“And my family was trying to incarnate it,” said Zelen. “Why? What would that…fragment…be, really?”
“That, too, depends on the story. It could be the power Gazathar needs to reach his full might, in which case he might be able to treat the Veil of Fire as a courtesy and manifest fully in this world. It could be all that was still good in him—the god he once was, and still could have been, up until his final decision. Or it could simply be power, and the one who took that into themselves would make Thyran look like a child kicking over toy blocks.”
They sat silent, contemplating that possibility, as night came on outside.
Chapter 32
Despite everything, they managed a decent dinner. Barthani served up spiced rice cooked with sausage and squash, and dried fruit in syrup to follow—as simple as they’d promised, but a satisfying meal all the same—and Feyher brought around a hearty red wine with it. Zelen enjoyed it but didn’t drink much, mindful of the earlier brandy.
Thus fortified, though, they turned the conversation to relatively lighter matters. Branwyn told funny stories from her travels, including one about overhearing an arguing couple in a shoddy inn.
“…and as I was lying there right on the other side of the wall, she threw the water jug across the room and yelled ‘How many times must you stab me in the heart, Brendan?’ I felt my professional opinion was relevant at that point, so I called back: ‘If it takes more than one, get a priest!’ They were quieter after that.”
Lycellias compared notes with her about their early training and mentioned that the blue streaks in his hair were how he’d known that his destiny lay with the gods. “It’s ever been so among my people,” he’d explained, when the other three looked curious. “Blue for the divine, red for a warrior’s life—though I admit there’s some common ground there—white for magic or scholarship, green for hunting or farming, and so on.”
“It would make missions like mine difficult,” Branwyn said, “but then, so does the Forging for most of us,” and she pulled back one sleeve to display her wrist.
The evening went on in that fashion, and while the darkness gathered beyond the windows and the rain pattered against the glass, the room was warm and bright. For a few minutes at a time, Zelen managed to forget what he’d learned over the last few days and what still lay ahead.
Lycellias was the first to leave, headed back to his temple with a bow and a return to his solemn demeanor of the afternoon. “Be sure that I’ll send word of any developments,” he said.
Not much later, Altien departed. “You both should make an early night of it. And, Zelen, if you’d rather—”
“I’ll be at the clinic tomorrow,” Zelen said, “as usual.”
“It seems rather pointless to argue. Get some sleep, then.”
Sleep did sound like a wise idea, but Altien’s departure left Zelen alone with Branwyn, standing next to her in the hall and noticing how much better she looked in his clothing than he’d ever done. Her hair fell loosely over the shoulders of his shirt, which clung to her breasts in a most diverting way, and the firm curves of her hips and thighs greatly enhanced his trousers.
“Ah,” he said, suddenly uncertain how to start when before he’d simply acted.
“Your valet mentioned a bath to me before we came in to dinner,” said Branwyn, “and I believe I’ll take him up on that. Afterward, um.” She didn’t look away, but Zelen could tell that she wanted to, and was surprised by her reticence until she spoke again. “I don’t want to impose, but if you’d… I’d rather not sleep alone, if you’re inclined toward company. I understand if not. It’s been a day.”
“It has,” said Zelen. He took both of her hands in his and kissed her gently. “And I believe my bed would feel empty without you there, since you mention it. We can even actually sleep, if you’d rather.”
She chuckled, self-assured once more. “Eventually,” Branwyn said, with a gleam in her eye that took his breath away.
* * *
You’ve chosen well, said Yathana, as Branwyn was scrubbing away the last traces of her wounds.
“Thank you, but it wasn’t only my choice.” She sank down in the tub and groaned with satisfaction. Quarters were a little more cramped than in the bathhouses she’d been used to, but she had the basin to herself—and a full bath for the first time since she’d woken up in the alley. “Given the circumstances, it might even have been his wretched family’s doing.”
They didn’t ask him to seduce you.
“He didn’t.”
There you are then, Yathana said.
“I’m not sure what you mean, but I’ve missed you.” Branwyn hesitated. “If you’d rather stay around, we reallycansleep. I’ll let him know.”
Don’t be an idiot. I’ll be here when you’re done, and you’re not likely to have many chances like this once you go back on the road, you know.
“I know,” said Branwyn. It was another matter she preferred not to give very much thought. “And thank you.”
She took Yathana’s physical form with her regardless, caring little for how she looked carrying the sword while wrapped in one of Zelen’s velvet dressing gowns. The servants knew what she was, and despite the wards, Branwyn didn’t want to take chances.
Then, too, she was oddly nervous as she approached Zelen’s room, just as she’d been in the hall. Falling asleep by chance next to a lover was no new experience, though it hadn’t been terribly common for her, but deliberately choosing to spend the night was a different matter entirely. It was good to feel the weight of Yathana, to be reminded of who and what she was, of what she’d done and mastered and was capable of now.
