“Fine. I was just having some fun. I’ll get you a bucket of pig-slops.”
Aradin folded his arms, glaring from under his brows. Though mind-to-mind speech was forbidden between two living mortals, he thought as hard as he could, Try it, and you will be chastised by Kata Herself, even if I have to go all the way to the Convocation in person to fetch Her!
That, too, worked. At least, the glare did. Defensively, the guard backed up toward the door. “Fine. But don’t expect the bread to be fresh. And you’ll be lucky to get scrapings out of the roasting pan. You’re a prisoner, foreigner, not an honored guest.”
Aradin arched a brow at that, but obviously said nothing. Moving over to the cot, he sat down on it to await his meal. As annoying as she could be, he knew he was going to miss Nannan’s cooking right after the guard returned with something for him to eat.
Teral slipped into his Doorway. He paused on the threshold, taking a few moments to absorb Aradin’s new surroundings, then sighed and settled into place behind his Host. (You’re not going to like Their reply.)
(I’m not?) Aradin asked, both brows lifting. (Have They refused to prove Their word is true?)
(Sort of,) his Guide hedged. (Orana spoke with Kata on our behalf, since she was in the amphitheater, and Saleria was apparently elsewhere, probably having lunch given the time of day on that side of the continent. Kata said, and I quote, “The young man in question needs a lesson in humility if he is ever to become a true priest. Let him ride the wave a bit before you save the day.” Orana didn’t know what She meant by that, but I think I can guess.)
So could Aradin. He winced and sat back on the narrow cot, resting against the stone wall. (Oh, that’s going to be unpleasant.)
(Exactly. Without either of us on hand to shunt all the energies, the Grove is going to go wild in just a matter of days,) Teral said.
(Yes. And to add insult to injury, I’m going to have to sit here like a good little prisoner and eat jailer’s slops.) Aradin knew he was complaining about a very trivial matter, when the Grove running wild was anything but trivial. He couldn’t help it, though. He’d missed breakfast after having gone on a vigorous hike, manipulating magics and taming wild plants along the way.
(You know . . . she didn’t say we had to stay locked up,) Teral mused. If he’d had control of their body, Aradin knew from his tone he would have been scratching his bearded chin thoughtfully.
He also could guess from long association with the other Witch what was going through his Guide’s mind. ( . . . You’re right, She didn’t. And Jinga has a reputation for being occasionally mischievous.)
(And perhaps we could speed things up by ensuring the “wave” in question was a truly wild one?) his Guide offered.
Aradin grinned. One of the other two guards glanced his way. He smothered the urge to smile, affecting a sober expression while he waited for his food. (We’ll still have to wait until nightfall. Our spare robe is hanging up in Saleria’s dressing room. Think we can make the Witchcloak transfer to it?)
(After nightfall, yes. We both know exactly where it is, after all. But until you can get those anti-magic cuffs off, you won’t be able to leave, let alone manifest, once you go into the Dark,) Teral warned him. (They will anchor you there. Only when they’re safely bagged in silk will we have a chance of getting them out again.)
(Well, then you’d better go round up a Host or a Guide in the Dark who knows how to pick locks, and who has a spare shielding sack on hand,) Aradin told him. (If you’re lucky, you won’t return until after I’ve choked down whatever gets scraped out of the prison’s dirtiest pots.)
(Oh, it won’t be that bad, surely,) Teral dismissed.
(And who was it who warned which one of us about speaking rashly, hmm?) Aradin countered.
(Fine. Consider it your punishment for tweaking the nose of the Threefold God,) Teral retorted, and ducked into the Dark. He left Aradin smiling, though, for all it would most likely be true.
* * *
The food was divine. Miracles had been wrought since just that morning. Saleria felt guilty for enjoying all the fruits and vegetables and even fish and meats, when she knew how hard Nannan cooked for her. But she did enjoy it.
The Keeper of the Grove could not remember a more exotic feast in her life, though she felt sorry for Witch Orana, who had been pressed into delivering bushels and baskets and stasis chests of food from various nations around the world via the Dark. The more that word spread about the Convocation of Gods and Man being restored, the more people from all over the world wanted to donate to it, to touch it in some way and be a part of this momentous occasion.