The Guardian of the Tower sat up at that. “You’d be interested in a scrycasting contract?”
“Not immediately . . . but with luck, I’ll soon be able to stop running my own version of gauntlets and have the leisure to watch others navigating difficulties. Now, if that is all, Guardian, I still have one more prayer to complete today,” she added politely. “We’ll get those prophecy copies to you as soon as we can.”
At his nod, she touched the mirror frame to end the call, then sighed. “I need to recontact the Department of Prophecies. They were supposed to gather up a collection of Convocation-related prophecies. I might as well ask them for Seer-foretold Netherhell invasion possibilities as well.”
“We’ll be a little late in the day’s schedule, at this rate,” Aradin warned her. “But his request is important.”
She sighed. “I know. First I’ll try to contact someone in the Department. If we have to wait, I can focus on your prayer request. Although I do wonder why you put in the bit about having Jinga and Kata mark this request sheet. Usually Their miracles are more subtle or widespread than that.”
Aradin nodded, but gestured at the page. “It occurred to me that, with such a long-standing tradition of the true needs of your position going unmet or ignored, that it would likely take a Divine Decree to get your superiors to accept all the changes you and I would like to implement. It also addresses the very pertinent fact that I am a foreign priest, sworn to a different set of Patron Deities. I know there are sticklers who would object strongly to my presence, based on this fact alone, and that again it might require a Divine Decree to ensure I am permitted to stay here at your side, assisting in the restoration of the Grove.”
“You have a point,” she allowed. Glancing between him and the mirror, she fluttered her hand off in the direction of his worktables. “Well. Since you’ve pointed out you’re not an officially approved presence just yet, go off over there and get back to work while I try to contact Councillor Thannig of the Department of Prophecies on this thing, if I can refocus it. We don’t need them to see you here and be distracted by trivialities that will hopefully be settled by the end of the day.”
Bowing politely in agreement, Aradin moved back to his table and his experiments on the flow and melding of three disparate sources of magic here in the Grove. Belatedly, he remembered he had not yet discussed the fact that each locus tree rift needed a Guardian attuned to it, but knew it could be handled later. Such as tonight . . . when we’re supposed to be discussing her packing needs for the Convocation, with all the temptations of being in her bedroom . . .
Right. I’d better write myself a note to address it tomorrow, once we’re back here in the Grove. Somehow, I think we’ll be busy with other concerns tonight. One way or another.
* * *
By the end of supper, Saleria could feel herself frowning. She managed to dredge up a smile of thanks at Nannan’s choice for dessert tonight, a layering of different fruits, a drizzle of cream, and a light dusting of spices, but the frown came back even before she scraped up the last slice of juicy toska, sweetened by the pear from the other layers but still tart enough to make her mouth pucker. It wasn’t the naturally tangy-sour fruit that made her frown, though.
“Is something wrong?” Aradin finally asked, leaning close to murmur the question while Nannan took his and Daranen’s dishes back to the kitchen.
She thought about it a moment, then nodded at the sheet of paper sitting next to her plate. “I haven’t seen anything about the paper change yet. I know I put power into my prayer. And it’s not an unreasonable request by any means. Not like . . . not like asking for a child’s deceased parents to be brought back to life.”
“Hm. Well, the answer isn’t a flaming ‘no,’ either,” Daranen pointed out. When both of the others looked at him, he shrugged and lifted his palms. “Jinga has been known to intervene when He doesn’t want something to happen . . . and even Serene Kata has an occasional flare-up of temper.”
“True,” Saleria agreed, lifting her brows briefly. They came back down into a frown, making her aware of the tension building up in her muscles as they waited, and waited, and waited. She looked over at the Darkhanan to her left. “Hasn’t Teral returned yet? You said he left when you presented this to me. He’s been gone for several hours now.”
“Time in the Dark doesn’t always move at the same rate as time out here in Life,” Aradin said.
“Maybe he got lost?” the middle-aged scribe offered. “The Dark is dark, after all. Otherwise they’d call it the Light, or something.”