Page 22 of Dark Destiny: A New Thread in the Tapestry

"Do you want me to keep talking to you?"

He squeezed once, firmly this time, and the expression on his face matched the conviction in his grip.

Annani laughed.

"Very well," she said. "I was afraid of boring you, but since you seem to enjoy hearing my voice, I shall keep talking, and I will not be offended if you fall asleep."

She kept her promise, talking long after his eyes closed.

Once his breathing evened out, Bridget returned to his bed.

"I want to try that on the other four," she said. "Can you please teach me the sentence?"

"Which one?"

"Squeeze my hand if you agree that my hair is red." Bridget pushed her hair back off her shoulder. "It works for both of us."

Annani said it in the old tongue several times, and Bridget repeated it until she got it right. Her accent left a lot to be desired, though.

"Now the other one. Squeeze twice if my hair is black."

Once she got that one as well, Bridget went down the row.

Annani stayed in the rocking chair with Khiann's hand in hers, but she did not resume her stories. Instead, she listened, hoping the others would do as well as Khiann had done.

She heard Bridget stop at the first bed and ask the question, badly accented but clear.

"Nothing," Bridget said. "He's tracking me. He's looking straight at me, but he doesn't understand me."

Bridget moved to the second bed and repeated the same question.

"Nothing."

The third. The fourth. Each time Bridget said it a little better, and each time the result was the same.

Nothing.

"Maybe they don't understand because of how I say it?"

"To me, you sound perfectly clear," Annani said. "But it might be because I am used to the accent. Try it again, and if it does not work, I will try later, but I doubt the delivery is the problem."

Bridget went down the row a second time, and then a third, with Julian holding each man's hand instead of her, in case the trouble was something about her that had nothing to do with the words.

"Nothing," Bridget said at last, straightening up from the last bed. "They looked confused, as if I was speaking in a foreign language and they wanted to understand me but couldn't."

Annani looked back at Khiann.

Bridget would say that gods healed differently, and she might be right, and yet Annani felt guilty.

Khiann opened his eyes again.

Not all the way. He had dragged himself back up for a reason, and he was looking at her as if there was something he wanted to tell her and could not.

"What is it, my love?"

He squeezed her hand once, but she did not know what he wanted to communicate.

Maybe he remembered something about her?