Tiiran could have snarled his frustration. Orin didn’t like Nikoly, or Orin liked him a great deal, or something else was going on and Tiiran was too much of a feral animal to know what it was. He finally went with another, far safer, question.
“Why train you at all?” He scowled to the books. “What for?”
“An excellent question.” There was a smile in Orin’s voice. “Nikoly?”
Nikoly dipped his head, then raised it to look at Tiiran. “A noble’s education usually consists of reading and letters, some figures, some physical sparring if you’re capable and interested, and then at least a basic knowledge of your family’s histories and any families you are allied with. I was not the best student of histories.”
“Meaning he’s not one angling for power,” Orin interpreted, probably for Tiiran’s benefit.
“Yes,” Nikoly agreed with a nod, eyes on Tiiran. “I’m not clever like some. I prefer being practical, using my hands if I can.”
“Like carpentry?” Tiiran glanced to Orin. “He replaced a broken shelf here.”
“I helped a true carpenter,” Nikoly insisted. “My knowledge is nowhere near hers. I simply like to learn skills.”
“Any others? Besides the carpentry and whatever martial skills you learned, that is.” If Orin was going to interrogate Nikoly, teasingly or to make him wriggle as his ducklings must wriggle, then he shouldn’t make fun of him for having a temper and yet not being fighter like Orin or the other outguards.
“If Nikoly were a trained warrior, he wouldn’t be working in the library.”
“Calm, Tiiran. I’m not going for his throat.” Orin gave Tiiran a small grin, but turned his attention back to Nikoly. “And I won’t, if he’s good enough. He knows that.”
“Good enough for what?” Tiiran nearly asked, swallowing it down only because the answer was very probably:to be Orin’s well-trained pup.
“I was also educated in some poetry, and observed some of the work of running an estate although that was not the plan for me,” Nikoly answered. “I know some leather craft and sewing, mostly for repairs; I could never make clothing. My cousin weaves and showed me some of her techniques. I was taught some medicine as well. Not enough to be a healer, but I can grind and make brews and tinctures, and treat some injuries until a real healer can take care of them. I did spar some, yes.” He looked to Tiiran. “Things of that nature. At first, my family was trying to determine if I had a calling. Then I wanted to add to my knowledge.” He turned back to Orin. “I’ve also worked with horses and have helped train both guard and hunting dogs. I was briefly interested in smithing, but I would never get in a smith’s way out of mere curiosity.”
Orin smiled, blindingly bright. “My brother is a blacksmith. My uncle on my mother’s side is a silversmith. It’s the family trade.”
“You never told me that.” Tiiran huffed it although he wasn’t truly offended. “Is that the business that didn’t suit you?” He suddenly had an image of Orin standing before a hot forge, an intimidatingly large hammer in his hand.
He swallowed dryly.
“Oh yes.” Orin shared some of his smile with Tiiran. “I liked it well enough, but I liked the idea of wandering for a while better. My family are lovely. I visit them often,” he added to Nikoly. “But at seventeen, I wanted to see different places, meet people, pick up things.”
“Orin likes learning too,” Tiiran jumped in proudly. “But about people more than skills.”
Nikoly was back to his well-trained self, no longer blushing if he ever had been. “And he enjoys the books in your library.”
“I like the quiet of the library.” Orin was diplomatic. “And the idea behind it. If there were historical records of ancient smithing or weaving techniques, they are either here or should be here. You can keep learning skills even while working in the library, Nikoly. You wouldn’t have to leave.”
“Oh.” Tiiran considered the idea with some amazement. “There would be, although it will be scattered in other documents because no one’s ever asked for that before. I could assemble—or Mattin could—oh. Fuck. I don’t have the time or the people to dig all that out.”
“I’m content for now at the desk helping library visitors,” Nikoly assured him.
“Anything that keeps Tiiran from being the one to do it,” Orin agreed, much too amused.
“He’s very good with people.” Tiiran spoke firmly to make Orin shut up, only to briefly lose his thoughts at the pretty look Nikoly gave him. “If we do have any knowledge passed down from weavers or artisans, it would take some digging to find it. It would be a lot of reading for you.”
“I never said I didn’t like reading,” Nikoly pointed out. “Just subjects like history.”
“True, that is more Orin’s area,” Tiiran realized aloud. “You collect skills the way he collects knowledge, although I still am not sure for what purpose. These are tools, and tools are meant to be used.”
“Every once in a while, he sees more than he knows,” Orin murmured after a pause where neither of them spoke. “That’s when he’s the most dangerous.”
“Don’t be silly.” Tiiran only scared people because he looked fae. “I’m a big mouth but that’s all.”
“And what does our spit-fire collect?” Orinwouldcontinue to tease Tiiran about being dangerous. “Aside from creative insults, that is.”
“Our?” Nikoly’s voice was soft. Tiiran barely heard him.
