The Grove(26)
“You surprised me,” she admitted. “But . . . it is well-spoken. If craftily.” She started to move forward, then checked herself after two steps and faced him again. “Now, what about Teral making that vow?”
A grin cracked his lips, showing his mostly straight white teeth; one of his canines sat just a little bit crooked. But that grin confused her, at least until he spoke. Lifting his finger, Aradin waggled it at her. “You are very, very clever to have spotted a potential loophole like that, milady. Well done! Here, hold my staff while we trade places.”
Taking it from him, Saleria watched as he pulled his hood over his head and down to his throat, then tucked his hands into the robe’s sleeves. As the heat of the day had increased, he had pulled the robe shut around his body, no doubt keeping it cool via temperature charms. Now his frame shifted, he straightened, and the taller, broader-shouldered, older figure of Teral pushed the hood back. Giving her a slight bow, he spoke in his smooth, cultured baritone.
“I, Teral of Darkhana, bind unto my powers this vow: I promise I have no intention of stealing the powers of the sacred matrimonial Grove of Holy Kata and Jinga, nor of using those stolen powers in ways which would bring grave harm to yourself, the people of Katan, your Patron Deities, or the rest of the world, save only whatever may be needful in the name of self-defense or the defense of others.
“So swear I, Teral of Darkhana.” This time, the bands of dark blue light were stronger than the silver, though the latter still sizzled from graying brown head to beige-clad toe. Bowing, he straightened and raised one eyebrow. “I trust that will suffice as to both our intentions, Holy Sister?”
She smiled wryly and dipped her head in return. “It will suffice, Holy Brother.” He started to shift the hood forward, no doubt to switch bodies again. Saleria quickly held out his borrowed staff, forestalling him. “Please, stay for a little bit, and walk with me. I am curious about you as well.”
(Go ahead,) Aradin encouraged him. (You’re due some time in your own body.)
(Only because she swears this “Bower” place isn’t dangerous. I’d rather you did all the ducking and dodging,) Teral joked silently. Nodding his head, he accepted the staff and gestured for Saleria to take the lead. “As you wish, milady.”
Now that she had his—their—acquiescence, Saleria wasn’t quite sure where to begin. She started walking again, letting Teral follow a few paces behind. Aradin’s comment about obnoxious questions did raise a point, so she started with that. “I am not at all familiar with the, ah, ways of your kind. If any question I ask is obnoxious, please forgive me in advance, and just let me know it isn’t something you care to answer.”
“Such courtesy is appreciated.” Watching the younger woman’s hips sway with each step, Teral could not only see what Aradin had seen; he could feel their shared body responding to it. (I do believe there are some serious drawbacks to being flesh and blood. At least, where my dignity is concerned.)
(Feels good, doesn’t it?) Aradin teased. It was still his body, and he could still feel the blood pooling at the sway of those hips, but it felt distanced, almost numb, since he wasn’t the one in control.
(Indeed.) Teral smiled pleasantly when the blonde priestess glanced back at them. Her almond-shaped eyes and high cheekbones made her look very different from Darkhanan women. The differences were exotic and alluring, making both men aware of her unpretentious beauty. (No hints of painting or primping, no subtle tricks or artifice, just natural, beautiful woman, as her Gods clearly made her to be. Oh, to be alive again . . .)
(Albeit with your Alaya’s permission,) Aradin chuckled in the back of Teral’s mind. (These days, you’d need mine.)
The view he had was much like peering at a bright window or a scrying mirror over Teral’s shoulder from a hushed, darkened room. The perspective was a little off, too, since his Host’s version of the body stood just a little bit taller. But he was used to it by now. Everything behind and around him was dark, save for what Teral saw, quiet save for what Teral heard . . . and the whispers of what Teral thought. The stronger the thought, the louder the whisper. The thought prompting his quip hadn’t been loud, but it was one he himself had been thinking.
(Then again, Teral, I’m not sure if this Katani woman would care to have either of us as a lover. You’re technically a dead man in a borrowed body, and neither of us is alone, unless one of us steps into the Dark.) Aradin started to say more, then hushed. Priestess Saleria had finally found a question she wanted to ask.