Living Words

"Guylian!" Tlory greeted loudly from halfway across the room. Guylian flushed as a few of the patrons  closest to Tlory turned to stare at him. Tlory wended his way through the tables, tucking his empty tray  beneath his arm.

"What are you doing here?" Tlory asked, pulling Guylian to the side as a pair of men entered the tavern  behind him.

"Um," Guylian managed, startled as a nearby table exploded into laughter. Tlory slanted him an amused  look, stepping closer and shielding most of the room from view.

"Well?" Tlory asked, pushing his hair away from his face and shifting impatiently.

"I need to talk to you," Guylian blurted out, flushing and doing his best to meet Tlory's eyes. It was hard  though, his eyes kept sliding towards the floor.

"That sounds unpleasant," Tlory said, smirking at him teasingly. Guylian just shrugged because Tlory might  be teasing now, but he wouldn't be once Guylian told him that he couldn't teach him any more.

"Okay, hold on," Tlory said, a frown flickering briefly across his face. "Can you wait a bit? We just got a  fresh wave for dinner, so I can't skive off just yet."

"I can," Guylian agreed, because the alternative was to talk to Tlory another day and he didn't want to wait  that long.

"Go sit at the bar, then," Tlory said, smirking a little at something. "I'll come get you when I'm caught up."

"Okay," Guylian said apprehensively, a little wary of the look on Tlory's face. Tlory laughed, hooking arms  with him and pulling him across the room. He managed it without running into any of the tables or  tripping over anyone, though Guylian stumbled a time or two.

"Stay here," Tlory ordered, pushing him at a bar stool at the end of the bar closest to the kitchen. "Bella,  get Guylian whatever he wants," Tlory called to the bartender, clapping Guylian on the shoulder. "Don't  drink me out of my week's wages, please," Tlory said, close to Guylian's ear.

"I won't," Guylian said, but he was talking to empty air—Tlory had already slipped away and was  disappearing into the kitchen. Guylian looked apprehensively at the bartender, who'd made her way to his  end of the bar already.

"What'll it be?" Bella asked, and she looked amused at him, too.

"I'm fine," Guylian said quietly, making her lean closer.

"What was that?" Bella asked, pulling out a clean pint glass.

"I'm not thirsty," Guylian tried again. He didn't really know what to order at a tavern, but in any case, he  wasn't going to drink on Tlory's tab when he was about to tell Tlory bad news. Bella laughed loudly and  drew from one of the tabs lined up behind the bar, filling the clear glass with pale, amber-colored liquid.

"Here," she said, sliding the glass towards him with a wink. "You don't have to be thirsty to drink."

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"Okay," Guylian muttered, sitting down on the bar stool awkwardly. He pulled the glass closer carefully as
Bella wandered off to tend an actual customer, thankfully leaving Guylian alone at his end of the bar.
There was an empty bar stool between him and the next closest customer, a man with an unfortunate  beard, but if Guylian kept his gaze on his drink, he wouldn't have to talk to anyone.

Pulling the frothy drink another inch closer, Guylian glanced around the room. He spotted Tlory  immediately, chatting easily with a table of middle-aged women. Guylian bit his lip, flushing a little as he  watched Tlory smile easily at the women. He was saying something that apparently involved a number of  grandiose gestures, earning laughter and bright smiles from the group.

Guylian turned away, focusing on his drink. His life would be so much easier if he could talk to people  with even a third of the grace Tlory had. It really wasn't fair—how did Tlory manage to be so personable?
And he could do magic, even if he didn't have the bonus of growing up speaking Civomic.

Guylian toyed with his glass absently, wondering how Tlory would take the news. If Guylian was right,  he'd be upset but ultimately he'd understand. If Macati was right… well, Guylian could just forget about  keeping his past secret.

Facing the bar squarely, Guylian took a cautious sip of his drink for lack of anything better to do. It was  bitter, but not bitter enough to make him spit it back out. It was surprisingly light and sweet, and Guylian  hoped it wasn't going to put too large a dent in Tlory's purse.

It probably wouldn't, otherwise Tlory wouldn't have made the offer. Guylian sighed quietly, slouching on  his bar stool and hoping that Tlory got a break quickly. The longer he stayed, the more nervous he got.
Guylian sighed, biting his lip and forcing himself to be patient.

It was nearly half an hour later and half of the contents of the pint glass when Tlory finally reappeared at  his side, his carrying tray conspicuously absent.

"I'm free for a bit," Tlory announced cheerfully, stealing Guylian's drink and downing half the remainder  with a few quick swallows. "What do you need to talk to me about?"

"It's—" Guylian began, awkwardly dismounting from the bar stool. "It's a little personal."

"Privacy, then?" Tlory asked, smiling wryly. He paused, looking thoughtful. "I suppose we'd better just go  to my room. I can't go too far, I have to be back to work pretty quick."

"Okay," Guylian agreed, blushing a little and hoping no one was paying them any attention as Tlory led the  way up the stairs. Tlory didn't say anything as he led the way down the hallway, and Guylian tried  unsuccessfully to quell his nerves as he entered Tlory's tiny little room.

It was neater than it had been when Guylian had last visited. Tlory's bed was neatly made and a small pile  of handkerchiefs of different colors, fabrics, and patterns were stacked on top of the small dresser at the  foot of Tlory's bed.

"I've been practicing more," Tlory admitted, smiling shyly. "Sit down."

"What did you try?" Guylian asked, curious even though he shouldn't be. What Tlory had tried on his own  wasn't going to matter in a few minutes anyway.

"Just some more colors," Tlory admitted, pushing Guylian towards the bed. "Sit down, you're creeping me  out hovering there."
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"Sorry," Guylian muttered, sitting down hesitantly. Tlory had no compunctions about joining him, sitting  down heavily next to him.

"My feet ache," Tlory complained good-naturedly. "So, out with it. What awful thing has you all stiff and  bothered?"

Guylian flushed, staring down at his hands. He was that obvious? He really was, but how could he give
Tlory bad news when Tlory was so nice to him?

"Fenral didn't bother you again, did he?" Tlory asked abruptly, sitting up straight. Guylian glanced at him  in surprise to find Tlory's expression had darkened. Guylian flinched a little.

"I told him—" Tlory began, but cut himself off. "Did he bother you?"

"No," Guylian said, frowning at Tlory in confusion. "What did you tell Fenral?"

"To leave you alone," Tlory said, frowning a little in return and it was decidedly odd to see Tlory so out of  sorts. "I… may have embellished with a few threats. I did read a few curse books when I was Macati's  apprentice."

"Tlory," Guylian said, making his tone as reproving as he could. But Fenral hadn't seemed too off-put  earlier. "When did you…?"

"When he came by for dinner," Tlory said, flashing Guylian a mischievous grin. "I may have also spilled his  dinner on him. Accidentally, of course."

Guylian shook his head, torn between being embarrassed and amused.

"So," Tlory said, nudging him with an elbow. "Why are you here? Not that I don't appreciate seeing you."

"You saw me earlier," Guylian said, shrugging a little. He hesitated before continuing a bit more quietly. "I  asked Macati if I could visit on Tuesday to teach you some more."

"At which point, he said no," Tlory said flatly, and when Guylian risked another look at him, his face was  completely blank.

"He told me why he kicked you out," Guylian said in explanation. Tlory rolled his eyes, but he didn't say  anything, just met Guylian's eyes with that unnerving blank stare. Guylian stared back uncertainly, hoping  he hadn't misjudged. Tlory cracked after a few minutes, narrowing his eyes and shifting his stance  defensively.

"What, so you came to see if I was using you to try it again?" Tlory demanded, standing up and regarding
Guylian with a cold stare.

"No," Guylian denied, his eyes widening. He hadn't; he'd only come to say he couldn't teach Tlory  anymore.

"And if I said I was?" Tlory asked, raising an eyebrow and looming a little.

"Nothing?" Guylian asked, shrinking back. "I don't—it wouldn't matter because Macati won't let me either  way."
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Tlory snorted, giving him a sharp, brittle smile. "Sure it doesn't. You wouldn't care if I got you in trouble  enough that you'd get your tongue cut out as punishment?"

"You wouldn't," Guylian said half-heartedly, flushing and sinking down in his seat miserably. Tlory  scowled at him darkly, and just when Guylian decided he needed to go before Tlory got really angry, Tlory  deflated.

"I could easily," Tlory said petulantly, shaking his head a little. "But I wouldn't."

"Thank you?" Guylian said, completely thrown at Tlory's abrupt change in mood.

"You're welcome," Tlory said, giving him a hint of a smirk. He sat down with a sigh, a little closer to
Guylian than he had been before. Guylian relaxed a little, keeping quiet to keep from upsetting Tlory some  more.

"You can't teach me magic anymore," Tlory said, shifting to look at him. "But you can come visit, right?"

"I don't know," Guylian said, flushing a little as he tried to figure out how he'd explain that to Macati.

"Come on," Tlory said, pouting outrageously. "There aren't really any people around here my age that I like  to hang out with."

Guylian flushed a little, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt a little. "I don't know if Macati would let me."

"I could talk to him," Tlory offered, smirking. "I'm sure he'd love to hear from me."

"I don't think that would help," Guylian said doubtfully, making Tlory snicker.

"It would be fun," Tlory said, grinning. "How about this? You talk to him, and if you can't convince him, I  will."

Guylian shrugged, trying in vain to come up with a reason that Tlory shouldn't that he'd actually agree  with.

"If you're not here Tuesday, I will come find you," Tlory said cheerfully, brushing his shoulder against
Guylian's.

"Okay," Guylian said after a minute, folding his hands together and hunching his shoulders a little. He did  want to see Tlory again, even if it wouldn't be magic-related. Hopefully… but Macati and Tlory were at  odds, so maybe Macati wouldn't be amenable to Guylian spending time away from his studies to… hang  out.

It was strange though. Tlory was obviously interested in magic—more so than it extended to  counterfeiting—so why had he jeopardized his future as a mage by trying it?

"What?" Tlory asked, poking none-too-gently in the ribs. Guylian jerked away, startled. "You've got that  look on your face that means you've got something to say but you're too afraid to say it."

Guylian flushed, shrugging. "I just don't understand why."

"Why what?" Tlory asked, striving for levity but falling far short. "Oh, fine. It's stupid, really."
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Guylian nodded, well acquainted with stupid motivations.

"You know, Macati never asked me why," Tlory said, looking thoughtful. "He yelled a lot, but he didn't ask  me why."

"Stop stalling," Guylian said quietly, even if he really wanted to ask more. Macati had yelled? Guylian had  never really seen him mad—his spats with Tlory didn't really count.

Tlory snorted. "Fine. Okay, so, a little before I apprenticed with Macati, my dad died. Crushed to death by  a frightened horse."

"I'm sorry," Guylian said quietly, but Tlory just shrugged flippantly before continuing.

"My mother took it hard," Tlory said, a frown flickering briefly across his face. "My dad spoiled her. He  did freelance mage work for the king and got paid a lot. Money he frittered away on my mother and our  house. When he died, there was nothing left. He always assumed he'd be around to take care of us, you  know? And then he wasn't and there wasn't anything left.

"My mother was stupid about it, too. She should have cut back and stopped buying new clothes and jewels  and hiring people to take her into the city, but she didn't. She kept spending until she ran out of money.
And then she kept spending on credit with money she didn't have. A few months after I apprenticed with
Macati, she sold the house and moved to the city. That's how I know about you. I visit her occasionally  and it was the hottest gossip when you disappeared after setting your fiancée's party dress on fire."

Guylian flushed, but ignored that. "So you needed money for your mother?"

"Yeah," Tlory said, shrugging nonchalantly, but his face was grim. "She's in deep. I should just let her rot  and deal with the mess she's made on her own, but she's my mother, you know?"

"Yeah," Guylian agreed quietly, biting his lip. "Why does she keep spending?"

"She thinks she can net a rich man again. One who can take care of her properly and absolve all her debts,"
Tlory said, sighing. "Which is just stupid. She's old enough that it's highly unlikely, especially since she's not  very pretty."

"That's not very nice," Guylian said disapprovingly, not really thinking. Tlory snickered, reaching out and  tugging the ribbon from Guylian's hair.

"It's true, though," Tlory said cheerfully, crumpling the ribbon in his fist. "I don't suppose you're holding  out for a woman twice your age with more debt than sense?"

"No," Guylian protested immediately, flushing as he tried without much success to straighten out his hair.

"Have enough problems with the one woman, eh?" Tlory asked teasingly, nudging Guylian's arm with his  elbow. Guylian's face burned hotter and he shrugged awkwardly, not really wanting to think about it, let  alone talk about it.

"You could always marry me," Tlory suggested dryly, smirking at him. "That would solve both our  problems."

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