He gave her a slight bow, one dark-skinned hand splayed across his blue-clad chest. “We on the Council live to serve . . . or at least, that’s what we’re supposed to do. Have a good day, Keeper Saleria. May Kata and Jinga bless you, too.”
A gesture from his hand ended the connection, leaving her with a blue glow for a moment before the mirror returned to being a normal reflective surface. Reaching up, she pulled the curtain back in place over the mirror, which was mounted behind her desk. The addition of the curtain had been one of her requests to Nannan upon taking up the guardianship of this place. The thought of someone staring at the back of her neck unnerved the young priestess. She had enough trouble with her danger instincts being roused and sharpened daily by her walks through the Grove; she didn’t need to worry about that as well.
As if conjured by thought, Nannan bustled into the study, her hands damp and clean, but her apron dusted with flour and bits of dough. “Daranen suggested there might be more than three for the evening meal. Who would the fourth one be?”
“A foreign priest who is something of an expert in magics, plants, and herbalism. He will be working with me for a while,” Saleria informed her housekeeper. I don’t think the messes in the Grove can be untangled in just a few days, though. She didn’t say that out loud yet, because she didn’t know what Aradin’s long-term plans were. “Easily several weeks, I should think. Probably longer.”
“He’s not to be staying here, is he?” Nannan asked her in a disapproving tone. The plump, matronly woman might be ruthlessly cheerful in the morning, but she didn’t approve of priests or priestesses getting up to “shenanigans.” Which meant she did not like Shanno, the young Deacon of Groveham, who in the half-year since his arrival had flirted shamelessly with whichever young lady might smile his way. Saleria couldn’t object to Nannan’s distaste; there was something about the younger priest that irked her, too, though she couldn’t put a finger on it. But this was another matter, one not related to the young, brash deacon.
Dismissing thoughts of Shanno, she instead considered her housekeeper’s words. Sitting back in her chair, Saleria tapped her lips gently with both forefingers, then pointed at Nannan. “That actually isn’t a bad idea. Though I suppose I should see first if his ideas will work and his presence will be helpful before offering him one of the guest rooms here.”
“You cannot be serious!” Nannan protested, rearing up to her full, if modest, height so that she could look down her nose at Saleria.
It was rather like being stared down by an affronted hen. Biting her inner cheek for a moment to quell the urge to smile, Saleria sat up again, giving the older woman a calm look. “I am quite serious. There are seven bedchambers in this house. I have one, you have one, and Daranen has one. That leaves four to spare. Since your husband has long passed, your children are grown and gone, Daranen is a confirmed bachelor—”
Nannan snorted at that. Saleria knew it was because the widow fancied him a little, but let it pass, continuing smoothly.
“—and my family lives a month’s ride to the south, there is no reason to hold all four of those rooms ready for unexpected guests. Or rather, any further unexpected guests,” she amended. “I highly doubt an entire troupe of foreign dignitaries is about to descend upon the Keeper’s house, demanding lodgings. I will give it another day or two to observe Aradin Teral’s progress on his efforts, and if they prove viable, I shall invite him to stay here, where it will be more convenient. As he will be assisting me in my many duties with the Grove, the budget for the Keeper of the Grove can very well pay for his food, as well as giving him free lodging.”
“But, Your Holiness, to have a strange man in the house!” Nannan protested. “What of your sanctity? What if he has designs on your position, and its power? He could seek to wrest away your control of the Grove!”
“Bollocks to that,” Saleria snorted, making her housekeeper blush at the vulgarity. She didn’t let Nannan’s stare stop her from continuing briskly, “Boisterous Jinga would thump him on the head with His own holy fist, I am quite sure of it.”
Nannan shifted her hands to her flour-dusted hips. “Well, what if he has designs on your person, hmm?”
That wrested a soft laugh from her. Smirking, Saleria leaned back in her seat again. Her thoughts had strayed a couple of times in that direction already, so she wasn’t offended by the possibility. Not when they’re both handsome men . . . though I’d far rather court the living half. Not sure I’m comfortable with the thought of being intimate with a technically dead man . . . Oh, but that Aradin . . . “And what if he should?”