Jare glared at the ex-deity as he shuffled into the room, a plate piled with food in hand. He looked happier, now that he had bathed and donned new clothing. His attire reminded her of sprite Moon acolytes’ vestments; a silvery-blue, knee-length split skirt covered calf-length pants, both embroidered with glowing circles representing the moon and small dots for stars. Thin silver sandals did not protect the feet but gleamed with a shimmery glow, and the sash that looped over one shoulder and knotted at his opposite waist had silver threads that glinted despite the dim light. Did Black-claws have a stash of faelareign clothing? Why? Or had he stored something for Navosh because he, after he extricated himself from the pool, would need clothes?
The rufang followed, assisting Navosh to a bench near the door. He fussed over the man before glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes; his suspicion and anger blazed bright, and she doubted he would ever see her as anything but a destructive interloper. She wanted to curl back into a ball and wait out the inferno in singular silence.
“And what am I making shiny?” Jare snapped.
“Talis didn’t help Veer out of a sense of fairness or justice. He wanted to poke Rezenarza where it hurt.”
“You’re wrong,” the Light-blessed flared. “While Qira thought too many of Rezenarza’s decisions were unfair and based on personal prejudice, that wasn’t why he was there that evening. Sun had the idea of light and darkness walking hand in hand, and Veer embodied that with his shimmery shadows. Qira visited to speak with him about how he perceived Light and Darkness and Rezenarza showed up in a rage. He didn’t realize another syimlin was even there, he was so angry, and Qira took advantage and helped.”
“Infernos rage far.”
Vantra fought tears at the words, for Black-claw’s snarl proved he felt them deeply. Who else but she caused the one destroying the forest above them, earning his wrath?
“Sun-driven ones usually do,” Navosh murmured before shoveling a heaping pile of curled pasta into his mouth. The dish looked like one her mother used to make, with fat noodles piled high with shredded squash, chicken, nuts and a spicy white turnip sauce—a very un-Evenacht meal.
“And how much of the forest will the Sun eat?” Black-claw asked, tapping one front paw’s claws as he spoke.
“That which he corrupted. You won’t be able to forage for some time, but it will grow back.”
“And who is ‘he’?” Jare’s agitation only made the ex-deity laugh.
“You said he was an elfine.” Laken’s typical skepticism brightened his words.
“He is,” Navosh said. “One of power and means in life and death, who thought he earned what was, in fact, gifted to him. He misunderstood many things, and the price of his ignorance will destroy him.”
“You seem certain of that,” Jare muttered.
“I am now. The Daughter of the Sun has arrived.”
Vantra wanted to hiss at the statement. A sundered prophecy would not help them defeat their enemy. Had Machella ever mentioned Talis’s injury? A successful attack on a syimlin would be important enough to stuff in an oracle, would it not? Yet she heard nothing of it, just this daughter nonsense.
“A broken prophecy by a broken oracle,” Laken said, sharp and dismissive.
“Broken?” Navosh asked, confused.
“Her Recompense died before she fulfilled her blessed fate. That broke her prophecy.”
Silence descended as the ex-deity looked up at Black-claw, then at Laken. “She died?” he asked.
“Someone murdered her before she could do any of the things Machella predicted she accomplish on Talis before she entered the Evenacht. Her oracle sundered and there’s nothing left.”
“Hmm.” His fork clattered against the plate. “Machella is far more malleable in her outlook than most others suspect. She would see beyond the obvious and hunt for the drifting patterns. Murdered, though.” His troubled tone and deep frown pricked Vantra. His emerald eyes flicked between the others, glimmering with faint magic power. “Many umbrareign think that her words will beget war with the ghosts. They mistake her intent, and the intent of those who would do anything to see her predicted future crumble.” His gaze punctured her own, and her essence quivered. “We shall see, how much of her oracle has changed.”
Vantra buried her face again, hiding from his intensity. Machella’s words had caused enough trouble for Laken’s Redemption. Why care about what else she might see?
“You still haven’t answered my question,” Jare said.
“Wait until Rezenarza returns.”
What? He expected the ex-Darkness to return? Vantra raised her head, flabbergasted at the statement, but Navosh believed his words. He smiled and pierced noodles with the tongs on his fork, while Black-claws granted him an over-skeptical look.
“You remember what he was like, those many years previous.”
Apparently the ex-Darkness did not impress the rufang.
“I do, and I know how many years between have passed. He’s realized his mantle prefers another, and searches for meaning outside his Darkness. It’s a long and difficult journey, but his offer to help proves he has already taken the first steps.”
“We can’t trust him,” Jare seethed.
“No, but he has a deep antipathy for betrayal—and our mutual foe betrayed him. What he will do in Greenglimmer will reflect his need for revenge.” He flicked his laden fork at the Light-blessed. “After that, return to your suspicions.”
“How did the elfine betray him?”
Navosh bit into the noodles, unwilling to answer, and Vantra wondered if she should mention Rezenarza called it two betrayals. She assumed the elfine annihilated his reach, but who accompanied him? Someone from the Wiiv? Or Selaserat? Or the Finder Knights? She buried her head again, attempting to neaten her twisting thoughts. She wished Rezenarza would stay away so she would not have to deal with any more surprises that night, giving her time to wade through the overgrown mess in her mind and salvage anything worth saving.
