He took some of it on the ends of his fingers and massaged it into the palm of Vanyel's hand. A pleasant, sharp odor came from it, both green and spicy, and his fingers began to relax from their cramped position, both from the warming effect of the salve and the massage.
"What is that?" Vanyel asked, sniffing. "I'm going to smell sort of like a pastry."
Tylendel laughed. "Don't tempt me this early in the day, Vanyel-ashke. It's cinnamon and marigold. Good for the cramped muscles and the poor, battered fingers."
He had worked all the way out to the ends of Vanyel's fingers; the cramps were mostly gone, and the salve, rather than burning as Vanyel had half feared it would,, was numbing the areas where Tylendel was spreading it.
"Now just let me get you bandaged up."
' 'What was that you just called me?''
"Ashke? It's Tayledras. Hawkbrother-tongue. All those feathered faces and masks Savil has on the wall out in the common room are from the Tayledras; she studied with one of their Adepts, Starwind k'Treva, and they made her a Wingsister. That's like a blood brother for them."
Tylendel was wrapping each finger carefully and taking his time about it. Vanyel didn't mind in the least. Now that he wasn't in much pain, there was something a bit sensual about Tylendel's ministrations.
"She uses a lot of their expressions when there isn't a good word for the thing in our tongue. Like shay'a'chern - it translates as - oh - 'one whose lover is like self,' with a sexual connotation to the word 'self that makes it clear that they aren't talking about incest or similar interests. It's a very complicated language." He looked up from his bandaging, and Vanyel could see laughter-glints lurking in the depths of his eyes. "You smell delicious; are you sure you have lessons this afternoon?"
"We promised Savil we'd be virtuous today," Vanyel reminded him, feeling greatly tempted anyway.
Tylendel heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Too true. Well, ashke translates simply to 'beloved.' And it's part of your name already - ashke, Ashkevron. See?"
He tied off the last bit of bandage with a flourish.
"Ashke, " Vanyel mused. "I - like it."
"It suits you, ashke; Savil says the Hawkbrothers seldom go by their born-names, they take use-names when they become mages. Maybe that's the name you always should have had. Now let's go eat lunch and be virtuous - before I decide to break my sworn word to Savil!"
Savil looked up from her book and rubbed her tired, blurring eyes. Tylendel and Vanyel had taken over the couch across from her to study. Candlelight from the lantern beside them made a halo of Tylendel's dark gold curls and highlighted the golden brown of his tunic; beside him, in deep blue, Vanyel seemed to be an extension of his shadow. They shared Vanyel's history text; it rested on their knees with each holding a corner. Tylendel's arm was around Vanyel's shoulder, their heads nestled closely together. From time to time Savil could catch the murmur of a question from her nephew and Tylendel's slightly higher reply.
Strange that it's the older who has the tenor voice and the younger who's the deeper, she mused, blinking sleepily at them. Though the pairing is strange all around. I would never have reckoned Vanyel for shay'a'chern. Not with Withen for a father.
She yawned silently, and half-closed her eyes. The two young ones across the room from her blurred into a haze of gold and darkest blue. He's got 'Lendel thinking about something other than that damned feud, at least; for that I'd warm to him. Even if I want to knock him into the wall occasionally for being a little prig. 'Lendel does seems to be getting some notion of responsible behavior into his head. And a bit more politeness. Though it's a damn good thing Mardic and Donni are inclined to take everything he says generously, or they might have knocked him into the wall for me! Bless them. He can be so damned rude sometimes - arid not mean it.
She worried a hangnail with the end of her thumb. He's been so isolate I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Gods be thanked 'Lendel seems to be civilizing him. There's more patience there than there was before - and I think, maybe, a little more kindness. Less arrogance, for certain. Withen should be pleased enough with the reports he's getting to let him stay. She noted Vanyel's intense concentration on his book, and restrained the corners of her mouth from quirking up. Looks like he's enjoying himself. Can't say that I 'd mind studying with my 'Lendel coaching! Poor little lad; when he gives his heart to a thing, he certainly doesn’t do it halfway. Still, I'm not certain I like the way he's becoming so dependent on 'Lendel. That isn’t healthy, not for either of them. It could make for trouble later on.
A thin tendril of contact reached for her from across the room, although Tylendel's eyes remained on the book. :A silver for your thoughts, teacher-mine.:
:How pretty you look together, young demon.: she replied the same way. :And how grateful I am that you 've managed to stay discreet :
:Discipline, discipline,: came the laughter-tinged answer. .-Seriously, you've heard no gossip?:
:Only that I'm likely to find you two at knife-point one day :
The aura of amusement deepened. :Well, well, so it worked. I owe Van a forfeit :
Savil raised her eyebrows in surprise, and opened her eyes again to catch Tylendel looking at her with a smile lurking in the corners of his mouth. :How so, demon-child?:
:He's been insulting me behind my back. Popinjay pecking. Mostly on my proclivities. So if anything gets back to Withen . . . We decided I should “find out about it" and go for him if the insults got noticed.:
'.Great good gods!: She bit her lip to keep from laughing. :Pot calling kettle, oh my hope of the Havens! What were you planning on doing ? Are you going to call him out? I'd rather you didn't have at each other with anything sharp :
:Oh, probably I'll make a major confrontation, with as many witnesses as possible. But not with blades, teacher-love; he's too good for me, and we figured he should lose so he gets the sympathy of his flock of doves. Barehanded, we think. Wrestling; we 'II try to keep fists out if it as much as possible too. We had some vague notion of trying it the next time it rains, in the mud. It should be lots of fun :
Savil had to drop the mind-link for a moment until she got herself back under control. Lots of fun indeed - great good gods, both of them tussling in the open in front of everyone and no one guessing how much they 're enjoying it.
:Demon-child, I think I'll put you in for envoy when I grant you your Whites; you have altogether too twisted a mind!: