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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Going out at twilight all dressed up did not attract any comment. Many of the enclaves held receptions in the evening hours. Vereez insisted on paying for them to take a carriage to within a short walk of their destination, saying that if they were going to try to make a good impression, they shouldn’t undo it by arriving with their hems inches deep in dust.

All of them had taken care to look their best, but Vereez was particularly elegant, so elegant that the simple floral broach she wore pinned to her collar seemed tawdry by contrast.

I bet Kaj gave her that. What’s the message she’s sending? Teg thought. “Look. I’ve kept your token all these years?” Or, “See how cheap this is in comparison to my wealth?” Maybe Vereez doesn’t even know herself. She says he never wrote her or visited, so even admitting she still has it says more than she may realize.

Maybe Vereez had had a similar insight for, when they ducked inside the abandoned cottage where Xerak was waiting, Teg noticed that the broach was gone, and a much more suitable ornament had been pinned in its place.

Xerak briefed them as he changed. “Kaj left work, then came pretty much directly home. I let Heru do the close following, so I doubt he knew he was being observed. I’ve been watching since I sent Heru to get you. It’s possible someone could have slipped out the back, but I don’t think so.”

“Walled garden!” Heru added. “Not much used. Cluttered!”

“Which house are we talking about?” Grunwold asked, making shushing noises at the xuxu, who came over and nipped one of Grunwold’s antlers in pretend protest. “Wouldn’t they have seen us come here?”

Xerak shook his head. “Kaj’s place is over there, that house with the faded blue paint. Looks to me as if, when the Posthumous Reminders were doing well, they built an extended complex, probably for servants or maybe for supplicants they wanted to stay nearby. Except for the one Kaj went into, all the houses are empty now. I chose this one because it has a good view of the blue house, but neither the doors or windows of this place should be easily visible from over there.”

He indicated the window he stood near. It was partially overgrown with a flowering creeper that reminded Teg of honeysuckle, although the leaves were glossier and the flowers a bright purple.

“If one of you wants to take over for me,” Xerak continued, “I’ll finish getting ready. Maybe Heru would watch the back door again?”

“On it, wiz,” Heru said, tweaking Grunwold’s ear and flying out the door. Teg noticed that the mini pterodactyl carefully circled around, keeping to cover. Vereez promptly moved to take over Xerak’s post at the window.

Xerak enlisted Peg’s help getting his mane untangled and properly combed. While this was being done, they finalized their plans. Vereez insisted that she be the one to take point.

“After all, I’ve met Ohent, even if I didn’t realize how important she was then. Who knows? Maybe she’ll think I’m bringing her more money from my parents.”

“Doubt it,” Xerak said. “For all Inehem and Zarrq are wealthy, they’re letter-of-the-contract types. Ohent would be more likely to believe my mother was sending her payment for some consignment.”

“But,” Vereez retorted, “as far as Ohent knows, you know nothing about the more, uh, ‘colorful’ part of your mother’s business.”

“If you two don’t stop bickering,” Grunwold said, “I’m going to race over there, bang on the door myself and tell Ohent—if she’s even there—to hand over the Bird. You’d think you were hoping to marry the woman!”

Vereez couldn’t blush, but the flickering melt of her ears gave away something of her embarrassment. What was interesting was how Xerak’s gaze dropped to the floor and how he nervously straightened his collar.

Oh . . . Teg thought. That’s interesting. I wonder.

Peg’s eyebrows rose, but she didn’t comment, only ran the wide-toothed comb one last time through Xerak’s mane. “There, young man, you’re presentable again. How about Vereez first, with you behind? You’re taller than her anyhow.”

“Get a foot in the door,” Grunwold advised. “Or your spear staff, Xerak. We can’t be sure of our welcome.”

When Vereez knocked on the worn wood of the door, no one answered for longer than seemed reasonable given the apparent size of the dwelling. She was about to knock again when the door swung open.

Kaj stood there, still bare chested. His work trousers had been replaced by a pair of pants cut off at midthigh and left unhemmed. He held a wooden spoon in one hand. A fragrant aroma, not unlike curry mingled with apple, drifted out around him.

He stared at their elegantly attired group for a long moment, his gaze lingering on the three masked humans, then returning to Vereez.

“Yes?” he began, then stopped. “Vereez? Is that you?”

Kaj’s surprise was genuine, uncolored by either shame or pleasure. His only emotion seemed to be a hint of chagrin at being found so informally dressed, occupied with such a domestic task.

“Did you bring a message from your parents?” he asked, motioning for the group to come inside, then closing the door. “My mother is . . .  sleeping. If you’ll wait in the front room, I’ll see if I can wake her.”

Vereez had entered when invited, paused as if hoping for some additional recognition, but when none came, she moved into the front room as directed. Based on the elegant moldings and ceiling ornamentation, the room had probably once been an elegant receiving parlor, but now it clearly served as what Teg had grown up thinking of as a “sitting room.” There were two comfortable chairs, each with reading material piled up next to them.

On his way out, Kaj paused to light an oil lantern that hung where it would give each chair equal illumination.

Sitting in either of those chairs—so clearly the private terrain of the residents—would have seemed an invasion. Wordlessly, Grunwold cleared a padded wooden bench of an assortment of jackets, sweaters, and pillows to make space enough for the three humans. Vereez took a seat on a large ottoman, started pleating the hem of her tunic, realized she was doing so, then sat unnaturally still. Xerak lounged gracefully onto the floor, while Grunwold—refusing Peg’s mute suggestion that he clear off another stool—leaned against the doorframe.

They could hear Kaj mounting creaking wooden stairs, bare feet padding, then the soft murmur of voices. Vereez’s and Grunwold’s ears both visibly pricked, but judging from their disappointed expressions, they couldn’t make out what was being said. Eventually, one pair of footsteps descended the staircase.

“My mother is making herself . . .  presentable,” Kaj said. “If you don’t mind, I need to get back to my cooking.”

“Do you need . . . ” “Can I . . . ” Vereez and Xerak spoke simultaneously.

Kaj looked bemused. “I’ve got it covered. Do you want water or something? No? Then excuse me.”

He left, pointedly closing the kitchen door behind him.

“I was only . . . ” “I simply thought . . . ” Again Vereez and Xerak spoke over each other.

The ease with which they could hear footsteps overhead, and Kaj rattling and clinking in the kitchen, made the visitors unwilling to talk, so they sat quietly, their finery a glaring contrast to the shabby respectability of their surroundings.

“Maybe . . . ” Xerak was beginning, when creaking stair treads announced Ohent’s descent.

Head to toe, she was concealed beneath a veil draped over her head, drifting down in loose folds to brush against the floor. The fabric balanced on the cusp between opaque and translucent, the dusty lavender, almost grey, material revealing that there was indeed someone beneath, but obscuring details. Tiny copper disks weighted the edges, ringing softly against each other with each step.

Ohent entered the room with a cautious tread, as if not trusting the floor would still be there each time she raised and lowered her foot. When Grunwold pulled back to give her room to pass, the shadow in the shawl paused to look at him for longer than seemed necessary, then ghosted to settle in the chair nearer to the window.

“I was dreaming,” she said. “Not of you, or so I thought. Maybe of you. Why have you come here? Kaj thought you might have brought money. I do not think this is so. This is not the time for money, and it was made clear to me long ago that time will matter.”

Vereez took a deep breath, then spoke. “I don’t know if you remember me. I am Vereez, daughter of Inehem and Zarrq. There, in the doorway, is Grunwold, son of Konnel. Down there on the floor, the wizard, he’s Xerak, son of Fardowsi.”

“You may remember me better as Senehem,” Xerak said. “That’s the name my parents gave me.”

“Little Senehem, become Xerafu Akeru, the undutiful son, the dutiful apprentice. Ah, yes. I have heard . . .  What brings you three here, children of my old friends, my not-quite enemies? And are you not to introduce the three masked ones? They are not your parents, that much I can smell. Beneath the perfumes and incense, their scent is a little . . .  odd.”

“Show her the letters,” Grunwold suggested gruffly. “From my dad and Xerak’s mom.”

Vereez removed copies from the neat, embossed leather folder she had carried. The hand that not-quite emerged from beneath the veil was gloved, the tips perforated so that fingernails—or claw tips—could emerge. Ohent snagged the folded letters, unfolded them, and turned toward the lantern light to better read what was written there.

“Konnel says you have a tale to tell that will interest me, a request to make that he urges me to grant. I taste relief in his script. Fardowsi is less pleased, but she, too, urges me to listen, to aid. Shall I?”

Her question was addressed as much to the air as to any of them, but Vereez said softly, urgently, “Please. We’d be grateful if you did.”

“How grateful, I wonder? Only one thing connects me to those two, to the other two who are conspicuous in that their treasured only child is here but no scented missive on heavy paper. Only one thing . . .  Why after so long?”

“If you’d listen to what we have to tell you,” Grunwold said impatiently, “you’d know.”

“You have your father’s looks, from back when I first met him, but your mother’s manner. Still, I am curious. There, I have admitted it. Tell me your tale.”

Ohent let the letters slide to the floor, settled back in her chair with a rustling of fabric, jingling of thin copper disks. Then, as Xerak—who had been chosen in advance to start the story—opened his mouth, Ohent raised one hand to stop him.

“Kaj! Take the pot off the stove and come here. I know you will listen, so you might as well be present.”

The kitchen door opened and Kaj padded in. He carried a tray on which rested a fat, round pitcher that beaded moisture, and a selection of mismatched, although quite elegant, glasses.

“Zinz tea,” he said shortly. “Talking’s dry work.” He set the tray down, poured for himself and his mother. “Help yourselves. There’s more.”

Xerak acted as if this barely civil offer was courtesy itself and, after pouring himself a cup, began the increasingly polished account of how they had gone to Hettua Shrine, and what had happened thereafter. As in other tellings, at the appropriate point the humans were introduced. Ohent and Kaj only nodded, accepting this evidence, and Vereez took up the tale.

When Grunwold told how they’d stolen Slicewind, Ohent chuckled appreciatively, but that was the only reaction from either mother or son through the account of how they’d searched for the door into the Library, and how Sapphire Wind had revealed the role that Ohent and her fellow extraction agents had played in the Library’s destruction. They ended with Xerak explaining how Sapphire Wind had insisted that without the return of Ba Djed of the Weaver, it would have great difficulty supplying answers to the inquisitors’ questions.

Throughout the long and sometimes erratic retelling, Teg watched Kaj carefully. She was getting better at reading the reactions of people who had animal heads. They didn’t blush or flush or pale, true, but their ears gave away a lot, and Kaj’s ears were large, along the lines of a wolf’s or fox’s, rather than small and buried in a mane like Xerak’s. Also, their eyes narrowed in apprehension, widened in surprise, just as a human’s did. If she was reading him right, Kaj was not surprised by this story—not even the bit about how his mother had been part of the destruction of the Library.

The three inquisitors had taken charge of telling those parts of the tale that specifically applied to them. Xerak and Grunwold had hidden little, but Vereez had chosen not to tell how her parents had attempted to take her prisoner, nor, precisely, what her personal holdback was, only that her parents had not approved and that was why she had no letter from them.

“So . . . ” Ohent said. “Bribery helped sway Konnel. Threats worked to persuade Fardowsi. But nothing would sway Inehem and Zarrq. I need to consider that, don’t I, dear son?”

“Yes, Mother.” There was a weight of old arguments behind those two words.

Ohent turned her attention to the three inquisitors and their mentors. “So, you have come here to request that I give you the portion of Ba Djed—that’s what you called it, right?—that I hold in trust, so that you may go back to the Library of the Sapphire Wind and receive the guidance you seek.”

“That’s right, Ohent-lial,” Xerak said.

“I,” she said, in apparent non sequitur, “have dreamed of stolen lore, of an ever watchful, blank-eyed guardian. For twenty long years, I have dreamt that. Now I know why. Calling, calling, calling . . .  Can you tell me why I dream of darkness, of dust, of scents that I have never even imagined, that I have never smelled in the waking world? Of beaten gold and polished glass, of carved stone creatures with the faces of . . .  Hmm . . .  With the faces of hound-nosed cats, whiskerless, hairless but for where they are too, too horribly hairy, silken threads coursing like water, erupting . . . ”

She began to laugh maniacally. Kaj rose, went into the kitchen, came back with a weird rattle, an egg-shaped thing that held all manner of oddities encased in fine mesh wire. He shook this right next to where, obscured by the veil, Ohent’s ears should be. The noise was like nothing Teg had ever imagined, cacophonic harmony, a hint of a pattern lurking beneath raw, abrasive noise.

Kaj folded his ears close to his head, but otherwise gave them no warning. They waited, hands pressed to their ears. As Teg’s head was splitting and she was about to bolt from the room, Ohent’s hysteria began to ebb. Kaj shook the rattle more violently, then, when he saw Ohent was calming, left without comment, presumably to stow the noxious rattle somewhere.

“Is she often like this?” Xerak asked horrified, when Kaj returned.

“Just about every day,” Kaj said. “It’s better for Mother if she’s either completely drugged when she sleeps—so far under that she has no sense even of time—or if she doesn’t sleep at all. Otherwise, she dreams of things, of events. I’m not sure what she sees that upsets her so much, but there’s no question that after a point she becomes unable to handle whatever it is.”

“My mother,” Xerak said, “thought that the dreams were Ba Djed insisting on being reassembled. Does your mother cope better when she’s awake?”

“Better,” Kaj replied, “unless something causes her to remember, then she can go off . . . ” He shrugged, wordlessly saying as you saw just now.

“What did that rattle do?” Peg asked.

“Grounded Mother in the here and now,” Kaj answered. “It took a long time to figure out the best way. Sound seems to do it, but the sound we need is so abrasive that . . .  Well, let’s just say that Mother’s peculiar therapy is one of the reasons we’re living here in a near ruin on the edge of a necropolis.”

Ohent had been sitting very still, but now she stirred. “I am not so much insane as besieged, but there are times when the walls I have built collapse and I am mad. I admit it. I have difficulty holding a job that involves working with others, for I do not know who will say what that will demolish my frail fortifications. Thus the once great ‘extraction agent’ is reduced to laboring as a groundskeeper in such a sorry place. But my pathetic plight is not what brought you here. You came to take from me the Bird that I have given some two decades of my life to caging. I am wondering what my price should be.”

“I thought you’d be glad to be rid of it,” Grunwold said in exasperation.

“Perhaps I should be, but for decades now my life has been defined by this role. And what would I do without the support payments? My health is ruined by the drugs I take to sleep or to keep from sleeping. I am no longer young and lithe and strong, so even if some old friend”—her gaze lingered on Xerak—“might hire me to acquire trinkets for her store, say, I would not be able to take on high-paying jobs for a long while, maybe never. My son has already taken up grave robbing. Shall I ask him to add more crimes to that merely to support his mother?”

Kaj looked uncomfortable at this blunt admission of his side activities, but not in the least ashamed.

“Your father, Grunwold, was paid in miracles for his assistance,” Ohent stated. “Why should I take less?”

Grunwold lowered his head so that his antlers pointed forward. “That’s the second time you’ve accused my father of being bribed. My father didn’t demand miracles, and you know it. We would like your help, but I’m not going to stand here and listen to you . . . ”

Ohent laughed, a cracked, shrill sound. “Peace, little buckling. Peace. I am glad Konnel will have a chance at recovery. I am sorry he will not be cured. We were . . .  very close for a time. Although, well before the time we accepted the Library extraction job, that intimacy had ended, we parted friends. But Konnel’s recovery does not profit me, nor my son.”

Ohent ran a fingertip claw up and down the copper disks along the edge of her veil, so they chimed musically, and fell silent.

“Do you want money?” Vereez asked. “Even if my parents view their part of the bargain settled, I might be able to pay you. I have some small money of my own.”

“Invested, no doubt, by them, and so easily ‘lost,’” Ohent said.

Vereez’s ears flickered back. Apparently, although she had dreaded her parents putting her on short allowance, she hadn’t anticipated this.

“Nonetheless,” Vereez continued defiantly. “We three, we’d promise to do what we could to give you some financial support.”

Xerak and Grunwold nodded tacit consent to this informal contract.

“That’s sweet,” Ohent said, and there was no sarcasm in the words. “But I think that Kaj and I could do quite well on the stipend, especially if I didn’t need to take so many drugs. I think there’s something I would like more than money or security.”

Vereez leaned forward, ears perked. “Yes?”

“I want my granddaughter.”

Kaj looked confused. Vereez’s ears pinned back flat.

The room became so completely silent that even the chitter of some sort of night creature in the not-quite honeysuckle seemed loud.

“You know?”

“I know.”

“They told you?”

“They did not, but I know my son. He has his virtues, many of them, but keeping his—hands—off pretty girls, especially pretty girls who adore him and follow him about, has never been one of his gifts. Your parents might have turned a blind eye to your pursuit of Kaj. They hated having me visit, you know, because they feared a chance word from me might give away upon what foundations their House of Fortune had been built. When Fardowsi mentioned that she was surprised that you’d been sent away to study, given how your parents adored you, I made some inquiries. I am not what I was, but I still have friends.”

“Oh . . . ” Vereez’s gaze was fixed to the worn carpet.

“So your ‘sister’ is . . . ” Grunwold said, his voice terribly soft, holding no trace of its usual acerbity.

“My daughter,” Vereez said, trying to sound blunt, but only managing to show how sad she was. “I’ve never even seen her. They took . . . ”

She started weeping. Teg paused, wondering if Kaj would react, but he stood frozen, apparently stunned by this revelation. She slipped off the bench and knelt beside Vereez, holding her as her sobs grew more violent.

Kaj glowered at his mother and stalked from the room. Xerak started to say something, but Peg shushed him.

“Give Vereez time. This is a surprise to you, but to her it’s an old wound ripped raw.”

Ohent had leaned back in her chair, her veils obscuring her reaction—if any—to the scene. Certainly her voice, when at last she spoke, was unchanged.

“I wondered if she had agreed to give up the child. I see not.”

Meg said, “Vereez has been searching for the child to the best of her abilities for years, but all she has met with were dead ends. We have some reason to believe that Sapphire Wind may have done something to obstruct the flow of information.”

“That wind might not have had to blow too hard,” Ohent said. “From what you have told me, your impression of Zarrq was of a devoted guard to his wizard wife. When we were in the field, that was certainly his role. However, when we were setting up a job, he was the master of both information and disinformation. Hiding the location of an infant given away at birth would be nothing to him.”

“But his own granddaughter?” Peg’s tone was indignant. “Give her away just to keep scandal from touching his little girl?”

The copper disks rang loudly as Ohent shook her head. “Oh, no. That was the least of it. He might even have found a way to keep the child in the family, perhaps present her as the daughter of a friend or relation who had died in childbirth. Probably relation,” she added thoughtfully, “that would cover any chance resemblance as the child grew. No, what he and Inehem could not bear was that because my son was the father, we would be drawn together again.”

She started to say more, laughed shrilly, then forcibly silenced herself. Teg wondered what Ohent had been about to say. Did she doubt—as Vereez herself had done—that Kaj would care about the offspring of a, for him, casual encounter?

“I, too, did my best to find out what had happened to the child,” Ohent said, “and had as little luck as Vereez. But I would like the little one found. If she is not happy where she is, I would like to have her to care for.”

That brought Vereez’s head up out of her hands. “You?”

“Why not, young lady? You think I would be a poor caregiver? I have not fed my son on a diet of lies about my past as have my oh-so-respectable former friends. Think on that.”

Vereez scrubbed at her eyes with her fists, then groomed the fur smooth until only dark tear trails remained against the russet.

“Finding my daughter has been my goal from long before I went to Hettua Shrine, so I have no problem with that part of your request. Giving her to you, to anyone . . . ”

“Perhaps,” Xerak interrupted, “we should start with finding her. There’s one insurmountable difficulty. Ohent, you say your price for giving up the Bird of Ba Djed is our finding this child. However, the Library’s price for helping us to find her is the artifact.”

Grunwold added, “It’s more complicated than that. Access to the pieces of Ba Djed isn’t Sapphire Wind’s fee. The artifact is a tool it needs to heal the damage done to it so it can do the search in the first place. If you won’t give the Bird to us, we can search by more conventional means, but I don’t think we’ll do any better than Vereez already has. She may not look it while she’s sniveling, but she’s smart and determined.”

Vereez glanced at Xerak and Grunwold, as if not certain how to express her thanks for their support, but her words were for Ohent. “The boys have spelled it out. If you won’t compromise, we’re stuck. We might as well go back aboard Slicewind and aimlessly sail the world looking for Xerak’s missing master.”

“Compromise?” Ohent said the word as if this was a card game and someone had changed the bid.

Vereez nodded decisively. “Come with us to the Library. Let Sapphire Wind use the two bits of Ba Djed of the Weaver to help us find my daughter. You can stay at the Library and keep an eye on your bit, or we’ll do our best to make sure your Bird—nightmares and all—is returned to you. Then, after we find my daughter, you surrender the Bird to Sapphire Wind, then we all decide together where the child’s going to live after that.”

Peg cleared her throat. “Have you considered the child might be happy where she is?”

Vereez swiveled to look at Peg. “I have. If she is, my blessings on her and whoever is raising her, but if something has gone wrong, if my parents put her in some sort of strict academy or horrible orphanage where she’s miserable, then I’m getting her out.”

Ohent shoved back her veil and for the first time they saw her unobscured. She was right. The powerful warrior who they had seen in the Font of Sight was gone, all but for the sapphire-blue eyes. Those shone now with the same clear light and sense of purpose.

“You have a deal. I will come with you. We will learn the fate of the child. I swear by the faith I have given to my guardianship of the Bird that if my granddaughter is well kept and happy, I will not attempt to change her life.”

“Done,” Vereez said, and reached to clasp the hand that her child’s grandmother extended to her.

“Kaj, come back in here,” Ohent called.

He did, expression impassive, arms folded over his chest.

Ohent looked at her son. “It would probably be a good idea if you come with us.”

“Would it?” Kaj asked. Teg didn’t blame him. Grunwold was openly glowering at him. Xerak was looking . . .  befuddled? And Vereez wouldn’t look at him at all.

“You know what to do when I have one of my seizures,” Ohent replied. “If you don’t want to come, you’d better write up instructions for my new caretakers.”

Kaj considered. “I’ll come. The job I was working on is almost done. I can explain I have a chance to get my crazy mother medical help. They’ll understand. They might even pay me a little extra as a luck bonus.”

Ohent’s whiskers twitched in what might have been a smile. “Very well. I think your coming along will be the best for all of us.”


They departed the next morning. Xerak and Grunwold had given the bow cabin over to Kaj and Ohent. She, more than anyone else aboard, needed private space. When she wasn’t being plagued by her personal demons, Ohent could be interesting, even informative. When she was having one of her fits, she was impossible. It wasn’t hard to understand why drugging her to unconsciousness had become the coping tactic of choice.

But the tension between Vereez and Kaj was what really made Slicewind feel too small. If Vereez had entertained hopes of one of those “young lovers separated by evil parents reunited” moments, she wasn’t getting it. Kaj didn’t avoid her, but neither did he seek her company—or so it seemed.

The second night out, Teg was on late shift with Vereez. Grunwold and Xerak were asleep in Vereez’s cabin. The night was calm, and after headings had been checked, Teg withdrew forward of the hatch to light her pipe. She had a feeling Vereez might want to do some confiding, and fussing with a pipe provided a great excuse to think before speaking.

Teg was still packing the bowl when the silhouette of a sharp-eared canine head poked up from belowdecks. Even had Vereez not already been present, Teg would have had no problem distinguishing the difference between the painted dog’s larger, shaggier ears and longer muzzle from the fox’s more compact features.

In order not to ruin the crew’s night vision, minimal lighting was the custom, so Kaj emerged as much shadow as substance, then prowled over to the wheelhouse. This was somewhat better lit, so that the pilot could check compass headings.

Did Kaj think Vereez was so preoccupied with her duties as pilot that she didn’t notice him? His bare feet did slip quietly over the smoothly sanded boards. Or did he believe that her lack of acknowledgement was tantamount to an invitation? For whatever reason, he padded up behind her, wrapped his arms around her trim waist, and nuzzled against the side of her face.

Teg froze in place, feeling her face heating up in embarrassment. As always when preparing a smoke, she’d moved to where the wind wouldn’t carry her scent. Kaj didn’t know the ship’s routine, and might well believe he was alone with his once-upon-a-time lover.

Should I excuse myself? But Vereez knows I’m here. I’ll take my cue from her.

Vereez’s first words were, to Teg’s ear, equivocal. “I used to dream about how your arms felt around me.”

Kaj’s chuckle was as smoothly sensual as the rest of him. “No need to dream. I’m here, arms—and the rest of me.”

“Why didn’t you ever answer my letters?”

No pause, which to Teg was as suspicious as a long pause would have been.

“I knew your parents wouldn’t approve of us. I worried that they’d intercept a letter and you’d get yelled at.”

“You could have written me through one of my friends. I told you which would be sympathetic.”

“Until you and your pals got into a tiff over something. Then they’d have a hold on you. Silence was the only way I could protect you.”

“Ah . . . ” Vereez leaned her head back against his shoulder.

Taking this as an invitation, Kaj moved one hand to stroke her belly. The caress would have passed in a PG movie, but Teg had to restrain herself from squirming.

“Kaj, why didn’t you come see me when you were in the city?”

“In the city? Oh, you mean when my mother came to see Xerak’s mother. I did once. You were gone. I didn’t get any letters from you after that, so I thought you didn’t want to see me anymore.”

He delicately licked the edge of one of Vereez’s ears. Her hands tightened around the steering spokes of the wheel. One of his hands was dropping below her beltline, the other rising toward her breast when Vereez spoke again.

“But I wrote. After I was back in Rivers Meet, I did write. Didn’t you get my letters, then?”

Kaj was clearly getting distracted. Teg could hear his breath coming faster. Even though he was part in shadow, she sensed his hips were moving as he adjusted his grip. Both of the young people were still fully clothed, but Teg would bet anything that Kaj was very skilled at removing any impediments to his desire.

I’m not going to sit here and watch him screw her, not physically, not emotionally. Maybe Vereez thinks I’m too old to care or another species, so it doesn’t matter what they do in front of me, but . . .

“I didn’t get your letter, no. But, darling, why are you thinking about the past? We’re here. We’re now. Right?”

He cupped his left hand tightly around Vereez’s breast, bent to slide his right hand across the front of her crotch, down between her thighs. He was moving his right hand up, toward the clasp of her belt, when Vereez spoke very coolly.

“Then who cashed the check I sent?”

Kaj halted in midgrope. “Check?” There was a long pause during which he pulled slightly back, as if realizing how ridiculous his advances now looked. “My mother must have. You know she isn’t exactly, uh, scrupulous where it comes to mine or thine.”

“Sorry. That won’t do. I paid for in-person confirmation. No matter how good a forger your mother is, she couldn’t forge that.”

Kaj let his hands drop, stepped back. “It’s been years. I don’t remember.”

“I could handle that you were the type to seduce vulnerable fourteen-year-olds. After all, I didn’t fight you off. Far from it, I’ll admit, I encouraged you. I could even handle that you would dump me cold. But that you would come up here, behave like this. Lie to me.”

Teg had to admire how quickly Kaj changed tactics. “What else could I do? Tell you that I was a selfish prick? Admit that even though I knew it was hopeless, I couldn’t resist you? Yeah. I dumped you, but I did it to protect myself.”

“Yourself?”

“I knew you’d dump me eventually, either because it was your idea or your parents forced you. I was a coward, all right? I wanted you, but I knew I couldn’t have you, so I kept my distance. There. Satisfied?”

“Maybe.” Vereez’s tone was noncommittal, but she didn’t invite Kaj any closer. “I’ll think about it. For now, we need your mother’s help, and she needs you. That means you and I are going to need to work together. After that, after I’ve found our daughter”—the stress on “our” was slight but definite—“after that, maybe we’ll talk. For now, keep your distance.”

For once, Kaj’s suavity vanished. Eventually, making a sweeping bow, he said, “As the lady wishes,” and vanished belowdecks. The sound of the wind against the hull and in the sails covered the sound of him returning to the cabin he shared with Ohent. Vereez waited a few moments, left the wheel, and checked below.

“Teg, he’s gone,” she said softly. Then, when Teg had emerged, still unlit pipe in hand, Vereez continued. “Sorry about that. I thought he might try to be seductive, but I didn’t think he’d be so fast with his hands.”

“Then you knew he was coming above decks?”

Vereez nodded, then flattened her ears. “I suspected he would. I made sure Kaj knew I’d have night watch, but I overlooked mentioning that there would be two of us. We haven’t been sailing together long enough for him to realize that we typically have two people to a shift.”

“Well, you’d told me he was hot stuff but . . . ” Teg made a fanning gesture.

Vereez mimed panting. “I know. I don’t remember him being so polished, but five years would give him a while to refine his approach.”

“So you don’t . . . ”

“Think he’s been pining over me all this time?” Vereez snorted inelegantly. “Not one bit. I might have believed it if he hadn’t tried to put his magic wand into play, but if he thought he needed that . . .  Well, he probably never realized how crazy I was about him.”

“Was?” Teg said the word very delicately.

“There’s a little bit of me that still is. But, no. I don’t think he was making a play for me: Vereez. I think it was for Vereez, the wealthy financiers’ only child and probable heir. Maybe he figures that if they’ve not cut me off yet, after everything I’ve done lately, then they’d even accept him as a son-in-law.”

Teg looked at her pipe. “Mind if I light this?”

“Nope. You don’t even need to go back to your hidey-hole. I’m getting used to the smell. It’s not so bad. Maybe I’ll take up smoking.”

“Don’t,” Teg advised. “I’m thinking about quitting. You don’t want to discourage me, do you?” Once she got the pipe drawing, she said, “Are you just stringing Kaj along to make sure he and his mom cooperate?”

“I . . .  I wish I could say absolutely yes, but I’m not sure. He is my daughter’s father. He has been amazingly faithful to his poor mother. There’s good in him. I’m just not sure it’s good for me.”

Teg personally believed that whatever good there was in Kaj would never be good for Vereez. On some level, he’d always believe she was that malleable fourteen-year-old. He also knew that Vereez had been pining over him these last four or five years. Vereez needed time to let the reality and the fantasy resolve themselves.

If he wasn’t so sexy!

When Teg found herself wondering what it would feel like to have that lightly furred body pressing against her, how two faces so differently shaped managed something like a kiss, she realized she’d better distract them both.

“Do you think Sapphire Wind will be able to help us?”

“I think so.” Vereez paused. “I’ve been thinking . . .  We’ve gotten caught up in something a lot more complicated than I realized. We were lucky with Nefnet-va. I think she resents us, sure, but she’s a healer. Her inclination, calling, whatever, is to fix things. I can’t believe everyone who was archived will stop at resenting. Some are going to want more.”

“Revenge?”

“At least compensation, but revenge seems likely. This was a research facility for wizards. Meeting Xerak might have given you the wrong impression, but most of them aren’t nearly as sweet.”

“Xerak’s monomaniacal,” Teg said thoughtfully, “and he has a serious drinking problem, but, you’re right, he’s definitely sweet.”

“There’s a lot more to Xerak than his search,” Vereez said. “What sort of people are the wizards in your world—that Dumbledore and Gandalf and Merlin I’ve heard you three mention?”

That led to a long digression, during which Teg explained that these weren’t real people. Happily, this world also had a tradition of fiction as separate from folklore and mythology, so the foundation was there.

“So,” Vereez said, “even though there aren’t any real wizards, you still understand that wizards’ power can go to their heads, make them less than wise, no matter what the term implies. I know that Konnel-toh told us that the extraction agents scheduled their attack for a holiday when most of the Library was more or less closed and many were away but, even so . . . ”

“I don’t want to make you worry more,” Teg said, “but even ‘normal’ people can cause trouble. The nonmagical librarians, researchers, even cooks and cleaners have had twenty-some years taken from them. As soon as someone puts the idea into their heads that they’re ‘owed,’ well, you, Grunwold, and Xerak may not have much of an inheritance to look forward to.”

“I’ve thought about that,” Vereez replied. “What I’m trying to decide is whether I think they’d be justified. I mean, my father was right on one point. A magical library is, by definition, a dangerous place.”

They talked until dawn began to pale the stars. Their attempts to find an equitable solution for the Archived were hampered in that—as Vereez herself was the first to admit—her knowledge of legal precedents was limited. Teg was fascinated, although not completely surprised, to find out that damage caused by magical workings gone awry was a recognized element in this world’s legal system. People working with magic routinely signed waivers against reasonable risks.

“But,” Vereez said as the odor of breakfast began to seep up from below, “what people can realistically expect, and what they feel they’re owed, are not always the same thing.”

“I know,” Teg said. “When we run a field school, people sign waivers indicating that they’re aware that archeological digs can be dangerous places—but the dangers we’re talking about are from rock slides or earth subsidence. If the Mummy emerged and started eating people, I don’t think that would be covered.”

“The Mummy? Never mind. Tell me later,” Vereez said. “I’m not saying I forgive my parents for locking me up, or for trying to keep us from finding Ohent, but I’m beginning to understand why they didn’t want their past misadventures opened up again.”


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Framed