Uncle Havram gave me a faint wink. “Aye, sure.” He grinned. “That’ll also do wonders for the chaplain’s soul.” His grin deepened. “Do not worry, Rabbit. Leave His bloody-minded Reverence to us, and trust that we will make certain of your safety.”
I said nothing as echoes of three years of leaving Slevoic to “them” washed over me.
“Of course, if you are threatened, you are commanded to defend yourself, using any and every means at your disposal, no matter who comes at you. Understood?”
I liked that better. A little. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” The vice admiral cast a wary glance at Honor Ash and, seeing she hadn’t moved, settled back in his chair, gesturing for Captain Suiden and the doyen to join him. “Now, nephew, tell me everything that happened last night. Start from the beginning and don’t leave anything out.”
Chapter Fifty-four
“Are there any oranges left?” I asked as I finished my fourth pickled egg.
Doyen Allwyn pushed the fruit bowl towards me and I plucked out an orange, peeling it as fast as possible. He watched in awe as the orange disappeared in two bites. I selected another.
Laurel plunked a cup of tea on the table before me. “Here, Rabbit. Drink this first.” I sighed and swigged the honey-laced tea down, having discovered that was the best way to drink it—the less time on the tongue, the better. I then shoved as much as I could of the second orange in my mouth to cut through the bittersweet taste.
I’d fallen back asleep after I had spoken with Uncle Havram, Captain Suiden, and Doyen Allwyn, despite every intention to keep an eye on Honor Ash’s haunt as she kept an eye on me. I awoke the next morning to find Honor gone. Also gone were my aches and pains, except in my stomach, which growled at me as though I were at the tail end of a five-day purification fast.
Though the ghost Faena was gone when I awakened, Laurel was there. He hovered over me all morning like a broody hen, looking puzzled when he thought I wasn’t looking. He now caught my glance and gave a brief chuff. “You have flown before you’ve even figured out how to crawl, Rabbit.” He placed the kettle back on the brazier (he was right, the tea tasted much worse cold). “Yet you sit there as if you’ve done nothing more strenuous than go out on patrol. My first work of the talent left me as weak as a newborn cub.”
“But from what I’ve heard, it wasn’t his first, uh, work, was it, Ambassador?” Doyen Allwyn asked, as I went to work on some weevily biscuits. With my other hand, I picked up a wedge of cheese.
“No, honored elder,” Laurel said. “It wasn’t.” He shook his head, his beads rattling. “And no real training for any of it.”
I was more interested in filling the hollow space where my stomach used to be than why I had bounced back so fast. Swallowing the last of the cheese and biscuits, I took an apple from the fruit bowl and in a few quick bites reduced it to seeds and core fragments.
“Right,” Allwyn said, blinking. “Well, Captain Suiden has said that if you’re up to it, you’re to go topside, Lord Rabbit.” I grunted but did not move, as I had discovered some rather raisiny grapes and set to making them disappear. Doyen Allwyn reached over and bravely removed the fruit bowl from my grasp. “You’ll have it returned to you, my lord,” he said, his voice firm, “once we’re on deck.” He picked up a pile of blankets and headed for the ladder.
Lured by the fruit bowl, I climbed the ladder, sandwiched between the doyen and Laurel. When I emerged blinking into the sun, though, I looked around and tried to dive down the hatch again.
“It is a little disconcerting,” Doyen Allwyn said as he stopped my escape attempt and moved me out the way so that Laurel could emerge, sealing off my exit. “But they seem benign.”
“Uh,” I said as I stared at a sprite remembering her tree, a unicorn and leopard lying in her phantom shade. The thought went through the back of my mind that they wouldn’t have done so (at least not at the same time) when they’d been alive. Death had a way of changing one’s perspective, I supposed. Looking about, I watched as crew and troopers (some with their eyes starting out and hair standing on end) moved among shades of more sprites, wolves, small furry animals, big cats, antlered deer, bears, lizards, feathered snakes, wildly plumed birds, and great horned and tusked beasts, that walked, paced, slithered, padded, stalked, trod, pattered, shambled, plodded and flittered about. And it seemed that all—the quick and the dead—turned their heads to fix their eyes on me.
“Uh,” I said again, trying once more to go back down the hatch. But Laurel and Allwyn latched on to an arm each, and they “helped” me to a sheltered nook.
“Captain Suiden and Vice Admiral Havram were both very emphatic about you being seen up, about, and reasonably whole,” Allwyn said, “without extra eyes, cloven hooves, or other marks of the devil upon you.”
“They can come see me in my berth, sir,” I said, trying to slip out of their grasp.
“Out during the day in the sun, Lord Rabbit,” Laurel said. “Without bursting into flames.” In a few short moments I was seated and wrapped up against any stray chill that might happen along. Laurel rumbled at my indignant stare at being swaddled like some toothless decrepit, and moved aside as Basel pranced up in his stag persona. The haunt laid claim to me by striking a pose with antlers high, looking regally out over the other shades.
“Suck-up,” I muttered, and Basel flicked his tail.
Laurel rumbled again and I started to throw the blankets off. “No, Rabbit, don’t,” he said, his eyes slit in laughter. “Humor me.”
“It seems I already have,” I said, subsiding. To tell the truth, the blankets felt good as it was a little brisk. I hitched them up around my neck.
Laurel’s whiskers swept back in a grin, which faded as he looked around at the haunts’ unwavering attention. “I’m the one with the earth affinity, yet they act as if I’m a talentless dog. However, they fix on you as if you’re Lady Gaia’s consort himself come to bless us.”
“Consort, Ambassador Laurel?” Allwyn asked.
“The moon, honored elder.” Laurel cocked his head to one side. “When were you born, Rabbit?”
“The second day of Harvest. Why?”
“Well, that matches your aspect.” Laurel saw Allwyn’s puzzled look. “Four aspects match the four seasons, honored elder, and those who have the aspect are usually born during that season. I was born in spring, the time of awakenings and new beginnings, of oaths, consecrations, and promises made, of joinings, pairings and consummation, of the cycle of life—birth, healing, dying, and death. We of the earth are healers, hunters, farmers, seers and shamans.”
Doyen Allwyn gave Laurel, then me, a fascinated eye. “And Lord Rabbit?”
“He was born in the fall, the time of fruition and fulfillment, of fealty, faith and promises kept, of change and turning, of songs of harvest and rejoicing, and lullabies.” Laurel’s whiskers swept back again. “If he weren’t a mage, he could’ve been a bard.” So Sparrow wasn’t the only one in my family who could sing. I ignored the speculation on the doyen’s face.
“Or a warrior.” Laurel’s smile broadened at my startled look. “The winds of war, Rabbit.”
“But that’s just a saying,” I said.
“All sayings start somewhere,” Laurel said. “It’s no mistake that you are a soldier.” He once more looked over the haunts, becoming still as his eyes sharpened. “I am going to exercise some of my talent and check on the injured, honored folk. If you have need, send for me there.” He bowed and was gone.