It was simple truth, Karigan thought. There were times when Cade was not foremost in her mind and life felt pretty normal, or at least as normal as hers got. There were other times when everything rose to the surface unexpectedly, like an arrow in her gut, as it had tonight.
She stood and crossed over to the lantern to shield it. As shadows grew in the cabin, she gazed out the window and saw Enver standing beneath the trees, his muna’riel cupped in his hands, its light illuminating his face and the snowflakes that fell around him in silver flashes.
• • •
Karigan fell into a dreamless slumber, but was gradually awakened by what she thought was the sound of mice chewing on her gear and scrabbling about the cabin. When she was more awake and aware of her surroundings, she realized that maybe she had been hearing mice, but what had roused her was Estral restless in her sleep, murmuring and twitching like she was trying to escape something.
Groundmites, perhaps?
Suddenly, Enver was there, kneeling beside Estral. He held his hand to his lips and blew. Sparkling motes of gold sprinkled over her.
Karigan sat up. “What are you doing?”
“Her dreams trouble her,” he said. “I wish only to ease them.”
Estral sighed and slumped, her breathing easier. She stopped murmuring and moving. Enver, silhouetted by the glow of the banked coals in the fireplace, watched over her for a time before nodding to himself. Then he rose, stepped around her, and sat beside Karigan.
“I wish to apologize again for the song,” he said. “Lhean lanced your wound. You did not need me to undo the healing.”
“It is not undone. And the song was beautiful. Beyond beautiful, really. I just wasn’t ready for it.”
“I know that now. I will learn the human way of things. That is what I wish.”
Now Karigan didn’t feel sleepy at all, just curious. “Why?”
His eyes gleamed in the fire glow as he gazed down at her. “Surely you see my nature, that I am only part Eletian.”
Karigan nodded slowly. She had seen. “I noticed you were a little different from other Eletians.”
“As much as I ever tried,” he said, “I could not abandon the human part of my nature. I am half-human through my mother. You know my father, Somial.”
“Really?” She had never thought of Somial in terms of being a father before. She didn’t know why. It was a little disconcerting because he and Enver looked to be of an age, but it was difficult to judge the ages of eternally-lived Eletians.
“Your mother,” Karigan said, “is she still with you?”
Enver shook his head.
“I’m sorry.”
“She lived a long, happy life, as judged by mortals. Her memory beats in my heart.”
Karigan had many questions about his family. Had they all lived in Eletia? Then she remembered his mother couldn’t have, because she’d been told no mortals had set foot in Eletia since just after the Long War. That mortal had been her, crossing the threshold of time to lead the Sleepers of Argenthyne to Eletia.
Did the Eletians accept Enver? Lhean and Idris had seemed to, but what about Eletian society at large? She wanted to ask, but didn’t know how to do so without offense. Before she could come up with a polite way to ask her questions, Enver stood.
“I will go out into the night again.”
“Don’t you need sleep?”
He smiled. “Not as much as a full human. I find respite in nature, serenity and restoration.” He paused. “Perhaps you would, too, Galadheon. I could show you how to find stillness, to hear the voice of the world.”
He gazed at her with the intensity that Eletians harnessed so well. “Your inner light burns fast and bright, but without balancing it with stillness, it will burn to ashes. You should walk with me. Perhaps you, too, will find connection with the world.”
It sounded like a spiritual thing, and if so, she wasn’t interested. She was already in too deep with forces beyond her control. The god of death had flung her across the threads of time and generally interfered with her life. Then there were the Mirari, whoever, or whatever, they were, exactly, and her silver eye. No, she had no wish to invite such forces into her life. Wasn’t that what Enver was doing? Best not to find out. “No, thank you.”
“Perhaps another time.” His intense gaze left her as he took his cloak from the peg next to the door and threw it around his shoulders.
When he placed his hand on the door latch, she hastily asked, “Enver?”
He paused. “Yes?”
“Earlier you told Estral you were chosen to be our guide because you are a witness, but you wouldn’t tell her what you are supposed to be witnessing. Would you tell me?”
He did not reply, just stood there staring at the door with his hand resting on the latch.
“Enver,” she said, her voice rising with suspicion, “what is it you are supposed to be witnessing?”
He tilted his head back as though to inspect the lintel.
“Enver?”
“I should not have said anything.”
“If we are to travel together as we are,” Karigan said, “there needs to be trust, not secrets.”
Again, the pained silence.
“Enver.”
“Very well.” He let out a breath. “You, Galadheon. It is you I am to witness.” And then he was out the door and into the night.
THE MEDDLING OF ELETIANS
Enver, Karigan decided, was not going to get away with being mysterious. She crawled out of her blankets, slid on her boots, wrapped herself in her greatcoat, and ran out the door into a wall of freezing air. She could not see him; he was not using his muna’riel.