Free Will is My Fate

Free Will is my Fate
by Ayame

This is a work of original fiction created by me for my own fun and pleasure, but I also hope others will enjoy it. I wondered what it would be like to be a person who could see the future... There will be M/M slash, but so far only kissing goes on.

I really would love feedback. Thanks in advance for anyone who will send some my way! :)


Yuri na Uvish was an outlander seeking a witch. He needed the witch to help him find something he couldn't remember how to find. He believed that what he was looking for was there in that empty place in his mind. He had complete faith that it was there and he'd staked his future on it. He doubted he could return and face his clan if he didn't find his answer. He would have to become a wanderer instead, like his ha-father, Tatum.

It was morning in Roran. He'd just finished breakfast and paid with a dear silver coin. He knew he didn't get back the right change, but he wasn't about to quarrel over it. He knew his welcome was thin. Coming out into the hot air had taken nearly all his will. He'd never felt such, dry, hot wind. He'd never been in a place that whipped the sand every which way into eyes, nose and mouth. The air felt like it had density and mass. It felt like it sat on everything, pushing down people and animals. Only the buildings and the spiky plants seemed immune.

He drew the air into his lungs and wrapped his linen cloth around his head. It hid his dark hair from uncertain eyes. No one in this city had black hair. No one was as dark of skin as he was, either. He looked very different from these Empire people. He was much taller and had to stoop through doorways. He was broader in the shoulders and believed he was certainly stronger than the city people. His eyes tilted up instead of down and his eyebrows were trimmed into a single dot above each brown eye. He had the short, short eyebrows of the Uvish, the leaf clan people. His mouth was bigger, wider, and very sensual, unlike the slash of a mouth these people had. And he was tattooed along his arms and a little on his face. The center of his forehead and leading down the bridge of his nose was the mark of Uvish. He was one of their people, at least for now. On both hands, Yuri was also tattooed and scarred. He wore fingerless gloves over his hands, even in the heat. He was ashamed of what was written there, and what had been taken away.

He opened up a precious sheet of directions and tried to orient himself. The innkeeper had drawn them for him and while he'd still been overcharged for his room, he'd at least been treated as though he was human and worth something. He believed in this small map. It was supposed to lead him to the best witch-seer in the city, a man named Bartholomew Amman. Everyone had suggested his name, and then warned him that he didn't come cheap. Yuri had tried some of the cheaper witches and none could see what he needed. One even lied to him and pretended to see things that weren't there. But each witch had, even if grudgingly, told him that Amman was the best. They called him "black eyes," and said he could see everywhere and anywhere. Some people suggested he was dangerous.

All the witches Yuri had met so far had black eyes. It wasn't just the iris that was black, it was the whole eye. The entire eyeball was black and it was hard to tell where a witch was looking. Back home, the Uvish people said that witches were unholy. They called them unnatural, which was really the same as saying they were devils. But Yuri didn't know where to turn. He'd prayed to the ancestors. He'd sought out the wisemen and their computer databases. There were no answers there.

Yuri counted buildings as he followed the map. He walked in the meager shade as much as he could. He saw people openly stare at him: the barbarian giant. But he didn't mind their curiosity. He was in a good mood: the first time for months. He waved at a little girl staring at him and she hid behind a crate before she waved back. He really believed Amman could help and if he couldn't, then at least he was at the end of the journey. He could become a wanderer then and join Tatum. It wasn’t the life he wanted and he grimaced at the thought of having his face tattoos scraped off, but then, at least then he could stop hiding his hands.

He found the sign for the shop around the next turn. It had a large eye painted on it and something written in Palatano, which Yuri could speak, but not read. Nevertheless, he was sure this had to be Amman's place. Yuri stood in front of the large glass window of the store. He couldn't see inside. Instead he saw himself. He grinned at his image: a tall plainsman wearing Roran Empire clothes that were just a little too small for him. He'd purchased them not long after arriving in the city and discovered his own were too hot and stifling. His brown belly showed between his pants and the shirt. The pants only came to mid-calf. He knew he looked stupid. He couldn't help it and he laughed again.

This was the end of this part of the journey.

* * *

The bell in the door jangled and Yuri ducked underneath and into the shop. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but when they did, he saw a roomful of women and one man staring at him. The women looked away quickly, as if they'd not been staring. Most of the women seemed to be waiting. There were two witches in the shop. One was a curly-haired, red-headed woman. Her eyes were nearly all black, like the others he’d consulted. The other witch was a small, thin man with an unruly mop of sandy colored hair. It was as long as his chin which was rare for an Empire man since they usually had short hair. His eyes were very, very black and ringed with purple skin underneath, like someone who hasn’t slept in days. Somehow, Yuri knew that he was being stared at. The man had to be Amman. He was about to ask, when the man stood up and came around to look at him.

"Unwrap your head," he commanded.

Yuri did, shaking out his still too-short black hair. The cooler air of the shop with its spinning fans made him glad to be rid of the linen cloth. The witch circled him, looking him up and down. His head came only to Yuri's chest. He was bird-thin, he realized. His guild robes hung off of him as if he were a skeleton underneath. The witch stopped and stood in front of him, looking up into Yuri's face. Yuri stared at his eyes again, but then looked away, taking in his features which would have looked strong on another man, but on this thin man, seemed out of place. He was pleasant-looking, though and Yuri thought for a moment, "He doesn't look like a devil."

"Your hands," he said. "Under your gloves are marks. One shows you used to be the captain for the Border Army. You deserted your post and there is an X through the tattoo there," he said, pointing to Yuri's left hand. His voice lowered and he said so quietly that Yuri was sure that only he could hear it. "On your other hand is the Uvish mark of infertility. You are something less than a man among your people."

Shock thrilled through Yuri's body. He'd not taken his gloves off in Roran, except to bathe. "How did you do that?"

"I know you, Yuri na Uvish," he said. "I know you very well. I also know why you are here. Come with me."

Yuri almost didn't move, but then he remembered himself, and did, following this small man through the shop, past staring women and behind a black curtain. The curtain covered an otherwise open door and Amman asked Yuri to sit. Yuri shrugged out of his gear and laid his bow across the top, carefully, the way he'd been taught since he was a child. Then he turned and found Amman, the witch, sitting very close to him. Next to Amman, was a pack filled with gear that looked similar to Yuri's own. Yuri was puzzled. He looked into Amman's eyes and felt like he was drowning.

"What do you mean that you know me?" Yuri asked. His curiosity bristled and he felt exposed at the same time..

Amman laughed. He seemed very much here--and not here at the same time. Yuri hadn't felt this way with the other witches. "I'll tell you, because I remember telling you," he said. "I see the future and I see the past. I see both things. All witches can, but I'm the best. I know what you're seeking. You want the book you found in the glass house. The glass house with glass that cannot break. You need what's in the book to cure the plague. Curing the plague, you think, will bring back your status. You won't be an X. You won't be a nobody anymore."

"That's true!" Yuri said. "But other witches could have told you that."

"They could have. But I did know about your marks. Plus I do know you. I've known you all my life. I've seen you in visions. I've watched you grow as I grew up. We grew up together, even if you didn't know it." He was rocked back on his heels and full of excitement. Yuri could swear his black eyes were shining. Tears actually brimmed in the corners. When he blinked, one came free and traced down his pale skin.

Yuri wanted to wipe the tear away, but he was afraid of him now. This is what people meant by devilment. "How could you see me?"

"I see lots of things. But you, I've seen the most often. I was with you when you left your post. I was with you when your brother died. I will be with you when we find the book in the glass house. I will be with you always. I become your lover. I become your zeda."

Yuri scrambled back, away from the man, pressing against the wall. But Amman didn't seem upset. He came closer and Yuri saw the witch's hands were trembling. "You don't know me at all. But I've waited for you my whole life."

Yuri was about to run out of the room. He didn't care if his pack was still there. Even his bow--his precious bow made on his naming day--he would leave it. He was terrified and had never been so scared in his life. But he didn't get a chance to move. Amman came closer and put his hands on Yuri's chest. Yuri felt his heart thumping hard inside. His belly was twisted with fear. Amman leaned against him, a soft, light pressure--a thin, frail body. His lips met Yuri's and kissed him gently.

Yuri didn't respond, but he didn't pull away. He believed kisses could tell more about a person than anything else. It was almost more intimate than the act of sex. It was the most human touch possible. He let Amman lean into him again and kiss him. It wasn't impersonal. It wasn't even the first kiss of two people getting to know one another better. It was a kiss exactly the way that Yuri liked to be kissed. He felt Amman's hands run along his sides, pushing against his back in a way that wasn't hesitant, but instead as if Amman already knew where to touch him. If this was devilment, it was good.

He wasn’t as afraid anymore, even though he was still trembling. He put his own arms around Amman, feeling his bony body under the light linen robes. He opened his eyes to catch Amman's black eyes staring at him. Tears were still there, still blinked free. The gentleness of the kiss turned into a moment of abandonment, as Amman pressed more tightly against Yuri, his tongue finding Yuri's tongue. And he tasted like nothing Yuri had ever tasted before: like smoke and grass and something else he had no name for. Amman's tongue moved against his own in a dance that Yuri found thrilling. He knew, Yuri could tell. He knew his body well.

Yuri had never held anyone so small in his arms before. Even the shortest woman in his clan was more solid and taller than Amman. The smallness of Amman disarmed Yuri, made him less afraid. He pulled him tighter to his body and let the kiss go on. It could go on forever, and he wouldn't care to stop it. But it did stop, Amman pulling away just enough that Yuri could see his face flushed, his lips bruised. Tears that he'd wanted to brush away, he finally did. They stared at each other for a long, long time.

Yuri didn't know what to say. His fear was gone, but adrenaline from the fear and the kissing made his body tense. So he smiled and laughed. "This is the strangest thing that's ever happened to me."

"I knew it was going to happen." He turned his head and indicated his pack on the ground. "I'm ready to leave. It's a long journey to the Plains and the plague will not wait for us."

Yuri couldn't believe how fast everything was moving. "You're coming with me?"

"I am." He said it with a sort of finality that Yuri didn't have the courage to argue with. He'd rather wrestle a razorback.

"You've really seen me before?"

"Yes. The past, the now, and the future."

"You become my zeda?"

"I do."

It was that same finality that he stated he was going to come with him.

Yuri stood up, stretching, trying to look like he wasn't afraid. "It's a little unfair, don't you think?"

Amman copied him and retrieved his pack, shouldering it like Yuri did. "What do you mean?"

"You know everything about me, and I know nothing about you."

Amman really smiled this time and it transformed him, made him look like a small boy. How could such a man be so scary? "We will remedy that on the journey to the plains."

Yuri nodded and walked out of the room. Amman waved goodbye, as if he were just leaving for an hour or so. Yuri supposed that a man who could see the future may have already made his goodbyes. Leaving the store and walking into the heat made Yuri realize he was chilled. He wrapped his cloak around his head and waited for Amman. He felt like the anscestors were having a good joke on him--creating this bizarre fate. But it was a tempting fate. Yuri never imagined he would have a zeda. His ha-father, Tatum, had no zeda. Many people never find their true love. And here, in the hot city of Roram, searching for a witch to find a book to stop the plague, he'd apparently found his.

Amman didn't squint in the sun the way Yuri did. He fished something out of his cloak and put it in his mouth. It was a cigarette. He lit it and puffed deeply. "I suggest we take the north gate," he said, casually. "They don't know me over there."

"Why should that matter?"

"I'm not allowed to leave the city," he said.

Yuri waited for more, but Amman didn't seem like he'd volunteer the information. He walked ahead, confident that Yuri would follow.

And Yuri did.

* * *

They walked in silence for a long time. Amman moved easily, if slowly, through the streets an alleys. Going to the north gate may have been good for Amman, but it meant that they would have to walk the perimeter outside of the city to reach the mountain path.

Yuri wanted to ask Amman many questions, but couldn’t put his tongue to the words. Instead, he watched Amman’s hair blow in the wind and watched him smoke seemingly endless cigarettes.

Finally, he felt that he had to know.

“Why are we hiding you?”

Amman turned his head and said, “I did something awful a long time ago. I don’t want to talk about it. But last night, after I packed, I dug out my tracking chip. I’m just being extra careful.” He lifted his sleeve, unbuttoning the loose cuff and pulled it back, showing Yuri a bandage that was tinged with red.

Yuri had been a soldier, but he was still moved by the sight of blood. This blood was red against the white bandage under Amman’s dark cloak. He was still bleeding a little. “I don’t understand. Why did you cut yourself? What did you do?”

“I had a tracker in my arm. If I were to leave the city, they would know. Now, no one will know, especially since the north tower guards will not know me. I live in the south and few people travel outside the boundaries of north and south in Roran.”

Yuri grabbed Amman’s arm. He was thin, but his muscles were wiry and taught against his bones. He wanted to look closer and was surprised at how upset he was. “How deep is that wound? How did you cut it out?”

Amman shrugged away, covering his arm. He made it seem very natural, not like he was pulling away from Yuri. “It’s very deep. I used a knife, but I have painkillers. Good ones. I’ll be fine. And I will tell you about my crime, but not now. Later, maybe after you’ve come to like me better.” He smiled a little at Yuri.

“I like you just fine, now,” Yuri said. But mostly, he was jealous of Amman. He knew things Yuri could only guess at. He felt as if Amman could peer into his innermost thoughts.

The towers seemed to lumber closer and closer as they walked on. They were built to intimidate, and they had intimidated Yuri when he first walked into the city. Even though these weren’t the same towers, they were built the same with a yawning arch of glittering silver metal stretching across the open street.

Amman paused at the base of the tower. Men and women were going through in a slow line. Some were on foot, others had animals pulling carts. One woman was surrounded by brown and white chickens. Amman nodded. “We wait here.”

“Do you know what happens?”

“No. I don’t see everything,” he said. He blinked his ink-colored eyes in the sun. “I actually have no visions concerning our journey to the Leaf Clan holdings at all.”

“Huh,” Yuri grunted. He watched the sun filter through Amman’s hair and light it up like gold thread. Yuri wrapped his cloak more tightly around his shoulders to keep the sun off. There was no shade and he hated getting burned. He sat back on his heels, which put him at a lower height than Amman, and waited.

The line was longer here than it had been at the Eastern gate where Yuri had entered the city. He wasn’t sure if it was the location or perhaps the time of day. The sun was relentless and he felt like panting. The line creeped slowly, each person being questioned by a guard. Amman didn’t seem to mind the heat. He lit cigarettes in the sun, burning paper and herbs, taking it and the hot Roran air into his lungs.

“What are you smoking?” Yuri asked.

Amman hunkered down next to him so that he wouldn’t have to talk down. “Cigarettes.”

“I can see that.”

Amman smiled again, and Yuri realized he liked this smile very much. “It’s a drug. It keeps my mind inside my head.”

Yuri didn’t think much of the explanation. “What does that mean?”

“Since I’m a witch, there’s something wrong with my brain. Or rather, you can say I became a witch because I was born wrong in the head.” He smiled again. The smile disarmed Yuri. “A person like me if we don’t train as witches, we go crazy. But to be a witch, you also have to free your mind from the body. Whatever the mind is, whether it’s energy or something else, it is what actually goes into the past or future. It’s what lets me see things, be there, watch and feel. But the more you do that, the less your mind feels attached. This drug,” he said, waving the cigarette, “keeps me grounded. And it feels good. I’m addicted, too, actually and smoke more than I have to.”

“What if you run out?”

“I get more,” Amman said. “It’s a plant that grows everywhere, as far as I can tell.”

“What is it?”

“Seven leaf.”

Yuri was startled. “That’s poison.”

“For most people it is. All my drugs are poisons in some fashion. I must be the only one to handle them. My pack is full of drugs.” He patted his bag and turned toward the gate. “We’re next,” he said. “Don’t let them talk to me so much. Be a barbarian.”

Yuri was about to ask what he meant by that when they were called forward.

“Where are you going?” snapped a young man in a white and gray uniform.

“Back to the plains,” Yuri answered. “I’m bringing this witch to help me find something I lost.”

“Your name?”

“Yuri.”

“No, not you,” the guard snapped. “Him.”

Amman smiled. “Hetty Yamos,” he said.

The man looked at an old, yellowing piece of paper. It had words scrawled down it in columns, like a list.

“You may pass,” he said.

Yuri walked through with Amman and noticed that the guard watched them, waiting perhaps for some sign that Amman was lying. Perhaps for a tracking device to trigger something in the glittering metal arch. Yuri had seen someone make an alarm go off at one of the gates. But this didn’t happen. They were through and all it took was a small lie.

* * *

They didn’t say much to each other as they walked around the city. There was no path into the mountains from here and so they had to skirt along the long yellow wall that threw off heat like it was the sun itself. Maybe Amman could tell that Yuri didn’t want to talk. He could probably see how the heat threw him into silence.

When they reached the mountain path, Amman picked it out as if he’d walked it before. It wasn’t an obvious path. Going into the mountains was not something a person from Roran would do. Their trade routes were overland, across the salt flats or from the ocean port at the west. No one lived in the mountains, either. Yuri’s people were in the grassy highlands just beyond the mountains. Or you could say that the mountains surrounded the flat highlands. That’s how Yuri thought of it.

As they walked upwards, past boulders and twisted, sweet-smelling pines, the air began to become cooler. They walked into the afternoon, when Amman abruptly sat down and announced that he was tired and needed a rest.

The fallen tree Amman sat on was off the path and a flat, open space lay beyond it. It was probably used as a campsite from time to time. Yuri said, “It’s dark soon. Let’s stay here for the night.”

“I’m glad you said that,” Amman replied with a small smile. “I don’t think I could walk another step.”

Yuri said, “You did very well, for a city boy.” He smiled at Amman and was glad to see him smile back.

While Amman rubbed his feet, Yuri set up a campfire. He got out his metal folding tripod for cooking and his iron skillet. He had a good store of cooking fat and a mix for pan bread. When he finished getting his things out, he looked over at the small figure, hunched over and tending his feet. Then he remembered the wound on Amman’s arm and resolved to have a look at it after they ate. Then he asked a question that had been gnawing at him.

“Does it bother you to lie?”

Amman’s eyes showed him no emotion. “No.”

“Don’t you worry about the consequences?”

“If you mean the ancestors, no.”

Yuri turned to the fire and poured in the bread batter. He’d thrown in some dried herbs and so it would be spice bread tonight. He said, “I didn’t think you’d believe in the ancestors. Are you Henish, then?”

Amman laughed a sort of bitter laugh. It was more like a snort. “No, I don’t believe in that crazy religion. Most of the people in Roran are waiting for god to come back and save them from their troubles.”

“That is a little silly,” Yuri admitted. The anscestors guided, but didn’t really solve anything, as Yuri could certainly attest to. “So you don’t believe in anything?”

“Yes,” he said, and lifted his chin like a challenge. “I’ve seen nothing to make me think there is anything supernatural, or divine.”

“Don’t you care about what happens after you die?” It was strange to meet someone who believed there was no one out there who cared or watched over you. The ancestors were always watching, Yuri believed, and they abhorred lies.

“No. I don’t care. I’ll be dead,” he said with a strange smile. “I am sorry that my lie made you uncomfortable, but I do lie when I need to.”

Yuri turned a piece of spice bread with his hands and licked his fingers. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

“I will always try to tell you the truth. Always, Yuri.”

Yuri rocked back on his feet and looked at Amman sitting on the dead tree. It was getting darker out now and his eyes seemed to stand out from the rest of his face, as if they were part of the darkness. It was as if night wrapped around Amman, but also grew from the inside out.

Yuri heard a snap from the cooking bread. A piece had fallen into the fat and skittered out of the pan. When he looked back at Amman, he seemed drawn and smaller again. He wondered if his arm was bothering him. Perhaps his feet, too.

Yuri pulled the bread out with his fingers and set the tripod away from the fire. He had a small cloth that he wrapped Amman’s bread in so that he wouldn’t burn his hands. He also had some watered wine in a skin that he tossed over to Amman. Then he sat down next to him.

“Thank you,” Amman said. “This is very good.”

Yuri grinned. “My mothers taught me to cook. They are better than I am. But this recipe is Tatum’s.”

“Your ha-father,” Amman said. It was a statement. He already knew who Tatum was. Yuri suddenly remembered he was dealing with a person who already seemed to know everything about him.

“Do you know what that means?” Yuri asked.

“Ha-father? Of course I do. He’s your blood father. He’s the actual man who sired you, but not the person who raised you. Your mothers raised you.”

“You really do know everything,” Yuri said, trying to sound lighter than he felt. “It’s your turn to tell me about you.”

Amman grinned that boyish grin that Yuri had first seen inside the shop. Yuri liked that smile so much. It really did put him at ease. “I’m so happy for you to ask. But I haven’t had a very interesting life.” He took another bite of spice bread. “Really Yuri, this bread is so good. I hope you have grass wine with you. I’d like some of that too. It would go well with the bread.”

“It’s strong,” Yuri warned. “Stop changing the subject, anyway.” He passed him a flask of grass wine, though.

“Thank you.” He tipped back the flask and sipped. He licked his lips in a way that managed to be both childish and seductive. Yuri wanted to look away, but he remembered their kiss and how good that was. It was a kiss that felt right, despite how wrong everything else felt.

“Alright, then, “Amman said. “Here’s my life story. It’s really not interesting.”

“Wait, though, you’re a criminal, right? That’s interesting. Why don’t you tell me about that.”

Amman’s eyes widened and then he laughed. “So true, Yuri. I’d hoped I could omit that story for now. It’s not pretty.”

There was something in the way that Amman said that, tried to pass the offense off as if it were nothing that made Yuri realize just how painful it might be to talk about. He waved his hand and said, “Tell me later, then, when I like you better.”

Amman laughed and Yuri laughed with him. That felt good and right.

“Fair enough,” said Amman. “I told you that I was born wrong. My parents knew I was wrong for sure when I was six—we reckon age by years in Roran.” He finished his bread and took another swig of grass wine. He passed it to Yuri who had a drink too. The wine burned all the way down his throat an warmed his belly.

Amman continued, “I don’t remember much about what happened. I haven’t even had visions showing me my earliest years. All I know is what I’ve been told. I started seeing things when I was six—things I could remember at any rate. But I had no control. I did this once in a Henish service on the holiest day of the year. I was screaming that there were devils and angels all through the church. My parents were mortified. Later, the priest told them that I would need an exorcism—that I had the devil in me. To my parent’s credit, they didn’t do that. Instead, they sold me as a witch-apprentice to Bartholomew Cecily. You see, I took part of his name, just as he took part of his master’s.”

“But that’s a woman’s name.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Amman said. “The student takes part of the master’s name. Masters are men or women. And we don’t call ourselves witches. We call ourselves padwhe. It means those who see.”

“Did you ever see your parents again?”

“No, I never did.”

That pulled at Yuri’s heart. Family was the most important thing to a plainsman. Having a family, caring for your family across generations was the greatest good in a plainsman’s life. Yuri couldn’t be a father and he’d found no one who wanted to pair with him to raise a child, so he was less than a man. That was part of his shame. It shocked him to hear Amman say that his parents so easily gave him up.

“So your master trained you.”

“Yes,” Amman said, taking the wine flask back. Yuri hoped he wouldn’t drink too much. He was small and the alcohol would go directly to his head. “Barty, which is what me and the other apprentice, Yancy, called him, was a good teacher. So that’s what I did until I was sixteen. Then I left and struck out on my own. I quickly gained a reputation as an excellent seer. Not only could I see the past for someone in great detail, but I could also see the future with extreme clarity.”

“Is that rare?”

“Yes, because most people an even most witches have a hard time accepting the truth. The thing is, Yuri, the future is easy to see if you accept that it’s exactly like the past.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s already happened, too. The future. It’s already happened. We just haven’t seen it yet with our own eyes. If you fight that truth, you’ll never see the future clearly. I don’t fight it.”

Yuri puzzled over this for a moment. “So the future is fixed—like fate that some people believe in.”

“Sort of. I don’t think there’s fate. I just think it’s already happened.”

“What about free will? Doesn’t that matter?”

Amman smiled bitterly, “Oh, everyone has free will. It just doesn’t matter much in the scheme of things.”

Yuri didn’t quite grasp everything and resolved to mull it over later. He could see Amman’s little body swaying unsteadily. He was becoming drunk.

“Here, you tell me more about yourself later,” Yuri said. “You can tell me about your friends and lovers tomorrow. I’d like to hear about that.”

Amman laughed. “I don’t have any. Hannah, back at the shop, the red-headed girl—she was my only friend. And there’s you—I’ve always known you.”

“Stop it,” Yuri said. “Here, take off your cloak and shirt. Let’s have a look at that wound.”

Amman began to take off his clothes. He unwrapped his cloak and cape, unbuttoned his dark, loose overjacket. Underneath he wore a light, sleeveless shirt made of cotton or something like it. He was stripped down to the waist now and all of his ribs showed clearly under his paper-thin skin. His collar bones jutted out at sharp angles. Yuri felt sorry for him and realized he must have been telling the truth about friends and lovers: no lover would let someone get so frail and thin. Even Hannah, if she was his friend, must not have been a good enough one, or a strong enough friend. Someone needed to bully him into eating.

Amman was unwrapping the bandage. His thin muscles stood out on his arms. His skin was so pale it was nearly white. He must never have let the skin on his chest and arms be exposed to the sun. Yuri imagined that Amman must have lived indoors quite a lot, living through his visions and nothing else. It was painfully lonely and sad to think of such a life.

Amman shivered as Yuri took his arm and inspected the cut. It was deep and clean. It was like a little inverted cone of empty, angry red space. Blood welled up red and fresh, showing that it was going to heal very slowly.

“You cut this yourself—by yourself?”

“Of course,” Amman said. “It wasn’t hard to do. Are you satisfied that it’s clean? Let me put some alcohol on it and I need my painkiller.”

Yuri let go. A chilly breeze moved past both of them and he decided to get his warm clothes from his pack. They would fit better than these Roran city clothes. He rummaged through his own pack while Amman rummaged through his. Yuri looked up and watched as Amman opened a case containing a large needle with a tube attatched to it. He wrapped a leather strap around his upper arm and pulled it tight. The needle he poked into a jar of some clear drug that smelled sweet, even from the distance Yuri was at now. Yuri walked over to get a better look. Amman carefully eased the needle into his arm and pushed the plunger down. Then he unwrapped the leather strap. He cleaned out needle and put medicinal alcohol on the wound. It stung, obviously, and Amman winced. Then he wrapped it back up in a new bandage.

Amman shivered and looked up. “It’s better. It doesn’t hurt anymore. Are you changing clothes? Can I watch?”

Yuri laughed. “Watch away.”

He shrugged out of the too-small pants, first. He was wearing soft underclothes, but they were sweaty from the hot day in Roran. He’d have to change those first. Yuri had never been shy about being naked, but Amman’s eyes seemed to make him all too aware of his own body and its imperfections. He was getting a little heavy, for one thing. Tatum, his ha-father, was a huge man, very fat and he’d been warned all his life against overindulging. He didn’t, but still seemed to put on weight easily.

He pushed his negative thoughts away and took off the shirt, instead of his underclothes. His chest was broad and under his soft belly were strong muscles. Amman stood up and came near. He was still shirtless and he his hands shook. The fire lit up his face with yellow light and threw dark shadows. He touched Yuri’s belly, then traced up from there to run his hands over the bumps of hard muscle in his chest. It felt good and stirred Yuri into a hesitant arousal. He didn’t want to be aroused right now, but his body felt otherwise.

Amman murmured, “You’re beautiful. I’ve seen you in my mind so many times… but this is so much…” Without warning, he leaned into Yuri, his cool skin against Yuri’s skin. Yuri felt his soft hair tickle against his chest. He was so small, his touch and pressure so light.

Amman didn’t move. He just leaned into Yuri. Then Yuri looked down and realized his eyes were closed and his grip had loosened. He was asleep or passed out. Yuri picked him up easily and set him down on the ground. He took his blankets out and laid them at a safe distance from the fire. Then he put Amman on the blanket and covered him.

Then Yuri dressed and set himself to watching Amman. He was worried he’d drunk too much and might become sick. That was dangerous.

He watched all night, counting each rise and fall of Amman’s chest.

* * *

In the morning, Yuri took out a strainer ball and filled it with ground chichoe. He stoked the fire which had burned down to cinders. Then he boiled water and dropped the mesh ball into the pot, letting it steep, turning the water blacker and blacker.

Amman was still asleep, but seemed about to stir. Yuri watched him for a little while. His mouth was open, and he turned over, pulling the blanket Yuri gave him closer around his shoulders. The air was chill this morning. Yuri drew his own warm cloak closer around his bare neck. The soft fox-fur was smooth against his skin and it reminded him of his mother, Eva, who had given it to him before he left on his journey. He remembered her worried eyes. They were so much older than they should have been, he thought. She'd been shaken by Svennen's death. His little brother was a joy to be around, a kind boy with a curious streak. Yuri missed him terribly.

He looked back at Amman who had opened his eyes into black slits. Amman looked terrible. His skin was even paler and the purple circles under his eyes were deeper. He sat up, wavering a little and sniffed at the air. His hair was tangled and a few leaves and branches were stuck in it. He licked his dry lips and said, "Chichoe?"

"Of course, every morning," Yuri said. He managed a smile. "It's almost ready." He leaned over and found a skin of water, tossing it to Amman.

Amman didn't catch it. He fumbled it and it landed in his lap. But he pulled the stopper and drank. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Yuri turned back to the fire, poking it absently. He asked, not looking at the witch, "Why haven't you told me if I succeed at curing the plague?"

Amman didn't say anything, but Yuri heard twigs cracking as he sat up and moved closer. He looked at him and Amman's black eyes were unreadable.

"Tell me. I know you know," Yuri said.

Amman nodded slowly. "Give me a moment, please." He found his cloak balled up near his pack. He searched in a pocket until he’d retrieved his small, metal cigarette case and lit one using a slim stick he poked into the fire. He pulled at it deeply, and then blew little rings of smoke out in Yuri's direction. "It's not an easy story. The easy answer is that, yes, you do succeed. No one will die from the plague anymore after you get the book and have it properly translated."

Yuri was puzzled and angry by Amman's answer. "What aren't you telling me?"

Amman sat down, cross-legged. "Is that chichoe ready?"

"Yes," Yuri said. But he sighed, too and was frustrated by Amman’s reticence. Yuri pulled out a collapsible mug made by a Rock Town tinker and poured the black drink inside. Amman warmed his hands around the cup, letting it cool down first.

"There's a lot I'm not telling you. Let me ask you a question."

Yuri had filled his own mug and sat down. "Fine. Ask away."

"I once had a woman come to me who wanted to know her daughter's future. I read the future for her. I saw forward in time and I witnessed what happened to her daughter. Her daughter had a very happy life, but she was still going to die young. There would be an accident. Now, I know the future can't be changed. What should I have said to this woman?"

"Are you saying we have an unhappy future?"

Amman smiled lopsidedly. "The truth?"

"Yes," Yuri breathed. He found he was very afraid again, as if his soul was on display.

"We have a happy ending, but many difficult times between now and then." He smiled his beautiful, disarming smile again.

Yuri was surprised. "Really? So what did you tell the mother?"

"I told her that her daughter's life would be happy. This was completely true. She couldn't prevent the accident, so why should she worry about it?"

"But why can't you change anything?"

Amman shrugged. "No one questions why I can’t change the past. The future has already happened. It’s there for me to see and that's just the way it is. Don't think, Yuri that I've never tried." Yuri could swear Amman's eyes seemed sharp--almost angry, even though the blackness in them was hard to read.

"What happens to us?"

"Many difficult journeys," Amman said. "But I promise there is more happiness in the balance than sadness or hurt. I want you to remember that, and when I'm able to, when the time is right, I'll tell you what I've seen, the things that are hard to tell."

"But we stop the plague?"

"We do."

Yuri scratched his chin. He was feeling a little stubble there. "What did you mean about translating?"

"The book is an Outsider book."

Yuri felt a spike of fear. "What?"

Amman sipped some more chichoe. "How could it be otherwise? Of course it's an Outsider book. Didn't you wonder about the glass that can't break?"

Yuri sat very still. He didn't want to say out loud that the Outsiders scared him. That wasn't the sort of thing a person should be afraid of. He looked up and saw Amman watching him and thought, though, that Amman probably already knew. "I tried to think about the place, but it always seemed to slip out of my mind. That's why I couldn't find it again. No one knows where it is, and I can't remember the place where I saw the glass house."

Amman leaned in and touched Yuri on the shoulder. "You were young and you were hurt there," he said quietly.

"Why can't I remember?" He felt ridiculously small. His voice sounded far away.

"I don't know if it's your mind protecting you or if your memories were taken. Either way, we have a difficult journey ahead of us."

"But we get the book."

"We do."

He looked hard at Amman. "What are you not telling me?"

Amman stared back, still and quiet and close. The silence stretched on and only the sounds of the forest intruded. He heard a bird calling, a late summer insect thrumming, breaking into the silence. Amman turned away, looking for more cigarettes. He leaned forward, staring into the fire and said, "I kill a man there."

Whatever Yuri was expecting, it wasn't that. His fear of Amman returned. And Yuri felt ridiculous. Why should he be so afraid of this man? He was small, quiet, self-contained. He was frail, bony and short. He didn't look like a killer. But he wasn't proud of killing either. He was clearly upset.

Amman kept talking. "I told you I can't change the future, but listen. I kill him in defense of your life."

"No," Yuri said. "You're not a killer."

"You've killed," Amman pointed out.

"Killing in war is different. A civilian shouldn't have to kill."

Amman shrugged. "And yet it happens. Why does it bother you so much that I have done the same?"

Yuri shook his head, unable to explain. He didn't want Amman to have to kill. Especially for him, since he should be able to take care of himself.

Amman waved the cigarette in the air, trailing smoke. "See why I don't discuss the future?"

"How can you stand it?"

"It helps me to mentally prepare. I've made my peace with what happens. Do you understand?"

Yuri stared at him. He remembered the quick good-bye that Amman gave his only friend back in the city. He had prepared his good-byes already. He was always prepared for the future. Yuri looked at his angular face and soft lips. He asked, "When do we grow to love one another?" He had so many strange feelings about Amman, but none of them were love. Yet he remembered the kiss, the curious kiss that didn't feel like kissing a stranger at all.

Amman smiled a curious smile. "I love you already, Yuri," he said and touched his cheek gently. "I don't know your feelings. I see only your actions and in all actions of yours towards me, there has only ever been kindness. I can't tell when you grow to love me, either. I only know when you tell me, finally."

"When is that?"

Amman laughed. "It takes years. We are old. My hair is gray and you, Yuri, you've gotten fat." He laughed.

Yuri was horrified. "Really? I get fat?"

Amman laughed again. "Not as fat as your father! But soft, I should say. And you are happy, very happy, Yuri, and I am happy with you." He put his hand on Yuri's shoulder. "Vain man, worried about your belly." Then he touched Yuri's stomach, still mostly flat.

It made Yuri laugh, too. He felt lighter, laughing with Amman, seeing his beautiful smile. Then he said, "When do I take you as my zeda?"

"That is soon to come."

"Isn't it the same as love?"

Amman shrugged. "I am bound to you as by your customs. But it happens quickly and I don't know your feelings. You never say it to me--not until the day we are sitting in a cold land, drinking tea on a balcony. I am old--older at least. Perhaps I am fifty. You say the words to me then. But I think you feel them long before that."

"What if I say it now?"

"You don't," Amman said. His voice was flat, unreadable and it made Yuri a little angry.

Yuri wanted to say it, though, just to show that the future wasn't fixed. But the words wouldn't come out. He didn't know Amman well enough. He felt alternately scared of him, comfortable with him and drawn to him. It was a strange mix of feelings and he couldn't get a handle on them. He reached out and touched Amman's face gently and said, "Could you kiss me again?"

Amman smiled again, that white, beautiful smile, "I'd love to." He dropped his cigarette into the fire and leaned in, brushing his lips against Yuri's, then more urgently. Soon, he had squirmed closer, his entire body pressed against Yuri's, his mouth hungry. Yuri broke away, exploring his neck and lower, breathing in the air against Amman's collarbones. He smelled the smoke on him and had tasted the bitter chichoe on his tongue. He wanted Amman closer, so he lifted him, easily, his small body resting on his lap, his legs straddling Yuri's hips. Amman looked at him and smiled a little, leaning his forehead against Yuri's. There was a long stretch of tense silence--a stillness where they were so close and yet Yuri found Amman strange, unfathomable and unreachable. Amman's eyes gave Yuri no clues. But Amman had said he loved him already.

"We need to go," Amman said, quietly.

Yuri nodded. He didn’t know what to do, though. Amman stared at him, still sitting in his lap and Yuri knew that Amman wanted him, had been thinking of him all the time for years. Amman had said about as much. Yet he was still alien: his strange emotions and strange knowledge were always there in those black eyes.

Amman slid off of Yuri’s lap and began to pack his bag. Yuri did the same.

They struck camp and head out on the thin mountain trail.

* * *

Yuri thought Amman was very slow. For every step Yuri took, Amman took two. He kept up as best as he could, Yuri could tell, but he was tired. By mid-day, they stopped and sat down in a rocky clearing. There was a clear stream nearby and Yuri took more water from it and added a little grass wine to top it off, killing any germs or disease that may be unseen. They drank, cloaks shed under the warm sun. Amman had pomegranates in his pack and shared one with Yuri.

"This is a very good fruit. I've never had it before," Yuri said.

"I had a tree behind my apartment," Amman said. His fingers were red with the sweet juice. He ate each seed separately, slowly, like everything else he did. In fact, the only time Yuri had seen Amman show any great emotion was when they first met. He remembered the silent tears and the heated kiss. He wished Amman would be less careful about his feelings. He wanted to know what he really felt, what really hurt him or made him feel joy.

"Do you miss Roran?" Yuri asked.

"Not yet. And I'll not go back for years," he said, swallowing another seed. He looked up at Yuri, who had already finished his pomegranate and was eating chicken jerky. "You miss your home?"

Yuri thought about that for a moment. "Not at the moment," he laughed. "I wasn't a welcome person when I left. I've two marks against me already," he said, holding up his gloved hands. "Things are getting tense in the Plainslands. We've had more attacks from Mountain Folk recently. They've been stealing our crops and animals." He wondered if Amman already knew this, but kept talking anyway. "My ha-brother, Sanna, is a Commander in the Border Army. He wants more men in the army. He wants to lead a strike on the Mountain stronghold and I don't think that's right. Never in our history have we been aggressive. Plainsmen defend themselves, we don't attack. But a lot of people are listening to him. Outlanders are being thrown out of clan villages. Wanderers, like the Stone Clan people, are seen with suspicion, since they are the traders with the outside world. Overall, it's been a sad time in the Lands. It's been a time of fear and anger. People were angry with me for deserting. I spent a year in a cell, Amman. They shaved my head. You know, don't you, how long my hair used to be?" Yuri had been proud of his hair back then and it hurt when it was gone.

Amman nodded. "It was down your back, in a long, thick braid. I've seen it," he said.

"Did you see the people who suggested that instead of putting me in a cell, that I be shot or hung?"

His eyes blazed, Yuri could see the anger in them suddenly, and then Amman said quietly, "No, I don't see everything."

Yuri nodded. "Let's move," he said. "We still have a long way." He pressed a skin of water into Amman's hands, bidding him to drink. Then he passed him some chicken jerky. "Eat."

"I'm not hungry," Amman said.

"I don't care. Eat. You're too skinny; you'll never make it to my home."

Amman raised an eyebrow. "But I do make it there."

"Yes, I know," Yuri said. But then inspiration hit him. "Do you see every day in a vision?"

"No. Visions take 'real time.' I would never have time to live if I spent it all in visions," Amman said.

"Then how do you know that it isn't because I take care of you that you make it to my village? You are too skinny. We burn too much energy walking and fighting the cold, which will only get worse before we come back down into the Plains. Eat, Amman, or I won't take another step." He looked Amman straight in his black eyes and Amman stared back. He finally sighed, looking away and held out his hand. Yuri put the jerky in his open palm. Amman's hand closed around the food and Yuri held onto him a moment longer than was necessary. Amman wouldn't look at him, though. He put the meat into his mouth and chewed, and then he went over to retrieve his pack.

* * *

They made camp that night in another rocky clearing. They'd stopped a little early, because Yuri knew that if they kept walking, there would be no resting places until the next day. The path they were camped near led up into the mountain and was a thin, dangerous trail at night. He instructed Amman on how to start the fire and how to use his cooking tripod and Amman seemed confident with the tasks. He was to try cooking some pan bread.

Yuri left him when he could see the fire was strong. He shouldered his bow and took out a few arrows. His quiver he left at the camp. He wouldn't need it: he was an excellent shot. He searched the brush nearby, checking from time to time that the glow of the fire was still in sight. Then he finally flushed a rabbit out of hiding.

The animal took off, and Yuri stood still, pulling his bow tight, sighting down the arrow in the fading light. He let go and the rabbit squealed and skidded sideways. He went to retrieve it; pleased they could have rabbit for dinner and stretch their supplies further. He walked back to their camp, finding Amman smoking and staring at an empty pan.

"No bread?"

"I burnt the first batch," Amman said, indicating a brown lump of something at the edge of the fire. Yuri kicked it into the fire with his boot and watched the sparks jump up. "I didn't want to waste your flour."

Yuri smiled. "It's alright. I just wanted you to try. I'll help you next time."

Amman smiled back. "I'd like that." He looked at the rabbit, bleeding a little, neck hanging sideways. "A hot meal," he said.

"I'm taking the fur off and then we'll roast it."

"Please, take off the eyes, too--or the whole head. I don't want it staring at me," Amman smiled, making a weak joke.

"Alright," Yuri said. He sat down and began preparing the rabbit.

Amman said, “Do you find me attractive?”

Yuri looked up from the rabbit and smiled. “You are strange to me,” he said gently.

“The eyes?”

Yuri looked down, concentrating on taking off the rabbit’s fur. “It’s the eyes, yes, but you are so small, too. You remind me of a child, so it makes me feel strange. And you know so much about me, and about you, I still know nothing.”

Yuri glanced up again and saw Amman nodding. He’d lit another cigarette and said, “I know. I’m sorry, Yuri.”

Yuri grunted. “Anyway, why did you ask me if I find you attractive? Don’t you already know?”

“I know some things about you from other times. I was wondering how you felt about me now.”

“I’ve always preferred men in my bed, as I’m sure you know. And in the Plainslands, you know there is nothing wrong with that.”

Amman flicked ash into the fire. “I know.”

“I find you scary sometimes, and other times—“ He stopped. “I can’t believe I keep saying so much to you—a stranger.”

“I’m not a stranger.”

“To me, you are.”

“But you do like me.”

Yuri grunted. “I can’t forget your kiss. It felt like you knew me.”

“Because I do.”

Yuri nodded. “I know. Here, hand me a skewer from my pack.”

Amman searched through Yuri’s bag until he pulled one out. Yuri fixed the rabbit on the skewer and put it over the fire. “Get out some grass wine, too,” he said. “I’ll be back, after I wash my hands.”

He stepped away from the fire and took the parts of the rabbit he wasn’t going to cook. There was the skull, a cloth full of hair and certain organ meats. He buried it all and then cleaned up in the small stream.

He turned around and looked at Amman sitting by the fire. He didn’t seem small or strange. He was poking a small stick into the fire and smiling. It was always that smile that got Yuri. He wanted to see more of it. He’d do almost anything to see more of it. “You are attractive,” Yuri thought.

But instead of saying that, he asked to look at Amman’s wound again. Amman held out his arm and Yuri could see it was already cleanly dressed. “You did this while I was hunting?”

“I did,” Amman said. “Please don’t take off the bandage. I only have so many clean ones.”

Yuri nodded. He reluctantly let go of Amman’s arm.

Amman held up one of Yuri's grass wine skins, “Wine?”

“Yes,” Yuri said. He took a deep, long drink. Then he said, “The path from here on is tough until we get through the pass.”

“It’s not much of a pass,” Amman said. “There’s still going to be a lot of climbing, switchbacks and steep cliffs.”

Yuri smiled. “You know.”

Amman said, “I’ve seen it. I had a vision of you on the pass before you got to Roran. You looked cold and frightened.”

“Why would I have looked frightened?”

“This is your last chance.”

“But we get the book,” Yuri said. He didn’t like Amman’s tone of voice somehow. It was like Amman was saying this wasn’t going to work.

“Of course you get the book. But you’re not going to get everything else you want.”

Yuri stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll never be the person you once were, Yuri.”

“But…”

“You’ll never be him again,” Amman said and turned away.

Yuri kicked a stone into the fire, sending up sparks. Amman glanced at him. “Yuri, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know, but I am, truly sorry.” He moved closer, his leg brushing against Yuri’s. The contact felt good, so Yuri put his arm around him. They stared into the fire and shared wine until the rabbit was done. Then they ate and slept.

* * *

More to come! Feedback anyone....

BTW, I plan to have Yuri and Amman make it to the Leaf Clan Village, Yuri's home. There, Amman will face violence at the hand of Yuri's ha-brother and Yuri makes an impromptu decision to make Amman his zeda to protect him.

I think that conflict of the story is not so much whether Yuri will succeed at the things he wants to do, but rather, that he can accept the future Amman sees.

*shrugs* Need help!

(And I hope you enjoy so far)

btw... I want to write them into a sex scene so bad it hurts, but I don't think Yuri's ready yet. :(