Fidel shrugged and grimaced. "Yes and no. Many of us believed the doctrine; some always will, but others like me finally see that it is not our place to make decisions for gods. I also cannot help but feel that if the Basilisk truly hated us all so much, he would have destroyed us and someone simply killing him would not have stopped that."
"It's only delayed it," Yago said. "That is why he is reborn again and again. Why do you think the royal family always tries to keep their Basilisk sons and daughters either locked up in the palace or out of the country?"
At the look on Dario's face, Midori reached out unthinkingly to grab his arm. Dario tensed under his fingers, but then relaxed slightly, sending him a grateful look.
Midori slowly pulled his hand away, tucking away the feel of Dario's skin, the hint of muscle, to guiltily appreciate later. "I think his highness is kept away from his people because too many of them are like you and constantly seek to kill him."
"He deserves to die," Yago said coldly.
That time, Midori did not move quickly enough—and at the last, stepped out of the way as Dario slammed his fist into Yago's face. "No one has ever deserved to die less," he hissed. "You're an old fool poisoned by your own vitriol. If the true Basilisk was like the man I love, then he is dead because he wanted to protect us."
"Bah," Yago said. "You are no better than those of the Order."
"That's not true," Fidel said. "The Order wants to restore the Basilisk to use his power, whatever they say of doing what is right. The roses have all withered."
Yago just sneered at them.
"So why are you here?" Dario asked. "Waiting for the shadow child to do the dirty work so you can reap the glory you assume will follow?"
"The Basilisk will fall and Piedre will be afraid, for the true destruction of a god does not come without some consequence. But I will be here to lead the way and teach everybody that we are better off without the power of the gods. Free of the Basilisk's shadow, we will flourish."
Dario and Fidel both started to speak, but Midori raised a hand to stop them. "Stop, just stop. I can tell you right now that it is pointless. I have broken up more fights than I care to count over arguments such as this. There are plenty of people in every country who hate the gods just as much. It was especially frustrating in Pozhar, where so many people hated the sacrifices, but so many supported them and said anyone with a piece of a god's soul deserved to die. You cannot change someone's mind on so important a matter. People must choose to change their own minds."
Making a frustrated noise, Dario walked over to the fire and stabbed viciously at it. "He came all this way just so he would be in prime position to take the lead role when Culebra dies—when Culebra and Cortez die."
"Cortez deserves it," Yago said softly, with a hint of reverence in his tone as if he was reciting a prayer. It made Midori shiver.
It made Fidel punch him even harder than Dario had earlier. "Cortez has always held you in high esteem, you worthless piece of carrion! She became the Black Princesa for you more than anything else. She was always grateful to you for getting her out of the whorehouses, to the point she was blind to your true nature. The same way I blinded myself for years and years, until she left and I could no longer deny what was around me. And you want that corpse-eater to kill her!" Fidel hit him again, then turned sharply on his heel and stormed out of the house.
Yago laughed in a cold, slimy, mocking way that reminded Midori of too many nightmares at sea. Dragons grant him mercy from this storm. He looked at Yago, the blood and spit that smeared his face, the bruises already forming, and the chilling rage in his eyes.
"Why do you hate Cortez?" he asked. "That is the only part I do not understand. My impression thus far is that she was much like a daughter to you. Am I wrong?"
"She killed Goyo," Yago replied.
"Who is that?" Dario asked.
It was Fidel who answered from the doorway he had just slipped back through. "Goyo was his heir presumptive. He hated Cortez because he feared that she would usurp that position. He hated she was a better killer and more popular. They got into a fight one night, and he went too far and she killed him. She hated herself for it; I think I told Dario once, she said the death had not felt right. I ... looking back on everything I know now, it seems so obvious she is part of a god."
"Not just any part, but the part of the Basilisk that watches over unnatural deaths. Violent deaths," Dario said. "I cannot imagine how Culebra would have survived if he had been able to sense that in addition to what he already suffered."
Fidel walked back over to Yago, who just laughed at him. "She will die and she will deserve it, the filthy, bloody whore. Piedre does not need a god of death constantly looming over us, threatening destruction."
"I really want to kill him," Dario said.
Midori almost asked him why he didn't, then, but he knew the answer and understood. The man was still a priest, and Dario was the kind to kill only when necessary. He was not the sort to kill a man who was defenseless. Neither, it seemed, was Fidel.
For better or worse, Midori had no such qualms. "Have you ever been on a ship, Father Yago?" he asked, moving to stand directly in front of the man, keeping his arms loose and easy at his sides.
"No," Yago said stiffly. "I am a holy priest of Piedre. My life belongs to the land, not the wild seas."
"So you have never met a mermaid," Midori said and slowly moved around him, ignoring the confused, wary looks that the others were giving him. "Mermaids are malicious. They are cruel and thrive on it. I have heard rumors that they are changing, that the last ship to meet them was actually saved by them. But I don't know that I quite believe it. I have heard their screams of battle rage. I've seen them laugh as they gutted my comrades. I've seen the gleam in their eye as they devour those same men, thriving on the fact I was there to see it. I've seen them attack by dozens, by hundreds, and by ones, hoping to slit my throat in the dark. I know what it's like to grant one mercy, thinking that kindness is a good thing—"
He yanked Yago's head back, drew a dagger, and slit his throat. Letting him go, listening to him die, Midori finished in flat tones, "I learned quickly that monsters do not deserve mercy." He cleaned his blade on Yago's robe and then sheathed it. "We can probably throw his men out; without Yago, I doubt they will be much threat."
Fidel nodded. "You are not like any noble I've ever stumbled into."
Midori lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I have always considered myself more of a sailor than a noble. Courtly life does not suit me, even less so now when I have spent so many years at sea. Eventually, acting completely civilized becomes a very difficult thing to manage."
"I say we just leave the bastards here," Fidel said. "Dawn is not far off now. They won't wake anytime soon. When they do, and stumble out here to find Yago dead, they'll run home. By the time we reach the base of the Azul it should be light enough to press on."
"Sounds like a fine plan to me," Dario said and went to put out the fire.
"I'll go ready the horses," Fidel said, and darted off to do so.
Dario threw a bucket of water on the fire, then poked and prodded at it until he was confident every remaining ember had been stamped out. "I only endured the mermaids twice while traveling with Granito. The crew locked us up tight, and we never saw ... I knew Culebra suffered terribly that last voyage, but he would never speak of it at length. I honestly don't know if it was better or worse for him that he could only hear and smell."
"I don't know, either," Midori said. "It is a very fine line between the horror of knowing and the horror of not. But he seems to have come out of it more intact than most would, considering just how traumatic it was for him."
Shrugging, Dario replied to the dead fire, "Because of you, I think. He told me all that you did to comfort him. I hated that he would not let me. I think perhaps it is I who should be telling you that there is nothing to fear."
Midori hated to hear the despair in his voice, especially since he was the one who had put it there. Whatever his feelings for Culebra, they were fledgling, undeveloped. They might turn into something deeper, or they might burn out.
Closing the space between them, he curled a hand over Dario's shoulder and rested the other against Dario's cheek, urging his head up. Dario had the most beautiful eyes, the deepest gold Midori had ever seen. "You have absolutely no reason to feel threatened by me, I promise. Comforting a man for a few months does not compare to loving him for many years."
Dario opened his mouth, but then closed it again. He stared at Midori as though not quite certain what to say or do. Even filthy and reeking, he had not been entirely unpleasant to look at stark naked. When he had strode back inside clean and dripping water ... well, Midori could understand at least one very obvious reason Culebra had never let go of his errant bodyguard.
In the hours since, he had learned many vastly important reasons that Culebra still loved him. Midori would not even think of competing with that, even if he thought it was his right—and it definitely was not. He had meant everything he said to Dario.
If it made him feel lonelier than ever, well, that was his burden to bear.
"Where will you go when this is all over?" Dario asked abruptly.
Midori managed to laugh. "Wherever the wind takes me, wherever the dragons will me."
"All this and you plan to ... just walk away?" Dario asked. "Everything you've told me, you will have nothing left."
"Spoken like a true child of the land, a stone child who worships something as certain as death," Midori said with a more genuine smile. "I am a child of chaos, and I really hated being a noble. Starting with nothing may prove to be exactly what I need."
Whatever he expected in reply, it was not for Dario to cup the back of his neck and pull him down into a curious kiss. For a man who seemed so rough around the edges, his mouth was shockingly soft. Midori slowly let go of his hold on Dario, but only to better settle his hands lightly on Dario's hips, not quite holding him, not quite pulling him close, but steadying them both as Dario deepened the kiss, and curious turned suddenly into hungry.
The sound of the door slamming open made him jump and jerk back. Fidel snorted. "If you two are finished, we really should be heading out."
"Right," Midori said, and he turned away to go take care of the captives. Grabbing the bottle of dream wine and rag they had found amongst their captors' belongings, he slipped into the room and put each man back into deep slumber. When he was certain they would not rouse any time soon, he cut their ropes and left the room.
Yago's corpse was beginning to make the room decidedly unpleasant. "Are we all set?" he asked as Fidel handed him his travel pack.
"Are we?" Fidel asked, smirking, and left the house.
Midori swallowed and looked at Dario. "I—I meant what I said about leaving. I wouldn't try to insinuate myself—I know I could not be—" He stopped because he was only making himself sound like an idiot.
Dario glared at him. "Is that what you think? That I am trying to find a replacement for Granito? That I think that's all you would do?"
"I don't—no," Midori said. "I suppose I am not very good at figuring out where I fit anymore. All I know is the sea. Being on land for so long is confusing and Piedre is nothing like Kundou."
"Do you want it to be?" Dario asked.
Midori shook his head. "No. Kundou ... hurts too much. Wherever I go after this, it will not be Kundou." It had not really felt like home for a very long time. Starting over was exactly what he needed, if he was ever going to find a place to call home.
"My brother is gone. I will always miss him. I have no desire to replace him, not like that. I just wondered ... I just wanted to see what finally drew Culebra from his depression. I can see now. You are not Granito, but maybe something new?"
If Midori had ever heard three sweeter words, he could not remember them. Maybe something new. He liked the way that sounded when Dario said it. "Come on," he said, smiling. "We cannot decide anything until we rescue his highness."
Dario returned the smile before swinging his own pack over his back and leading the way outside. Mounting up, they rode quickly toward the base of the Azul. As Fidel predicted, they reached it just as it began to grow light out. "What should we do with the horses?" Midori asked.
"Leave them here," Fidel said. "They're good horses, they'll stay around here unless something scares them—and it will take a lot to scare them. They were raised around here; they're hard to spook. That forest looks like something out of the stories we used to listen to at the orphanage."
Midori laughed. "The kinds of stories meant to scare children into behaving, but only encourage them to go adventuring? I went to bed without supper many times thanks to stories like that."
"Stories of soldiers were what got me in trouble," Dario said. "Clearly, we should have spent more time on chores."
"I rather like where I am, discounting the looming threat of death and destruction."
Dario and Fidel laughed. Settling their packs more firmly on their shoulders, they vanished into the dark woods of the Azul Mountains.
Culebra curled up into a ball, but it was no help against the chilly air. He had been out of the water for hours—well, he thought hours, but he was far too aware it could have been mere minutes. The last time he had felt such bone-deep terror, he had been forced to listen to Granito's dying screams.
Holding his legs even tighter against his chest, he buried his head in them and tried to find good memories to cling to until he figured out how to get free of the nightmare of his own making.
Dario. He just knew Dario would come for him. Dario, who did not appear to hate him like he had always feared. Culebra scarcely dared to believe that he had not lost both of his lovers after all. When this was over—