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battles, including a few from the canny wars.
    It began to get light outside. Stilian paid little mind, as engrossed as he was in his book. Eventually, the door opened and a man wondered into the room. He was holding a breakfast roll in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. He chewed slowly. "I wondered who was up before dawn, so early in the term. You can see the lamplight from across the courtyard, you know." He put down his roll and tea, bent over to look at Kit's book and rested a hand the boy's shoulder. "Aren't those battles a little heavy going before breakfast?"
    Stilian tried to read the man warily, but the man's emotions were shielded. "We just wanted to see--"
    "We weren't going to take anything," said Kit.
    The man smiled and Stilian saw that he had crow's feet around his eyes and deep grooves around his mouth. He reminded Stilian of a fish merchant.
    "No, I don't believe you were." The man removed his hand and picked up his tea and roll again. "You know, I have a private collection over here, which has some books in it that you might enjoy more than those old tomes. Let me show you. If you like what you find, I'll let you take a few with you, so long as you promise to bring them back before you leave."
    "You'll let us borrow some books!" Kit grinned.
    The man smiled back at them. "My name's Angus, by the way. I'm the librarian. You are masters Kit and Stilian, I expect."
    * * *
    The next night, Stilian found himself dreaming he was back home at the farm, sleeping in the loft of the farmhouse with his four brothers. In Stilian's dream, he was back in his old bed with his brother Arnost. Arnost was stroking himself. Instead of turning his back to Stilian, Arnost rolled towards Stilian, and laid an arm across his chest. Stilian felt himself hardening as his breathing synchronized with his brother's. He awoke from the dream in a panic. But it was not Arnost whose arm was lying across Stilian's chest. Nor was it Arnost's cock that was pressing his thigh. It was Kit's.
    Stilian's heart thundered in his chest, but he was too ashamed and confused to move. Kit, becoming aware of Stilian's feelings, pulled his arm back, and rolled away. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to upset you. I was just horny."
    Kit's lack of concern was a cool sheet against Stilian's skin. But Stilian's breathing grew even more ragged as he sensed Kit's sympathy. "I dreamt that you were my brother, Arnost. He thought I was a pervert because whenever he touched himself, I felt it, and I got hard too."
    "Everybody pleasures himself. At least boys do."
    "Maybe, but they don't do it together. Not brothers! But I couldn't help it. My brothers knew I felt it whenever they touched themselves. They hated me for it. It embarrassed them."
    Kit was silent for a moment. "I am as you are. I feel it when you are randy, just as you felt it, when I was tonight. I don't think it's wrong. It's just how we feel. Do you blame me for feeling happy when you feel happy, or sad when you feel sad?"
    "No."
    "Then, wipe your eyes and go to sleep."
    Stilian tried, but he lay awake for some time thinking of the home he had left.
    * * *
    The small farm house had three rooms in the lower level: the kitchen, Father's bedroom, and a small parlor. The back wall of the house was shared with the barn. A large stone fireplace opened on one side to the kitchen, and on the other, to the parlor. The chimney went up through the center of the upstairs loft to provide some warmth in the cold months. A dormer window with shutters allowed in some air. The loft had room for three small cots. With five brothers, that meant that only Andrei, the oldest, got to sleep by himself. Stilian slept with his brother Arnost, who was one year older.
    Stilian didn't mind curling up with Arnost against the bitter cold that swept down from the Ragged Hills in the dark months of the freeze. But sometimes the loft was just too small. Andrei snored. Bogdan had problems with his gut and farted a lot.