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In the past few days walking the road alone, Azune has become accustomed to stepping to the side at the sound of a horse and keeping his head down. He doesn’t want trouble, or to be noticed. He doesn’t want to give anyone reason to stop.
He hears it as the rider guides their horse to a halt just a little in front. He keeps his gaze low, staring at his own travel-worn boots.
“Azune?” calls a familiar voice.
Azune’s head shoots up just in time to get a proper glimpse of Thjazi, tall and leaner than Azune remembers, whole and there and alive. It’s just a glimpse, because Thjazi barrels into him with an embrace that almost knocks Azune off his feet.
“Kid, I cannot believe-” Thjazi ruffles his hair while laughing out loud. “What are the odds?”
He pulls back and plants both hands on the sides of Azune’s face.
“No, don’t do that. None of that. Hey.”
“They said-” Azune draws in a quick breath and blinks hard to get himself together. “They said you might not get a pardon like the rest of us.”
“Well, they were wrong. I’ve got tricks up my sleeve.” Thjazi pauses, then holds up his left hand, playing with the ring there. “Or here, if we’re being specific. But I’ve got them. Everyone else, they’ve been let go too? That you know of?”
Azune nods.
“Okay.” Thjazi glances up and down the road, frowning slightly. The last real town is about four days, if you’re walking. “Where are you headed?”
Azune does not have an answer to that. He points up the road and hopes to get away with it.
“The Pass? Then we're going in the same direction,” Thjazi nods. “Good. But you, uh, walked?”
“I have stopped sometimes, there are farmhouses where they have needed extra hands,” Azune explains, still slightly distracted with studying Thjazi’s movement for any sign of hurt or harm and relieved to find none he can see. “Put a roof over my head in exchange.”
“Roof and a meal, I hope,” Thjazi counters, prodding at Azune’s ribs under his too-large shirt.
“Yes, sir. Usually.” Azune does not tend to ask before the work, he waits until after to see what he’s earned and what they can spare. It’s hard living, this far out. They might not have much and he can understand that.
“Usually,” Thjazi repeats back, and the corners of his mouth and eyes shift in a number of tiny, tight little ways very quickly before returning to the expression Azune is used to seeing. Azune knows that he is perhaps not always as good as others are at understanding what people's faces say, but he learned the hard way before he came to the Torn Banner that asking is very rude so he just stays quiet until Thjazi explains or has a simpler emotion. “Well, we can change that up the road. Actually, I might have a job for you myself, if you’re not in a hurry. It’s just a small favour.”
“Yes, sir.” Azune says immediately. “Anything.”
“We can discuss it up at the inn,” Thjazi says, “I know what those pardons say about fraternisation but we can get away with an hour or two in a crowd like they’ve got at the Pass.” He turns from Azune to coo at his horse, nuzzling his forehead against hers. “You can take two just for the last little leg, can’t you girl?”
Riding with Thjazi comes natural, he’s had lots of practice. They didn’t always have enough horses to go around and he was always one of the smallest. At first, Thjazi had him up front of the saddle, but when he got taller it made more sense for Azune to sit behind and steady himself with a handful of Thjazi’s jacket, like he does now.
They are there long before night falls, and Thjazi sweeps into the inn like a gale, obtaining a room for himself before Azune has had a chance to glance around and fully survey the dining area downstairs for any risk. He reappears in front of Azune and clasps his shoulder, bag in hand.
“I’ll be staying a few days, I am just going to set some things out. For this job you’ll need to be heading on right after we eat. Why don’t you order, and I’ll be down in a moment?”
Azune nods. The inn does not have a lot to choose from, but Azune only has a handful of copper left so that’s probably for the best. He was saving them without knowing exactly what he was saving for, and happily spends every last one ordering something that looks at least hearty. Getting to share one more meal with Thjazi is a better reason than he’s going to find on the road.
“Mmm,” Thjazi says approvingly, sitting opposite him when he eventually comes downstairs. “Good choice.” He immediately swaps their plates, winking at Azune, who tries very hard not to look like he just got caught; one is definitely a little fuller than the other. “Okay, so. This job isn’t too hard, but it will take you to Dol-Makjar. You can make your own way from there, right?”
“Yes,” Azune says. He’s not going anywhere in particular, he can make his way from anywhere.
“This letter,” Thjazi tells him, placing a sealed envelope on the table in between bites, “Has important information that needs to go to my brother. I’ve put the address on the outside but if you get to the Rookery you can just ask, people know us.”
He slides some coins over too, and cuts Azune off before he can say anything about it.
“That’s not for you, I know you won’t take it, that’s the cost of passage in the wagon outside. It leaves in an hour, the one with yellow paint on the side.” He looks at Azune intently. “I need this letter to Hal quick and safe. It’s still half the cost of a courier to do it like this, and I reckon I trust you better than a courier.”
“Thank you, sir,” Azune says. “I’ll get it there right away.”
When they part ways, Thjazi rests his hand comfortingly heavy at the back of Azune’s neck. He’s a tactile man, he speaks with touch sometimes.
“Take care, kid,” Thjazi says. “And don’t lose it, okay?”
“I won’t,” Azune promises. It is now the most valuable thing on him, honestly, and he tucks it into his shirt where he can feel it resting there so he knows it’s secure.
*
Hal has been awake a while but doesn’t really feel like it, Hero underfoot and breakfast a bit burned but salvageable. He is talking himself out of telling Shadia she has to watch her sister for a few hours, because Shadia is practicing in the yard and looks focused.
The knock on the door is the last thing he needs, really.
“Hello?” he says a bit abruptly, then blinks at the sight in front of him; a teenager, a human one, who he has never seen before. “Hello there,” he says again, taking all the edge out. “What is it, lad?”
“Sorry to interrupt you, sir,” the boy says, and holds out a letter with a sense of urgency. “My name is Azune Nayar and I ser- worked for your brother. He asked me to bring you this letter.”
Well. He didn’t stop to ask who Hal is, but they do look enough alike it is something that a person who served with Thjazi would do.
“Thank you,” he says, reaching for the letter. Ancients, this one can’t be more than what, seventeen? Hal does not like the math on that, not at all. “I suppose you took a peek, if he wants money you have to warn me.”
It’s reflexive, almost, the kind of thing that would drag an eye-roll if not a laugh from his own boy that age. It does not have the same effect on this one.
“No, sir!” Azune says with a horrified expression. He immediately steps closer and turns the letter in his hands to show Hal the seal. “It’s sealed. No one has seen it.”
“Of course,” Hal says. “I just- you know, nevermind.” He steps back a bit so the way into the hall is clear, but the boy makes absolutely no move, just staring at Hal with a worry that Hal suspects isn’t going to go away until he takes the letter.
Hal takes the letter, and for lack of anything better to do, opens and reads the letter.
About halfway through he lets out a sigh with his whole chest. He loves his brother very much, and wishes he would sometimes be just a bit less of the way that he is. Now Hal’s got a whole thing to figure out.
“He is well,” Azune says after a stretch of silence. Hal looks up with a raised eyebrow and Azune looks nervous, but bravely barrels on through. “I think he forgets, um, to say that sometimes. He was well and not hurt when he gave it to me.”
He does indeed forget that kind of thing. The note about the pardon going through had been two lines long and not told Hal where Thjazi was, if he intended coming home, or whether there had been any degree of… interrogation.
“Thank you,” Hal says, and really means it. “For the letter and for the very welcome addition. Let me, I have a few silver to express-”
“No, sir,” the boy says immediately, shaking his head. It isn’t just the way the light hits then, his eyes really are just like that. Huh. “I would not take your money. Your brother has done more for me than I can explain and it is an honour to be of assistance to him or to his family.”
It’s quite perfect, really. Even without a script the boy knows all his lines.
“Is that so?” Hal says, desperately trying to think of a chore that needs doing in the yard which will last at least until dinner. “Well, I don’t want to overstep, but if that’s the case, there may be something I could ask of you-”
*
Dol-Makjar is large, and loud, and Azune has never been in a city like this before that he can remember. He doesn’t have any plans past the delivery of the letter, so when Hal offers him another way to be useful he clings to it rather gratefully. A little reprieve, a small delay before he has to figure out what he’s going to do next.
“Come through here,” Halandil Fang says, gesturing him into the house.
It is odd, but nice. He looks very much like Thjazi. He does not sound, or move, like Thjazi at all. Similar enough to be comfortable and apart enough not to tug rough stitches in Azune’s heart loose again, ones that he had to put there now the Banner are all to be separated. Halandil moves with an elegant lethargy that Azune associates with the older soldiers he’s known, a certain economy of movement. Gentler than the old soldiers, of course. A bit more flourish maybe. That too.
“Shadia,” Halandil calls cheerfully, “this is Azune.”
He turns back to Azune, smiling, as if this is all perfectly normal. “My daughter, Shadia.”
She is perhaps two or three years younger than he is, taller already. He does not exactly know how to greet a woman who is not a sister-in-arms and he certainly doesn’t know how to greet a girl.
“Sorry,” he offers, because it’s multipurpose. It often applies.
“For what?” Shadia says, flicking her hair back. “Oh, you have a sword!” He does. Should he have put that down outside, near the door? “Are you a soldier?”
“I worked for your Uncle Thjazi,” Azune says quietly, and he doesn’t fuck up this time and start saying ‘served under’. He knows that Halandil is a good man because Thjazi told him so and he knows he is perfectly safe here but he doesn’t know if mentioning the rebellion will cause trouble so he doesn’t.
“I appreciate your discretion,” Halandil says from the edge of the room, smile warm. “But you can speak freely here. Well, my youngest is not yet six, so there’s some things we will explain to her later. But speak freely.”
“Is Azune staying over, dad?”
“No, miss. Just helping out,” Azune says, and Halandil does something with his eyebrows at Shadia which Azune does not fully understand, but does not necesarily need to. That is a thing for family, probably.
Halandil guides him through to the yard at the back, navigating the space with that same economy of movement and lack of urgency, though when a little one they refer to as Hero comes scrambling through he always seems to know where she is without actually looking. He points out some large, semi-assembled wooden structures, which he tells Azune are backdrops that are yet to be painted. He needs them put together. Azune thinks he can do that.
The work is not so hard, and Halandil is very patient with instructions. By the time that the sun is starting to dip they are all put together.
He turns and sees an altogether familiar expression on Halandil’s face, though he knows it mainly from the man’s brother; one that says I have changed my mind again. Sorry, but not sorry enough to stick to the plan.
“Sir?”
“I’ve made a mistake,” Halandil says forlornly. “We not using that wagon anymore, we- well, hells. We need to move it in pieces and put it together there. But I need to deal with dinner.”
Azune lets out a short breath and nods.
“I can keep working,” It isn’t that dark yet. “Have it done by the time you are finished?”
“No,” Halandil is shaking his head, “It’s more delicate than it looks, I need to show- why don’t you just join us to eat, and we try again tomorrow?”
“That’s alright, sir.” Azune is very aware of how inconvenient it can be, navigating the presence of unwanted guests. He imagines it is worse with children in the house. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”
“Certainly,” Halandil says, nodding. “Where are you staying, not far?”
“I, uh-” One of these days, Azune really is going to have to learn to lie.
“Really? Azune.” Halandil steps close with a sigh. “Come on inside.”
“Sir, I-”
“I have a son your age,” Halandil interrupts, “And he sets me to worrying every time he’s out all night. He’s off with his mother for a while, so I have had peaceful nights the last four in a row. Though it is of course your choice, I fear you might well ruin that streak if you head off.” He tilts his head. “I sleep terribly when I worry.”
“I can take care of myself, sir.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Halandil says, waving the objection away. “But let’s not bother with all that tonight. No, you'll stay here for dinner and we’ll find you a spare bed. Then we will finish this together, in the morning.”
He says it so gentle, so kind that Azune almost misses the part where he isn’t given the option to say no. He hesitates. It… it is just one night. Maybe the imposition is not so bad, on balance, as arguing with the host and refusing his generosity. Not if it is just one night.
“Great,” Halandil says cheerfully, even though Azune hasn’t said anything yet with words. As they both turn back to the house he rests his hand comfortingly heavy at the back of Azune’s neck. The Fang brothers are tactile men, it seems, and speak with touch sometimes.
“Do you know your way around a kitchen?” Halandil asks conversationally. “Shadia is… she really tries. But I could use a hand.”
“Yes, sir.” Azune says, because he hasn’t been in too many kitchens lately, but he does know how to cook.
*
To: my dear and talented brother, who I am not flattering and from whom I definitely do not want a favour
Do you remember the pup I found down the side of the river when we were kids? I was about seven or eight I think. We couldn't tell if it was an underfed pup or an oversized rat at first, all wet and bedraggled like that. Your mother didn't want us to bring it inside because she didn't think it would make the night and we'd be traumatised but you talked her into it. It was scared of us for days. Didn't wag its tail for weeks. Lived twelve long happy years in the end, sweetest mutt I ever knew.
This one here? He's going to be just as much work, maybe more. But I know you're the best man for the job. Don't tell him about this letter or I'll tell Thaisha who dented her mother's silverware. Good luck.
Thjazi
p.s. it will be just as worth it