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Tantras sits, mostly forgotten, in a suite that's in a quiet offshoot of the Herald’s Wing. Across from him is a chair and a game set, ready for friends that he’ll not see again in this life. He is old, he is tired, and most days he is beyond ready to join them. No longer on circuit, or relay, or even any sort of administrative duty, the days passed in a blur of same. Sometimes he'd note a snowstorm, or spring's first flowers, or the bonfires at Sovvan. Sometimes he wouldn't. It didn't really matter—not anymore. With that, he had thought that he had left surprises in years past, until, on an afternoon like so many others, he hears Dalian say, :Chosen, don't be alarmed. Apparently, he called a favor.:
Tran can almost see Dalian's exasperated eye roll, and is just reaching out for clarification as to who 'he' is when he sees Vanyel—the Vanyel he hasn't seen in 30 years, looking like he hasn't in nearly 50. Tantras stares for a minute. The only reason he is sure he hasn't had a brain storm is Dalian’s warning, but even then he reaches out absently towards his companion. Finally, after a long moment of mutual staring and Dalian's continuing assurance, the absurdity of the situation catches up to him, and he starts to chuckle. "Poor bastard, they even have you working in the afterlife?"
Vanyel laughs, his deep baritone making Tran's heart hurt.
Without thinking he's on his feet, moving faster than he has in decades. He takes the surprisingly solid form of Vanyel in his arms, tears springing to his eyes. "I didn't want to believe it. Even with the bell—you'd defied so many odds, you dumb selfless bastard. Why did you have to—you hurt all of us. Randi, Shavri, Jisa, Trev, Stef—oh gods Stef."
"You call me selfless, but you don't even list yourself." The words are muffled into Tran’s shoulder.
"And me. I wish you weren't dead, so I could kill you myself.” Stepping gingerly back, mindful of his aches, he gestures at the cold hearth. “See that empty chair? That was yours."
"We were going to waste the end of our days away saying scandalous things about courtiers and gaming. I remember." Vanyel sighs, then, with a nod, he goes to sit down. "I seem to be doing this a lot recently,” he says with a small chuckle. "Come, sit, just how we were going to."
Tantras sits heavily, unable to stop his groan, once again cursing his younger self for all the damage his body has been put through.
"I fucked up Tran. I really did. The instant after—there were so many mistakes that were so clear. I'm sorry. I'm more than sorry, but as powerful as I am, I can't undo time. I should have been here, gossiping and scandalizing everyone with you. I wanted to be, you can't know how badly I wanted to be."
"You were the strongest of us—" Tran starts, then pauses, unsure how to continue when Vanyel interrupts.
"No, merely the most powerful." Vanyel's eyes go a bit distant before refocusing on him. "Was there anything else?" At Tran's look, he clarifies, "That you wanted to do. I can't delay too long, but I could for a while."
:Dalian—:
:It's alright, we'll both be free of all these aches soon.:
Throughout the last few years there had been one thing he wanted to do. Something so simple it seemed like a meaningless regret, but it was a regret nonetheless. He looks consideringly at Van. A bit too young around the jaw, but his hair is white. With that thought, he gestures to the hounds and hinds set on the table between the chairs, and then pivots it to give Van the hounds.
Van blinks at him for a minute, then, with a quiet laugh, he leans forward with his elbows on his knees and makes a move.
"How up to date are you?" Tran asks, conversationally as he slides a hind into a new space.
Vanyel glances up at him, one hand still reaching for a piece. "Up to date?"
"With the local gossip." Tantras looks at him speculatively, "I'm sure you've been keeping some tabs, say on a certain bard—"
"Tran—" Vanyel starts with an eye roll.
"—and a certain King's Own?" Van freezes, and only Tantras' long familiarity with him told him what Van's next words were going to be. Tantras takes great delight in beating him to it. "Stef got into his cups one day and came asking for help. Imagine my surprise when I learned that my best friend had neglected to mention a thing or four."
At that, Vanyel looks vaguely distressed. "Help? With what?"
"He wanted to let them all know. Jisa knew, of course, though wasn't that a mess for a bit there. It certainly explained her reaction. Stef had already thought to write your sister and asked her to forward on the letter to your youngest." Tantras is now ticking off his fingers and watching Vanyel squirm. He has imagined this moment for a few decades now. "But the other two, well, that was tricky. I managed to put him in contact with an actual, honest trader that specialized in exotics out of the Pelagirs. We made a care package with a letter, and one of those masks of Savil's."
"Did it work?"
The question is so quiet Tran almost misses it. Looking at his friend, he realizes this wasn't going the way he wanted it to—he was only teasing, but Vanyel genuinely looks like he might start to cry. "That attempt didn’t,” he replies, voice gentling. “Nearly half a year later, though, Stefen went north and apparently managed to get word through. At least he came back a bit more settled and with some goodies that Stef kept mum on." Tantras replies softly, putting a hand out onto the slim forearm of the man across from him.
Vanyel nods, his head down, and then says something too choked to be understood.
"Now this is going entirely the wrong direction. I didn't mean to make you feel bad—havens know you do that well enough on your own." Tantras let his voice slip into somewhat false joviality. "It's to tease you mercilessly!" Vanyel's head jerked up. "I would like to remind you that in my prime I slept with every shepherd's daughter, barmaid, and Healer along the border."
"And from here to the border,” Vanyel says. His voice was still a bit quiet and a bit shaky, but Tran could tell he was trying. “And possibly on the other side of the border. How many times did we have to pull you out of trouble?"
Tran sniffed in mock offense. "I wouldn't know, but which one of us was a granfer before he was 40?"
Vanyel flushed all the way up to his ears, amusement and embarrassment warring on his face. Finally, amusement won. "I don't know, did you check every croft and bar along the border?" Tantras bursts out laughing, and Van joins him before continuing, "And don't forget to check Karse as well," which prompts another round of laughter. After a moment, the laughter subsides, and Vanyel nudges the board to him. "It's been your turn for ages, old man."
Tantras studies the board with a smile. Vanyel had played hunter's gambit, just like old times. And just like old times he slid a hind forward. "We got on, Van. Missed you terribly, but I think we all did alright. Let me think—there's Jisa and her brood. Truly a wonderful woman that one. If I were twenty years younger-"
"Twenty? More like forty, you lecher."
"Excuse you, I'm not that much older than you-" Tantras pauses, looking at the too young form of his friend, mouth working for a minute, then he smiles quite deliberately. "Right, your youngest—I believe it was your sister who set her up with Oden just as Reven was about to retire. She's got your brains, that one. And that ruthlessness you liked to pretend you didn't have. She's his second now, and will probably be Lady Marshal before the year's out."
Vanyel pauses and asks, "Lady Marshal?" He sounds impressed as he moves another hound, cutting down Tran's hind.
Tantras peers at the board. Judging by the number of hinds piling up on Vanyel's side, he might be a bit rusty. "Well, we can't rightly call her Lord Marshal now, can we?"
Vanyel half chuckles, and then sighs heavily through his nose. Tantras looks up at, and recognizes the pinch between his brows. "What now? You're totally ruining the atmosphere, you know."
"You know how I am, so really it's your fault for inviting me," Vanyel says with that grin that caused so many to swoon. "It's nice—nice to know that everyone is alright, everyone just," Vanyel presses lips together, swallowing for a minute, "It's just in a weird way it hurts. Like I was never needed."
Tantras looks around the small set of rooms. A few dusty knick knacks from friends long departed, some old books, a worn quilt from when Jisa had been nesting. It seems like a pitiful legacy of a life lived, but it had been his entire life to the end. He was the last, and for all that seems like a worthy goal, it was not one that brought him joy.
"No, you're wrong. We moved on, but you dogged our every thought. You still do." The image of Jisa crying while holding her firstborn because neither her parents nor her father would ever meet him flashes across his mind's eye. And Stef—Tantras firmly sets his wandering mind back on track. "We needed you more than we ever needed the Great Demonsbane—we just realized it too late." With that, he slaps his hands on his thighs. "It's your move, old friend, let's get playing. I'm ready to be rid of this damned arthritis."
"You sound like Savil," Vanyel says with a chuckle as he moves another hound.
At the rate things were going, Tran would have to insist on the best of two out of three. Or maybe three out of five. He is so engrossed with trying to figure out his next move, he starts when Vanyel speaks again.
"Brightstar, my oldest, he would have likely already known. They found out from the kyree—"
"Those weird wolf creatures? Stef mentioned them once or twice."
"That's them. They sent a messenger, and he insisted on going to see in person. I was a bit glad I was already dead so his parents couldn't kill me."
Tantras hums consideringly as he looks over the board, definitely three out of five. "You know that sounds like another young buck of a mage I once knew."
Vanyel laughs and then casually moves his hind to take the game.
"Damn. Well, three out of five it is." Tantras sits back, stretching out his aching elbow as Vanyel resets the board. "I can't help but notice that it sounds like you've spoken to this Brightstar?"
Vanyel smiles ruefully. "Never any flies on you. Well, I suppose I can tell you about what I've been up to these last few years."
With that, they were off, and they spent candlemarks exchanging tales old and new. The evening passed quickly, but finally Tantras lost his final round. He sits back, slaps his hands on his thighs, and takes one last look around his rooms and stands. Vanyel stands as well and pulls him into another hug.
"Well, old friend, this was the best evening I've had in ages." Between one blink and the next, he feels the strength return to his arms. Looking around he sees Dalian as a young stallion once again, and a broad grin stretches across his face.
Vanyel grins back at him, with only the barest hint of sorrow. "This isn't goodbye, you know. It's ‘I’ll see you later.’"
"Of course it is! I still have to visit your Forest," Tran says with a laugh, then he slaps Vanyel's back, "Getting turned into a tree, only you Van, only you!"