So Spoke The Wanderer Pt 3.2

[rivlee]

The smell of vanilla and spice tickled Leckie’s nose and finally pulled him out of bed. It was still night, bonfires flaring up in the distance. The air was overly fragrant and there was a pulsing sound of drums coming from the center of the settlement.

Leckie slid out of bed, surprised at the lack of pain in his feet. He smiled as his looked down at his blister-free toes. His clothes had been changed, and the water still clinging to his curly hair suggested a bed bath. He must’ve been more tired than he realized to sleep through all that, but hell, Sledge probably did drug him with that antiseptic. He was just quietly devious enough.

“Look who’s finally awake,” Hoosier said from a chair in the corner.

Leckie flinched and stumbled back on to the bed. “Christ,” he cursed, “did anyone tell you it’s shitty manners to spy on people.”

Hoosier shrugged and held out a bottle. “Drink, Leckie? Midwood specialty.”

Leckie cautiously approached him. There was something different to Hoosier’s eyes, the glow of his magic slowly turning to a different shade. “What’s in it?” he asked.

“Take a sip and find out,” Hoosier said.

“Why are you always trying to get me drunk?” Leckie asked.

“You’re more manageable that way,” Hoosier said. He leaned back in his chair, watching as Leckie took a swig. “Good, isn’t it?”

“It’s got a bite,” Leckie said, coughing at the fire burning down his throat.

There was a distinct lack of sound in the house. It was clear everyone else was out enjoying the festival. “Why aren’t we out there?”

“It would be better for you in here,” Hoosier said.

“Fuck that,” Leckie said, “I didn’t walk this far to drink in the dark with you. I can do that back at Haldane’s.”

Hoosier sighed. “Leckie, you really need to read your Handbook,” he said.

Leckie glared at him.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” he asked, resignation already coloring his tone.

“Hell no,” Leckie said.

Hoosier took one last drink before setting the bottle on a side table. “Never say I didn’t try to protect your virtue,” he muttered.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Leckie asked.

Hoosier grabbed Leckie’s arm and pulled him out of the house.

“My shoes,” Leckie said.

Hoosier laughed. “Trust me, you won’t need them.”

Leckie could feel his body start to react to everything, from the sensual smells to the drum beats. Everything just felt like more out here. It made his skin crawl in a not unpleasant way. A main stage featured performers, singers, musicians, and dancers, all providing entertainment for the night. He spotted Shifty at the corner of the stage, throwing sachets into the fire pits.

Sledge was perched on a tree branch, pale legs dangling over the edge, his ever present sketch pad in his lap. A young lady sat next to him, a flute in her tanned hands, her long dark curls bouncing with her movements as she played a tune.

“Lena,” Hoosier replied to Leckie’s unasked question.

“Sidhe?” Leckie asked.

“Dryad,” he said.

“I should’ve known,” Leckie said.

He followed Hoosier to where Leyden sat, surrounded by a group of friends.

“The Wanderer lives,” Leyden declared. He held up his cup in a toast.

“I didn’t know I was supposed to be dying,” Leckie said. He took a free spot next to dark-haired man with light scarring on his face.

“Hoosier’s not exactly gentle,” the man said.

“Alley,” Hoosier warned.

“No shame in passion,” Alley said, “and your marks tend to last, my friend.”

Leyden leaned into Leckie’s shoulder, more than a little drunk, and loudly whispered into his ear. “Hoosier’s still learning how to control his powers in bed.”

“Who said anything about a bed,” Alley said. A dangerous smirk was on his lips.

“Fuck you all,” Hoosier said.

“From the sound of it you already have,” Leckie said.

Leckie wasn’t expecting the uproarious laugh that passed through the group, but he knew that the drunken mind rarely made sense.

“We should keep this one, Leyden,” another one of the friends said. His face was youthful, grey eyes almost hidden under his long curls.

“I don’t think Hoosier would agree, Penk,” Leyden said.

“Does everyone get this kind of welcome?” he asked Hoosier.

“Only those who are unclaimed,” Alley said. He handed a cup to Leckie. “Drink, my friend, for it is a wonderful night to be under the stars.”

Leckie took the cup, not wanting to offend a person with as many battle scars as Alley.

“If I die from alcohol poisoning I will come back and haunt you all,” Leckie muttered into the cup.

“We will watch over you,” Penk promised.

“Why doesn’t that comfort me?” Leckie asked.

The night worn on, dance after dance, song after song, drink after drink. People started to drift off into more secluded corners. Sledge was no longer on the tree branch, but Lena still sat there, playing her flute, her head resting on a handsome man’s shoulder.

“Basilone,” Hoosier said, catching Leckie’s gaze, “he’s from your world.”

“And he stayed here?” Leckie asked.

“He planned to bargain his way home, but he found something worth staying for,” Hoosier said.

They were alone now, Leyden and his group long paired off with passing friends and lovers. Leckie couldn’t deny the thrum of energy running under his skin. He tried to tell himself that it wasn’t wrong to want what he did now, that he deserved this; after all he’d been through. He slid next to Hoosier and rested a hand on his neck, quickly urging him down.

There was a bitterness and bite in Hoosier’s mouth, either the mead or his natural taste. Leckie couldn’t care less, not with the spicy scent on the air and the pulsing rhythms of the drums. It was like being in the center of a rave, but made even more potent by the smell of the ground and the thick presence of the forest all around them.

Hoosier’s fingers digging into his arm finally pulled Leckie back.

“Wanderer, didn’t know you had it in you,” he said.

“I’ll blame the alcohol in the morning,” Leckie admitted.

Hoosier laughed and tapped a finger to Leckie’s forehead. Suddenly his soft buzz disappeared and his mind became instantly clear, though the energy was still under his skin.

“Aren’t you supposed to warn me before you do that shit?” Leckie asked.

Hoosier shrugged. “I’ve always practiced wordless magic. It was how my master taught me.”

Leckie nodded. “Okay then.” He pulled Hoosier in for another, deeper kiss.

Hoosier’s fingers tangled in his hair and pulled him closer with a force just this side of painful. Leckie gave himself over to it all, but he didn’t go completely pliant. It wasn’t in him to submit; the same could be said for Hoosier.

He fought as Hoosier tried to pull them up.

“Not here,” Hoosier hissed.

Leckie wasn’t the pouting kind but he was damn close. He stood on wobbly knees, leaning into Hoosier’s side as he led them back to the guest house.

“This is a fertility festival, isn’t it?” Leckie asked as they passed couples and groups engaged in some impressive compromising positions.

“I told you to read your Handbook,” Hoosier said.

Hoosier locked the door to their rooms with a quick spell. He let Leckie sit on the bed while he walked over to his pack.

“You certain about this, Leckie?” he asked.

“Hell no,” Leckie said.

Hoosier laughed at that and approached Leckie slowly, lowering himself down onto his lap.

“You want this though?” he asked, his voice a harsh whisper.

“Hell yes,” Leckie muttered into Hoosier’s neck. He could taste the sweat there. Hoosier smelled liked the woods, and the spices, and something else, something not at all human.

It wasn’t Leckie’s first time sleeping with a man and he doubted it would be his last, but it was difficult not to be intimidated by what he saw in Hoosier’s eyes. There was pure, raw power there, the sense of his magic clearly augmented by the area and the festival. It was easy to forget that the man he traded barbs and witticisms with daily could honestly turn him into newt.

“You’re almost terrifying like this,” Leckie told him.

“Whatever gets you off,” Hoosier said, a bite to Leckie’s throat cutting off any retort. “I’ll try not to break you,” he promised.

Leckie was far too gone to last for any significant amount of time. It was clumsy and sloppy, a clash of teeth and limbs, blunt nails grasping at sweaty skin, stubble leaving burns on chests, stomachs, thighs. It was rough, messy, and over far too damn soon.

Leckie tried to make a comment about Hoosier’s lack of stamina, but he was left to a wordless grunt.

“Go to sleep, Leckie,” Hoosier said after he moved them to the room’s other bed.

Hoosier woke him up in the morning with a warm meal and a cup of semi-coffee.

“If I didn’t hate you so much, I’d confess my love,” Leckie said.

Hoosier tugged a handful of Leckie’s hair, smiling when Leckie couldn’t stop the submissive tilt of his neck.

“Good boy,” Hoosier said with a pat to his head.

“I’m starting to learn more than I wanted to know about your tastes,” Leckie said.

“You might want to think about that the next time you stick your tongue down a man’s throat during a fertility festival,” Hoosier said.

Leckie felt his lips quirk into a smile. “I’m not going to say I’m sorry.”

“That makes two of us,” Hoosier said, snatching a piece of Leckie’s toast before settling back against the headboard.

********

Leckie wasn’t quite sure which of the Sidhe to approach for the bargain. Leyden seemed too far down the food chain, he doubted Lena brokered such deals, and JP and Alley seemed more the warrior type than ripping holes in space and time.

Hoosier and Sledge both knew what he was up to, each new day giving a mountain of arguments for why it was all a really bad idea, but Leckie still needed to try. He didn’t hate it here, not as much as he used to, but he still needed to go home. Shifty was actually the one who suggested he check for any sources in the Sidhe’s library.

He should’ve known better than to trust a Puck.

“Oh fuck,” Leckie muttered, walking into Midwood’s library.

Webster was behind one of the desks, clearly lying in wait for Leckie.

“Sledge told me you were thinking about making a bargain with the Sidhe,” Webster said.

“You’re the one who wrote about it,” Leckie argued.

“Notice how I didn’t take the offer,” Webster said.

Leckie shrugged. “Maybe I just have bigger balls than you.”

Webster rolled his eyes heavenward and cursed. “You realize that if you take this jump, best case scenario, you’ll end up in a different country. Worst case is that you end up in a different time. Apocalypse case, you end up in a different Other World.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Leckie said.

“Okay, let me try to appeal to your supposed sense of logic. In your desire to realm jump in order to get home six months before your scheduled time, you’re willing to take the risk that you might not get home at all. Tell me, Bob, what’s worse? Here, or Europe circa the Height of the Bubonic Plague.”

Leckie’s jaw clenched. “I need to get home, Webster. This place might be okay for you and Sledge, but I need to get home.”

Webster scoffed. “Are you honestly that much of an arrogant fuck that you think you’re the only one of the Wanderers who needed to get home? Leckie, I had a wife, a job, and I was doing research for a book advancement. I went out into the ocean to study sharks and I wound-up here. Do you know why I never went back?”

“Because here you have less competition for literary awards?”

Webster just sighed. “Leckie, any family you have on the other side? They’re going to think you’ve disappeared. You’re going to be in a database somewhere. Another lost face among the millions. Your stuff is going to be sold, in storage, or put out on the streets. Depending on how your family feels about it, you might already be declared dead. For all intents and purposes, those people think you’re already gone. Hell, for all we know, we are dead and this is some fucked up version of purgatory.”

“You’re really good at this hope thing, Webster, you should go into the motivational speaking business,” Leckie said.

Webster shook his head. “You’re an arrogant asshole, there’s nothing wrong with that of course.”

“Of course not,” Leckie said.

“But you’re an idiot if you think the other side has frozen in time because you’re gone.”

Leckie couldn’t dispute any of what Webster said. He’d though about it himself, what it would mean to be missing for six months, with no notice. There would be a mountain of complications, forms, and bullshit he’d have to deal with once he got back, but at least he’d be home.

“So, Tom Wolfe, are you telling me I can’t go home again,” he retorted, for lack of anything else.

“I’m telling you that you really want to think about this. You know how to be rational, Leckie, and this? It’s all irrational.”

Leckie didn’t need a man who actually liked swimming with sharks to lecture him about rationality. “If we’re going to go with the hypothetical that all my stuff has been sold off and I’m dead to everyone, how the hell is it going to be better if I wait another six months to go home?”

“Because at the very least you will return to the exact spot you left. At least you have your wallet, proof of your identity, and can go back to a society where you exist in some way, shape or form. If you wind up in the middle of the Boxer Rebellion do you really think you’re going to live long?”

Leckie sucked his teeth. He never liked it when someone else got the last word.

“I can’t tell you what to do, Bob. I doubt anyone can. I just don’t want to see you take a chance on something that is this stupid.”

Leckie rolled his eyes. “You really just want me to stay so you can keep up your book club.”

“Sledge just doesn’t appreciate Hemmingway,” Webster said. He walked over to the window and pointed down to where Hoosier was laughing with Penk and Alley. “Isn’t there anything you’re willing to stay for?”

“We’re not that close and I’m not that much of a girl,” Leckie said.

“Clearly you are that much of a heartless bastard. Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards,” Webster quoted.

“For they are subtle and quick to anger,” Leckie finished. “I know.”

“Do you?” Webster asked. “Because from over here you are fucking up royally.”

“Since when did you become my life coach?” Leckie asked.

“Since Sledge realized he couldn’t handle you alone,” Webster admitted.

“That almost makes me proud,” Leckie said.

“I must admit that hardly surprises me,” Webster said. He awkwardly patted Leckie on the shoulder. “Just give an honest thought to the consequences. What would you, as a journalist and an intelligent man, think if you were viewing it from the outside?”

Leckie shifted on his feet before finally admitting the truth. “I would find the subject in serious need of a lobotomy.”

Webster let his raised brow provide his answer.

“Fine,” Leckie muttered before leaving the library. He wasn’t admitting defeat, not yet. He was just going to give himself a longer timeline for his research. There could still be a way to make it all work out.

He was distracted by a patch of ivy at the base of one of the trees. It was a truly vivid green, and glowed in the sunlight. The smell was potent and enticing. He reached a finger out and traced one of the leaves.

He straightened up as he felt suddenly dizzy. His vision spotted and he tried to fight off the vertigo, but it was no use. He crumped to his knees and passed out.

********

Leckie woke up in his bed at Merrymec, his throat burning and head throbbing. He vaguely recalled the last few days. Hoosier looking down at him, eyes wide in shock. Lena’s dark eyes flashing as she pressed a cold cloth to his face. Leaning against Shifty in the guest house, an argument between Hoosier and Sledge. He still didn’t know quite how the hell they got here, but he remembered the feel of air on his face, almost like flying.

“I told you to read your Handbook,” Sledge said. He pressed a wet rag to Leckie’s forehead. “You would know about the fever and to stay away from the Emerald Ivy Patches until you were here at least seven months.”

“Your momma never taught you not to kick a man when he was down?” he croaked out.

Sledge shook his head. “One of these days you’ll say something without biting sarcasm and I might just die of shock.”

“At least it will give Snafu something to do.”

“He enjoys terrorizing the new arrivals to the city. He’s a hazing ritual in his own right.”

Leckie tried to laugh at that but it turned into a hacking cough.

“That’s it, I’m getting Roe,” Sledge said.

“The one who’s half-Reaper? I don’t think so.”

Sledge actually glared at him. Apparently there was an end to a Southern Gentleman’s patience “He’s the very best at what he does, and at his young age, that’s very impressive.”

“Reaper,” Leckie repeated.

“Then he’s not going to take your life unless he’s really meant to. Don’t you agree that’s better odds than some country doctor walking around with an obscure bovine virus over his hands?”

“You raise a valid point. Call him,” Leckie said.

Sledge nodded and scribbled a note down. He handed it to Jackie, who disappeared in a flash of light.

“How’d we get here?” he asked.

“Horses,” Sledge said, “Shifty’s one of the fastest riders here. Leyden was kind enough to lend me his horse. Lena said it was best if we got you back to the city, away from all the raw magic.”

“The Sidhe don’t have one of Haldane’s fancy coaches?”

“They’re not good on inclines,” Sledge said. He patted Leckie’s head again with the wash cloth. “Hoosier had to stay behind. Haldane really does need that census completed.”

“Hoosier always had a job to do, I was just along for the ride,” Leckie explained.

Sledge nodded, the candlelight bouncing off his red hair. The blinds were drawn and the room very dark. The candles flared again as Jackie reappeared and handed Sledge a note, before going back to wherever Flames of Knowledge spent their free time.

“Roe will be here by nightfall,” Sledge said. He folded up the letter. “That really means he’ll be here by noon, but he likes to give overestimates of his time, just in case.”

“Fast little fucker, is he?”

“He’s one of the best, if not the best Healer in this region, Leckie, show him a little respect,” Sledge scolded.

“No promises,” Leckie said.

“There never are, not from you,” Sledge said quietly. He picked up the book in his lap. “Would you like me to read to you?”

“Please,” Leckie said, already drifting back to sleep.

“In a distant and secondhand set of dimensions, in an astral plane that was never meant to fly,” Sledge’s smooth voice quoted from The Color of Magic and lulled Leckie to sleep.

********

Gene Roe, the half-Reaper, seemed harmless from far away, but up close like this, leaning over Leckie’s body, he was terrifying. His skin damn near shined, it was so pale, with all sort of energy and magic working under the surface. His eyes turned completely dark as he went to work, or shed his glamour, Leckie wasn’t sure which. So many people here weren’t what they seemed.

Roe’s voice sounded rough, as if he didn’t often speak. His accent was a liquid, smooth sound once he talked for a few minutes, but it was clear Roe spent most of days in vocal silence. He must’ve communicated somehow. Over here Leckie never knew just what that how meant.

He could feel the warmth of Roe’s energy as he hovered his hands over his body. Roe didn’t actually touch him, he didn’t need to, he wasn’t checking Bob for anything visible on the outside.

Roe pulled back and sorted through his bag. He pulled out a vial full of golden-brown liquid.

“What’s that?” Leckie asked.

“A mixture of allspice, bilberry, henna, and thistle. It will help you heal,” Roe said.

“And if it doesn’t at least I’ll smell nice,” he said.

Roe nodded. “Our ivy is a bit stronger than the type you’re used to. For us it’s a living, breathing, magical thing. Very powerful. You’re just reacting to its presence.”

“It blinded me,” Leckie said.

“You breathed in its scent and had your mind opened to what it looks like when you see the manifestation of magic on the light spectrum,” Sledge said.

“You could have told me that.”

“It’s in your Handbook,” Sledge said.

Roe shook his head. “Never did agree with everything in that book. Some stuff you just need to stumble across on your own.”

“Thank you,” Leckie said.

“You’ve spent most of your time here in the city,” Roe stated.

“Yes,” Leckie confirmed.

“Probably why you had such a bad reaction. You’re not adjusting as quickly as you should. Midwood’s ivy patches are potent enough on their own, but if you’ve been in the city, surrounded by stone, metal, and industry, any extended time in nature was bound to make you sick.”

“Is that in the Handbook?” Leckie asked.

“No,” Sledge admitted.

“It wouldn’t be. Webster never did come see me, but that’s why I help with the Watch Keeper’s pamphlets. Better knowledge in there anyway, and you don’t need a translator to understand it.”

“See,” Leckie said, “I’m not the only one.”

“You don’t read the pamphlets either,” Sledge said.

“Let’s just be thankful you ain’t dead yet,” Roe said.

Leckie could feel his face go lax. “Reapers aren’t supposed to make jokes like that,” he said.

“Reapers do what they want,” Roe said. He patted Leckie on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine as long as you stay in bed and take your medicine. You’ll be as healthy as you were before the week is out, as long as you follow my directions. You act stupid and get out of this bed before then, I’ll wash my hands of you. Snafu can take care of you.”

“What happened to first do no harm?” Leckie asked.

“We don’t have that vow over here,” Roe said. He placed a hand on Leckie’s head. It was burning warm, not cold like Leckie expected. “Go to sleep,” he ordered.

Leckie did.

When he finally woke up, the shades were up and windows open, letting in the night air. He could here Bessie splashing in the lake.

He sat up, surprised to find Hoosier sitting by the balcony.

“You here to mourn me?” he asked.

“Leckie, I have seen much sorrier states than you. You’re not dying, you’re just a pussy.”

“You are quite the wordsmith.”

Hoosier smiled. “Most people aren’t concerned with me using my mouth for words.”

Leckie really wanted to make a witty retort, but he just couldn’t be bothered.

“Wow, you must really be sick,” Hoosier said.

He settled down on Leckie’s bed and pressed a hand to Leckie’s forehead.

It wasn’t like when Sledge wiped his forehead with a wet rag, or when Roe hovered his hands over Leckie’s body. He could feel something cold and smooth slip from Hoosier’s palm and manifest itself through Leckie’s body.

“What did you just do to me?”

“Nothing but a cooling spell. It will make your more comfortable and lucid.”

“You clear that with Roe?”

“He told me to use it only if I felt it was necessary.”

“And you’re just getting to it now?”

“You lose your sarcasm and I get worried,” Hoosier said.

Hoosier pulled open the bag Roe had left with extra medicines and herbs.

“Ah-ha,” he said.

“What?” Leckie asked.

Hoosier pulled out a sachet filled with something that smelled like hell.

Leckie glared at it. “What are you going to do with that?”

“Put it under your pillow.”

“Oh, hell no.”

Hoosier’s lips twitched. “Leckie, it’s goat’s rue and garlic, it’s not going to kill you.”

“Are you sure about that? Because right now, the ivy is doing a damn good job.”

“That’s why the Handbook tells all newcomers to stay away from it for at least a half-year.”

“Yeah, I know that now. I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll read the damn book. You all win, okay?”

Hoosier laughed, low in his throat, a sound Leckie was learning to enjoy. He pressed a kiss to Leckie’s lips as he slipped the sachet under his pillow. Hoosier’s upper body, leaning over him, easily kept Leckie in place.

“I hate you,” Leckie said.

Hoosier placed a hand in Leckie’s hair. “I know,” he said, before sending Leckie into another healing sleep.

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