anything to us. I believe the closer we were in proximity to her, the more hidden we were from her spawn’s senses. But of course, she could not keep us all close. She found someplace to hide most of the souls, someplace with strong magic of its own so she wouldn’t have to expend much energy on her own part to hide them.”
“Well, that’s good. The whole, hidden in proximity thing. Do you think it works with me too? I mean, I’m not a true Originator.”
“ I suppose the only way to know would be to invite one of your spawn here and see if he notices.”
“ Can any Skriven sense any soul?”
His let his head sink into the pillow though his eyes stayed on me. He reminded me of an abused dog in the pound: wary but hopeful. “Yes. Our resonance sings to them. But most Skriven don’t care about other souls but their own. They don’t want to help their fellow Skriven ascend, after all.”
That made sense. Might help me out in the long run too. I just needed to keep Ellison far away from Jasper. The rest of my spawn―whoever or whatever they may be―might even help.
Yeah, like I’d be that lucky.
“Final question. For now.” I rubbed my forehead with my fingers, the headache from earlier still making a nuisance of itself in the back corners of my skull. “Do you know anything about magic? Working magic? Using it?”
“ Yes. I learned quite a lot from my captors before the split. They taught me quite a bit about the wild magic to be found on Midia.”
Maybe I wouldn’t have to put up with grouchy ass Medusa head after all. “You think you could teach me? I mean, from the beginning as if I were a newbie?” Or an idiot?
“Of course. But why do you need instruction?”
“ Long story.”
A spark of life made the corner of his mouth twitch upward. “I love stories.”
I eyed him. Did I dare trust him? Was there anyway he could want to harm me? I assumed he was a good person because, well, he was a soul and because the only way he could hope to kill me would be to die himself.
Some instinct, something inside of me said I could trust him. That same instinct kicked in when working with some of my clients. A little niggling doubt or a stubborn strand of hope despite all signs to the contrary. My instinct was usually correct. But it wasn’t one hundred percent.
Maybe I would tell him most of the story, but if there were parts I thought he didn’t need to know or that would endanger my family, like the lodestones buried around the house, I would leave those out.
“ It all started with a fight.” I talked late into the night. He didn’t interrupt or fall asleep; his grey eyes stayed on me as I related all the craziness that had happened since wandering into the bazaar. I left out having Neutria and Arsinua both in my head, as well as the heart. In fact, there were a lot of things I realized it wouldn’t be safe to tell him. If another Originator got their hands on him, they might be able to torture those things out of him. I didn’t need any of them knowing how I came by my power; that I had a magic heart inside me made by a witch. Nah.
The story was still a good one, albeit one with quite a few plot holes by the time I edited it. I also had to leave off the ending, because it involved Lucy and Arsinua and the soul transfer that gave Arsinua a new life outside of my head. The end made me nervous because I expected him to ask lots of questions, to frown at me and say, “That doesn’t make any sense. What about...?” But he just nodded, appearing to accept my version of events.
“What’s your story? I mean, I know the Originators’ version but I know there’s more to you than just being a pawn in some elaborate cat and mouse game.”
His eyes gleamed. “And perhaps we are just pawns.”
I studied him with a growing sense of unease. There was more to him than I thought. He wasn’t just an innocent caught up in politics. Perhaps because he’d been weak when he arrived I dismissed him.
“Well, that’s good. The whole, hidden in proximity thing. Do you think it works with me too? I mean, I’m not a true Originator.”
“ I suppose the only way to know would be to invite one of your spawn here and see if he notices.”
“ Can any Skriven sense any soul?”
His let his head sink into the pillow though his eyes stayed on me. He reminded me of an abused dog in the pound: wary but hopeful. “Yes. Our resonance sings to them. But most Skriven don’t care about other souls but their own. They don’t want to help their fellow Skriven ascend, after all.”
That made sense. Might help me out in the long run too. I just needed to keep Ellison far away from Jasper. The rest of my spawn―whoever or whatever they may be―might even help.
Yeah, like I’d be that lucky.
“Final question. For now.” I rubbed my forehead with my fingers, the headache from earlier still making a nuisance of itself in the back corners of my skull. “Do you know anything about magic? Working magic? Using it?”
“ Yes. I learned quite a lot from my captors before the split. They taught me quite a bit about the wild magic to be found on Midia.”
Maybe I wouldn’t have to put up with grouchy ass Medusa head after all. “You think you could teach me? I mean, from the beginning as if I were a newbie?” Or an idiot?
“Of course. But why do you need instruction?”
“ Long story.”
A spark of life made the corner of his mouth twitch upward. “I love stories.”
I eyed him. Did I dare trust him? Was there anyway he could want to harm me? I assumed he was a good person because, well, he was a soul and because the only way he could hope to kill me would be to die himself.
Some instinct, something inside of me said I could trust him. That same instinct kicked in when working with some of my clients. A little niggling doubt or a stubborn strand of hope despite all signs to the contrary. My instinct was usually correct. But it wasn’t one hundred percent.
Maybe I would tell him most of the story, but if there were parts I thought he didn’t need to know or that would endanger my family, like the lodestones buried around the house, I would leave those out.
“ It all started with a fight.” I talked late into the night. He didn’t interrupt or fall asleep; his grey eyes stayed on me as I related all the craziness that had happened since wandering into the bazaar. I left out having Neutria and Arsinua both in my head, as well as the heart. In fact, there were a lot of things I realized it wouldn’t be safe to tell him. If another Originator got their hands on him, they might be able to torture those things out of him. I didn’t need any of them knowing how I came by my power; that I had a magic heart inside me made by a witch. Nah.
The story was still a good one, albeit one with quite a few plot holes by the time I edited it. I also had to leave off the ending, because it involved Lucy and Arsinua and the soul transfer that gave Arsinua a new life outside of my head. The end made me nervous because I expected him to ask lots of questions, to frown at me and say, “That doesn’t make any sense. What about...?” But he just nodded, appearing to accept my version of events.
“What’s your story? I mean, I know the Originators’ version but I know there’s more to you than just being a pawn in some elaborate cat and mouse game.”
His eyes gleamed. “And perhaps we are just pawns.”
I studied him with a growing sense of unease. There was more to him than I thought. He wasn’t just an innocent caught up in politics. Perhaps because he’d been weak when he arrived I dismissed him.
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