13 Legitimate criticism

Whitlow pulled Vardi up the stairs and into the library. Nobody else was there. The only noise was muffled laughter seeping through the floor. The silent, still air created a vivid contrast to the room they had just left.

Vardimann flopped into a window seat, still laughing breathlessly. He hadn't been so carefree around so many people for a long time. It was fun, but now he was starting to feel the fatigue.

Whitlow pulled Vardi's nose to get his attention. "How long do you think we'll be staying here?"

"We usually stay for a day, right?"

"We're going to be staying here for a lot longer than that." Whitlow released the appendage. "Do you think you're going to survive if you keep antagonizing everyone?"

Vardimann rubbed his nose. "If I had known we were going to be here for so long, I wouldn't have behaved like that."

"Well, now you know."

Vardimann noticed Whitlow massaging his eyes. "Are you okay?"

"No, I'm tired and I have a headache. I wanted to take a break before having to deal with those chatterboxes, but then I had to babysit you, and then I had to look after Tina, and then the plants were delivered to my room and I had to take care of those…I barely had time to rest."

"And then it was dinner, and I just couldn't handle dealing with that chatterbox Elias. Don't get me wrong, he's a great guy, but sometimes I wish he would just shut up already! I was hoping that sitting you with him would keep him occupied enough that I could just eat and drink without having to keep up with the conversation. But that didn't work out either! You wouldn't stop fighting with everyone!"

Whitlow felt large, warm hands on his arms. He heard Vardimann's gentle voice. "I'm sorry. I didn't notice."

Whitlow chuckled. "You're such a weirdo." He took one of Vardi's hands and waved it in front of him. "If I complained about somebody else like that, to their face, they would definitely punch me."

Vardimann was confused. "But why? Everything you said was true."

"People don't like hearing criticism. Especially if it's legitimate." Whitlow let go of the hand, his bad mood fading.

Vardimann took his hand again. "Why don't you go back and get some rest. I'll tell the others so they won't go looking for you."

Whitlow peered at him suspiciously. "You'll start another fight."

"I won't!" He shook his head. "I'm not going to stick around. There's something I want to do, and now is as good a time as any."

The doctor wandered what he wanted to do, but couldn't be bothered to ask. "All right. Don't make trouble."

"Witty-I mean, Doctor Whitlow. Do you want to know why I behave the way I do?"

Whitlow didn't say anything. Vardimann coughed. "I can't remember much before I was eight years old. At that age, I was forced to grow up fast. I had to work on the farm, and there was a lot of other stuff happening. I never had the opportunity to be carefree without worrying that someone would-" He cut himself short.

"The point is, being able to talk and act like this with people who will respond is a first for me." He shrugged. "I'm still getting used to it."

Whitlow sighed. "You grew up in a different place and that's why you're a weirdo."

Vardimann grinned. "How succinct."

The response was dry. "I'm tired."

"All right." Vardimann patted him on the head. "Time for bed. I'll deal with the others."

When the others learned Whitlow had turned in early, they all groaned in disappointment but were easily distracted by the juggler. Vardimann couldn't see what was interesting about her. When he had first seen one he had been fascinated, until he tried it out. It had only taken him a single hour to learn how to juggle.

After talking with the others for a bit, Vardimann went back to his room. He couldn't hear anything from next door, so he assumed Whitlow was already asleep. He tried to stay quiet as he got a towel and a change of clothes, then tiptoed back down the hallway.

He left the castle through a side door. The night air was cool and crisp. The sun had set and the moon and stars had come out, decorating the skies like scattered white pebbles on black sand.

Vardimann looked back. The keep walls blocked the lights from the feast on the first floor. However, there were still lights from the higher windows. He didn't need to worry about not being able to find the way back.

He turned away and started walking. When he had asked Elias about the lake in the tapestries, he had said it portrayed a real lake not far from Tapp Castle. Vardimann followed the directions he had been given. Walk to the forest, follow the edge anti-clockwise, then follow the path to the lake. It was a man-made lake, created for the pleasure of the nobility. In the summer and spring months, young lords and ladies would visit, most of them friends of the baroness. They would idle away their days at the lake's edge, playing games, listening to music, and indulging in gossip.

For the baron, the lake had a more practical service. The project of building the lake had provided jobs to attract people to move into the area. The amount of water that had been removed from the river to fill the lake had significantly lowered the water levels. While it wasn't enough to prevent it flooding almost every autumn, it reduced the risk. Every time the river flooded, it washed away most of the fish in the area, so Elias also used the lake to store and breed live fish for the winter.

When Vardimann saw the lake, it was a bit different from what he had seen in the tapestry. The constant rain had caused the water levels of the lake to rise, and there hadn't been enough time for the water to recede. Where there used to be a large, grassy area between the carefully groomed trees and the bank, there was just water lapping the roots.

Vardimann hung his towel and spare clothing on a branch. He was going to swim fully dressed, god knows his clothes needed a clean. Ever since they had been stranded for a week, he hadn't been able to have a proper wash. The river had been swollen and muddy, thoroughly discouraging any thought of a swim. The best he had been able to get was tipping a bucket of well water over his head.

Vardimann dove into the water. Being able to have a proper swim in clean water was such a relief after so long. He took off his wet clothes, wringing the mud off. That mud had been there for almost two weeks. The clothes were then tossed up onto the branch near his towel. Vardimann floated on his back and stared up at the stars. He could feel his muscles relaxing, the tension from not being clean fading away. He closed his eyes and exhaled.

"I needed this."

After Vardimann left to talk to Elias and the others, Whitlow went back to his room. While he was tired, he wasn't quite tired enough to sleep yet. His exhaustion was more of a mental thing, rather than physical.

He inspected his plants. They had all been brought here from his wagon, so that they could get some direct sunlight without getting wet. They crowded the table and floor, with just enough room to reach the bed and fireplace. Some of the plants had too much water in their pots. He would need to replace their dirt with something drier.

There was a polite knock at the door. Knowing who it probably was, Whitlow opened the door.

Nathan looked rather concerned. "Are you all right? I thought you looked tired but I didn't think it was that bad."

"I just wanted to get away from the noise." Whitlow leaned against the frame. "Are you coming in?"

Nathan smiled, but then paused, like something had just occured to him. He glanced at the door leading to Vardimann's room. "It might be better if you came to my room."

Whitlow followed his line of sight. "You may be right."

Less than a minute after they left, Vardimann came back to his room for a towel.

Being the castle steward, Nathan had a room on the third floor. The walls were lined in oak panels, and fur rugs covered the floor. Two chairs and a small table sat in front of a small fire. It was about the same size as Whitlow's room, but the decor and lack of plants made it seem larger and much more cozy.

Whitlow sat in his chair. Nathan brought out a chess board and a flask of wine. They were set out on the small table.

"You want to be white?"

Whitlow nodded and moved a pawn.

Nathan took a sip of the flask and passed it over. He then moved his black pawn.

They played chess, passing the wine back and forth. There was some small conversation, nothing that required a lot of thinking.

Whitlow deliberately let their hands brush. Nathan paused and looked him in the eyes. "I thought you were tired."

Whitlow smiled. "I'm not that tired." He traced a circle on the back of Nathan's hand. "It's been a while. Did you really think I wouldn't get in the mood?"

The steward chuckled. "Very well then." He brushed Whitlow's lips with a finger. "But I want to take it slow. It has been a while, after all."

Whitlow smiled and turned towards his hand, and the rest happened quite naturally.

A while later, after the feasting had ended, Whitlow lay naked on the bed and traced an old scar on Nathan's bare shoulder. The scar stretched down past the collarbone.

"You do that every time you see it."

The doctor smiled. "You know I like to see my handiwork." Nathan had gotten that wound four years ago, and Whitlow had been the one to fix him up. The axe had nearly crushed the collarbone and cracked some of his ribs. While he had been unable to save Nathan's career as a knight, it was a testament to his skill that he didn't lose use of the arm completely.

"Lukin."

"Hmm?"

"Would you like a bath? I can get the servants to bring one up."

"This late?"

"It's fine." Nathan kissed his forehead. "Only the drunkards will be asleep."

Whitlow chuckled. "In that case, yes."

"Wait here then." Nathan pulled the curtains around the bed and summoned a servant for the bath.

Whitlow stayed quiet and still as the servant moved around the room. After the servant left, he pulled the curtains back.

A large tub sat in front of the fireplace. Nathan held out an arm and bowed exaggeratedly. "Would sire like me to scrub his back?"

Whitlow knocked his head. "Don't fool around. It isn't like you." He got into the tub and leaned back, letting the warm water lap his arms. There wasn't quite enough room to stretch his legs, but the temperature was nice.

"I thought you liked funny people, since you picked up another one." Nathan moved a chair behind Whitlow's head and started massaging his shoulders.

Whitlow shook his head. "Being funny is fine on occasion, but when I'm not in the mood it's just irritating." He tilted back his head and stared at the ceiling. "It's quieter when it's just you." There were cobwebs in the corners, grey with dust and beaded with small corpses. He thought he could see a familiar constellation in them. Nathan's calloused hands gently rubbed his shoulders, making him relax and sink deeper into the water.

"Ahh, I needed this."