Water Under The Bridge

Henri finds a letter slipped under his door, inscribed in a neat, Elvish-style cursive:

Henri gently turns the letter over in his hand, reading it through again. It certainly wasn't what he was expecting - perhaps a note from his family, or from Throdrazz. But this...

His thoughts trail off, and he steps away from the door to place the letter on his desk. Maybe it would be good. A war is coming. Best not to leave things unsaid.

In two days time, Henri steps inside Paradise Frost. A tiny bell heralds his arrival, a high, clear note that cuts over the low din of breakfast discussions. The mornings are getting cooler now, and his scarf is hitched up over his neck, and with a wary eye, he loosens it as he searches the room for a familiar face.

He spots Jaezred, seated at the back of the bakery, looking up from the book he's reading at the ringing of the bell. He flashes a polite smile and waves Henri over.

Henri nods to the baker, holding up two fingers, and begins to slowly walk over to Jaezred. When he is only a step away, he takes off his light coat, spreading it over the back of his chair.

And then he sits.

"Thank you for the quill. It's very beautiful."

"Oh, you received it? Glad you liked it," Jaezred says. A little too quickly. He puts the book away and laces his fingers together on the table. "Well, as I said, I just wanted to..." He makes a gesture with both hands. "Clear the air! Anything you wish to say, say it now."

Henri cocks his head to the side, slightly puzzled. "Are you dying, Jaezred?"

"Aren't we all, every second of the day?"

Henri smirks before he can realize, quickly moving his hand up to hide the expression. "I suppose. Well if you must know, and though it pains me to say it, you were right. In a way. Slightly."

Jaezred pauses. His entire demeanour pauses. "...Really?"

Henri's eyes narrow. "I didn't have an answer when you asked what I would do with power once I received it. And now I do."

And it resumes.

"Oh, of course!" Jaezred says with a forced laugh. "Well, good for you. Is there anything more?"

A waiter brings two coffees, eyeing the two gentlemen nervously amidst the silence he had stepped into. Henri nods, and the waiter hurriedly steps away.

"Not particularly. Were you hoping I had said something else?"

"No, of course not." The drow waves flippantly, dismissing the notion entirely. "Well, I suppose I should cut to the chase, then. I would like to resume our old arrangement, if you'd be amenable to it. That is, of course, information in exchange for information. Does that sound good?"

Though they are separated only by a small table, Jaezred feels miles away from Henri. And he seems to be keeping it that way.

An eyebrow lifts at the words "old arrangement" but still Henri listens, trying his best to remain impassive. He brings the coffee to his lips, blowing lightly across the surface, and takes a sip.

It's difficult.

"I could consider it. It depends on what you have to offer. Much has changed, Jaezred. I am not the same man you walked away from."

There is no acknowledgement from Jaezred of the intimacy they had shared. Like it's something to be swept under the rug and forgotten.

"Well, naturally," he says. "Is there anything in particular I could offer my expertise on?"

"Hmm." Henri thinks for a moment, sipping his coffee, making a show of taking his time. "A question for a question, perhaps? There is something I would ask you."

"Go on."

Henri is quiet for a moment, as though he had been unsure he would get this far. With a sharp inhale, he begins. "You have held secrets, I'm sure. Ones that can shatter lords, topple kingdoms? How do you..."

Henri's mouth opens and shuts, unsure of how to continue. "How do you keep them bottled up inside? How do they not burn a hole straight through you?"

Jaezred gives him a confused look. "I... What?"

Henri looks away, the tips of his ears beginning to burn from embarrassment. "Secrets, Jaezred. Of the sort that you cannot speak a word of, to anyone."

"I confess, I'd never thought about this before. My upbringing necessitates this skill from such a young age... Is there something you'd like to share with me, Henri?"

"No. No, I am afraid this is a burden I must shoulder alone." Henri turns back to Jaezred, a weak smile the best he can muster. "And it seems I must learn to do so myself."

The wall Jaezred had put up between him and Henri begins crumbling away at last. The drow lord looks at his former lover with sympathy. "No. No, it is not. The skill comes so naturally to me that I never thought I would ever teach it to anyone, but in truth, I can."

Henri nods. "I would appreciate that. Though I am not sure what I could offer in return."

"The continued flow of information should be enough. Now, what you are feeling, Henri, is the weight of power. Either you have stumbled upon or been granted the power of ruin, concentrated in the singular form of knowledge, am I correct? What is it that you fear of this power?"

It's Henri's turn to look confused, and to stammer. "I don't- I don't fear it. I have been-"

He hadn't really considered the power that he had been offered, just its weight. But power it is, all the same, even if it would...

His thoughts trail off. "Maybe you are right. Though as funny as it is to hear me say this, I am concerned with the consequences."

"Consequences. For whom? Your enemies or your allies? The world at large?"

"One, both, all three? I really should not be talking about this." Henri's brow furrows. "Suffice to say that it is not something I am happy to know."

"You fear knowing the consequences of letting this secret out? Or of not letting it out?"

Henri rubs his face. "Are you like this with everyone you're not sleeping with? Let me put it this way: I can't let it out, and I fear that my dear family will figure it out regardless. Or I will let something slip. Or Calla will just crawl into my mind and pluck it out." He sighs. "Maybe you and I approach this too differently. I would tell them, if I could. But I can't."

Jaezred holds the younger man's gaze steadily. The moment of silence between them stretches into infinity. In his red eyes, a flurry of hypotheses, probabilities, calculations, and finally, understanding. It feels as if he has somehow worked out the nature of Henri's secret.

But whether he truly has or not, he does not say it. "What you need to understand, Henri, is that all power is a burden. If you do not believe you're not strong enough to bear this secret alone, then find a mage to wipe it from your memory. My acquaintance Lady Zola Rhomdaen can do this for you, if you are so inclined.

"But if you're not, then you must find the strength to carry this burden. Find it in your bonds — trust that your family trusts you. Find it in your calling — in that scarf around your neck and the thousand year-old garnet in your possession. Find it in yourself — you alone have been chosen to bear this secret, and not without reason. Now, it is your purpose, no matter how you feel about it."

Henri nods, quietly. He's silent, for a time, sipping at his coffee. "I wasn't sure what to expect, coming here this morning. Certainly not gratitude." Henri looks up, catching Jaezred in the eye, and holding his gaze steady. "But thank you."

The eye contact between them is maintained for a long beat. Jaezred's fingers twitch; he opens his mouth to say something—

And then, just like that, the wall is back up. He instead forces his lips to form a smile. "Jolly good. Well, until next time, then? Good luck with the war."

Jaezred stands up, gives Henri a pat on the shoulder, and makes briskly for the doors. Not even a goodbye. His cup of coffee sits untouched on the table.

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