The Grove(134)

Nannan blanched a little and clutched her broom close. “You . . . you’re going to unleash it on the town?”

He hadn’t considered going that far. “Er, well . . .”

A masculine chuckle startled the Witch. Not just Teral, but Aradin as well, for it came from neither of them. A deep, laughing male voice whispered in their minds. (Now, bring no lasting harm to anyone else . . . but prove beyond a doubt that the “little snot” has not what it takes to handle the responsibility of My Wedding-Grove.)

(Ah, certainly, Lord Jinga,) Aradin managed to reply. (Certainly. We’d better get going—would You be willing to arrange our safe return to the prison cell, unnoticed?) he asked daringly.

(It would help further the illusion that Shanno is free to do as he pleases,) Teral added.

The deep chuckle they heard was the only answer they received, for Jinga did not speak again.

(Wait—my voice . . . ?) Aradin asked. Nothing. Sighing mentally, he prodded his Guide. (Well, get on with it. Even with only one of us able to speak, I can still cast whatever spells I’ve made an instinctual habit, so I’m not completely useless . . . but you’ll still have to do most of the work.)

(Not unless we can distill a counter-potion from the communications sap, which we should be able to do quickly enough,) Teral told him. Out loud, he said to Nannan, “It’s best you don’t know what I’ll be planning, so you can claim on a Truth Stone you don’t know what I’m up to or where I’ve gone.”

If Aradin had been in charge of their shared body, he would have smacked his forehead. (Of course! With magic that concentrated, it’d be like a modified Ultra Tongue brew! Not that I know how to brew one, but I do know the potion variety that allows you to learn another language permanently, and it does so by using an enchanted talisman. If I dunk all of the translation amulets we’ve collected over the years . . .)

(First we have to get to the Bower,) Teral reminded him. (The wards were not refreshed tonight . . . and given our charming visitor, I don’t think we should do anything to restrengthen them just yet.)

(Between you and me, we can keep the worst of the Grove’s amalgamations from running free. We’ll have to keep an eye out for whatever Saleria would’ve been here to control, though. Some things can be let through to Groveham’s streets,) Aradin said. (But as much as that little snot needs to learn a lesson in humility, the rest of the city doesn’t need to have their homes invaded by walking clumps of clawed, thorny skunkweed.)

Teral nodded and dusted himself off, heading for the back door. (Right. We’ll grab a pole from the pruning shed for our own safety’s sake, and maybe to siphon and redirect some of tonight’s wave of magic—amplifying it carefully—and then return to the Dark to see if we have been given a window of opportunity to return to the cell before the morning slops come round.)

(Come now, it wasn’t horribly bad. Those drippings were rather tasty, and there were a few scraps of beef in the bowl, plus a few vegetables,) Aradin joked. (A bit mushy from being overcooked, but not too bad all the same.)

“Teral?” Nannan’s voice arrested the Guide. He turned in time to see her holding out a small bucket covered with a kerchief tucked into the top. “A bit of bread, some cheese, and smoked sausage slices, in case they didn’t feed you . . . well . . . Aradin right, when they hauled him away. I didn’t have time to actually cook anything. I’m sorry.”

He smiled at her and accepted the luncheon pail. “We both thank you for your kindness. Rest assured, this will be quite enough. Aradin wasn’t starved, though we’ve both had much better. Sleep well, Nannan. We’ll make sure the house is well-warded before beginning the night’s mischief.”

“You’d better,” she half-threatened. “Or I’ll use my broom to smack you and that young Aradin, too.”





FOURTEEN





(Would you like to see again?)

Saleria blinked, losing track of the conversation. Serina, Dominor, and Guardian Daemon of Pasha—who had accompanied his sister, the priestess selected to represent their nation’s Patrons—continued discussing the feasibility of reopening the old cross-continental Portals, which had been vastly superior to the modest mirror-Gate systems used now. The Grove was a part of that network, since the untamed energies of its three rifts were causing a great deal of disturbance in the aether across Katan . . . but when that voice spoke, she listened.

. . . Jinga? she asked, and received the God’s chuckle. Is something happening in the Grove?

The chuckle became a full-on laugh, and she found herself swept up in a warmth and darkness utterly unlike the chilling breathlessness of the Dark. This time when she landed, she seemed to be in the body of a rabbit or other small animal, for her view was low to the ground and half-sheltered by the leaves of a bush.