“Ah, well, y’all know how it goes,” he replied, politeness never wavering. Solveig smiled at him. The man had the good sense to recoil.
“Yes, that I do. And what brings you here from Midgard?”
“Your lands are quite rich. The fields in Midgard leave something to be desired,” John Davis said matter-of-factly.
“You’re here for the soil?”
“That, and the freedom.”
“I see.” Solveig brought a chair from the side of the room and sat in front of him, crossing her legs and leaning back. “Your freedom was hard won. I don’t blame you for fighting for it.”
“Thank you,” he said, tilting his head. “Not all of your kind agree.” He scanned the room, chin gesturing to the faces of the males who would gladly rip him to pieces.
“Yes, well, some of us can appreciate the position you were in before the war. Others cling to power.”
“That they do, ma’am.”
“And what of you? Do you cling to power?” she asked. Westley marvelled at how smoothly the conversation was going. They chatted like old friends catching up after years apart. The distinction, of course, was that one was tied up like an animal for slaughter and the other was armed to the teeth.
John Davis considered his answer. “Power is what keeps us free.”
Solveig nodded. “And what power do you possess that allows you to be free?”
“Magic,” John Davis said bluntly. Solveig’s eyes swam with genuine sadness as she peered down at her hands.
“It is a beautiful thing to hold.”
“That it is.”
“You can imagine, then, how those of us born with magic have missed it these past hundred and fifty years.”
“I can imagine.” And he genuinely seemed sincere, showing what looked like empathy? That couldn’t be right.
“What would you do, if you were in our position?” Solveig asked, her focus trained solely on him.
The mortal sighed. “Fight like hell to get it back.”
“Then we understand each other.”
“That we do.” The man’s eyes softened. “I know what you have to do, and you know what I must do.”
Bracing her hands on her knees, she nodded in agreement. “For what it’s worth, I fought for the rights of mortals before the war, though maybe not as hard as I should have.”
“That is worth a lot. You have my sincerest thanks, ma’am.”
“And you have my respect, John Davis of Midgard.” He nodded, his face solemn. She stood and looked down at him with pity in her eyes. “You won’t tell us anything, will you?”
“Not without a fight, I’m afraid.”
“Will you answer at least one question before it comes to that?”
“Depends what it is.”
“How did you obtain the magic you wield?”
He gave her a small smile. “Now, you know I can’t answer that, Solveig.”
“You know I had to ask.”
