Brot’ân’duivé took out the smooth message stone and thrust it out at Osha.
Osha stared in horror between the stone and the listener. The clhuassas swung its head toward him and took a step. Osha stiffened. When the creature snorted into his face, his eyes rolled as if he might faint.
“This is its choice,” Brot’ân’duivé said quietly.
Osha swallowed hard and reached out to take the stone. Turning his head away in resignation, he stepped in carefully at the creature’s side. He slowly reached up to grasp its neck. Even as tall as he was, he had to jump to pull himself up and swing his leg over. Still afraid to touch it, he quickly snatched his hands back.
“You had best hang on,” Brot’ân’duivé warned. “When you reach the cavern of the Chein’âs, cast the stone over the precipice’s edge into the red light rising from below ... and they will come.”
Now that they were about to part, and Osha would do as required of him, Brot’ân’duivé stepped closer. He had no notion of what to say, so he fell back on all he had left.
“In silence and in shadow.”
Osha would not look at him, as if the axiom of the Anmaglâhk no longer had meaning. The clhuassas lunged without warning, and Osha grabbed its neck as it raced off through the trees.
Both were quickly gone from sight, and Brot’ân’duivé turned away.
He did not know the whole purpose that Urhkarasiférin had been given by Most Aged Father. Now that the other greimasg’äh had been exposed, there was also no knowing what he would do. It was three days back to the enclave, and Urhkarasiférin might be nearly a quarter day ahead of him.
Brot’ân’duivé broke into a run through the forest.
Brot’ân’duivé started slightly at a soft knock on his door in the guild’s annex.
“Greimasg’äh?” Leanâlhâm called softly from outside. “Dinner is served. Will you come down?”
He paused before answering, “Yes,” and turned from the window for the door.
Brot’ân’duivé tried—and failed—to forget all he had asked of Osha, the oaths he had broken, and the far worse things he had done to save his people.
Chapter Fourteen
Leesil couldn’t help enjoying the stay in Chathburh’s guild annex. The comparative luxury was too enticing. The bed was so soft that he and Magiere slept late the following day and were reluctant to get up. After lunch, they took Leanâlhâm shopping, mainly to help her adjust to her new world. The girl was still timid among so many humans, but that improved so long as one of them stayed close to her. She had fewer moments of panic out in the busy streets.
While visiting a shop, she was delighted when Magiere bought her a new soft-bristled hairbrush. Apparently the girl had been using an old wooden comb scavenged somewhere along the way. Her pleasure at something so simple embarrassed Leesil slightly, or perhaps it only made him more aware that Leanâlhâm was unaccustomed to small kindnesses. But in being out and about, he also noticed a few taverns calling out to old longings he’d thought buried and forgotten.
When they returned to the annex near dusk, Domin Tamira greeted them with a smile.
“Supper is about ready,” she declared. “You should call your other companions.”
“Yes, of course,” Magiere replied.
On the upper floor, they found Chap sitting vigil between the stairs and Brot’an’s closed door. Even Leanâlhâm sighed in exasperation.
“Oh, majay-hì, you should have come with us.”
Leesil wasn’t so sure and stepped to the door to knock once.
“Brot’an ... dinner.”
The door opened, and Brot’an looked out, his gaze coming to rest on the girl. She held up the small object in her hand.
“Look, Greimasg’äh, Magiere bought me a brush. I will go and put it with my things.”
Any response Brot’an had was left hanging as she rushed off to her own room.
“That was ... kind of you,” he said, though it sounded forced. “May I reimburse you for the cost?”
It had never occurred to Leesil that Brot’an carried any coin. Of course he would, since he’d been staying at inns with Osha and Leanâlhâm while the three were in Calm Seatt. How he’d acquired local currency was the question, and Leesil wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
“It’s all right,” Magiere returned almost coldly.
“A message came from the ship while you were out,” Brot’an said, changing the subject. “The cargo exchange is nearly complete. We set sail in the morning.”
Leesil slumped in disappointment, and already his stomach felt queasy again. Dinner this night might be his last easy meal for a while.
“Let’s go eat,” he grumbled.
Then Leanâlhâm hurried out of her room. “I am ready.”
Magiere half smiled and shooed the girl along as all five of them descended the stairs. Upon reaching the dining area’s open archway, Leesil stopped in his tracks at the sight of the table. Only one aspect of their stay at the annex had been less than pleasing to him: the food.
Last night’s supper had been vegetable stew and rough grain bread. They’d had watery herbed lentils and more rough grain bread for lunch. Of course he’d eaten much worse in their travels, but in a port city there would be delicacies available, shipped up and down a populated coast. And what were they having for dinner again?
As one of the robed sages set a large crock on the table and lifted the heavy lid, Leesil saw ... lentil and vegetable stew. Big hunks of turnips floated among the carrot slices.
Five sages in different-colored robes bustled about the table, setting out bowls and mugs. He had no wish to appear ungrateful, but it was like living with five Wynns all at once. He was completely outnumbered when it came to whatever went into the cooking pot.
Brot’an ushered Leanâlhâm in, but Leesil grabbed Magiere’s arm before she followed.
“Let’s go out and find an eatery,” he said quietly. “I want something good for my last meal ... before I lose it by noon tomorrow on that ship.”
Magiere blinked. “Leesil, this is perfectly good food. Besides, we shouldn’t spend unnecessary coins.”
“Don’t be a miser,” he whispered back.
Her brows lifted.
“We’ll find a tavern,” he rushed on. “Maybe I can fix the money problem as well.”
This last comment was a mistake.
“Don’t you even think about that!” she hissed.
They were both distracted by a fit of sniffing, and Leesil peered around behind Magiere.
Barely sticking his head through the archway, Chap stood on her far side. He sniffed again and then snorted, as if clearing his nose of something unpleasant. Chap let out a grumbling whine, and an image rose in Leesil’s head.
There was an old vendor’s cart in Bela, the capital of their homeland. Sausages dangled on wooden bars above a grill-covered coal pot, where the vendor was searing yet more. Leesil could almost smell them as they sizzled.
“Chap wants sausages,” he whispered.
“What?” Magiere turned on the dog. “No, you don’t. You two stop goading each other on!”
By this point everyone in the dining chamber was glancing their way.
“Will you join us?” Brot’an asked pointedly.
“Nope,” Leesil answered. “We’re going out.”
He pulled on Magiere’s arm, but she planted her feet. Chap took one back step and then froze, eyeing Brot’an.
“I would like to stay,” Leanâlhâm said, “and go to the library again.” She looked to Brot’an. “If that is all right.”
“Yes,” he answered. “I am staying, too.”
At that, Chap’s right upper jowl rose slightly.
—If Brot’an—stays—I should—stay—