Releasing her husband, Amurra turned abruptly to gawk at Jentt. “Jentt! The Reformed Thief? The Martyr of the Bones? Everyone said you died!”
“It was touch-and-go for a long while,” Jentt said mildly, “but I pulled through in the end. We’ve been keeping it hush-hush. Delighted to meet you, ma’am.”
“Kids!” Stran bellowed. “Come meet my friends!”
A girl, dragging a boot by its laces, came into the room, followed by a slightly older boy hauling a pudgy baby. The baby held a fistful of the boy’s hair and was attempting to shove it into his mouth. Swooping in, Stran lifted the baby into the air. He cooed with delight.
The girl stuck her hand into Kreya’s, holding it tight andlooking up at her. The child’s hand was moist and sticky. “I’m Vivi.”
“Nice to meet you, Vivi. I’m Kreya.” She extracted her hand from Vivi’s by turning her grip into a nice, friendly shake. She wiped her hand on her coat.
The boy was named Jen. “After you,” Stran told Jentt.
“I’m honored.” Jentt knelt in front of the boy and gravely shook his hand. “It’s a warrior’s name.”
“Papa said you were a thief.”
“On occasion,” Jentt admitted. “But the name Jentt came from Jentt the Brave, the first warrior to ever slay an edgewood worm, before they were driven to extinction. You know what they were? They had three heads, one that breathed fire, one that breathed acid, and one ice.” He launched into the full story, while little Jen and Vivi stared at him with rapt attention.
Stran introduced the baby-almost-toddler as little Nugget. “We haven’t decided on his final name yet. Luckily, we still have a couple months left until his official naming ceremony. Amurra’s family tradition is to hold it at fifteen months, so he can walk to his name.”
“Two months left, and he will walk to Evren,” Amurra said. “After my grandfather.”
“Or Olag,” Stran said. “Respectable, strong name. Olag.”
Zera chimed in. “I vote Evren. Olag sounds like the sludge at the bottom of a beer barrel. Which is only tasty if it’s expensive beer.”
Amurra nodded emphatically, but Stran looked hurt.
“It’s wonderful to see you so happy, old friend,” Jentt said. He slapped Stran on the shoulder, which required him to reach up. “We won’t be in your hair long. Just need to get Marso up on his feet again.”
“And able to read the bones,” Zera put in.
Kreya wished she hadn’t mentioned that yet. So far, Stran didn’t know they were here for any other purpose than rest and recovery for Marso.
“You want him to read?” Stran said. “In this condition?”
From the couch, Marso whimpered. “He lives, he lives, he lives.”
“Yes, that’s right, buddy,” Jentt said, sitting on the couch by his feet. “I’m alive.”
But Kreya glanced at Zera, who met her look with widened eyes and pressed-together lips. Neither of them had to speak to know they shared the same fear:
What if he wasn’t talking about Jentt?
Kreya knelt beside Jentt. “Get well, old friend. We need you. More than you know.”
Chapter Eleven
Later that night, after a hearty dinner they’d all pitched in to cook, Kreya cuddled against Jentt’s chest in bed. She didn’t mind that the cot was too narrow for two of them—she had no intention of letting him be farther away than this. They were alone, Jentt was alive, and she didn’t have to worry about the spell expiring in a day, two days, ten days, or ever again.
It would have been nicer, of course, if Jentt weren’t angry with her.
“This is the first time we’ve been alone since you revived me,” he said, whispering so they didn’t wake anyone else in the overcrowded farmhouse.
Kreya deliberately misunderstood where he was going with that. “Sadly, we can’t make love in Stran’s daughter’s bed. We have to be good guests.”
“I’m not worried about that. I’m worried about you. We need to talk about how you risked yourself. And Zera.”
