Don't matter that they's the Justice Makers. Got that magic in them that makes them different. Wouldn't want to be jawing with the likes of them."
Sebastian looked sideways at William. "Have you ever seen a wizard?"
"Seen 'em, sure. They prowl the marketplaces in the city from time to time just like everybody else. But never talked to one—and hope I never do."
Something—a change in inflection, a shift in the way William held himself—made Sebastian look at the man more closely.
"Why do you do that?" he asked, curious.
"Do what?"
"Talk like that. You're not a hayseed."
"What makes you think I'm not?" William sounded indignant.
Sebastian smiled, but it wasn't a friendly smile. "You try too hard. The hayseeds I've run across always give themselves away, but they try to talk better than they do at home. You roll in the words like a…" He couldn't think of anything to compare it to that wouldn't be an insult.
"Like a pig in muck," William said.
Sebastian tipped his head. "All right." He paused, then added, "You may be a farmer, but you're not a hayseed."
William was silent for the first time since he'd picked up Sebastian. Finally he said, "Are you going to rob me?"
"I'm not a thief," Sebastian snapped. "Besides, robbing you after you gave me a ride"— Wouldn't be a kindness —"would be wrong." He studied the farmer in the dusky light. The clothes were sufficiently worn-out to be a practical choice if a man was going to spend a day traveling along muddy or dusty roads—or they could have been the best clothes the man owned. As soon as he'd heard William speak, he'd assumed the latter. And any would-be thief, after listening to William for a minute, would figure there was nothing easy to steal and either endure the chatter for the length of the journey or escape at the first crossroads that offered an excuse to leave.
All in all, it provided a camouflage against potential predators that didn't change the resonance of the man's nature, like a rabbit whose fur changed from brown to white to better match the land when summer turned to winter.
Sebastian looked over his shoulder at the baskets of fruits and vegetables that filled the back of the wagon. "Isn't there a market closer to your home? You said it's a day's journey to the city."
William nodded. "And today it was a long day's journey. I usually reach the city well before sunset.
Guess those delays were meant for a reason." He shrugged. "I sell half of what I harvest at the market in my town. The other half I bring up to the city."
"Why?"
"It's a kindness." William hesitated. "Someone told me that what you give to the world comes back to you. I guess there's truth in that."
Sebastian looked away. The waning daylight was enough to travel by, but not enough, he hoped, for the farmer to see his face clearly.
He remembered Glorianna, with those clear green eyes focused on him, telling him the same thing. What you give comes back to you, Sebastian. It's not tit for tat — life isn't that simple — but what you give always comes back to you .
His heart ached. He missed his cousins. Especially Glorianna. There was a bond between them, something more than he felt with Nadia or Lee. Nothing… carnal. Never that, despite his nature. But her words had always sunk deep into his heart, had been the reason he'd learned to consider human needs as well as his own when he hunted as an incubus. Hearing her words coming from a stranger…
No matter what landscapes she might be walking now, no matter what she might be doing as a rogue Landscapes Glorianna Belladonna wouldn't bring terrifying death into a landscape. Guardians and Guides, the world held enough of its own terrors without unleashing more.
"It's like this," William said. "A few years ago, things were bad. The farm is good land, and I worked hard, but I could never make things what they could be. Crops were poor, and I couldn't get a decent price at the market. I turned to drink, and I turned mean.
Sebastian looked sideways at William. "Have you ever seen a wizard?"
"Seen 'em, sure. They prowl the marketplaces in the city from time to time just like everybody else. But never talked to one—and hope I never do."
Something—a change in inflection, a shift in the way William held himself—made Sebastian look at the man more closely.
"Why do you do that?" he asked, curious.
"Do what?"
"Talk like that. You're not a hayseed."
"What makes you think I'm not?" William sounded indignant.
Sebastian smiled, but it wasn't a friendly smile. "You try too hard. The hayseeds I've run across always give themselves away, but they try to talk better than they do at home. You roll in the words like a…" He couldn't think of anything to compare it to that wouldn't be an insult.
"Like a pig in muck," William said.
Sebastian tipped his head. "All right." He paused, then added, "You may be a farmer, but you're not a hayseed."
William was silent for the first time since he'd picked up Sebastian. Finally he said, "Are you going to rob me?"
"I'm not a thief," Sebastian snapped. "Besides, robbing you after you gave me a ride"— Wouldn't be a kindness —"would be wrong." He studied the farmer in the dusky light. The clothes were sufficiently worn-out to be a practical choice if a man was going to spend a day traveling along muddy or dusty roads—or they could have been the best clothes the man owned. As soon as he'd heard William speak, he'd assumed the latter. And any would-be thief, after listening to William for a minute, would figure there was nothing easy to steal and either endure the chatter for the length of the journey or escape at the first crossroads that offered an excuse to leave.
All in all, it provided a camouflage against potential predators that didn't change the resonance of the man's nature, like a rabbit whose fur changed from brown to white to better match the land when summer turned to winter.
Sebastian looked over his shoulder at the baskets of fruits and vegetables that filled the back of the wagon. "Isn't there a market closer to your home? You said it's a day's journey to the city."
William nodded. "And today it was a long day's journey. I usually reach the city well before sunset.
Guess those delays were meant for a reason." He shrugged. "I sell half of what I harvest at the market in my town. The other half I bring up to the city."
"Why?"
"It's a kindness." William hesitated. "Someone told me that what you give to the world comes back to you. I guess there's truth in that."
Sebastian looked away. The waning daylight was enough to travel by, but not enough, he hoped, for the farmer to see his face clearly.
He remembered Glorianna, with those clear green eyes focused on him, telling him the same thing. What you give comes back to you, Sebastian. It's not tit for tat — life isn't that simple — but what you give always comes back to you .
His heart ached. He missed his cousins. Especially Glorianna. There was a bond between them, something more than he felt with Nadia or Lee. Nothing… carnal. Never that, despite his nature. But her words had always sunk deep into his heart, had been the reason he'd learned to consider human needs as well as his own when he hunted as an incubus. Hearing her words coming from a stranger…
No matter what landscapes she might be walking now, no matter what she might be doing as a rogue Landscapes Glorianna Belladonna wouldn't bring terrifying death into a landscape. Guardians and Guides, the world held enough of its own terrors without unleashing more.
"It's like this," William said. "A few years ago, things were bad. The farm is good land, and I worked hard, but I could never make things what they could be. Crops were poor, and I couldn't get a decent price at the market. I turned to drink, and I turned mean.
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