Gondola

The city then was criss-crossed with canals like the wrinkles of
skin on the back of a finger, and abundant in flooded plazas where
canoes and swimmers paddled about. The air wavered under Helios's
close company, his slow despondent sighing breaths falling onto
the city day by day, stoking the heat of each new noontime that
came in that summer. In one plaza, a statue of a tall bird on a
plinth in the center: children clambered onto the plinth and
jumped off in a variety of squealing daring ways, cannonballs,
dives, spins. At one side of the plaza, a gondola idled around, in
the shade in the hollows of the gondola a black dog with long fur
panting where he laid, and steering was a human with a trim beard
and a wide and flat hat to keep off the sun.

From a window that overlooked the plaza, four stories up, with a
knotted rope thrown out of it long ago and resting neatly and
lazily in one corner, a pair of bureaucrats from those offices
stuck their heads out, and one called to the gondolier, "To the
high streets?"

The gondolier, Waybringer, lifted a hand and tipped his wide hat
towards the bureaucrats, and then lifted the hat off of his head
and pointed it with a fully extended arm in the direction of the
high streets: all by way of saying, Yes, I will take you, and I
know where it is.

The dog, Inkspill, saw the shade change as Waybringer moved his
hat about, and looked up to see the hat returned to Waybringer's
head, and Waybringer taking them with his paddle straight towards
the plaza's edge, towards the buildings head on, rather than
idling about. Inkspill stood up in the steady vessel, took a small
number of steps, and lied down fully against Waybringer's ankles.

At the building, the two bureaucrats had climbed down the rope,
one hanging on just above the water, the other hanging on just
above the head of their colleague.

Waybringer brought the vessel right below them, or so; one viewing
from even a short distance away would think the gondola was
scraping against the building's gritty walls, though, from the
gondolier's sight of it, there was room just enough for the boat
to rock as the bureaucrats climbed the last of the way off of the
rope and boarded, and still leave the vessel's edges without any
new scratches.

Each bureaucrat shook hands with Waybringer, both of them slipping
a petty coin into his hand as a token of good will that the final
fare would be paid with no trouble. One bureaucrat leaned forward
towards Waybringer, over Inkspill, and kissed Waybringer on the
cheek, a gesture which Waybringer reciprocated on her cheek; for
with the feminine gesture then, it was known, while all present in
the boat had hair on their chins and upper lips, that the boat
bore a gentleman passenger and a lady passenger.

The gondolier paddled them away from the wall, and began bringing
them around the plaza, towards the canals that would lead them to
the high streets. Sweat beaded on the gondolier's brow, and wetted
his chest, underarms, forearms, buttocks; not much from the work
of moving the vessel, but from the sheer heat of the day which he
moved it through. The bureaucrats, also, were sweating, as they
sat still in their seats, now and then conferring with one
another, to the meter of, "Did you review the assistant speaker's
manifest for today?" "I did. One item was amiss, I brought it to
him, he had it corrected, the version that went out is accurate."
"Good, good." "Did you see the reports from the new eastern
district, the twenty third, I believe." "Yes, yes, I did, the
twenty third. All seems as expected there, moving along
proportional to the amount of the eleventh it was taken out of,
so." "Yes, I reckon so much as well. Not a runaway success, but,
there was nothing spurring it to be so, so. All within
parameters." "Good, good, good."

The gondola passed through the open gates of a lock, and
Waybringer gently brought the vessel to a halt, not causing it to
rock the least amount; the side of Inkspill's head pressed neither
more firmly nor more lightly against Waybringer's heel as the
vessel ceased its movement.

The lady bureaucrat stood, and offered out the amount of the fine
to Waybringer. Inkspill quietly inched himself away from
Waybringer's ankles as the gondolier moved about. Waybringer bowed
himself as he accepted the bureaucrat's coins, and then he turned
forward again, removed his hat, and waved it for the lock keeper
to see in the booth above.

The lock began filling with water. The lady bureaucrat sat back
down, as did Waybringer. With nothing to do for some time as they
waited, the gondolier rested his long paddle across the gondola,
and sat down before Inkspill with his legs bent and apart; The dog
shuffled in against the gondolier, and the gondolier began
delighting over the fur of the dog who was there in his legs,
stroking, gently, firmly, to a consistent, relaxing pace.

After some long while, the lock was filled with water, bringing
the four of them up to the canals of a district where the water
levels were 15 feet higher than in most of the rest of the city.
Waybringer gave Inkspill a firm kiss on the top of his head, a
familiar feeling to feel the black fur hot in the summer day
against his lips.

The gondolier stood, and picked up his paddle, and brought the
vessel over to the booth to pay the lock keeper's fine. With a
polite salute from the lock keeper and wishes exchanged that all
may find a cool spot at some time in this day, the gondolier began
paddling them on.

The high canals were populated with gondolas of very impressive
woodwork, figureheads of dragons and hawks, the vessels ornamented
with silver at a minimum, many also glittering in the sunlight
with elements of gemstones or gold. Waybringer, while proud of his
vessel as something that was well maintained, an ease to operate,
a comfort to ride in, was all the same, markedly, visibly, an
intruder here.

Waybringer brought them around bends and through plazas, until
eventually they arrived at a dockyard. Waybringer took them in to
an area for smaller vessels, and with a line of narrow rope that
Inkspill had been partially lying on top of, the gondolier moored
his gondola to the dock.

With some stretching and little moans, all aboard climbed off. The
gentleman bureaucrat thanked Waybringer for the passage, and
offered out a pair of significant coins.

Waybringer was startled by the offer, and made no movement to
accept the coins. Mustering words--a thing the gondolier struggled
with--he did his best to explain the problem politely. "Sir, the
fare is not that much, if you may have mistaken which coins you
grabbed."

The gentleman bureaucrat laughed heartily, stooped down to take
the gondolier's hand, and placed the coins into it himself. He
patted the gondolier on the side of the arm, and said, "She and I
discussed it: We have not a drop of water on us from the trip, not
that you can tell it with all of the sweat, ha ha! You are a
master, o steerer."

The gondolier blushed, and bowed, and thanked both bureaucrats.
The bureaucrats departed, up the dock, towards the high streets.

Waybringer placed the coins into the coin purse strapped to his
side, and took a moment to make especially certain that it was
secured closed.

Then, with a giggle and a smile, Waybringer allowed himself to
fall to the dock, lowering himself and then rolling out backwards
onto his back. Inkspill came over and trotted all around his face,
stepping on the human's chest as he passed back and forth over the
human, wagging and wagging as the human reached up and ran petting
hands across the dog's hot coat, the oily black fur radiant in the
day's sunlight.

As the dog calmed some, Waybringer had a proposition for him. The
gondolier did a little gasp, immediately fascinating the dog's
attention, gazes locked, the dog's head tilted, ready to hear. The
gondolier offered, "Let's run."

Inkspill instantly ran off up the dock.

Waybringer got up, and jogged after him.

The dog and the human ran and splashed and had a fun time all up
and down the nice beach. Dashing through the shallows, swimming in
the waters, skipping along the shore, they made a good time of
being there. The working day was over, with the unexpected
payment, and now with more time the best thing to do was inhabit
that time with one another, the human and the dog, giving to the
dog all the play and excitement and fun that the dog was deserving
of. The two crossed back and forth over the beach in the high area
time and time again, jumping and rolling and running.

Both panting, and about ready to call it a day, the two looked to
one another, the human laughed and fell to the ground again, and
the dog walked all over him, as the human held his arms up and
petted all along the dog's coat.

The human gave a happy sigh, and then heaved himself up, and
walked to a nearby vendor, who had a stand out there on the beach.

The human purchased some manner of meats skewered on a stick.
Sauntering away a little from the booth to give the vendor their
space, the human, piece by piece, took meat cuts off of the stick,
and tossed them to the dog, who caught them expertly and wagged as
he ate.

With the both of them seeming rather tired out, the human began
back towards the docks, towards the area for smaller vessels. The
dog followed along, sometimes trotting around ahead, sometimes
investigating back around behind.

The human stepped back into the boat. The dog stepped in after,
and quickly settled in among the rocking he had made.

The human untied the mooring, recoiled the rope, and set off.

The two proceeded back through the high canals. At a lock, the
human paid the toll, and laid there fully in the gondola with the
dog as the water lowered, fraction by fraction, until they were at
the low canals again.

The gondolier meandered them around, canal by canal, until they
had arrived at an out of the way alleyway, the entrance into the
place where Waybringer and Inkspill resided. There was a straight
and unremarkable passage of water, which, turning into, Inkspill
recognized the turns and ways they had been through, and stood
ready to offboard. Waybringer brought them to the edge of the
passage of water, up to the passage of brick pathway. The bricks
continued a very short while, then turned around a corner, and
then a few yards thereafter there was the door.

Inkspill hopped off onto the bricks.

Waybringer offboarded as well, and pulled the vessel up onto the
ground, and around the corner, out of sight of prying eyes.

Inkspill laid down around the corner, against the wall opposite
the gondola.

Waybringer took a key from his person and unlocked the door. He
held the door open a moment, waiting for a shadow to come barging
past him.

When, after a moment, none came, he turned around, and saw the
shadow still lying there against the wall.

Waybringer asked, "Coming in?"

Inkspill stretched out his paws, nuzzled his head back against the
wall behind him, and remained lying down.

Waybringer asked, "Can I lay down with you?"

The shadow's tail rose and fell.

The gondolier lowered himself down onto the ground, and brought
himself face to face with the handsome shade. Each of them
occupied their own spot along the wall, meeting head to head, gaze
to gaze, face to face. The dog licked the human's mouth. The human
returned a smooch to the dog's lips. The two played at touching
their tongue against the other's tongue for a little moment, and
then, Waybringer slid closer in with Inkspill, nuzzling his face
into the dog's belly.

The human closed his eyes, and laid there, inhabiting the rising
and falling hair before him as the dog breathed.

After witnessing a number of good breaths, the human opened his
eyes, and looked to a part of the dog yet farther up that he
hadn't given care to yet that day. The dog's sheath, with the dog
being on his side, rested between the dog's legs, the bulk of it
drooping towards the ground, lying limply over the grounded leg.
Waybringer slid forward a little closer to it, and gave the sheath
a lick along the bottom from tip to where it disappeared among the
legs.

Inkspill gave a single wag, and then lifted his leg.

Waybringer's heart fluttered at the invitation. He slid forward
more and pressed his face fully against the dog's sheath, and the
dog lowered his leg, enveloping Waybringer. The weight of the
dog's leg over him, wrapping him close, in this hot day,
Waybringer planted kisses on the soft skin in front of him that
radiated a heat even more. Waybringer smooched the entrance of the
sheath, toyed at it with his tongue. He nuzzled against the
flaccid penis inside through the sheath's soft veil.

They spent quite a good amount of cozy, playful time there
together.

Waybringer then heard a voice above him remark, "Oh, um."

He slid himself out from between the dog's legs, and looked up
into the sunlight to see his brother, Candlekeeper.

Waybringer's throat twisted, trying to find some words.

Candlekeeper arrived at having words sooner: "I was only passing
through."

Waybringer's brother then jogged towards the door past the human
and the hound there sharing intimacy on the ground, and entered
into the door and closed it without looking back.

Waybringer's breath was frozen, and the world crowded with blurs
and spots as his lungs locked.

Inkspill stood up, walked in a curt circle, and laid back down,
with his own houndly head looming above the human's. Inkspill
licked at the human's forehead, collecting up a day's dried sweat
on his tongue, taking it from the human's body, lick by lick.

Waybringer found his breath, and lied there, letting the dog do
what the dog was doing, as he breathed.

Tears came.

Inkspill began licking at Waybringer's eyes, taking the salty
tears from his biped.

"I love you," Waybringer said to the dog.

The dog gave a few licks on Waybringer's mouth, and then returned
to the eyes.

Eventually, Waybringer sat up, wriggling out from the dog's
attentions. He sat there with his back against the wall, and
stroked at Inkspill's back.

The two of them would have to go inside eventually.

Waybringer stood, and began towards the door. Inkspill stood, and
followed after.

Inside, Candlekeeper was at the table, preparing strong waters.
Glancing up at the two entering, Candlekeeper mentioned to
Waybringer, "I am making extra, if you might care for any."

Waybringer thought on it, and then nodded. "I think I might."

Candlekeeper continued about his business of preparing all of the
components of the drinks. He asked, "You are like lovers to one
another?"

Instinctually, without any mulling it over, Waybringer nodded.
Then, in the little silence that followed, he felt frozen for any
ability to convey just how fully of lovers he and his houndly
companion truly were.

Candlekeeper, graciously, merely nodded as well, and said, "A good
love it seems to be."

Waybringer's brother then took one cup of drink and walked away,
up a staircase, smiling as he went.

The moments and the days continued moving by.

Waybringer and Inkspill stood at a booth at the sea ports, taking
alternating bites of a bowl of mixed foods, Waybringer handing
down most of the flesh to Inkspill, and the other non carnivorous
things for himself.

Waybringer and Inkspill swam about a plaza, no boat to hold them,
paddling at the waters with paws and feet and hands and following
after one another.

Waybringer and Inkspill laid on a rooftop. Waybringer looked up at
the stars; lying there long enough, the stars spinning laid bare
how his own planet merely spun among the cosmos, no special thing
itself, a mere lone player in this incandescent cast of
characters. Inkspill's nose pulsed at the air, little breaths
moving in and out, and he learned, of the neighbors, that a nearby
building might have seemed to suddenly possess many more rats,
someone upwind was smoking a kind of tobacco the hound had never
smelled before in this city, and someone was cooking fish at a
particularly late hour of the night. In the height of all of these
smells, learning so much about the world around, Inkspill looked
up to Waybringer for a kiss, a landmark to assure it was all
cemented, real, here. Waybringer leaned down and met the kiss
fully. Inkspill wagged as he slid his tongue into the mouth of his
tall lover.

Waybringer brought them along the way of an unpopulous canal,
himself and Inkspill. Coming the other way, another gondola,
steered by a human, and accompanied by a hound. The hound of the
other gondola was of brown hair, short. The human of the other
gondola bore a long beard, but was not old in years, it would be a
surprise if the human had ever once shaved.

As the two vessels were passing, Waybringer slowed, as did the
other driver. The dogs of each vessel rose, and leaned forward
over the edges, sniffing at one another.

Waybringer began, "Do you and the dog ever kiss?"

The other steerer answered, "It is a joy to."

Waybringer sought to be sure, "As lovers?"

The other steerer answered, "As lovers for lovers we are."

Waybringer, resolute, remarked, "Here, then, is a mirror, as we
pass by."

The other steerer's cheeks raised gaily, and they wished, "A good
day to you two."

Waybringer answered, "And to you two as well, a good day."

The steerer and the dog paddled on, through the canals.