Jack swore, so Midhir swore. He didn't understand why the man wept yet, was still so overwhelmed by new histories, new discoveries, new people, and a new purpose that he could only hope would support his shared purpose with Jack rather than subvert it. Chronomancy might help them fix what was broken in Jack, at least. But then the lich spake words that truly terrified him: Jack would not be going.
And Jack was to prepare him to lead?
Jack's hands were full trying to keep Midhir from misstepping and getting himself killed in the tangled skein of Entente politics that they had been avoiding until now, until it had reached out and snatched them up.
"But—"
But Brilan Ald ignored him; instead, one of the people he was supposed to lead, a man with several names, came to speak to him. Midhir had spent his life in cloistered calm and all of this had sent his insides spinning. He couldn't hide the lost look in his golden eyes.
"Lasers?"
He grabbed Jack's hand, waiting for him to use his silver tongue to twist the ash lady's plot so they could remain together as they had decided to do. But now they were locked by oaths and his Mark was burning to overturn things, but it seemed as though many people present had an ax to grind with humanity that he didn't share. If anything, the most important person in his life was a human. If he had learned anything from his time with the Badlander, it was that the Entente was never what it seemed. There was no candor in the Candor; there were only plots within plots and all he had wanted was to see the world before deciding whether he would retreat from it permanently in the mountains of Khadai.
But it seemed there was nothing Jack could do, and nothing Midhir could do. The friendly Rathor fell into step as they departed. With Jack, he had followed or walked beside him. He could only hope he had absorbed enough of his example so that he could lead.
Or perhaps the mysterious Taelian would seize that authority the strange woman had granted him for his oath.
And Jack was to prepare him to lead?
Jack's hands were full trying to keep Midhir from misstepping and getting himself killed in the tangled skein of Entente politics that they had been avoiding until now, until it had reached out and snatched them up.
"But—"
But Brilan Ald ignored him; instead, one of the people he was supposed to lead, a man with several names, came to speak to him. Midhir had spent his life in cloistered calm and all of this had sent his insides spinning. He couldn't hide the lost look in his golden eyes.
"Lasers?"
He grabbed Jack's hand, waiting for him to use his silver tongue to twist the ash lady's plot so they could remain together as they had decided to do. But now they were locked by oaths and his Mark was burning to overturn things, but it seemed as though many people present had an ax to grind with humanity that he didn't share. If anything, the most important person in his life was a human. If he had learned anything from his time with the Badlander, it was that the Entente was never what it seemed. There was no candor in the Candor; there were only plots within plots and all he had wanted was to see the world before deciding whether he would retreat from it permanently in the mountains of Khadai.
But it seemed there was nothing Jack could do, and nothing Midhir could do. The friendly Rathor fell into step as they departed. With Jack, he had followed or walked beside him. He could only hope he had absorbed enough of his example so that he could lead.
Or perhaps the mysterious Taelian would seize that authority the strange woman had granted him for his oath.
