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As demanding as he was with the paperwork, Cyno had to give Al-Haitham at least this: it felt like the acting Grand Sage was actually listening to him when he was in the office.
Azar barely paid any attention to him during their meetings. Cyno didn’t mind feeling invisible. It was part of his job. But every now and then they stumbled upon a problem that required more information on Cyno’s side, and wrenching them out of Azar was exhausting.
No such thing happened with Al-Haitham. Whatever the issue, however brief or long their meeting was, Cyno always had Al-Haitham’s undivided attention. It made things a lot faster, which, Cyno suspected, was the reason behind Al-Haitham’s behavior. Though he wouldn’t have minded spending some more time with him.
“Here’s the report about the last investigation,” said Cyno, handling Al-Haitham the paperwork. “The issue was not the one we thought of at first, but your instinct was correct.”
Al-Haitham took the papers.
“Tha gaol agam ort,” he mumbled as he placed the papers in a neat pile on his left.
“What?”
“I just said thank you.”
Cyno shook his head. “You know you don’t need to show off your knowledge with me, right?”
Al-Haitham cleared his throat. “I simply got them mixed up.”
“Sure, sure.”
Cyno thought about asking Al-Haitham which language that was, out of all the ones he knew, but the scribe was already focused back on his work. He shrugged and left the Grand Sage’s office. A Genius Invocation tournament was waiting for him that evening, he had no time to think about anything else.
That was the first, but not the last time, Al-Haitham slipped into a different language while he talked with Cyno. The next time it happened, they were looking together for a book in the restricted section of the House of Daena. It was just the two of them, going through the shelves in silence. Cyno listened to the noises the books made sliding against each other, Al-Haitham holding his breath when he found something interesting, his soft footsteps on the marble floor.
Working with him was always very quiet. Almost like he was not working with someone else at all. It made Al-Haitham easier to ignore, which was something Cyno had to do if he wanted to focus on his work.
“A-ha!” exclaimed Cyno, breaking the silence.
He pulled a book bound in leather made from prickly pear cactus. A quick look through the pages told him that was what they were looking for. He turned around to find Al-Haitham looking at him just around the corner of one of the shelves.
“Here,” said Cyno, passing him the volume.
“Ma armastan sind,“ said Al-Haitham.
Cyno chuckled. “Another language again?”
Without even looking at him, Al-Haitham nodded.
“It has a nice sound,” observed Cyno. Then, he stretched and hummed. “I’ll leave you to it. Just let me know what you find out.”
“Of course.”
It didn’t happen often, and it seemed that the language Al-Haitham used to thank Cyno or make other quick comments was always different. It meant that Cyno could never really remember what Al-Haitham said. He always spoke too fast or not clearly enough for him to understand properly, as if he thought Cyno knew whatever language he picked.
Maybe he could ask Faruzan. It could turn into a nice surprise for Al-Haitham, being answered to in the same language he spoke. Not that he had the time at the moment, but if he still remembered to do so when work slowed down, it could be a fun way to pass the time.
At least he had a free evening to spend with his friends, despite all the work.
“Glad you could come,” said Cyno as Tighnari sat in front of him at Lambad’s tavern.
“Me too. I left Collei in charge for the night.”
“Is she gonna be able to handle everything?”
Tighnari gestured to a waiter. “I think she’s more than capable. The real question is if she believes she can do it.”
“Confidence is still an issue, I see.”
Tighnari nodded. “Well, I haven’t left her without a safety net.” He pulled out a short stick from a satchel. “This is the twin of another branch that she has. If she breaks it, this breaks too, and tells me I need to go back as quickly as possible.”
Cyno carefully took the stick. It pulsated with dendro energy.
“And if you’re sleeping?”
“It’s loud. And sparkles. I took into consideration different scenarios.”
They were interrupted by the arrival of Al-Haitham and Kaveh. They were lost in one of their usual debates, which Kaveh ended the moment he saw his two other friends. He waved and hurried towards them, leaving Al-Haitham a couple of steps behind.
“Ah, finally,” said Kaveh when the waiter left the carafe of wine on their table. “Some time just for us.”
He picked up the debate he was having with Al-Haitham when they had arrived, determined to finish it. Tighnari got involved too, despite his best efforts to stay out of the discussion. They also tried to drag Cyno in it, but when his only reply was a joke, the rest of the group gave up and the debate died.
After that, Cyno didn’t pay much attention to what his friends were talking about. His mind was floating through Genius Invocation strategies and new puns he had come up with, when he noticed Al-Haitham grab the carafe – which was already empty – and exchange a couple of words with Kaveh.
He then stood up from the table.
“Ask for a plate of panipuri too,” said Tighnari.
“And baklava too.”
Without a second thought, Cyno followed Al-Haitham.
“I’ll help you carry everything,” he said in reply to Al-Haitham’s curious glance.
They waited for the wine and the food in silence. Cyno leaned against the counter, humming a melody he had heard during one of Nilou’s performances.
He was sure he felt Al-Haitham’s insistent gaze on himself, but every time he turned, the scribe was looking at the selection of hard liquors behind the counter. The third time their eyes failed to meet, Cyno just sighed and gave up. A little later, Lambad came back with everything they had ordered.
“I’ll take the wine,” said Cyno. “It’s the heaviest thing. You take the plates.”
“Jeg elsker dig.”
“You’re welcome.”
He had just assumed that was a thank you, but once again, Al-Haitham had picked a language he had never used before and one Cyno didn’t know. He didn’t mind that. Hearing Al-Haitham speak all those different languages had an effect on him. A pleasant one.
Greater Lord Rukkhadevata, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been so attracted to someone.
They made it back to the table and Al-Haitham retired from the conversation, leaving Cyno the space to tell everyone about the tournament he had taken part in a couple of weeks before. He was sure he was close to winning Kaveh over. Soon they would be playing together whenever they met at the tavern.
After that evening, he didn’t cross paths with Al-Haitham for a few days. It made sense, as he was in the process of appointing a new Grand Sage and going back to his role as the Grand Scribe. Cyno tried to ignore the disappointment. They would start seeing each other again soon, even more than before, since Al-Haitham wouldn’t be the acting Grand Sage anymore.
They bumped into each other one evening, as they were both getting off work. Al-Haitham seemed so ready to be done with all the paperwork.
“Oh, hey,” said Cyno. “Heard you’re freeing yourself of the responsibilities.”
Al-Haitham nodded. “The demotion could have come sooner. But at least we’re done.”
Cyno held the door open as they walked out of the Akademiya. A warm setting sun was painting the sky pink and orange.
“Then why don’t we celebrate it?” proposed Cyno. “There’s a place close by. We can grab a quick drink.”
Al-Haitham looked in the direction Cyno had gestured towards and nodded.
“Sure. Why not.”
Neither intended to stay out for dinner. Cyno got a beer while Al-Haitham opted for a glass of wine, and they chatted about work and Genius Invocation for little less than an hour, before Cyno decided he wanted to go home and relax on his own.
He accompanied Al-Haitham home – just to finish a discussion they had started about desert runes, no other reason.
“Well, congratulations on your demotion again.”
“Seni seviyorum,” replied Al-Haitham.
“You’re welcome.”
Another week passed. One day Cyno found himself working in the library with Faruzan, over an issue concerning the Haravatat darshan. Later, he wouldn’t remember what the issue was. He would only remember the conversation with Faruzan at the end of their workday together.
They had been hunched over books and documents the entire morning and for the greater part of the afternoon. When they were finally able to put everything away, Cyno stretched like a cat in the sun, basking in the satisfaction of a job well done.
“That’s it,” said Faruzan, slamming a book shut. “And this was solved in one day only thanks to you, general.”
Cyno really wanted to show her that he had learned something from all his time with Al-Haitham. He rummaged through his mind to remember at least one of the various expressions he had heard from the scribe.
“Seni seviyorum,” he said, as he picked up the scattered papers.
There was no answer from Faruzan. When he raised his eyes on her, she was frozen in place with a book in her hands, her expression bewildered.
“What’s wrong?”
“I mean, we worked well together, general Mahamatra, but I’m not sure I enjoyed our time together to the point of developing romantic feelings,” said Faruzan.
It was Cyno’s turn to be confused.
“Excuse me? Didn’t I just thank you?”
“Not really, no. You just told me you love me.”
Cyno’s brain went blank. He had just told Faruzan he loved her. Because he had used an expression Al-Haitham had used with him.
“Wait, I remember another one,” said Cyno. “Jeg elsker dig?”
“That also means I love you,” confirmed Faruzan. She frowned. “General, what’s going on? You don’t look well.”
No, Cyno was not doing well. He was just processing that, in the last few weeks, Al-Haitham had told him at least twice that he-
His first instinct was to run and find Al-Haitham. He needed to know for how long, why, the reason he had chosen to tell him in ways he wouldn’t understand. For someone who always acted rationally, that felt like such an odd decision.
He ignored that first instinct and remained seated in front of Faruzan. He interlaced his fingers and rested his arms on the table. He knew how he wanted to approach this.
“Faruzan?”
“Yes?”
“Do you know which are the languages Al-Haitham speaks?”
She squinted at him. “I do. Why?”
“Do you also know some of the languages he speaks?”
“Yes. And again, why?”
“Because I need your help.”
*
A little later, Cyno was standing in front of Al-Haitham’s house. He frantically knocked on the door, almost hitting Kaveh in the face when he opened it.
“Where is he?” said Cyno.
Kaveh looked around the house, confused. “You mean Al-Haitham? He should be in his room.”
Cyno barely left him time to finish the sentence, before pushing him to the side and heading for Al-Haitham’s room.
The door was closed. Locked or not, Cyno grabbed the handle and pushed, determined to open it regardless. The door swung open without resistance and the first thing Cyno saw inside was Al-Haitham sitting on the windowsill, a leg thrown out of the window and hanging in the air.
They stood perfectly still for a moment, looking at each other. Then Al-Haitham slowly dragged his leg back inside and stood up, clearing his throat.
“Were you trying to escape through the window?” asked Cyno. He had to repress a laugh.
“…no.” Al-Haitham patted his clothes. “I just realized the window needs cleaning. That’s all.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Cyno, having calmed down a little, closed the door behind him. Al-Haitham was avoiding his eyes, and badly. It seemed he had to force himself not to look at Cyno. With a shake of his head and a sigh, Cyno sat at Al-Haitham’s desk.
“You didn’t take into consideration that I know Faruzan,” he said.
Al-Haitham remained silent and kept stubbornly avoiding Cyno’s gaze.
“Look, I’m just curious as to why you went about it that way.” Cyno leaned on his elbows, moving some sheets of paper around. “You told me so many times. Didn’t you think I might find out sooner? You don’t know which languages I understand.”
“I was pretty sure,” finally said Al-Haitham, his voice little more than a whisper. “You file was very thorough.”
“And you studied it pretty well, didn’t you.”
Al-Haitham went quiet again. He took a step back and crossed his arms, his eyes glued to the floor. Cyno was not the best at reading people, but even he could see how uncomfortable Al-Haitham was. It was an unusual sight, one he had never seen.
“You don’t need to act like that. Don’t be scared,” Cyno reassured him, his voice softer. He paused. “Ben de seni seviyorum.”
Hearing those words, Al-Haitham finally raised his head and stared at Cyno with wide eyes. His arms fell to his sides.
“What did you say?”
“Ben de seni seviyorum,” repeated Cyno.
Al-Haitham held his gaze for a while, then lowered his head again, his eyes going from the floor to the window, to the floor again. Cyno could see the cogs in his brain turning at breakneck speed and gave him a shy smile when their eyes met again.
“I wanted to surprise you. Reply to one of your thank you with the right you’re welcome.” He chuckled. “I had to learn something different.”
When he finished talking, there was enough silence for him to hear Kaveh moving around in the other rooms. Since there was still no reaction from Al-Haitham, Cyno realized he needed to act first. He stood up and closed the distance between them. His hand reached for Al-Haitham’s. The scribe made no attempt to pull away.
“Why did you do it? Why like that?”
Al-Haitham opened his mouth. He closed it. Then he finally found his voice.
“I had no hope that my feelings were reciprocated,” he explained. “But despite that…”
“They had to come out, somehow,” finished Cyno. “In a way I wouldn’t understand.”
He pulled Al-Haitham closer and brought the hand he was holding up to his mouth. He kissed his knuckles, the palm of his hand, his wrist. He wanted to keep going, but there a conversation he needed to finish first.
When he looked back up at Al-Haitham, the eyes of the scribe were wide with surprise and relief. And maybe something else.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner either,” said Cyno.
Al-Haitham shook his head. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
Cyno knew what was coming before he felt Al-Haitham’s mouth pressed against his. It was written all over his face and in his eyes. It was probably written all over his face too. And, if he had to be honest, he would have been pretty disappointed if the conversation hadn’t ended like that.
He had no idea how long the kiss lasted. When they parted, both breathless and flushed, Cyno touched the side of Al-Haitham’s face and smiled.
“Why don’t you teach me a few more ways to say I love you? I promise I’ll memorize all of them.”
Al-Haitham pulled him towards the bed.
“I’ll repeat them as many times as you need to remember them.”