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BecausewithTryggr,Ebenhad fought against his father’s words, even as he’d still feared them.Forif aSkaicould be trusted, after all, then maybe — maybe the rest of it might have been wrong, too.
Younever focus on what is important.Youwaste your talent and your time.Youshow yourself foolish and weak…
ButTryggr—Tryggrhad never treatedEbenthat way, not once.He’dnever thought him or his efforts a waste.Eventonight, even amidst all that hurt and grief,Tryggrhadn’t been harsh or cruel.I’msorry.Naughtpersonal.Notyour fault.
Thesobs kept choking fromEben’sthroat, his head shaking against his trembling fingers, butTryggr’svoice kept speaking now, steady and certain and so, so confident.Noneed to apologize.Don’tspeak thus.I’vegot you.Naughtto fear.
Itwas good of you,Ka-esh.Braveas hell.Youdidn’t need to do it, and you did it anyway.We’regrateful.
Andeven stronger, sharper, those heady, impossible moments inEben’sroom, with his head inTryggr’slap.Good.Realgood,Ka-esh.Ach, you’ve got a tight, hot little mouth.Realnice.Sogood and tight and sweet, so pretty with aSkaiin your mouth…
Butbeyond that, even strongest of all, was still that day in the sickroom, whenTryggrhad come to ask forEben’stonic.ForEben’swork.Whenhe’d lookedEbenin the eye, and spoken those impossible, unthinkable words, wordsEbenwould never forget.
It’sgood work,Ka-esh.Realgood.Yourpa was a fool for not seeing how good you are at your work.An’ how important it is, too.
Yourpa was a fool.It’sgood work.Realgood.
Thewords rang around and around inEben’sskull, behind his scratchy eyes, curling into his empty-feeling chest.It’sgood work.Realgood.
Andamidst his hollow, aching exhaustion,Ebencould somehow, almost… agree.Itwasgood work.Itwas.He’dseen how it had helpedDuff.He’dseen how it had helped countless other patients, orcs, women, orclings.Andthat truth — that help — wasn’t something his father could ever take from him.
Hisfather had been… wrong.
Nevertrust aSkai, the grating voice chanted, butEbenshook his head, and drew in a deep, dragging breath.Becausemaybe… maybe his father had been wrong about that too, after all.EvenifTryggrhadn’t wantedEben, or hadn’t even liked him — he’d still been so kind.Soconsistently generous.He’dlooked out forEben, he’d helped him, he’d praised him.
Ifnothing else,Tryggrhad been… a friend.Areal friend, who could be trusted, and relied upon.
Andthat, too, was something elseEbenwas sure about.Evenif his own perceptions couldn’t be trusted,Tryggrhad still been a true friend toAlma.ToDuff.EventoDrafli, doing all that miserable work in the scullery, seeking to support his boss in a time of great personal difficulty, and helping to make his new woman feel at home.
Andyes, evenDraflihad trustedTryggr.Thefiercest, most fearsomeSkaiin the mountain had trustedTryggralone with his woman, for days and days on end.AndTryggrhad returned that trust with hard work, and with care, and with kindness.
Nevertrust a… began the voice, butEbenshook his head, and curled up on the bunk.
Yourpa was a fool.It’sgood work.Realgood.
Hesomehow slept like that, alone on the hard cold stone, breathing the scents of his father, his lost home.Heeven dreamt of his father, of his father speaking, speaking, speaking, hurling his conviction and his fear at his small, cowering child.Achild who finally raised his wet, miserable face, and whispered,Itis good work,Father.Itis.
WhenEbenawoke again, his head still ached, his eyes puffy and gritty, his throat still raw from his weeping.Butthe emptiness in his chest had shifted, somehow, settled into a strange, unfamiliar certainty.
Itwas good work.Ithad been a good choice.Hehad worked hard, and done his best.
Butthen — he blinked, rubbed his face — a scent.Afamiliar scent.Ascent he’d never expected to taste this close again, still whispering of… him.
“Tryggr?” he croaked, toward the door — and in a flash of movement,Tryggrindeed lurched into view.Hoveringin the doorway with an odd, jerky intensity, his forehead furrowed, his face pale.
“Sorryto bother you,Ka-esh,” he said, his voice rough. “Butthere’s been a bit of a mess up above, andIwas wondering if you might be willing to —”
Hebroke off there, wincing, butEbenwas already shoving himself up in bed, and nodding.Tryggrhad been a friend.Agift.AndEbenwould never, ever forget that, as long as he lived.
“Ach,Iam happy to help,” he said, and he meant it. “Aughtthat you need.Always.”
17
InallEben’swildest fantasies aboutTryggr, he had never once imagined the bizarre, surreal experience of sitting across fromTryggrin his family’shellir, and listening intently to hisSkaitale of woe.
Itturned out thatAlma,Drafli, andBaldrhad bitterly quarrelled, to the point whereAlmawas now convalescing in the sickroom, andBaldrhad run off above ground, alone.Thishad putDrafliin the highly unenviable position of needing to choose between them, and he had finally taken off afterBaldr, after leaving detailed instructions with his clanmates aboutAlma— who, apparently, was now also pregnant with their son.
“Butnowshe’s planning to run off again too!”Tryggrcontinued, his voice more agitated thanEbenhad ever heard it. “An’ all those meddlingAsh-Kaiare supporting it as some kinda grand scheme — ’cause her old fool boss is still rattling his swords at us, saying we kidnapped her, so if she goes back to him, he can’t blame us anymore!An’IkenIshould follow her, keep an eye on her likeIhave been, but just before he left” —Tryggrdragged both hands against his hair — “Bosstold me tostay stuck here on my arse,again, and fix up the scullery!Makeit real nice and new for her, he said!”
