I shove a matching ballcap on his head to interrupt his smirking, and then it looks so stupid good on him and he’s clearly so amused that I have to actually buy it.
Would anythingnotlook good on him? Maybe I can talk him into some festive pajamas, too, just to see.
(Not on the first try, it turns out, but we have a ways to go together yet. I can be patient.)
And that’s the thing, isn’t it? It’s not really that he’s a demon. It’s that he’s part of my world. It’s that I’m doing something, and something that matters to me, with another person, when I’ve been the only one really looking out for me since I was seven years old.
He’s not here to look out for me, but. He’ssort ofhere to look out for me, inasmuch as our goals currently overlap.
He’s an ally. This isn’t a foreign concept for me; I’ve had temporary allies before. In the end we always go our separate ways.
I’m not totally sure that’s possible in this instance though, assuming we manage to succeed at this frankly mad plan.
That’s really what it is. I’ve never been able to bare just how ambitious I truly am before anyone and have them take me seriously, and I don’t know what to do with it now.
Hopefully, I can do what he’s doing: Ignore it. Act like everything is normal, like I challenge the entire magical structure of the universe all the time and am blithely unconcerned about it, and if I act it hard enough I can keep moving through this insane plan as smoothly as he’s rolling with it.
So after takeoff, I take a deep breath, trying to focus on the task ahead and not my anxiety, and bust out my cellphone and get to work.
Nariel manages to contain himself until we’ve been served our first round of drinks and I’ve gone back to my phone before asking, “Are you really planning to ignore me for the entire flight?”
I glance up at him. Was he not planning to ignore me? “Didn’t we already share our life stories?”
He quirks his lips. “Merely our origin stories, surely. But let’s start a little smaller: I have questions about the practical aspects of our... operation.”
Operation.Aren’t we fancy?
But honestly, that’s fair. He knows the broad strokes, but not how anything’s going to look on the ground.
I also have some questions about that, which I was beginning to resolve, but I say, “Ask away.”
“Why aren’t you worried that High Earth will be able to track you through your digital presence?”
I blink. That’s not what I expected him to ask, but I guess that’s why he needs to. I have no idea what he knows.
I look around furtively to see if any surrounding passengers have twigged on his question. He’s speaking quietly, and we have one side of the cabin to ourselves in business class. Safe enough to speak freely.
Nariel waits patiently until I’ve satisfied myself and then continues, “People on the run typically divest themselves of their customary phones and credit cards, do they not?”
I lift my eyebrows. So Nariel knows a fair amount about Low Earth, then, but not High Earth. “Personal experience with that here, or do you watch a lot of movies?”
“Neither,” Nariel says, amusement plain in his voice.
“Do you spend a lot of time here?”
“I’ll answer yours if you answer mine.”
Will he really? That’s a suspiciously good deal for me, since this isn’t exactly proprietary information. “High Earth doesn’t have any understanding of how Low Earth technology works, so unless they use magic to compel people who do—which would involve knowing who to compel and for what purpose—that’s not something we need to worry about. High Earth doesn’t keep any of its own operatives here, since they haven’t needed to worry about Low Earth in generations.” An oversight that, if I succeed, they will probably correct. Future problems. “And I need the phone to make arrangements for when we land, so we don’t waste any time.”
His eyes narrow. Ah, that is what he wanted to know after all then, he was just leading up to it. “What sort of arrangements?”
“Well, normally to visit Stonehenge, I would take a bus, but since we’re going in off-hours to avoid being seen and will needto get away quickly, we need a car. Can you drive on the other side of the road?”
Nariel rolls his eyes. “Yes.”
I don’t know why that surprises me, especially since he can drive at all. He’s had long enough to learn, I guess, but why bother? Rather than giving him an opportunity to look at me superiorly—thus far that hasn’t really been his thing, it occurs to me, but I am so used to it from High Earth that old habits are hard to break—I say, “Yes yes, you’re so much older and more knowledgeable than me, la di dah. Can you drive and cloak us at the same time?”
He cocks his head, considering that.
