But her frantic eyes weren’t looking at either orc — but rather, at Stella. Stella, whose tear-streaked cheeks had gone even paler than before, her eyes turned to wide, dark hollows in her suddenly gaunt-looking face.
And perhaps Silfast had finally remembered Stella too, his furious gaze darting back toward her — and Gwyn could see his big body stilling, his shoulders sagging. His clawed hand reaching out, as if to touch her rounded belly — but Stella flinched away, and Gwyn saw Silfast’s hand jerk back too, as if he’d been stung.
“Ach, we settle this later,Seer,” he hissed over his shoulder toward Joarr, his voice heavy with contempt, his eyes again flashing with dark, miserable rage. “And this time, you shall crawl and weep at my feet, begging for my mercy!”
Joarr’s laugh was loud and harsh, scraping through the too-small space. “You again waste your breath, fool,” he hissed. “You dishonour this garden, and forget your sacred vows to your mate. Now go, before Ishoutyour grave folly to our goddess!”
And to Gwyn’s genuine astonishment, Silfast actually betrayed a faint but unmistakable wince, his eyes guiltily glancing back toward Stella. Stella, who still hadn’t spoken a single word, and who still looked… sick. Worn. Empty.
“Come, woman,” Silfast said now, his voice rough, his hand again reaching toward her. “You ought to further rest. After we go again to Efterar, ach?”
Stella’s eyes had dropped to the floor, but she gave a small, short nod. And she hadn’t flinched away, either, and Silfast steered her out the door, casting one last dark, furious look over his shoulder toward Joarr and Gwyn.
“And you shallnevercome to this garden again,” he said to Stella, his voice hard, authoritative,final. “This is no more safe for you, or our son. Ach?”
And Stella, walking away with her head bowed, once again —nodded. And didn’t even look back, or say goodbye, and Gwyn felt her own eyes prickling as she watched, her hands clutching to fists at her sides. Her gaze abruptly seeking downwards, finding the knife on the workbench, so close, relief, please —
But once again, Joarr almost seemed to read the thought aloud. His tall body easing swift and certain before her, his clawed fingers closing around her wrist. “No,” he said. “Find other way.”
But suddenly Gwyn just wanted to scream, to curse herself, to weep. She’d made all that so much worse, she’d driven her miserable friend away from the one thing that had clearly comforted her. Gods, she’d shouted that she’d wanted topoisonher friend’s partner —
“No your fault,” Joarr’s terse voice cut in, his hand catching on her chin, tilting it up to make her look at him. “I tell you, Silfast is a fool. No even ask his own mate tospeak, in this.”
Gwyn wasn’t about to argue, but the urgency kept clawing, craving an outlet, an escape, anything — and Joarr’s eyes on her were watchful, glittering, unrelenting. “Wish to work?” he asked, voice low. “Take herbs to women? Or study?”
It was what Gwyn would have usually done at this point in the day — making her rounds, meeting with her clients, delivering the day’s herbs, then reading in the Ka-esh library with Rosa — but even the thought of smiling, speaking, thinking through this mess was impossible, abhorrent, she —
“Then visit Ivar?” Joarr continued, clipped. “Ask his wisdom? Or ask him what Great-Aunt say?”
And yes, Gwyn would usually have done that, perhaps with Joarr, but some days on her own, too. Just enjoying his cheerful, surprisingly astute company, and laughing at his often-ribald jokes, and seeking his advice and guidance. But Gwyn didn’t want to end up gossiping about Stella, either, didn’t want to betray anything, didn’t want to think about it for another damned instant —
“Then I ken,” Joarr said finally, “what help. Come?”
Gwyn numbly nodded, and allowed Joarr to guide her out of the hut, and back toward the mountain. His voice calling something over his shoulder toward Kalfr in black-tongue — wait, he was actually leaving the orcsalonehere? — as they stepped into the mountain’s close, quiet darkness.
Joarr hadn’t brought a lamp this time, but even as Gwyn’s brain kept churning, she instinctively settled closer into his familiar touch, following the silent signals she’d somehow learned these past weeks. Left, then right, then left again. Into the Skai wing, surely, and then more twists and turns, the floor tilting steadily downwards. And when they finally stopped, Gwyn could actually hear Joarr’s breath, could feel his chest rising and falling against her.
“This is,” he said, strangely stilted, “my — other garden. My other — home.”
His…what? The words, and the way he’d said them, seemed to slice through Gwyn’s frantic thoughts, catching her own breath, stilling it in her throat. Because clearly this — thisgarden? — meant something to him. Something important.
So she swallowed, and nodded, and attempted a smile toward where she knew his face to be — and when he again nudged her forward, she willingly went. Into his… garden. His garden of…
Mushrooms.
Gwyn felt struck to the floor, her hands clamped over her suddenly hammering heart, her eyes gaping wide at the sight all around her. Because, yes, yes, it was a room full of mushrooms, and it was —
Spectacular. Glorious. Amarvel.
There were mushrooms clustered on the ground. Mushrooms climbing up the walls. Mushrooms growing out of large logs and branches, mushrooms tucked under little cliffs and stones, mushrooms even growing out ofothermushrooms. Too many varieties for Gwyn to even name, but she saw the distinctive orange stalks of stinkhorn, the intricate clusters of pearl oysters, the flowing white tendrils of lion’s-mane — and even a rare, deadlywebcap, close enough that she could reach over and touch it.
Impossible.Impossible.
And even more impossible was the fact that Gwyn could…seethem, even without a lamp. Because of the honey-mushrooms, which were glowing at regular intervals throughout the room. Almost as if they’d been purposefully planted like this, ensuring the room’s full illumination with their pale, blue-green light.
Gwyn truly couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t remember how to speak. Couldn’t do anything but stand there, and feel her heart fighting to break free from her chest.
“You… like?” came Joarr’s voice from beside her, quiet, unusually tentative — and when Gwyn finally managed to drag her eyes back to his face, it occurred to her that he looked… uncertain? Uneasy?
