A bit more Victories

[maderr]

*~*~*

"Bastard."

Sharp looked up at the softly muttered word, irritably pushing back a stray bit of hair. Honestly, he wish fashion would turn to short hair. Or that defying the fashion was worth the headache it would incur. "What?"

"I just saw that bastard Epee," Mace said, a hint of snarl in his voice.

"I would hardly speak so harshly of him," Sharp said, a faint frown furrowing his brow. "Epee is an excellent swordsman; perhaps only three men in the kingdom are better."

Mace's scowl did not abate, or even ease. "You and who else?"

"Not me," Sharp corrected. "I'm fairly certain he's won more of our duels than I; if anything, I draw almost even. I refer to his Highness Prince Katan, the Master Swordsman, and his apprentice – the prince's new lover. I was just telling you all this last night."

All that gained him was an irritable shrug.

Sharp rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Mace. You have been nothing but contentious and grouchy since arriving last night. If you are that ill of temper, go back to bed until you can be at least moderately civilized. I missed you sorely, dear friend, but not your foul moods."

Mace looked at him, surprise mingling now with the ire. "You've become a bit more forthright than was your want."

"I was never shy," Sharp said with a shrug. "However, I have lost patience as I gain years."

That, and if he were honest, his near-constant duels with Epee had somehow instilled in him a bit of Epee's…whatever it was about the confounding man that allowed him to say as he pleased, do as pleased, just walk up and sling an arm about a stranger as easily as he might a friend. Boldness, perhaps, though that did not seem quite the right word.

"You should have seen us duel earlier," Sharp continued. "He is in finer form than ever."

Mace only returned to scowling. "You should not be admiring your opponent, Sharp – that is why you lose so often."

Sharp shrugged. "The duels accomplish what they must; they are not a matter of life and death. Honestly, I am tired of discussing this. Let us go get something to eat before I lose my temper."

Giving an irritated shrug of his own, Mace obediently turned and led the way from the dueling square, back towards the more respectable districts of the city.

"Where did you see Epee?" he asked.

"That way," Mace said, motioning vaguely.

Sharp bit back a sharp retort. Honestly, perhaps he needed to retire to the country for a bit.

He had been looking forward to Mace's return a great deal, but since his arrival Mace had been all but completely intolerable. He wished Mace would just rest a few days, reorient himself, but other than a few measly hours abed the night before, Mace had been up and about and wanting to do countless things.

All of it peppered with criticisms and snide remarks and general dissatisfaction.

Had his oldest friend always been this negative?

Sharp did not think so, and he was too tired and aggravated himself to linger upon it.

He turned his thoughts elsewhere, wondering what Epee had been doing lingering about the square. Wasn't he due to attend some exhibition? Sharp was certain he'd heard Sabre blathering about it the other day.

Well, it was hardly his affair. Still, if there was something else going on, that would explain why Epee had seemed so distracted during their bought. Not that he'd been paying much attention himself; he could not even recall the excuse for the duel this time.

The turn of his thoughts while they'd dueled only reinforced Sharp's idea that perhaps he needed a nice quiet spell at his country estate. Maybe he would take along something sweet and accommodating to ease the need that was obviously distorting his frame of mind. It had been too long since he'd had any company but his own.

"So how many duels have you fought? With Epee I mean?"

Mace's abrupt question snapped Sharp from his thoughts, and it took a moment for the whole of it to register. "I have no idea. Why does it matter?"

"Just curious," Mace said.

Sharp pondered the question. "Too many to count, really," he said at last. "I don't really keep track." It would be like trying to count snowflakes, he'd imagine.

"Is he still prone to cheating?" Mace asked.

"It was established he didn't cheat," Sharp said quietly.

Mace shook his head. "No, it was established no one could prove it one way or the other."

Sharp nodded, but did not reply. The past was the past, and since that awful duel Epee had never given even the slightest speck of a hint that he might be cheating. He hated thinking upon it, because even now it did not seem like something Epee would do – yet he could give no reason he thought such a thing.

Hell, until their first duel, he hadn't even really known who Epee was. Sabre's brother, which really was a terrible burden for anyone to bear. His vaguest recollection had been of someone quiet and given to books – but the man who had challenged him that day nine years ago had been bursting with fire. Nothing quiet about him at all.

Since that day, he'd been a marvelous, if infuriating and aggravating, challenge – until the day he'd cheated. Or, at least, possibly cheated.

Following that duel, Sharp wasn't certain what kept him angry and fighting. Disappointment, maybe. Epee was a splendid challenge, but every duel he had to wonder if all was as it should be. Each question kept him waiting for the next duel, waiting to know for certain the man called Epee.

Well, he obviously was not going to figure it out today. Especially with Mace about, when all Mace seemed capable of doing now was snipe and grouse about Epee and their duels and everything else under the sun.

The country, he decided. Once Mace was settled a bit, he was packing his things and running off to his country estate. Hmm, or maybe the hunting lodge. That was even further away from civilization.

A hand settled lightly on his hip, drawing him from this thoughts, and Sharp stopped walking to turn and look at Mace.

"I'm sorry," mace said. "I guess I'm still tense from all the travelling, exactly as you have been trying to tell me all day. What say I take care of lunch, and then we go back to your house for the day. I'm tired, and you look as though I've quite stressed you out. Another day or so and my house should be fit for habitation once more, and I can stop imposing upon you."

"You're never an imposition," Sharp said, smiling. "It's good to have you home again, Mace."

Mace turned the smile, and they resumed walking, headed for their favorite club.

A doorman reached to open the door for them, but just as he did so a figure came hurtling out of the club, crashing into Sharp with a resounding oath.

"Lord Sabre," Sharp greeted stiffly. He may not know what to think of Epee, but he had no doubt as to his feelings about Sabre – the man was a bastard through and through, no different than the father. Just one more reason he did not know quite what to think about Epee.

"Sharp," Sabre said with a grunt. "Have you seen Epee about anywhere?"

"He passed by the dueling square several minutes ago, I did not see him myself…"

Mace spoke up just behind him. "He was headed toward tavern row."

Sabre's face darkened into a fearsome scowl that only hinted at the temper stirring just beneath the surface; a temper that cost Sabre as many duels as it won. "I see," he said tersely, and without further word stalked off into the street.

It would seem Epee had been expected somewhere. Sharp grimaced in sympathy – no one deserved to be the focus of Sabre's ire, especially as in this case an irate Sabre probably meant an angry Rapier.

"Guess you're not the only one who'd like to run Epee through," Mace said, and Sharp almost thought he sounded pleased by the idea.

He found it irritating. "I don’t want to see Epee run through," he snapped. He just wanted Epee to make sense, or something. "Let's just eat and go home." Stifling a sigh, he led the way into the club.

Two hours later, his mood was vastly improved by good food and relatively pleasant conversation – and the fact they were finally home. Stripping off his coat and gloves and hat, he handed it all to his butler and immediately strode through the house to the conservatory at the far east end.

Behind him came sounds of poorly muffled impatience and condescending amusement. Sharp ignored them, long used to it from pretty much everyone. "You are more than welcome to go somewhere else," he said with exaggerated cheer. "It's a large house." Striding to the back of the conservatory, of which three walls were all glass, he stopped at the eastern-most wall and took in the three large, gold cages hanging from specially made stands.

Inside each cage were roughly a dozen tiny birds. They ranged in color from palest cream to delicate gold to a soft, blush red.

Mace snorted. "One would think you'd outgrow such a silly thing. Songbirds are for women, Sharp, and you have as little to do with women as any wise man."

Sharp shrugged. "I like them."

Ignoring anything else Mace might say, he opened the door of the nearest cage and stuck his hand in, crooning quietly to the birds inside, beaming when two immediately flew to his hand, cuddling together in his palm, fitting perfectly.

He shook them off after a couple of minutes, and closed the cage once more. Most of this lot was only recently acquired; he was glad they seemed to be settling in just fine.

Double checking that food and water were in proper supply for each cage, he finally left the birds to enjoy the remaining sunshine and left the conservatory.

If he was lucky, Mace would wander off shortly and spend the rest of the day fast asleep. Then perhaps he could relax in the conservatory, read a book and enjoy his birds in peace for a bit. "I am going to freshen up," he said abruptly, not giving Mace a chance to reply, but cutting sharply right to climb up the main stairs.

On the second floor, he turned down the hallway to the west end, at the very end of which were the double doors leading to the master suite. Safely within his chambers, he shucked his sword and belt, then stripped down to merely his shirt and breeches. Washing away the dirt and sweat of the day, feeling much refreshed, he looked toward the bed and decided that a nap did, in fact, sound like a splendid idea.