November 23, 3042, early

Tossed and turned all night. Probably really fucked things up, but it's too late now to do anything about it.

Nicholas made me tell him.

He attacked over dinner, demanded that I tell him the truth. Said he didn't believe my story, said he wasn't going to let me off the hook, this time. I decided just to go, but he grabbed my wrist as I was going, held me in the room. What was I going to do, burn him with my cigarette stub?

I have no idea what goes through his mind sometimes. But he told me he was my friend, and said he cared about what happened to me. And all I could do was to sit there, stricken÷I couldn't say anything, couldn't look at him ... I've faced dragons and mindflayers and retrievers without missing a beat, so why is it that I panic and freeze up for such trivial reasons? Danny and Nicholas can frighten me like no number of physical threats ever could.

I don't even remember everything he said, finally. I think I couldn't hear over my own fear. But I lost. Somehow or other I ended up sitting in tears, telling him everything. And he held my hand÷dammit! I don't even know how that happened÷I think he was trying to calm me down by keeping me from making fists÷my shoulders ache, anyway. I think I was so tense that I was shaking. I burned my right palm, too÷it hurts like hell this morning. I think I closed my hand over my cigarette and burned myself that way. I don't remember.

I can't believe I told him. I'm not sure if it's a relief, or if it's just making things even worse. But he didn't get mad, or jeer at me, or recoil in horror. He just sat there and let me talk, and volunteered to help. Why would he do that?

Some of the things he said shook me a little. I'm still trying to sort them out÷I spent most of last night (this morning?) trying to sort them out. He said he'd known someone else who'd found himself in my position, who managed to work it out, I guess. Another "respectable gay man," in his words. Meaning, I guess, that that's what I am. The description doesn't seem right, to me. I told him that÷that it isn't right. That just because I've fallen in love with Danny doesn't mean I'm gay!

It doesn't mean I'm interested in men in general÷not like Lairunya÷not at all like Lairunya.

And÷oddly÷Nicholas seemed to understand that. Or, at least, not to immediately dismiss it. He said something interesting, that sticks in my memory. He said he hadn't decided if he actually believed it or not. He said he'd been told that you didn't fall in love with bodies, you fell in love with people÷their being, their personalities, whatever. And that if you fell in love, it didn't matter what body the person was wearing. I find the thought ... comforting, somehow. Maybe it was the kindest thing he could have told me. Whoever told it to him must have been very wise. Unfortunately, wisdom isn't a strength in this group.

He says I should talk to Danny, tell him how I feel. I know I should, too. I can't write him, or have someone else talk to him for me. But÷what do I do if he tells me he isn't interested? Or worse÷that he loves someone else? Then what do I do? Nicholas says if that happens, I should talk to him before I do anything else, but I wouldn't promise him that I'd do that. I couldn't. I don't know what I'd do. I'm not some bardic hero who can live with unrequited love. I'm not that strong.

I feel like somehow telling Nicholas has sealed my fate. Before÷when nobody knew÷I could always lie, pretend I never felt like this. Now I can't. Someone else knows. I'm locked into my role now. I'm÷whatever.

He says he won't leave, that this won't drive him off. I would have sworn it would have÷every word, gesture, expression I've ever seen from him has indicated to me that he hates fags. Queers. Sodomites. Whatever the hell this makes me. He says he needs to think it over, but that he won't go. I told him that if he did÷if he changed his mind÷that I'd understand. It would be nice if he stayed. I'd like to have someone÷a friend÷right now.

Maybe it will be the fourth time Nicholas saves my life.

I wish I knew his motives, understood why he's doing this. What did I do to deserve this kind of friendship? I know I haven't indebted him to me, not like this, not enough to compel him to do this. And I know it's not the innate nobility of my spirit or any crap like that. I'm sickly, arrogant, and self-pitying. Nothing to admire there.

And he has every reason to hate me. I wonder if he realizes how much he told me, last night, too? About humans raiding his home village, and taking the children as slaves, and molesting them÷his own history, clearly, and more or less what I'd suspected from things he's said in the past. So he has every reason to despise me÷a human, a pervert, just like the people who killed his family.

He said something else, though, something I'll bet he never, ever intended to let slip. About reaching middle age without knowing either sex or love, or whether he went one way or the other, or any way at all. I wonder if that bothers him, inside? I always figured he loathed anything to do with love or sex, and liked it that way÷was content that way. I wonder if it eats him up inside the way this has eaten me? I don't think I'd dare ask.

So÷now two people know, him and me, and I have to decide what to do in this brief hiatus between adventures, and do it.

Sometimes I stop, and look at myself in the mirror, and don't know who I am, anymore.

November 27

When everything shatters, you can pick up the pieces and put them back together again any way you want. That's why there's no face in the mirror. I'm looking at a puzzle that hasn't been assembled, yet.

This is what's before me, these next few months. The job of deciding how I want to piece things together. It won't look the same as it did before, of course, but I could choose to reconstruct myself as close to before as possible. There'd be a few shards missing, maybe a new piece or two; but otherwise, I could come out of this vacation more or less the same. All I'd have to do is to keep still, as my brother termed it; to step back into my comfortable rut, pull on my old habits like a comfortable (if threadbare) tunic, stop looking for some ideal of "happiness" and remain content with "security."

Or maybe I could make a few changes. I could give up illusionry for a while, spend my time learning how to handle this sword instead of copying spells.

I could apply to a university, move away after this military stint is through, get the formal education I've never had. I do envy Danny that. I've studied on my own, but even so, I'll never have a full education without proper instruction. I wouldn't mind taking a few years off to do that.

I could set up a plan for post-war trade, begin setting things into motion to become an aggressive merchant when the markets open up again. Or I could invest in the temple of Zed again, although my interest in that has waned. I could begin playing the political game more intently, although÷I don't know if I can do that without compromising my place in this group.

I could throw it all away, and tell Danny how I feel.

Who would I be then? My place in the Guild would be more or less unchanged. Whatever the other mages thought, they wouldn't challenge me on it÷because my magical prowess isn't political. It can't be taken away.

My place in the Noble's Circle would be diminished or nonexistant. Father would disown me, so I'd have to use another name. I'd still be titled÷barring action by the emperor÷but not respected. Aspin and Zorbo might still side with me, which would be something÷they're both greater nobles÷but that's all. I might still be in SkinEater's coterie, but probably on a lesser footing; he's not one to throw away a useful tool, although even he must consider appearances.

The reaction of the Circle would ripple into my general social standing. I could still be an adventurer÷that wouldn't change÷but there would be some effect on my standing in the city in general.

I can't guess how my friends would react. Not any more.

On the other hand, there would be some positive changes. I would probably gain Danny's allies. By default, my political standing would shift÷which is fine with me, I don't object to his allies, I just object to his strategies. He doesn't have many enemies÷that thief, the one who betrayed him years ago, but that's all I can think of. I suppose I'd end up allied with the Brotherhood/Circle, with potentially delicate results for the both of us÷but maybe Simon could minimize that threat. Maybe.

Assuming Danny didn't reject me.

If he does?

Every time I ask myself that, I change my mind. Sometimes I think I'd have to kill myself. But the pain that would cause him would be terrible; and I don't want to inflict that on him. Sometimes I think I could just carry on like nothing had happened. But I know that wouldn't last; it's what I've been trying to do for the past year and more, and behind the mask of normality I've just been falling apart. I could try÷maybe even successfully, for a while÷but eventually it would all crumble. I'd need my drugs.

Most of the time I figure I'd just leave. After all, that would be the last blow, wouldn't it? No whole parts left. I think I could go on if I just walked away, moved to Parthinon, lost myself in the crowds of humans there. Took a new name, hid my rank and titles, started a new life. That way Danny wouldn't feel guilty over my death÷and once in a while, I could look in on him, and Nicholas, and Callous, and the others, and see how they're doing. I bet that if I withdrew my money, closed everything down, gave away my house and lands÷I might be able to go on like that. I could build an entirely new identity if I gave up all of my old one.

With this scarf, they'd never be able to find me.

I suppose that's my most rational choice. If I need to make it.

And if I don't, then I'll just have to pick and choose from all these pieces and do my best to come up with something I can live with.

I suppose that an illusionist should be able to hide the holes in his facade, anyway.

I've done all right so far. The only one who's noticed has been Nicholas÷and he won't tell anyone else.