Page 32 of Minor Works of Meda

I was too tired to ask him why he wanted to go to Sable-Pall. If I were thinking straight, I probably would have passed out from sheer excitement. There were seven stones holding up the Ward, and if Kalcedon thought a particular one had something to do with the fall, that was news. We were closer to Buis than Sable-Pall.

But just then, I only nodded. I was barely even listening.

“Sure. I need to talk to a woman at the harbor. And eat, and maybe nap. You have a few argor, right? I was robbed.” I stretched, twisting my shoulders one way and then the other to turn my aching spine. Kalcedon’s back jerked straight.

“You were—! Horns, Meda, how stupid do you have to be?”

My gaze flickered towards Oraik, wondering what he’d make of Kalcedon’s tone, and of the sacrilegious curse against the prince’s horned goddess. But Oraik was already offshore, through the wave-break and riding the swells against the tide.

“I guess I wasn’t paying close enough attention,” I told Kalcedon. “Now come on. It’s an hour’s walk and my head is killing me.”

Chapter 16

My mouth tasted like liquor and my head felt like a boulder. We’d walked a hundred yards toward the city when Kalcedon's magic rippled. He didn’t say anything as he twisted his fingers, but I felt my clothes smooth; felt the salt slide away from my hair. The pounding ache in my head lessened.

“Thanks,” I managed. Still silent, he lengthened his stride and overtook me.

See, I told Oraik silently in my head. He’s nice enough. Just not with his words.

An hour later, as the boatman had predicted, we entered the city. I couldn’t help but notice the stark difference between my walk the day before and my walk now. People veered away from us, giving Kalcedon dirty and frightened looks. One woman actually ran.

I looped my arm in with his, gritting my teeth against the softened burn of power flooding my veins. Kalcedon’s face jerked down, eyes wide and staring at where our bodies touched.

“They might not be so worried if it looks like we’re together,” I reasoned.

He wrenched his arm out of my grip.

“This city smells,” Kalcedon muttered. “I don’t see why you’d ever want to live here. It’s ugly and it’s too damnably hot.”

With that non sequitur, he stalked away from me and towards a door marked with the symbol for hospitality, shoulders stiff and long legs stalking like one of the tall marsh-birds of the south. I followed him into the inn and reassured the petrified woman inside that he had not come from the outlands across the Ward. Kalcedon paid for a pair of connecting rooms, cheaper by far than the overpriced tavern by the Temple gates.

I nearly fell asleep in my bath. It took a powerful effort, and a commitment to looking like a human instead of a sea-hag, to get myself clean. Despite Kalcedon’s spell earlier my clothes still smelled. I was too tired to open my bag and look for a change, so I just crawled naked under the sheets of the narrow bed and fell instantly asleep.

“Lunch. Get up,” Kalcedon said some indeterminate time later. He’d walked through the door connecting our rooms without bothering to knock.

I groaned, hugged the pillow to myself, and then remembered I wasn’t wearing anything. My eyes flew open. I grabbed the thin sheet, then relaxed as I realized it was already up to my neck. I still felt exposed. Kalcedon was staring.

“How long’s it been?” I asked. My voice sounded awful. The pillow beneath my head was still damp from my hair.

“Two hours. I’ll be in the commons.” His voice sounded strained.

I waited until I heard the door close, peeked to make sure he was really gone, and got out of bed. My head didn’t hurt anymore, though it spun a little. My mouth was dry. There was a cup of water next to me, and I drained it swiftly.

My satchel and all the clothing was clean and neatly folded on a chair. I could feel the faint traces of Kalcedon’s familiar magic clinging to the fabric.

My journal rested on top of the clothes. “No, no, no,” I gasped, grabbed it, and carefully inspected the pages. The side looked warped, the pages waving like the ocean itself. My transcriptions of Tarelay’s work were smudged but mostly legible.

Kalcedon’s magic lingered faintly here, too. I pressed my forehead to the cover and thanked him silently that it wasn't in worse condition.

Then I dressed, leaving my hair loose so it could finish drying, then padded down the steps of the inn. The common room was small and airy, with a window that pointed dully at the stone side of the building next to it. It looked completely unfamiliar even though we had arrived hours before. I’d been too dumb with exhaustion to take any details in.

The long table was empty except for Kalcedon. Sometime in the last two hours he’d acquired a cloak. Even though the hood was low over his face, his gray hands and his sharp jaw remained on display.

Two ceramic dishes and two cups waited on the table. Kalcedon was already eating from his.

I sat down and peered at the food, then made a face. It was one of my least favorite dishes.

“You’re eating rabbit?” It had been stewed with wine and onion, but the shape of the leg was unmistakable. “Did you finally realize all gardeners are oath-bound to hate them?”

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