spread those lovely trim legs, caress the smooth flesh of his ass, find that lovely, hidden center ... listen to Talon moan in pleasure as he worked himself inside ...

No. He really didn't want to tempt himself that way. He didn't doubt his control, but he simply saw no reason to taste that pleasure when he couldn't enjoy it fully. For now, he'd just let Talon sleep at his side. That didn't mean he couldn't enjoy himself elsewhere ... yes. That would allow him to relieve some this excess energy, and keep the pressure on Talon down. Yes. Yes, yes, yes.

The simplest thing would be to go wandering throught the city, find some poor human bigot, male, youngish, strong, who thought he was big ... and teach him just how wrong he was. But that would leave bodies, and that wouldn't be a concern if Zack were just passing through, or even if he planned to leave in a day or two ... but he might be staying for several months.

And he was being followed. The halflings were probably Rexi's, but the taller shadows ... probably not. Trivial for a killer of his experience to make them go away ... but being pushed into that kind of action would reveal -- too much. Even shaking them off would make whoever sent them wonder why'd he done so. No. Wouldn't do to shake them unless he really needed privacy, and if he did start killing ... sometimes it was hard to stop, and that would not work out well.

The half-orc currently calling himself Zackton thought for another minute. And it wouldn't be satisfying, either. What -- who -- he really wanted was a Hellknight. Peel him out of his armor, strip him down to his skin, and then keep going, ripping away his body and mind until ...

Zackton pulled his hand back Talon, and cursed at the reddened hand-print. Perhaps better to think of other things, other possibilities ... in a town like this, there were no shortage of lovely young men who would, for coin or other considerations, be quite happy to spend some time with him. Gentle, consensual sex was fun, too. Wasn't that what he was looking forward to with Talon?

Achingly forward, really, and Zackton eased his erection up and between the boy's legs. Carefully, so as not to wake him. Except ...

He was looking forward to that with Talon. Finding some sweet young man to pound into a mattress just ... wasn't the same. He wanted Talon that way. He didn't really feel all that gentle about anyone else ... no. No, that wouldn't do, either.

Then what he needed was obvious. A man who didn't remind him of Talon. Orc, half-orc, or human. Older, perhaps.. A warrior, looking for some sexual conquest with another male. Zackton wouldn't feel any particular need to kill him, not if he chose carefully, not in that position ... Yes. There would be places to go, a pub perhaps, or a private club, to find like-minded males.

Having made his decision, the half-orc allowed himself to drift into sleep, after double-checking the warning spells he'd laid over the room.

He slammed himself up and out of bed some unknowable time later, as that spell boiled a warning in his head, pulling a long knife from its sheath under his pillow as he rolled upright in a single, smooth, practiced action. Or it would have been, if he hadn't been tangled up with Talon. Instead, Talon went sailing across the bed as Zackton stumbled up to face the intruder.

Rexi apparently hadn't expected that, as the little creature leaped back.

"I do know it's not traditional for slaves to knock -- but I would appreciate your not barging into my room when I'm sleeping," Zackton said, lowering the knife. He glanced over at Talon, who fortunately had landed on the bed. "Ah -- are you all right, Talon? We seem to have been, ah, closer than I'd expected."

"I'm fine, Master", Talon said.

Zackton took a breath, and then said, "The problem?"

"Uh ... a Maestro Crandolous is at the door. I would have sent him away, but, ah, he tried to magic me. I ... I thought you'd want to know. Master."

"Crandolous," Zackton said, nodding. The impresario -- would-be impresario -- that had been lurking in the back of the cafes last night. Excellent. Exactly the man he wanted. "And he tried to ..."

"A compulsion."

"To do what?"

"To give you his card. I have it, if you want to see it," said Rexi.

"And you say it failed?"

"Yes, but ... I figured he'd keep trying magic. I thought you'd want to know ..."

"I understand," said Zackton. "A little surprised; but then ... perhaps I oughtn't be. Very well. Go let him in -- put him in the music room, it's still set up from this morning -- ah, Rexi, how long was I asleep? It doesn't feel like very long."

"About three hours, Master," Rexi said.

Zackton nodded, considered. A little after noon. "Fine, fine," he told Rexi. "I'll get dressed, go show the Maestro in. We'll receive him politely, for now."

"Yes, Master."

By the time Zackton had magicked his clothes into fresh cleanliness and made his way back downstairs, Kapellmeister Jenner had joined Maestro Crandolous, and the two artists were glaring at each other over cups of steaming tea.

Zackton accepted a cup from Rexi, drained it in a single gulp, and handed it back to Rexi for another. "Gentlemen," he said, as he waited for Rexi to refill the tiny cup. "You will pardon me, but I was up rather late this morning. What is so important that you must drag me from my bed?"

"It's half past noon!" said Jenner. "How late ..."

"It is the middle of my sleep cycle," said Zackton. "I sleep days."

"Oh," said Jenner. "I'm sorry. It's just that ..." he paused, and looked significantly at the Maestro, and then back to Zackton. "Perhaps we could speak privately?"

"Yes," Crandolous said. "My offer is hardly for his ears."

Zackton sighed. "Rexi, show the Kapellmeister ... ah," he paused.

"The study?" suggested Rexi. "It's ... more ready than anywhere else."

"The study, then. And find some brandy -- will brandy do, Kapellmeister?"

"Certainly," said Jenner. "Thank you."

"And ... leave the tea," Zackton said, refilling his cup for the third time. "Bring more." Zackton sipped this cup more slowly, waiting for Rexi to show Jenner out. "I'll be in to speak with you in a moment, Kapellmeister."

The closing of the door was Zackton's prompt to turn back to the sitting human. "Maestro?"

"I had the pleasure of hearing you sing last night. You have an ... extraordinary talent."

"I have a moderate talent, and a great deal of practice," Zackton demurred. "My voice is a lovely bass, I admit, but I can't hit even the higher part of a baritone range. And I'm somewhat tone-deaf. I need some kind of instrument to keep me on tune. You heard me singing accompanied."

Crandolous nodded. "We can work around that."

"I beg your pardon?" Zackton said. "I am not looking for an instructor."

"But I am looking for a star," Crandolous said. "You are familiar with the Belkzen Cycle, aren't you?"

"Of course," said Zackton. "Very familiar. My voice is ideal for Belkzen or Landach; I know both roles"

"For Mountains Rise or Serving the Sword?"

"I know Landach's part for both, and Belkzen's part for the entire cycle," Zackton said with a smile.

"Amazing ..." started Crandolous.

"Hardly," said Zackton, with a yawn he exaggerated only slightly. "I'm half-orc. It's practically impossible to study classic opera and not learn them if one is half-orc. It's the first thing I learned to sing. Or dance."

"Dance?" asked Crandolous.

Zackton smiled. "Yes. You wanted to know if I were familiar with the Belkzen Cycle."

"What do you think about staging Mountains Rise and Mountains Fall on alternate nights?"

"I think it lacks scope," said Zackton. "How about Mountains Rise, Serving the Sword, Ascent of the King, March of the Conqueror, and then Mountains Fall. The entire cycle."

Crandolous blinked. "That would be ... a production challenge. Very expensive. I think I could find a backer for Mountains Rise and Mountains Fall, but the other three ... aren't really done that often."

"I know, but they were meant to be done together," Zackton said with a smile.

"Between the theatre rental and the production costs, I ... I don't know that I can even find a backer for the two Mountains," Crandolous said. "I'd thought you and I could go talk to a couple of, ah, enthusiasts. With your voice, I'm sure they'd be willing to back a production. But they can't bankroll the entire cycle."

"What do you think of the Navy Grand Memorial Theatre as a venue?"

The Maestro frowned. "It's old. Shabby. A little small. Good acoustics, decent location, the dressing-rooms are too small. Stage is acceptable, but ... not really up to a really good production. Not the best stage for opera, really, but that hardly matters. Nobody would stage any serious show there."

"Why not?"

"Bronthe -- that's the owner -- has two or three loans on it," Crandolous explained. "Can't have a show somewhere the venue might close unexpectedly. Nobody would invest, nobody would want to work in it."

The half-orc let the smallest suggestion of a knowing smile leak through to his face, confident that the human would see it. "It has a new owner," Zackton said. "Who is prepared to freshen the entire building. He's looking for something ... splashy for the grand opening."

"Really," said Crandolous. "I hadn't heard that. How did you find out?"

"Because the deal has been held up awaiting resolution of some of the liens," Zackton said. Technically, it was even true -- the Order of the Scourge had held up the deal that way. "My expectation is that the last few legal details will be concluded today or tomorrow."

"Fascinating, but ... how did you find out?"

Zackton nodded. "I will simply say that the title transferral is being done by the same agents who handled my purchase of Blossom Garden."

That seemed to surprise the Maestro. "You ... purchased ... the estate?"

"Yes," said Zackton. "There are a few complexities."

"A loan against the estate could ..."

Zackton shook his head. "I am not the owner of record. I don't pretend to have political influence, and owning such a large property ... seemed imprudent. Practically an invitation to be taken advantage of," he said. "The owner of record is now the Church of Abadar. At this point, I simply have a long-term lease." A very long term lease, Zackton thought to himself, but the Maestro hardly needed to know that.

The Maestro leaned back, looking at Zackton with both a certain amount of respect and consternation. "That's clever, but ... makes funding hard. Harder. Well. No harder than it was before, but ..." He paused. "I love the idea of a full Belkzen cycle event. Although, no, I love it. Six or seven months and ... that could make a lot of money." He looked around the room. "And ... well. I'd assumed that would interest you ... but I don't know if we ... suppose we do the Mountains, and then move on to the full cycle? Build interest."

"Perhaps," said Zackton. "Let's not commit to anything quite yet. There are salons, private recitals, quiet exhibitions, yes?"

"I hadn't wanted to ..."

"I know how it works in Oppara," said Zackton. "I don't imagine it's that dissimilar here."

"Probably not," agreed the Maestro. "I'm getting together with a small group tonight, in fact, and I was wondering if you could join us? Perhaps ... you seemed familiar with the classics last night."

"Moderately. I'm not familiar with the modern works. Chelish opera that you'd expect to find in Oppara, mostly. If that's not to, ah, staid."

"It is, a little, but we can work on your repetoire," Crandolous said, sounding a little enthusiastic.

"Remember that I require accompaniment," Zackton warned him. "I can't sing scales."

"Fine," said Crandolous. "Then ... I'll see you tonight?"

"Possibly. Where is this gathering, and what sort of persons will be there?"

"Guildmaster Vranno's ..." Crandolous paused. "They're merchants, primarily. And opera buffs. Perhaps I should meet you here? At dusk?"

"An hour after," said Zackton. "How long will it take to get there?"

"If we take a cab ... about ten minutes."

"Very well," said Zackton. "Ordinarily, I would invite you to stay and discuss the current state of music, but ... I did promise the Kapellmeister a few moments, and ... honestly, I am nowhere near having sufficient sleep. I want to make a good impression."

"Of course," said Crandolous, quickly. "Then ... I'll see you tonight."

"Yes," said Zackton. "We can discuss the details on the way over."

"I ... I'd like to bring some music with me -- I don't even know if you know how to ..."

"I had an informal apprenticeship, Maestro, but it was thorough."

"Good," said Crandolous, rising from his chair. "I must say, you're ... not entirely what I expected."

"Probably not," and Zackton rose too. "Allow me to show you out."

The Kapellmeister Jenner, apparently, had discovered already that Zackton Silvercane was the new owner of the Navy Grand Memorial Theatre, and desperately concerned about his own series of scheduled concerts. It took only a few moments for Zackton to assure him that he and his musicians were still welcome to perform, and that although he -- Zackton -- had plans to refurnish the theatre, he would try to make the improvements around the existing performance schedule. At worst, they might have to move -- and Zackton was careful to use the word move rather than cancel -- some morning or afternoon events. Evening closures would be kept to an absolute minimum -- none, Zackton said with a smile.

"That's ... reassuring," Jenner said, finally. "I've spent three years building my audience. I could try to move elsewhere, but ... I'd lose a good number of them."

"I don't want to lose anyone's audience," Zackton said. "But the seats are worn, the carpets faded and in several places, threadbare. The walls need fresh paint. And ... I know in a number of places, some of the structure itself needs to be replaced -- rotted wood, badly patched walls, windows that no longer open. It simply needs to be done. It's my intention that everyone benefit from the improvements."

"And ... prices?"

"Ah," said Zackton. "I will respect Bronthe's contracts. In the longer term ... I cannot say. I certainly hope to make the venue ... profitable for me. And for everyone performing there."

"That is ... well. I understand. My contract does run for the next eight months."

"Yes," said Zackton. "However, the sale does mean all contracts need to be renegotiated, as you're aware. I intend to resign them pretty much as-is, with some additional language about the improvements and closures for that purpose." Zackton stood up. "All this is being handled by the Abadarians; I have no gift for legal language or contracts. I'm surprised you came to see me."

"I wanted ... well, to find out who the new owner was, I suppose."

"Thank you," said Zackton, escorting the Kapellmeister out of the study and towards the door. "I will probably have some small dinner for my tenants, in the next month or two -- once the house is set to rights." He paused for a moment. "What repetoire does your orchestra do?"

"Oh, pretty much everything," Jenner said. "Modern opera and compositions, mainly."

"I can see that would be popular," Zackton said. "Thank you again for dropping by, and I look forward to hearing some of your performances in the future."

All told, it was nearly another hour before Zack managed to get back upstairs, shuck his clothes, and ease himself back into bed. Talon had fallen asleep again, and, after a moment of consideration, Zack inched himself over in the bed, spooning up to the young half-elf, slowly, so as not to wake him, but Talon muttered something, and then -- much to Zack's pleasure -- moved in closer to the half-orc. Lovely, thought Zack. He gave Talon a light, chaste kiss on his shoulder. "I'm sorry to disturb you."

Interesting, Zack thought. I actually mean it.