Devan

Mayor Wynn had the look of a man who hadn’t slept in several days. At least. A younger man would have buckled under the stress of the situation, so it was no wonder the wrinkles in his face aged him to the point that he looked eligible for a grave. The bags under his eyes had bags, his clothes were wrinkled to hell and back, and his hand was fused to a coffee cup. The man was on the verge of collapse.

Still, he listened patiently to Devan as they sat in his tiny office, hearing out every word. When Devan stilled, he sighed long and loud, eyes falling to a piece of paper on his desk.

“Only last night, I received this letter from her royal highness. In it, she commanded that we sacrifice our lives for the safety of the country. I read that letter three times, convinced I had read it wrong. How could she abandon us like this? It was so cold, those words, as if she didn’t care if we died or not. I couldn’t…tell anyone else about this. They’ve all been so worried about what to do. Of how help could arrive in time. I couldn’t look at my daughters, my grandchildren, and tell them to die for a noble cause. How could any father or grandfather do that?”

Devan swallowed hard. He had no words for this man. Indeed, how could anyone ask that? He wasn’t surprised Serenity had said it, though. It was on par for Princess Bitch.

“But you.” Wynn’s eyes came back up to meet his, and there were tears standing there. “You’re going against her direct order to save us. You’ve come with a solution. Thank you, Sir Salvino. You have no idea how grateful I am to you. This sorcerer—I’m sorry, your name is Tan?”

Tan beamed at him. “That’s me.”

Devan had deliberately introduced him that way. Most people only knew his title, the Black Sorcerer of Grimslock. Few knew his actual name. Devan didn’t want to borrow trouble by asking these already exhausted, terrified people to trust in a black sorcerer. It was easier to just pretend he’d found a freelancer and hired him to help.

“Sorcerer Tan, thank you so much for coming. For being willing to help. I know this will cost a great deal. Whatever we can do to repay you—”

Tan waved this off. “Already paid in full. Don’t worry about that.”

Now that Devan was surprised by. Tan could very well ask for payment here, too, and be well within his rights. That he didn’t made Devan think better of him.

What do you know, the man really did have a kind streak in him.

With a clap of his hands, Tan directed, “Now, we have no time, and we need to move fast. First, show me a wide-open place where I can set up a portation sigil. I need it to be at least a hundred paces in diameter.”

Wynn’s thin brows furrowed as he thought. “The fairegrounds right outside town have that kind of space to them.”

“Splendid! I’ll set up there. Now, a few things to tell people as you get them organized. First, they’re not to worry about food or anything; there’s tents and guaranteed meals where they’re going. Tell them to pack necessities. Clothes, medicines, any heirlooms they don’t want destroyed. There’s a weight limit. Whatever they can’t carry must be left behind. I’ll be sorely taxed just getting everyone out in two days. I’d like to get the first group out tonight if at all possible.”

Wynn nodded firmly. “I’ll pass along those instructions. Where are they going?”

“My house. Tell them not to be alarmed by all the black, alright? I had a goth emo phase for two years, I’m not proud, don’t hold it against me. I’ve got a very large garden in the back that has lodging for people. They’ll be perfectly safe there while Sir Salvino and I deal with the barbarians here.”

“Thank you, Sorcerer Tan, that relieves my mind. I’ll orchestrate things immediately. My secretary will show you where the fairegrounds are so you can get started.”

“Perfect!” Tan turned and abruptly caught Devan’s hand, pressing it to his chest with large, soulful eyes.

Devan just watched him, waiting for it. That expression was pure mischief. He was almost distracted from the impish laughter dancing in Tan’s eyes just because of how close he was standing. It had been a while since an attractive man had stood so close to him.

“My darling, don’t worry, I’ll be back in your arms soon. Don’t be sad by our brief separation.”

How, exactly, was this man so completely incorrigible? Devan riposted in the driest tone he could manage, “I promise not to pine for you too much.”

Tan beamed at him. “Good. I’m off. I should be ready for the first group in about three hours, give or take a cup of coffee. That is a hint. Bring me coffee when you come. Mayor, I won’t portal a group out unless there’s at least three hundred people, so be quick!”

Then, like the whirling dervish he was, Tan was out the door and calling for the secretary as he moved.

Wynn pointed after him. “Does he normally move that fast?”

“Who knows?” Devan suspected the only time Tan was still was when dead asleep. Maybe not even then. It’s not like Devan knew how the man slept.

Although he’d soon learn, according to the terms of their agreement. Devan still wasn’t sure what to think of that. He also had no time to dwell on it. He had to help organize an entire town to move within forty-eight hours.

If he phrased it like forty-eight hours instead of two days, it felt like he had more time. Less anxiety inducing that way. Was it a lie? Absolutely, but Devan lied to himself on a regular basis. It promoted what sanity he still had left to stay with him.

The next three hours were both stressful and repetitive. He went up and down the streets, calling out to people, knocking on doors, repeating the same thing.

The barbarians were coming. No, the princess wasn’t sending an army to save them. They had to portal out. A portal was waiting at the fairegrounds to take them away. When it was safe, they’d be brought back.

Devan kept his tone gentle, his expression as sincere as he could manage it. He repeated the words so often that he had no doubt he could say them in his sleep. It was imperative that he got people to move, and quickly. This first round of people to go was whoever was fast in packing. But the second, third, and fourth rounds would need to be more organized. It would be chaos otherwise and detrimental in the extreme.

What was insane about this whole situation was him putting so much trust in Tan. He barely knew the man outside of very interesting reports and yet he was entrusting eleven hundred lives into his care. What that said about Devan’s sanity and desperation, he didn’t care to examine closely.

He didn’t forget his orders and managed a cup of coffee from a bakery already closed, plus a scone, and carried them to the fairegrounds. As he went, he led at least fifty people behind him, rather feeling like the pied piper, but at least they were going to a good place. And not being drowned in a river.

The fairegrounds were quite likely the only flat ground in this mountainous region. It had been carved out of the bedrock itself, the steep sides a silent testament to the effort that went into it. They weren’t as large as most fairegrounds, understandably, but still large enough for all of the livestock, shows, and such. In the middle of this was Tan.

And quite likely the largest drawn portation sigil Devan had ever laid eyes on.

It actually stopped him in his tracks for a moment as he took it in because even the castle’s portal sigil was half the size of this one, and it was supposedly the largest one in Goodwine.

Devan had known, intellectually, how powerful Tan was. He’d gone to the man for a reason, after all. If you listened to the rumors, Tan had defeated vampires and selkies, tamed unicorns, and battled a tengu in midair. If you read the actual reports Devan had on the man, at least half of that was true. No one claimed Tan was mediocre, nor suggested other sorcerers were more powerful.

Still. Seeing the evidence in front of his eyes was something else entirely. Devan had used portation spells before, of course; the court sorcerers had them all over the place. They were meant to hold four, maybe five people in chain mail armor. He’d thought Tan’s joke about this taking only four trips to empty out the town was just that—a joke.

The sigil was large enough it really could hold three hundred people with baggage. Maybe a touch more.

A funny feeling flittered through his chest. All Tan wanted in return for this insane undertaking was sharing a bed for a night with Devan? Out of all the things he could have asked for, it was just that? Tan was more powerful than all of the court sorcerers combined. Surely he had something else he could have demanded from Devan.

Surely there was some other agenda here. Devan just hadn’t figured it out yet.

Tan knelt on the ground, both hands right in the dirt, a furrow of concentration on his face. Without that prankster’s manner, Devan could finally focus on him long enough to see what he truly looked like. He wasn’t tall, rather on the shorter side, and whip thin. Even the poet’s shirt couldn’t disguise that. When he focused like this, he no longer looked adorably cute, but instead looked the part of a serious sorcerer. He was entirely focused here, more serious than Devan had thought him capable.

It intrigued Devan, this focus. For all the oddities of his reputation, when lives were on the line, Tan put his best effort forward. In that, it seemed, they were stunningly alike. How odd. Devan never expected to see this trait in someone he supposedly had to guard against.

Tan looked up, a smile lighting up his face, immediately spoiling the impression. “Devan! You darling man, you not only brought me coffee but a snack?” He blew kisses with a hand. “Come here, let me have your babies.”

Their onlookers did a double take at this conversation. Devan just rolled with it. The banter lightened the mood and, besides, he was used to rolling with the absurdity. It was another tactic to preserve his sanity.

“I brought you coffee and a snack, yes. I also brought more people. Now, how close are you to being ready?”

“I just need more people. Spellwork is done.” Tan hopped up lightly to his feet, taking both offerings before inhaling half the cup. He swallowed then sighed, expression blissful. “Now. Now I can function. Do a headcount for me? I lost track of who all’s here.”

“Okay.”

“I would say look sexy doing it, but you do that while standing around breathing, so….”

Devan looked to the heavens, silently asking why Tan was like this. Did the gods forget to give him serious genes? Was that it? He’d been so focused a second ago, too. “Tan.”

“Right here.” Tan straightened to mock attention.

“Can you work without flirting with me?”

“Well, you’d have to be less lovely first. Work on that, will you? My fragile willpower can only take so much.”

Yeah, Devan was going to give that up for a lost cause. It’s fine, all he had to do was put up with this for another two, three days. He could endure it. He’d put up with worse. It’s not like he minded the flirting, per se, he just didn’t know how to emotionally respond to it. He also didn’t have the emotional capacity to deal with it. There was too much else to do that demanded his attention first.

He shook his head and went through the people, getting a headcount, wrapping all the way around the sigil. No one dared step inside it, so they were bunched around the edges. As a precaution, he came back through them again, double-checking the number, and gained five as a result. Hopefully the second number was accurate.

Devan came back to Tan and reported, “Three hundred and twenty-four.”

“Lovely. I can speed off with this group, unless you think more are coming.”

Devan turned, eyeing the street. It sloped up, obscuring his view, but he could see more people coming. “I say, give it another half hour? Then go. I’ll round up the next lot.”

“Ahhh…not enough time to do two groups.” Tan pointed to the sky. “Portation spells at night are risky enough, but at this size? They’re powered by sunlight, you see. I don’t dare do a large group in failing sunlight.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize that.” Devan mentally reevaluated the logistics of this. “Alright, then wait a half hour? And take everyone you can. Tonight I’ll organize the rest of the town so we have a group waiting here after breakfast.”

“Good, that’s a better plan.” Tan finished off his scone, then his coffee, and patted his belly. “Now I’m a happy man. Wait, where are you going?”

Devan eyed him in exasperation. Now what did he want? “I’m going to organize more people. As I said.”

“Without a kiss bye first?” Tan objected in true hurt.

He was getting far too much enjoyment out of this. “Since when are we a couple and I have to give you kisses?”

Tan’s mouth dropped into a pout that was legendary. Odes could be used to describe that pout. His bottom lip quivered. Even a stone statue would be moved. “I work better with proper motivation.”

Tan was, one hundred percent, messing with him. Devan knew this. They both knew this. Hell, everyone watching knew this. Devan was torn between hitting him and just walking away.

For some reason he couldn’t explain, he instead leaned forward and smacked a kiss on top of that silky black hair.

Tan blinked up at him in utter shock.

Devan held out both hands. “Give me the plate and cup back, I’ll return them.”

Tan dumbly handed them over, eyes still wide.

Ha, finally struck him speechless. Devan grinned as he took the plate and cup, walking away. Not that he expected it to last long, but a quiet Tan was sure a novelty.

“Aw, damn,” Tan cursed.

As expected, it hadn’t lasted long.

“I should have demanded a kiss on the lips. Devan! Wait, come back, do-over! I want a do-over!”

Now that, Devan was definitely ignoring.