Page 40 of Shifter King
QueQoa scowled a little. "If it catches on fire—"
"We'll keep an eye on it," WroOth said. "And if there is one, we know how to deal with it. I'll put a bowl of the ilthun salt right there. Should be there anyway. Other things can catch on fire in a place like this. Especially now that we have so many more flammable things in here like books."
Amelia glanced up at him. "Do not burn my books, WroOth."
He dished up a large bowl of brown stew with chunks of white roots, red meat, chopped organs, and minced greens. "I would never burn books."
"No? Just rip their pages out?" She raised an eyebrow at him as he dropped down on the bench.
"Only if someone's pretending to be a Machat and it's obvious it will lead them to betray themselves, dear heart."
"That's exceptionally specific."
"As are many of my skills."
Shaking her head, she returned to her reading as best she could.
Even though no morning sunlight could stream into the main living area, it did feel more like a home and as if they might actually be safe. And for once, they had a table for breakfast. It was nice to be able to put their plates and bowls down on a solid surface rather than having to cradle them between their hands or on their legs.
Naatos arrived last, disheveled and with sleep-crusted eyes. But he had barely taken his seat when he started explaining to QueQoa and WroOth what the plan was for protecting Amelia and ensuring she had the proper reputation.
WroOth got his third helping of the thick savory stew and passed another to AaQar. "Ecekom is furious now. She's a horrid world. And why shouldn't she be? Can you imagine being home to all of this?" He gestured to the room around them. "This place, it should burn or drown. But since we are here, I'd rather it didn't. So. Yes. We'll all pretend to be you and commit terrifying acts of justice in your name and strike terror in the hearts of all the Abliatos like the mythical flood of vengeance we're going to be."
She tried to smile.
"And something should be done for our friends," QueQoa said. "Something to…" He bowed his head. "I do not know what is fitting."
"Finding whoever built that or was involved and painting the walls with their blood is a good start. As most of the original architects are dead, those who support it will do," Naatos said, his jaw tight.
Even with all of her barriers, boundaries, and shields strengthened, that abrasive distinctive rage pressed against her. Not that she blamed him. Something had to be done. She tried to draw on that connection. If there was one skill she wanted to have more reliably, it was basic telepathy. To just be able to speak back and forth simply and fluidly without relying on charms or necklaces or deep mindreading. And especially without knocking someone flat on their back or leaving them dizzy and struggling.
"We will find something fitting I'm certain," WroOth said. "But that will take time and planning. There are other things that come first. Like ensuring our sister has a terrifying reputation of her own." He laughed then, the sound surprisingly pleasant despite the subject matter. "Within a few days, everyone in Darmoste and beyond will be terrified of a Neyeb who can't even kill without dying."
"That must never be allowed to leave this room," Naatos said sternly. "No one can know the truth about her ability to kill or her eyes."
AaQar shook his head. "No one here would speak of it."
"That includes the doctor." Naatos scanned everyone at the table. His gaze lingered on QueQoa half a second longer. "She must not know about this new location either."
QueQoa gave a curt nod, but he said nothing.
Naatos turned his focus back to Amelia. "How much do you want to know about the events you are to accept credit for before they happen?"
She swallowed hard. "How many are you planning on?"
"It's almost impossible for a single act to strike that much terror in the hearts of all who perceive it without luck and preparation," WroOth interjected. "In this, it's better to be more practical than lavish. And we have to come up with something completely separate for you."
"Can't just turn into dragons and terrorize people and say that it's me, I suppose." She took another sip from her canteen. Oh, this drink was bad when it cooled. She grimaced, then swallowed.
"Well as Neyeb don't breathe fire or bite people's heads off, it probably would seem rather false," QueQoa said. "And if the Bealorns know what Neyeb are supposed to be, the Abliatos will too. They're another sister race to the Neyeb. So they've probably retained at least some of the information."
That was troubling. "It's also very strange to think of any of you making yourselves look like me if you go that route." Strange and a little uncomfortable."
WroOth shrugged. "The only reason I haven't is because technically it's very rude to become someone without their permission. And that ridiculous Tue-Rah would not accept shifted personas for the restoration. It can always tell. No matter how deep the transformation goes. Besides, it takes some time to really succeed in becoming another person in such a way that it will fool most people who know that person."
"It's usually the eyes and the mouth," AaQar interjected.
"Or the mannerisms," Naatos said, then shook his head, smirking. Some of the tension in his shoulders eased.
