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The camp seemed bright with activity, a bit more purposeful than usual. Excited dancing about accompanied Larch’s broadcast of my name, with various greetings thrown my way and, in one case, manic juggling of what looked to be at least nine flashing pillows. Darling trotted along with us, tail held high and proud. He regally acknowledged the shouts of good wishes. No one seemed all that surprised to find him alive again.
Of course, likely all sorts of conflated tales of the miracle circulated.
We walked for a ways, around Falcon’s grassy hill, down across the stream, and then over a ridge on the far side. I drew in a surprised breath at the vista below—a whole other camp lay before me. A camp of people like me. I wanted to wander the tent alleys below, saying “Hi! Human are you? Me too!”
Larch had started down the hill and looked back at me with a politely servile but still pointed, waiting expression. Eager to see more, I trotted after him, soaking in the familiarity of sights and sounds. To my disappointment, Larch led me around the outskirts of the camp. I found, though, that I could easily pick up the human thoughts, like the scent of cooking on the breeze.
I could smell the battle from a few days ago, the sweat and blood in their memories. The grinding pain of the gravely wounded, the triumph and resolution of the more successful. More than anything though, the air eddied with resigned boredom—the scent of active men waiting. In places the mental babble became a thick soup and I understood why Rogue had been so annoyed with my loud thoughts that first day.
Besides being an intolerant megalomaniac, anyway.
At the end of a long row of tents lay an area pounded into the soil, the grass trampled flat and worn thin in places. Racks of weapons stood to one side, canvas draping shrugged along the ground ready to be pulled over them in case of rain. A tall man with bronze curls and a weathered face waited there, looking in our direction, then squinted at the position of the sun.
“I thought we agreed on three hours past midday, Larch!” he called out as we approached.
Larch titled his head to the side and shrugged. I caught the man’s irritation layering over a desire to kick the Brownie. Oh yes, it felt good to be around my own kind.
“I understand time,” I said. “From now on you and I can agree on a meeting and I can make sure to get here at the right time.”
He measured me up and down, his expression carefully polite and formal, but I caught the warm buzz of masculine appreciation. Darling pranced over to circle him.
“Can you now, Lady Sorceress? Not many of our kind end up working the magic with the fae folk.”
“None,” Larch said.
“Call me Gwynn.” Funny how I didn’t even hesitate over the name anymore. Maybe it helped keep the scientist and the sorceress separate in my mind. “I appreciate you agreeing to teach me something about keeping my head attached.”
“Officer Liam.” He bowed to me. “I don’t know anything about magic, but I can show you a thing or two to keep you on your feet long enough to shoot off some fireworks.” He grinned at me.
I blushed at the thought that passed through his mind and wondered if I should warn him that I could quite clearly get what he was thinking he’d like to do to me. The sensual electricity fed into me though, refilling that well. More study on the connection between sex and magic would be a good thing, so I said nothing. Besides, I had questions for Officer Liam.
“Larch.” I turned to him. “Thank you for bringing me.” I tried to think of a polite way to get him to leave. “Larch, don’t you have somewhere to be?”
He frowned at me.
I glanced at Liam. “I’m going to be here, what, an hour?”
Liam squinted at the sun again. “Aye, an hour. Get here an hour earlier tomorrow and we can make it about two. You look pretty soft, in a most attractive way—but I doubt you can take much more than that, to begin with. But we’ll whip you into shape.” That sunny grin again.
Be still, my heart.
“The Lady Sorceress…” Larch began, his voice sinking into the stentorian tones that cleaved through crowds.”
“Larch, it’s fine. Go do something and come back…later.”
Larch bowed, nearly breaking in half with it, then stalked off.
“He’s not going far,” I speculated.
“They never do, Lady Sorceress,” Liam agreed. Darling wound between his feet and he looked bemused. “You brought your kitty with you?”
I opened my mouth, paused, shrugged. “What can I say? He follows me everywhere.”
Darling flashed me an irritated swat and I crouched down to scratch his ears. “Who’s a good puddy tat—hmm? Who’s my precious kitty?”
He narrowed his eyes, puffed up his tail and stalked away, picturing me running myself through with my own sword. Not unlikely.
“Let’s pick you out a weapon.”
