0756408709 (S) by Julie E. Czerneda

Author:Julie E. Czerneda [Czerneda, Julie E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: DAW
Published: 2016-08-16T10:56:37+00:00

Sira.

At last. My spoon paused on its way to my mouth. I made it finish the trip, this being my last bite. Yes, Great-grandmother?

Between us, alone.

Those sharing our table or walking nearby weren’t who she meant.

Morgan.

I’d see him if I looked up; what I felt was focus. Having finished his breakfast, he walked through the galley, pausing to speak with this Healer or with one of the scientists. In reality he prowled, there was no other word for it, and most who saw his face gave him room.

Just as well. He’d tucked something round and undoubtedly dangerous into his coat pocket, and was slowly making his way to the dais and Sona’s access portal interface, to be there and ready for whatever came.

Aryl wants a private conversation.

About time.

I smiled to myself. My Chosen valued Aryl as much as I did; what had happened yesterday, and her silence since, concerned us both.

My sense of Morgan faded as I firmed an inner wall between us. Alone it is, Great-grandmother.

My profound apologies, Sira, for the pain I caused you. I was overcome and shouldn’t have been.

Already forgotten, I lied.

Not by your Chosen, with a wry touch that became something darker. I trust Morgan to think of you first. For that reason, what I would say may need to remain between us. I don’t ask you to promise, but to decide for yourself.

Not good at all. Go on.

Before the Council meeting, I told you I’d dreamed—that wasn’t the truth. It wasn’t a dream at all. I would share it with you.

Of course. I put the spoon down and brought my elbows up on the table, leaning my chin in my hands. Inwardly, I braced.

. . . finding myself in a shack—no, it was nicer than that, a home made of wide logs caulked with red clay, with a floor covered in thick woven rugs and a snug roof overhead. A door stood open on a wide green valley crossed by a sparkling river. There were tall, thin trees in the distance, framed by mountains that touched a purple-blue sky; nearer, rows of tidy crops. Flowers, pink and white, in a bowl sent forth a heady fragrance for which I’d no name.

My feet were bare and I dug my toes into the prickly pile of the rug. I wore nothing but the warm air playing across my skin and a cloak of heavy red-gold hair. A strand tickled my nose, trying to make me sneeze.

Hands gathered the stuff, guiding it into a smooth knot, as I couldn’t do. “That better?”

Male, the voice, so rich and deep I felt it in my bones.

If I turned, I’d see who it belonged to—but I mustn’t, for it couldn’t be—

Arms, big and strong, went around my waist, drawing me back against a wide, warm chest. “Welcome home.”

But I had none . . .

I found myself sitting at a table, staring at a spoon, both improbably less real than Aryl’s sharing.

Giving myself a little shake, I looked up to see

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