“When the floods came?” Nik asked, and Savaadh nodded.
“He died bravely in battle and has stood guard since his death.”
“He must have had a very strong will,” I said. Returning to our realm wasn’t usually an option but for the strongest of Anima. But as with Tommen’s daughters, strong emotions could draw them back to important places in their human lives.
Savaadh lifted his cup. “We salute him,” he said, and drank deeply.
“How do you know each other?” I asked, pointing between Nik and Savaadh. Maybe, since I wasn’t an imperial guard or an Ensi, I was supposed to stay silent. But I hadn’t traveled all this way to not learn about his people.
“We fought together, once upon a time,” Nik said.
“Ah,” Savaadh said. “But first we fought each other. We were at the triangle, where Vhrania, Carethia, and Eonin meet. Bandits were causing problems, interfering with traders. We were there to protect our respective nations’ interests.”
“He thought I was a bandit,” Nik said flatly.
“It’s the hair,” Savaadh said. “You have the hair of banditry. Much too long.”
“The hair of a bandit,” Charis said with a smile. “But the face of a poet.”
“I’m much better with a sword than a sonnet. And Savaadh is failing to mention that he attacked me.”
“Did you fight back?” Wren asked.
“No. I saved his life.” Nik raised his cup. “So he owes me one.”
“So I do, my friend,” Savaadh said, echoing the gesture. They both drank. “Now,” Savaadh said when he put his cup down again. “What brings you to our temporary home on the eve of our departure to the north?”
“Death,” Nik said quietly. Necessary though it was to discuss, the word still had a pall falling over the room like fog, smothering joy.
Savaadh put aside his cup and linked his hands on the table. “Tell me.”
“You’ve heard about the assassination attempt?”
“I heard there was a fight in the stronghold, and that the prince survived it. He is, I hope, unhurt?”
“He’s fine. They didn’t get to him.” Nik glanced at me. “A strongholder warned us of the attacker.”
Savaadh looked at me with approval and consideration. “So, a prince of Carethia was saved by a brave Fox. Well done.”
I gave a nod. I wasn’t sure if “never be noticed” extended to a gathering of Vhranians in a border caravanserai lifting their cups to salute me. Probably so. Better my parents were at peace in Oblivion than cursing their careless daughter.
Perhaps sensing my discomfort, Savaadh turned his attention back to Nik. “Attackers?”
“A dozen. One of them a human possessed by an Anima.”
Instead of looking disturbed, Savaadh looked curious. “I thought such things didn’t occur in Carethia?”
“They don’t. Or didn’t.”
“Ah.” He nodded.
“Do they occur here?” I asked. “Possessions?”
“Not as such, but it sounds like something we once called ‘unification.’ Our acolytes could communicate with Anima to gain understanding, and there was talk that it involved a soul visitation. But it has not been used in many years, and it was always consensual.”
“We don’t think this was consensual,” Nik said, “but was forced upon the human.”
Savaadh said something in Vhranian; I didn’t understand the words, but it had a “Fuck the moons” tone.
