Of Truth and Beasts

Magiere pushed back her hood, letting loose her black hair. The cold lamp’s dim light barely raised a shimmer of bloodred in those locks. Magiere closed on Wynn with a typical scowl, though she smiled, as well.

Wynn twisted away from Leesil and quickly reached out, grabbing the edge of Magiere’s cloak. With a sigh of burdens dropped for the moment, Wynn buried her face against her tall friend.

“What magic are you toying with this time?” Magiere asked, and the rumble in her chest hummed against Wynn’s cheek. “I’d have thought you’d have learned your lesson by now.”

With her friends’ arms around her, Wynn looked up to find Magiere glaring toward the staff lying across the table. Wynn wasn’t certain, but she thought she saw Magiere’s irises go pitch-black. Now they faded quickly to their normal rich brown.

“Where’s Chap?” Wynn asked as she peeked around Magiere.

Here.

She saw him as his answer filled her head. His silvery blue-gray fur shimmered in the low light. He stood outside the alcove archway, but he was looking down the outer passage. Why didn’t he come to her?

Wynn rushed over, dropping to her knees, and slipped her arms around Chap’s neck. Just before she buried her face in his fur, he whipped his whole tongue across her face.

“I missed you so much,” she whispered, and then suddenly remembered Shade.

Is that her ... my daughter? Is that what you call her?

Wynn lifted her head. Of course he hadn’t known. He’d been long gone from the Elven Territories before Lily had given birth to their children.

“Yes!” she answered, looking about and finally following Chap’s sightline. “I named her ... or she named herself ... after ...”

Wynn looked down the passage.

So little light leaked from the alcove that she barely made out Shade’s form, but that light sparkled in Shade’s eyes. Wynn heard Shade begin to growl.

Why would she do that? It was obvious these were friends, and especially with her father finally here.

“What ... who is that?”

Magiere stood behind Wynn in the alcove’s archway and was looking down the passage.

“One of Chap’s children—his daughter,” Wynn answered.

“What?” Leesil tucked into the archway next to Magiere.

Wynn looked at Chap. “You didn’t tell them? Why?”

In their separate ways, they are both fixed on those they consider family. It would have been another contention, another distraction from what had to be put before ourselves.

“How?” Leesil interrupted, unaware of anything passing between Chap and Wynn. “Who’s the mother?”

“The white majay-hì, I’d guess,” Magiere barely whispered.

It sounded almost sad to Wynn.

Leesil huffed, perhaps a half laugh. “Why, Chap, you ol’ dog, you.”

Instead of chiding him for crudeness, Magiere looked away.

“Shade?” Wynn called out.

Shade was barely more than a black shadow hunkering and growling in the dark. Those pinpricks of eyes vanished, and Wynn heard the click of claws on stone recede in the distance. She was about to call out when Chap interrupted.

Let her go. There is nothing here for her ... except you.

“Yes, there is,” Wynn returned. “You’re her father.”

No ... only the one who forced a purpose on her through her mother. That is all I am to her.

Wynn was confounded, much as she partly understood the problem. She didn’t ask him why he had done that, didn’t tell him he shouldn’t have. She couldn’t imagine being without Shade. But there was so much in her head that she had to let some of it out.

“What of the first orb?” she asked Chap, but it was Magiere who answered.

“First? How do you know of the other one?”

Wynn looked up into Magiere’s eyes. “There are five, but how would you know—”

“Five?” Leesil asked sharply.

Magiere stared down at Wynn and then turned away into the alcove.

Leesil ripped off his cloak and tossed it too hard toward the table. It slid off to the floor, but he left it there. He pushed his hands through his hair, almost covering his ears for an instant.

One sleeve of his wool pullover was raggedly torn off. Long, parallel scars ran along his forearm, like the marks of claws. Leesil had a tendency to gather scars, but Wynn had never seen these before. He shut his eyes hard.

Magiere glanced at him as she dropped onto the one stool at the table.

The orbs are safe. I have seen to that.

“Orbs?” Wynn echoed back at Chap. “You had one ... I found another.”

Chap turned his head to look at her, his ears falling for an instant.

“That leaves three,” she added.

No, if your count is correct, there are two left.

Chap gazed down the passage, though no one remained there to see.