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“You’ve been shifting for the last—” he began furiously, and then paused, I guess because he wasn’t sure how long this had all been going on, either.
Time gets distorted in battle, hurrying up or slowing down in weird ways that have nothing to do with the Pythian abilities and everything to do with terror. Or, in Pritkin’s case, exhaustion, because he’d just channeled as much magic as an entire squad in what was probably literally a couple of minutes. I’d seen it, and I still didn’t quite believe it.
“You’ve been shifting!” he finished, and I nodded.
“Yes, but I can’t now, I don’t know—” It was my turn to stop, but not because of the confusion of battle. But because a frantic woman had just run up and snatched the child out of my arms, screaming and hitting at me.
Since the little girl immediately went to her, grabbing her around the neck in a death grip, I was pretty sure this was mama. And that she was going to get them both killed, because she was already trying to run off. And war mages or no, this place was not safe!
As indicated when Pritkin somehow summoned even more power and blasted a couple of running corpses to pieces, but not before they got close enough to smatter us all.
That wasn’t his fault: one of the strange, gaseous shapes had just hit down in the middle of the battle, spreading a thick, yellowish haze everywhere. It extended out even this far, although it was thinner here. But it was still bad enough to make it hard to identify friend from foe at any range.
But the woman didn’t understand that. Frankly, she looked unable to understand much of anything at the moment. She was crying and screaming and hysterically pulling at the hands I’d put on her arm, to keep her from running away. Because she was in no shape to make good decisions!
Or to listen to me. I got clocked upside the chin, hard enough to break my hold and to send me staggering back. While she started to run—
Straight into the path of five or six of those horrible things. I yelled a warning she ignored or didn’t hear, then shifted both her and her child. To the Pythian Court instead of somewhere closer, because I could barely concentrate, being too busy screaming at a power loss I couldn’t afford.
But it worked: the woman and girl popped out, and Pritkin nailed the leaping creatures, then turned on me with a snarl. “I thought you couldn’t shift!”
I stared at him, and belatedly realized what I’d done. “I don’t—I couldn’t—a minute ago—”
“Well you obviously can now!” He looked down at his nice brown suit with disgust, I guess because it didn’t contain nearly enough weapons for his liking. Although it contained enough. A couple of knives, a bunch of potion vials, and a handgun all jumped out and began establishing a perimeter around us. The handgun was not remotely period appropriate, but judging by his expression, Pritkin had reached fuck-it mode a while ago.
Something that did not change when he looked back at me, fury written in every line of his body. “Go! Home!”
“Fuck! You!”
And, okay, that got me a blink, at least. “This is Pythian business,” I told him, while I had an opening.
“Then let the Pythia damned well handle it! This is Lady Herophile’s problem—”
“Not if it’s Jo who caused it! She’s my responsibility—”
He grabbed me on my side, right over my wound, because he was a bastard. “You’re wounded, exhausted, and frightened out of your mind. You’re no good to anyone like this!”
I struck his hand away, gasping. “That’s not your call!”
“I’m making it mine.” It was grim.
“This is Jo!” I said, livid. “This is more my problem than yours. If anyone goes to hide back at court, it should be you!”
Pritkin gave me a level stare out of eyes like chips of green ice. “I forgot how pigheaded you can be.”
“And I forgot what an asshole you can be! But we’re stuck—” I broke off and shifted a little vial out of the air and then halfway down the street, because it had been sneaking up on me. “Goddamn it, Pritkin! Stop trying to roofie me!”
He didn’t even bother to deny it. “I’m not letting you die in this—”
“I’m not planning on it, you—”
Hard hands grabbed my shoulders. “You don’t understand! You don’t die!”
And, for what might have been the first time ever, I looked up into that familiar face and wasn’t sure I could reason with him. Because he looked more than a little crazed. The features were pale and strained, and the eyes—
Were a revelation.
“You never said it,” I whispered, my voice filled with wonder.
