by Jean Johnson
“Probably,” Alonnen said. “Orana promised to give us a few Truth Stones and leave a list of instructions on how to make them. We can question him with that to be absolutely sure.”
“Truth Stones are going to completely revise the way the law is handled in this land,” Rogen observed dryly. He let his mouth curve into a wry smile. “I think I’m actually looking forward to those kinds of headaches, instead of the ongoing fears of Mekha and His priesthood.”
Alonnen frowned, then stopped, bringing Rexei to a halt as well. “Oy . . . I just realized something.”
“What?” Rexei asked.
“Well, I love you, you see,” he said, making her blink and raise a hand to cover her mouth. He quickly patted her forearm in reassurance. “And I know you love me, right?”
She couldn’t speak, but she could nod. Vigorously. Nod and blink back the tears of emotion welling up inside of her.
“Well, then . . . how in the name of your Goddess are we going to get married?” he asked. “I’m not in the mood to put up with that Mekhanan-style nonsense of women pledging to be subordinate to men, but we’re too young as a new land to have any formal ceremonies written up, yet. And you, Master Longshanks, are the highest ranked member of the new priesthood. Who’ll bless our union, if and when we marry? If we marry,” he added, allowing for some wiggle room on her behalf with a tip of his head.
“When. And I’ll write it up so that anyone can get married by Holy or Gearman witness. And I’ll be known as a priestess, as well as the Guild Master,” she stated, making up her mind. “I’ll grow my hair out and wear skirts from time to time and not be afraid of anyone finding out I’m actually a female.”
“Well, no. Not after baring your bottom and mooning the worst bastards to ever be born in this land, as it’d be a bit too late to erase that particular image, even if I had an oathbinding big enough to help with that task,” Alonnen said mock mildly . . . and grinned when she mock whapped him for teasing her. He leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose.
Rexei kissed him back on the tip of his. Their noses bumped together, then they were kissing, swept along by the sheer relief of having won the day with neither harmed. It would have continued and deepened, except Alonnen felt his brother rapping his knuckles on the top of his head. Not painfully, just annoyingly. Pulling back, he eyed his brother.
“Stow the passion, brother,” Rogen chided him. “Don’t you have to get back to seal off those Portal-whatsits?”
“Right. Yes. Very important. By the way, I’m stealing one of your militia motorhorses,” Alonnen added, nudging Rexei toward the stairs. After losing her to her kidnappers, he did not feel comfortable leaving her behind, prophecy or no.
“You’re what?” Rogen asked, frowning at him. “You are not!”
“You and your men blocked every street leading to this place,” Alonnen countered. “Only a motorhorse is going to get the two of us free of the tangle of vehicles before the rest of you are ready to leave, and I am not taking the motorwagon. It will still be needed to transport all the other mages back home. So, I’m taking a motorhorse, and Rexei is riding it with me . . . right?”
“I have no plans of forgetting you anytime soon,” she told him, guessing why he wanted her to go with him. She felt the same way and wanted both men to know. “I’m glad to see that not even the tightest of oathbindings could keep me from the memory that I love you. But I’ll be the one to drive the motorhorse.”
“You? Why you?” he asked.
There were several answers she could have claimed: that as a member of the Messengers Guild, she had been trained to handle a motorhorse in all forms of weather. That she knew she was a slightly better guider of the vehicle. But the real reason, she told him bluntly. “Because I love it when you hug me, and I want you to hug me all the way back home, and that means you have to sit behind me, which means I’ll have to guide the thing.”
He considered her words, then dipped his head. “I must admit, that is the most logical excuse for a miles-long hug I have ever heard. I’d be delighted to hold you as long as I can, too. Shall we plan on a nice long ride all the way to the northern shore for our wedding trip?”
“Ugh. Just get yourselves out of here, before I start thinking I need to settle down, too,” Rogen muttered. “I don’t need Mum making any more ‘I want grandchildren’ noises in my direction. And refill the tank, brother! You’ll return the motorhorse in perfect condition to Precinct headquarters with a full tank of engine potion tomorrow and no extra scratches, or I’ll tell Torhammer I didn’t authorize it, and he’ll make you slave away for a month or more in the quarries.”
“Ah, the joys of civilized, law-abiding life . . .” Alonnen muttered. “Yes, Brother.”
“It beats the alternative,” Rexei reminded him, walking with him away from the room where her half brother was still being held. “I’ll visit with Lundrei tomorrow. I just want to get out of here and back into the safety of . . . you-know-where.”
The sight of three slumped, snoring bodies on the floor slowed their steps. Alonnen lifted one brow, but Rexei shook her head and nudged him onward. The novices would either be handled by Torhammer’s men, or awaken and flee to wherever. She wondered what had happened to Frankei and resolved to see if he had escaped, or if he had been caught. There was no telling if the notoriously strict captain would go easy on him for helping rid her of that horrid collar, but if he was still around, Rexei knew she had to try.
She was done running from trouble. Done hiding from threats and from responsibilities. Done with flitting from guild to guild whenever things got tough.
That’s my Guild Master, she heard in the back of her mind. Keep up your inner strength, continue spreading the word, and I’ll have enough faith to manifest and help make this land a true kingdom, soon . . .
“Copper for your thoughts?” Alonnen asked her.
“Guildra’s faith . . . this demonic mess . . . I’d rather think about why my bottom is still a little sore and what we can do to make it feel better,” she admitted under her breath, blushing.
“Well, my brother once told me the militia has a saying about the things that make you sore,” he said.
“Oh?” Rexei asked.
He leaned in close enough to rub the pointed tip of his long, tall nose against her cheek, tickling and teasing her. “The only cure for what made you sore, Master Longshanks, is more of what made you sore. I’m ready whenever you are . . . after I take care of the aether, of course.”
She blushed . . . and pinched his bottom, making him jump a little. “Careful, Master Tall, or I might grab the pomade and the crankman once you’re done with casting out any chance of more demonic summonings, and show you how good it feels to be so sore.”
Blushing, he cleared his throat and said no more . . . though he certainly smiled.
SONG OF THE GUARDIANS OF DESTINY
When serpent crept into their hall:
Danger waits for all who board,
Trying to steal that hidden tone.
Painted Lady saves the lord;
Tower’s master’s not alone.
Calm the magics caught in thrall:
Put your faith in strangers’ pleas,
Keeper, Witch, and treasure trove;
Ride the wave to calm the trees,
Servant saves the sacred Grove.
Cult’s awareness, it shall rise:
Hidden people, gather now;
Fight the demons, fight your doubt.
Gearman’s strength shall then endow,
When Guilds’ defender casts them out.
Synod gathers, tell them lies:
Efforts gathered in your pride
Lost beneath the granite face.
Painted Lord, stand by her side;
Repentance is the Temple’s grace.
Brave the dangers once again:
&n
bsp; Quarrels lost to time’s own pace
Set aside in danger’s face.
Save your state; go make your choice
When Dragon bows unto the Voice.
Sybaritic good shall reign:
Island city, all alone
Set your leader on his throne
Virtue’s knowledge gives the most,
Aiding sanctions by the Host.
Faith shall now be mended whole:
Soothing songs kept beasts at bay
But sorrow’s song led King astray.
Demon’s songs shall bring out worse
Until the Harper ends your curse.
Save the world is Guardians’ goal:
Groom’s mistake and bride’s setback
Aids the foe in its attack.
Save the day is Jinx’s task,
Hidden in the royal Masque.
~BY SEER HAUPANEA