The Palsian Year 315.
Narcasse did not return that night. Nor the night after that. Darun began to worry about him. When he did not return for the third night in a row, Darun resolved to find him the next day.
The next morning, however, Narcasse returned. His clothes were rumpled, his hair unkempt, and his eyes held a haunted look. He was holding the hand of a little boy. He smiled faintly when he saw Darun, and then turned to the boy, speaking in a gentle voice.
"Eram, this is Lord Darun. Darun, this is Eram."
Darun nodded at the boy, who solemnly nodded back. Darun then reached over and gave his friend a hug, sensing that he needed it.
Narcasse leaned against him. "I'll be okay. I just need to take a bath and get some sleep. I haven't slept in days."
Kharlan spotted them in the hallway. "You two," he greeted. He spotted Eram and recognized him. "Why it's the boy from the brothel." He looked back at Narcasse and laughed. "Not much of a family resemblance, is there?"
Darun punched him in the gut. It had been a pulled blow, but it still left Kharlan doubled over and breathless.
"Come on," Darun said to Narcasse. "I'll take care of the boy. You go get some rest."
Narcasse gave him a grateful look. He leaned over and gave Darun a kiss on the cheek, then whispered in Darun's ear. "And in case you were wondering, I'm not his father."
"I know." Darun looked at Eram. "Come on, Eram, let's get you some better clothes." He looked at Narcasse. "I trust that you can make it to the baths by yourself?"
"Sleep first, bathe later," Narcasse replied. "And yes, I can. Thanks." He gave Darun another look of gratitude, and then left. Darun took Eram away in search of food, a bath, and clothes.
---
"So you're Ashanti's son?"
Eram nodded. "Yes sir." He ate the bread that had been given to him with great appetite for a seven-year-old.
"How is your mother?"
Eram stopped and stared at him with wide eyes. Then he continued to eat. "Dead sir."
Which explained why he was here with Narcasse. Darun mentally kicked himself. "Oh."
"My mom was happy. She was very happy, 'cuz Lord Narcasse was there. He stayed until she died."
"I see." Darun felt awful. He gave the boy a gentle pat on the head.
--
In due time, Narcasse was clean and well-rested. He went to speak to Darun, while Eram slept in his bed.
They went back to Darun's room so as to not disturb the boy's sleep.
"Thanks for taking care of things, Darun."
Darun waved it off. "How are you feeling?"
"Awful," Narcasse admitted. "I stayed up with her the entire time, and only nodded off whenever she did. Ashanti, I mean. She was very sick. She passed away in the early morning." He met Darun's eyes. "I promised her I would take care of Eram."
Darun agreed with his silent request. "As it is the right thing to do, for a friend's child."
"But you know..." Narcasse's voice hardened with anger. "She was a slave, Darun. I can't help but think that she wouldn't have died like this if her life hadn't been so hard. Slavery is truly an evil institution that should be stamped out."
Darun agreed.
"I think I'll suggest the king to outlaw it."
Darun felt his heart stop. He tried not to panic. "It's an evil institution, that's true enough. Let's just leave it at that and concentrate on raising Eram."
"I plan to free him when he comes of age."
"That's nice," Darun said, hoping against hope that Narcasse had been joking when he spoke about the king.
His hopes were dashed. "I'm serious, Darun. I owe it to Eram's mother. I need to tell the king."
"Narcasse," Darun said, breaking it as gently as he could. "Telling the king won't change anything and he has a terrible temper. He might demote you or something else idiotic. Don't do it. Nothing you do will bring her back. Your best way of honoring her memory is by raising her son."
Narcasse shook his head. "Do you know what I realized Darun, when the Turan prince was executed? Kings, princes, royalty-- they're all ordinary people, like the rest of us. Death makes us all equal-- it comes to everyone in the end, pawn or king. Those on the top are simply lucky. Those on the bottom are not." His voice rose with passion. "Slavery is an injust institution because it enslaves people who are just the same as everyone else, but born under unlucky stars. A chance of fate, rather than personal merit.
"I have been silent on this issue for far too long, Darun. While Ashanti could never speak against the system she was in, I can. Unlike her, I do not have to be silent. I owe it to her to speak. If I do not speak on her behalf, then who will? Certainly not the slaves themselves. And not the slave holders. Slavery is an institution that dehumanizes others like us. The King needs to be aware of that."
"Narcasse," Darun tried to reason. "What you say is true, but don't be ridiculous. You can't be the avenger for the slaves. You're a nobleman. You don't represent the slaves and your one voice won't make a difference. Don't do it. For my sake, don't do it."
"Your sake?" Narcasse's voice was flat, no longer holding the passion in it just moments ago. "I would do this for Ashanti and Eram's sake. Certainly not yours. How would it be for your sake? How does it benefit you if I stay silent? It should not make a difference to you, because you will not interfere if I say anything, right? You won't make excuses like before. You wouldn't stop me and try to take the blow, now would you?"
Darun hesitated.
"Because I would not let you," Narcasse continued. "Remember? You promised me that you would let me act as I wanted to."
"Narcasse, just think it over for a few days, all right? You're upset; your friend just passed away. You're not thinking clearly. In a few days--"
"On the contrary, my friend, my eyes have never been more open." Narcasse looked at Darun. "I think I see why you're worried. If you had to choose between your loyalty to your king and your loyalty to me, which would you choose?"
Silence.
"Darun?"
"Don't make me choose, Narcasse," Darun begged.
Narcasse's eyes darkened. "Which would you choose?"
"You know what I would choose."
"If I knew, then I would not be asking, now would I?" Narcasse gave a sharp laugh. "I can't believe it. Or rather, I don't want to believe it, though I suppose I should have seen it coming. In the end, though I'm more important to you than anyone else -- your own words -- you would choose our king over me. What if he ordered me to be executed?"
"That's why you shouldn't do something so foolish, Narcasse! Don't provoke his anger!"
Narcasse was not listening. "In the end, no matter how much you love me, your loyalty to your king takes precedence. I'm second. Even as you would be willing to die for me, if your king commanded you to die, you would roll over and die. Even though you don't think he's a worthy king. He's NOT a worth king, Darun! There are some people worth following in our lives. Andragoras isn't one of them!"
"King Andragoras," Darun replied automatically. He regretted the words the instant he said them. "I mean..."
"I know what you mean," Narcasse said. He sounded tired. "You swore to him first. And so your loyalty goes to him first and foremost. If he ordered you to murder me, even though it would break both our hearts, you would do it. It seems I have been mistaken you, Darun. Or rather, I should have seen this earlier. When the castle was on fire, you did the same thing. Would have chosen to save Hirumes, even though you did not really know him, over your own life and anyone else's, had you been given the chance. Your uncle has raised you well. You have all the qualities of a good subject."
He turned to leave. Darun stopped him. "Wait, Narcasse. You're not really going to talk to the king, are you?"
Narcasse looked at him. "Whether or not I do is really none of your business." It occurred to Narcasse that Darun might make it his business, and do something stupid. He stopped and then smiled a faint smile at Darun. "Don't worry, Darun. I was just talking." He kissed Darun, then pulled away. "I'm going back to bed. Good night."
Darun was not convinced. "Are you really going back to bed? Because Eram's sleeping in yours. Why don't you stay in mine for the night?"
Narcasse hesitated, then acquiesced. "All right."
---
When Darun woke up the next morning, Narcasse was gone. Trying not to panic, Darun flung on his clothes and rushed to the throne room.
Just as he arrived there, the doors of the throne room opened and Narcasse appeared.
"You didn't."
Narcasse's lips twisted into a bitter smile. "I did." He began to walk down the hall, and Darun followed him. The latter was aghast.
"What did he say?"
"I've been kicked out of the court, stripped of my title, and exiled from the palace." Narcasse continued to walk with ease, and Darun was unable to decipher if his friend was joking or not. He prayed that his friend was simply playing with words.
"Narcasse-- are you being serious?"
Narcasse stopped and turned to look at him. "Yes."
Darun was shocked. "You--Why--" Darun shook his head and thought furiously. "Wait. It's not too late. Give His Majesty a few days, apologize, and surely he'll forgive you. You're too valuable for him to simply kick out of court. You can move into my room. We'll hide you there for a while, then when His Majesty's anger calms down, you can ask for his forgiveness and surely--"
But Narcasse was shaking his head. "I am leaving Palse, Darun. I am taking Eram and retiring to Lord Cheiron's retreat, where I will probably spend the rest of my days painting."
Darun stared. Then he grew angry. "Why did you tell him, Narcasse? You told me you wouldn't say anything! Did you even think about what I said at all?"
"Of course I thought about it," Narcasse said. "I thought about it all night. I'm not impulsive like you. I did what I did, knowing fully well the potential consequences."
"Why are you so calm about this?" Darun screamed.
Narcasse glanced about them and pulled Darun into a nearby room where they could talk more privately.
"It's not so bad, Darun. It would not be. If you came with me."
Darun was silent.
"Think about it," said Narcasse, his voice smooth and inviting. "Here, we'll always be pawns to the king's whims. Perhaps, if he was a just and noble king, that would be tolerable. But Andragoras is anything but noble. He's a greedy, filthy, lustful king. I realized yesterday that if we stayed, particularly, if YOU stayed, you would always listen to the king's irrational whims. You would always obey them. We're pawns here. No better than slaves. If we don't leave, we'll live as slaves for the rest of our lives.
"I realized when the Turan Prince died that I was responsible for his death. And we're responsible for the deaths of those we slain in battle. And we will continue to be responsible for those that King Andragoras deems are worthy of death. Don't you see? If we stayed, King Andragoras would continue to use us as tools in war. He'll exploit our abilities and our skills. There would be no escaping it. And we would be responsible for what he does.
"I made a promise to myself, once. When our friendship was first broken. I vowed I would always speak my mind. The freedom to speak -- do you know how important that is? I spoke because I had to speak, Darun. I owed it to Ashanti and I owed it to myself. I would not have been able to stand myself if I had not said anything. And I cannot live with myself, day after day in this palace, if I hold myself back and follow each and everyone of Andragoras' orders. I would not be able to bear it.
"Come with me, Darun. You, more than anyone else, should leave. King Andragoras does not deserve either your loyalty or your devotion. Come with me. We'll have a merry time there. It'll be fun, if it was the two of us."
Darun was torn.
Narcasse watched him.
Silence.
Finally, Darun shook his head. "I can't leave, Narcasse. I made a vow as well and I can't break it. I'm sorry."
Narcasse said, "I was hoping that you would come. You need to leave even more than I do." He started heading towards the door. "I will be packing if you change your mind."
"Narcasse, wait."
Narcasse stopped.
"Don't...don't leave me." Darun wrapped his arms around his lover from behind, then spoke to his ear. "Please. It was a mistake; King Andragoras will forgive you. All you have to do is ask for it. In fact I can go right now and beg for you."
Narcasse snapped his head around, his eyes ablaze. "Don't you dare interfere with what I chose to do, Darun. I won't be responsible for it." He pulled out of Darun's arms. "I understand why you won't leave: because you choose the royal family over me. That's fine. Now you have to understand why I need to leave: because I choose my freedom over you. I chose it before, and I'm choosing it again. We're not getting any younger, Darun. Ashanti died too young, with so much left to do. She worked all her life for the day she would die. If we stayed here we would do nothing but the same. Work all our life for the king, subject to his every command as his little tools, until we die. Subject to all his mistakes, and the consequences of his mistakes. The scar on your hip. The one across Kubard's eye. The death of Kharlan's friends. I won't do it. The king means nothing to me, and there's so much left that I want to do. I'd like to devote myself to my art, for example." His arms reached up and gripped the other's shoulders. "So I'll ask you one last time-- will you come with me?"
A long breath.
"No."
Narcasse said, "Then I choose my freedom over you."
Darun shook his head in denial. "You can't leave, Narcasse. Not like this. You can't just get up and walk away."
"Why not?"
"I won't let you," Darun said, angry. He grabbed hold of his friend and shook him. "You can't just leave me, like this! Do I mean so little to you?"
"I'm not leaving you," said Narcasse, no longer calm. "I invited you to come. You, who are so loyal to a fault that certainly one day King Andragoras will order you to your death, have even more reason to leave than I do. But you're the one deciding to stay. I can't, so I'm leaving." He took a deep breath. "You know how much you mean to me. But it's hardly fair, isn't it? If I will always be second in your heart, then it's only fair that you are second in mine."
"No." Darun said. He kissed Narcasse, hard, then pulled back. "I can't leave here. If you leave, I can't follow. Stay. For me. Please, Narcasse."
Narcasse touched his cheek. "No."
"Damn it, Narcasse!" Darun shook him. "Just think about your decision!" He pulled back. "You know what, it's fine. You can leave. I'll talk to the king. When I get his approval, I'll send word to you, and you can come back."
Narcasse gave him an angry look. "Don't you see? I've made my decision! Even if King Andragoras himself came begging to me to have me back, I wouldn't stay! can't you understand that?"
"No," Darun said, in denial. "Don't leave, Narcasse. If you leave me here, I will never forgive you. Not after everything thing else we have been through. Not after we finally became lovers." He laughed. "Or maybe this is the way you want to leave me, just as you've left all your other lovers?"
Narcasse stepped back, stung. "I'm not leaving you; you're the one leaving me. If you aren't coming, Darun, then I want nothing more to do with you. Don't you dare speak to the King, it will only result in an unfavorable light on you. I won't be held responsible for your mistake. If you're not coming, then don't interfere with my life ever again."
And he left Darun alone.
---
Darun did not believe that Narcasse had truly left until he was gone. His departure had been abrupt; he had not bothered to say anything else to Darun before he left. For a whole week, Darun did not believe it. He kept thinking that there was some kind of mistake, and that, soon enough, Narcasse would return.
Narcasse never did.
It was true. They had officially parted. Narcasse was so willing to toss him aside, just like that.
Darun felt as if someone had torn his heart from his chest. When they had been friends, and had parted, that had hurt, but he could cover it up, and pretend that it didn't. But now that they were lovers that had parted, he felt as if he could no longer breathe. Somehow, becoming lovers had made them ever the more intimate, and the departure hurt ever the more so.
He considered many things. Perhaps Narcasse's pride had been slighted by the king, for he never did learn of their exact conversation with each other. He tried in vain to drop hints to the king on how useful Narcasse was. They were ignored.
News of a small rebellion army came to the palace. At the king's orders, Darun fought against them, and won. As a reward, King Andragoras gave Darun the task of training Prince Arslan, for the king felt that the prince's current tutor, Lord Bachman, was getting too old.
Darun accepted the position, and it kept him busy.
---
The Palsian Year 317.
It had been over a year and a half since Darun had last seen Narcasse. A day did not pass in which he did not wonder about the other. He had been busy training the young prince daily, and it was now his principle source of pleasure in the palace-- the joy of being able to teach such an intelligent, kind prince. Darun decided that this was the kind of ruler that Narcasse would be willing to serve.
News brewed of a possible second war with Turan. King Andragoras sent Darun to ask Narcasse to return.
He arrived at Narcasse's home, where he was first greeted by the sight of Eram practicing archery. Eram stood alone outside, shooting arrows at the sky.
"Lord Darun!" Eram exclaimed, dropping his bow and arrows. "What an honor to see you again! Please wait, I'll go get Lord Narcasse." He took off and ran inside.
Moments later, Eram came back out and beckoned Darun. "Come this way."
Darun followed Eram into the house. There, downstairs, Narcasse sat and painted.
"Hello, Narcasse."
Narcasse looked at him. "It's been a long time, Darun."
---
Dinner was a tense affair. For the last year and a half, nothing but Narcasse's angry words had repeated over and over again in Darun's memories, and to finally speak to him was very difficult indeed.
Finally, after a few cups of wine loosened their tongues, and Darun and Narcasse began to talk. They tried to keep the conversation neutral. Narcasse asked Darun how things were at the palace. Darun told him about his recent promotion involving Prince Arslan.
"I see..."
Darun shrugged. "You'd like him, Narcasse. Prince Arslan will become a fantastic ruler someday, you just know it!"
"Anything else happen of late?"
Darun shook his head. "Kharlan just came back from a trip to Maryam and he looks like he's seen a ghost. Has been on the edge lately. Kubard brags as much as ever." He shrugged.
"I see." Narcasse drank his glass.
Darun grew tired of the false pretense of the conversation. He set his glass down. "I'll be blunt, Narcasse. I'm here because King Andragoras wants you back. He's willing to pardon you, if you return."
"How kind of him."
Darun said, "There's been talk of another possible war with Turan, and he wants your strategic advice."
"I see." Narcasse leaned back. "So you're here as a messenger from the king, is it? Then you can tell him that I politely declined his request."
Darun growled. "Narcasse, the country needs you! The King needs you. I..." his voice faltered.
Narcasse looked at Darun. "Darun, don't you see? It's already begun. You're here only because you're his messenger. If I returned, we'd go back into another four or five year war in which nothing is accomplished. The Turans will get another king, and then no longer needing us, King Andragoras will go back to not caring about us. It'll be the exact same thing as before, only this time, we will be a few years older. And then it will happen when we are six years older. Ten. Twenty. History moves like this. Kingdoms come and go, and nothing changes. Then King Andragoras will find us old, and send us away, as he sent away Lord Bachman to be replaced by you. I would rather not be a part of this anymore."
He sipped his wine, then continued. "Art. Art lasts through the ages, even as kingdoms crumble and dust. It's because of art that we even remember Kai Hoslo. It is art that will allow us to continue to live on. I'm an artist now, Darun. I'd rather spend my time here, making art, then out there, living as another's tool."
"Show me," Darun said.
Narcasse raised a brow. "Show you what?"
"Show me what you've been doing for the last year and a half. Show me what lasts through time. Show me that it's more important than the war. Than Palse. Than me."
Narcasse met his eyes. After a pause, he nodded. "Fine. Come this way."
He led Darun to the room where he kept his paintings and then revealed what he had been concentrating his efforts on for the last year and a half.
Darun stared at it, but could not quite understand it. It was an assemblage of complicated squares, lines, and colors. It was not exactly a picture of anything in particular. He stared at the painting, and then grew furious.
"THIS? This is what you've been making for the last year and a half? This is what you've been doing that has made you too busy to write any letters or respond to any of mine? This is what you're willing to disobey your king and your country for? This is the life you've chosen over me? This? This-- junk?"
"What did you call it?"
"Junk! This isn't art! It isn't anything! It doesn't look like anything! How can you have wasted so much of your time on this? You're not a bad artist, Narcasse. I've seen the stuff you've done when you were younger. This is so- so-- ugly in comparison! It's the ugliest thing in the world!"
Narcasse huffed. "I suppose I was wrong to expect someone as stupid as you to understand my masterpiece."
Darun was angry. "It's ugly and a waste of time! You're wasting your talent and your youth, trapped like a hermit in self-imposed exile for something so ridiculously ugly!" He looked at Narcasse. "You say that art lasts through time? I'll prove to you that it doesn't."
And with one quick movement, he drew his sword and slashed through the painting.
"Art lasts no longer than anything else."
Narcasse stared at his ruined work in disbelief. "You barbarian..." He shook in fury and then, without warning, Narcasse tackled him. Darun dropped his sword in surprise. They began to fight each other furiously: hitting, punching, and kicking.
It was as if they were eight again, only this time Narcasse was the one who ended up on top, straddled the other. His long hair was now a mess, and both of them were breathing hard, bodies and hearts in pain. Darun raised his hand to strike Narcasse's face.
When Narcasse did not move, the hand descended slowly on his cheek, caressing his face.
"Damn you, Narcasse," Darun said, breathing fast. He closed his eyes. "Damn you. I missed you. So much. This is...really it...isn't it? You're not. Coming back."
Narcasse shook his head, catching his breath. "No."
"You're..." Darun breathed the words out as he tried to catch his breath as well. "You're going. To stay here. To paint. Bad pictures."
Narcasse touched his face. "Yes."
Darun pushed Narcasse off of him and sat up. Then he leaned over and hugged Narcasse one last time. "Good-bye, Narcasse."
Narcasse returned the hug.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Narcasse's
art was abstract, if you're curious. No wonder Darun was frustrated.
Try to guess who Kharlan saw. Yup.
back to
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Epilogue:
The Rest of Heaven was Blue
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