The curtains opened again. Kai had thrown on a pair of breeches, from a pile of clothing strewn over the bed. No one else seemed to be with him. Barefoot, shirtless, Kai dangled his legs over the side of the high bed. He muttered something inarticulate, rubbing his forehead.
"Might I suggest having breakfast with me today?"
Alaire offered. His own stomach was rolling over with hunger. He guessed, from the boy's wan appearance, that Kai's stomach was rolling over for completely dif- ferent reasons.
"Oh, gods, no," Kai replied fervently, sticking his tongue out. "What's breakfast anyway? I don't eat breakfast."
"Then maybe I could light another lantern, or a candle. Or open a window."
"Leave the windows shut please," Kai said firmly.
"If you must have light, you could blow some life into that stove and light a candle. A single candle."
The tiled stove was much like the one in Alaire's room, except it had a bellows built into one side. It was a little chilly here, but not as much as his own room had been when he awakened. He suspected servants came into Kai's rooms periodically to keep the fire going. Certainly Kai would never have no Soon Alaire had a roaring fire going again, and stoked it with wood from a log-holder tiled to match the stove.
By the time he had carefully lit a candle, Kai was up, rummaging through the room. The place was a shambles. Discarded clothing covered the floor, except for a pie-shaped area where the door opened.
Kai was poking through the debris as if salvaging usable items from a burned house.
"What are you looking for?" Alaire asked.
"What do you think?" Kai said irritably. "Got to get the day going somehow."
The reply left Alaire completely baffled until Kai extracted a wine flask from a heap of clothing.
Oh no, not again, Alaire thought. That's the last thing he needs.
But fortunately, the flask was the one Kai had car- ried with him the night before, and was quite empty.
Embarrassed, Alaire watched as the boy shook the flask out, as if he were perishing of thirst. Despite his best efforts, not so much as a drop trickle Despondent, Kai dropped the flask to the floor and stood there, staring at nothing. He looked ready to cry.
Alaire tried to rally him. "Looks like it's empty," he said cheerfully. "Come on, Kai, do you really need a drink this early?"
Kai ignored him, and began to search frantically through the mess. "Damned servants. Paavo tells them to take my private stock whenever I come in late." His face lit up. "But I have a contingency supply!
That is, unless those twice-damned servants found it!"
He opened a wardrobe next to the bed, and ran his hand up and over, along the inside. "Ah! There it is!"
Kai turned around, holding a wineskin larger than the flask he had carried the previous night. The leather pouch quivered with fullness. Alaire looked away.
"You don't approve, do you?" Kai said. Alaire thought he heard genuine concern in the boys voice, but when he turned back, Kai was drinking deeply from the skin.
Well, why not? Maybe it'll have an effect. "In a way, yes. Do you ever stop drinking?"
"Only when I run out," Kai said, a note of defiance in his voice. "Why shouldn't I?"
Alaire considered this. How to reason with a drunk? He'd never done so successfully. If I don't try...