thing,” Tethiel said. “You not give her over to the Bright Palms. Better for her to be thrown off a cliff. The rocks below would kill her faster and with more mercy.”
The muscles between Hiresha’s shoulder blades tightened at the mention of falling to death. He denied involvement, but does he know about the enchantress’s fall? Was it an illusion after all?
With a shudder, she imagined dragging Minna down to the Bright Palms’ sanctum. They would nail the girl to the door of Janny’s house in warning against those protecting Feasters. Janny would never forgive me. Hiresha doubted the maid would ever surrender to the belief her daughter was a Feaster. A girl driven by her magic to murder. What mother could conceive of that?
“There may be a future for Minara without need for killing.” Once again he answered her unspoken worry. “Beneath a warehouse in Oasis City is a shrine of thorns to the Shrike Heart. The devout worship by seeking pleasure through unusual—”
“A cult of a forbidden god?”
“Forbidden is what you make of it, my heart. As I was saying, the disciples have a pact with me. Feasters fill their shrine with waking nightmares. The worshipers cower, scream, and plead for more. My children are satisfied, no Bright Palms are summoned, and no one has to die.”
“I am skeptical. You think Minna could live her life hidden in a warehouse?”
“Her and her brothers and sisters. And not just one warehouse, but a shrine in every town.” In a mock display of the grandiose, he lofted an arm to the horizon, which happened to be upside down in relation them. “Villages may one day take pride in the expertise of their Feaster.”
Hiresha said, “I doubt so many would enjoy a Feaster preying upon them with visions of crawling spiders.”
“You might be surprised. Man would be miserable without his ordeals. Besides, there’s more to Feasting than frights.”
The trails and designs of light they had left behind them mixed in the crystal, sprouting into saplings with magenta bark and leaves that smoldered with darkness and orange heat.
“I wish to see the day we will not be hunted, not be shunned,” he said. “Maybe a little shunned. I’d feel wretched if too many thought well of me.”
“You think the Bright Palms would allow it?”
“Those marble hearts? Never.” His face and voice gave no hint of anger, but the leaves on the illusionary trees around them shivered. Flecks of green and blue sparks rained upon them, and where the motes of color touched the skin they caused a sharp sensation of mint. “With Bright Palms there is no reason, only rule.”
Hiresha refrained from asking the obvious question. Tethiel either had to know his vision could never be, or he had to think he could extinguish all the Bright Palms in the Lands of Loam. Hiresha thought the latter less than likely since the Bright Palms sacrificed their own emotions for healing magic and immunity to Feasting horrors.
She said, “The Bright Palms have no respect for the higher study of magic.”
“Was that why they were banned from the Mindvault? I thought it was their poor taste in clothes. No matter. The absence of Bright Palms is my favorite part of visiting here. Or should that be my second favorite?” One corner of his lips bent upward.
Tethiel caught hold of both her hands. He was close. His breath smelled of roasted coffee beans and autumn.
“Have you ever watched a hawk fly, my heart? Free in the sky, cutting through clouds, diving like an arrow.”
“I indulge in jewel carving, not ornithology.”
“And the gems suit you.” He touched the diamonds of her earring, and his hand grazed her chin. “With you, I am the hawk.”
He coaxed her to step onto a circle etched into the crystal, and with an uplifting sensation, Hiresha was pulled by enchantment in a well of gravity into the center of the room. She held onto him, and he onto her. They spun about each other in the air.
Triangles unfolded in
The muscles between Hiresha’s shoulder blades tightened at the mention of falling to death. He denied involvement, but does he know about the enchantress’s fall? Was it an illusion after all?
With a shudder, she imagined dragging Minna down to the Bright Palms’ sanctum. They would nail the girl to the door of Janny’s house in warning against those protecting Feasters. Janny would never forgive me. Hiresha doubted the maid would ever surrender to the belief her daughter was a Feaster. A girl driven by her magic to murder. What mother could conceive of that?
“There may be a future for Minara without need for killing.” Once again he answered her unspoken worry. “Beneath a warehouse in Oasis City is a shrine of thorns to the Shrike Heart. The devout worship by seeking pleasure through unusual—”
“A cult of a forbidden god?”
“Forbidden is what you make of it, my heart. As I was saying, the disciples have a pact with me. Feasters fill their shrine with waking nightmares. The worshipers cower, scream, and plead for more. My children are satisfied, no Bright Palms are summoned, and no one has to die.”
“I am skeptical. You think Minna could live her life hidden in a warehouse?”
“Her and her brothers and sisters. And not just one warehouse, but a shrine in every town.” In a mock display of the grandiose, he lofted an arm to the horizon, which happened to be upside down in relation them. “Villages may one day take pride in the expertise of their Feaster.”
Hiresha said, “I doubt so many would enjoy a Feaster preying upon them with visions of crawling spiders.”
“You might be surprised. Man would be miserable without his ordeals. Besides, there’s more to Feasting than frights.”
The trails and designs of light they had left behind them mixed in the crystal, sprouting into saplings with magenta bark and leaves that smoldered with darkness and orange heat.
“I wish to see the day we will not be hunted, not be shunned,” he said. “Maybe a little shunned. I’d feel wretched if too many thought well of me.”
“You think the Bright Palms would allow it?”
“Those marble hearts? Never.” His face and voice gave no hint of anger, but the leaves on the illusionary trees around them shivered. Flecks of green and blue sparks rained upon them, and where the motes of color touched the skin they caused a sharp sensation of mint. “With Bright Palms there is no reason, only rule.”
Hiresha refrained from asking the obvious question. Tethiel either had to know his vision could never be, or he had to think he could extinguish all the Bright Palms in the Lands of Loam. Hiresha thought the latter less than likely since the Bright Palms sacrificed their own emotions for healing magic and immunity to Feasting horrors.
She said, “The Bright Palms have no respect for the higher study of magic.”
“Was that why they were banned from the Mindvault? I thought it was their poor taste in clothes. No matter. The absence of Bright Palms is my favorite part of visiting here. Or should that be my second favorite?” One corner of his lips bent upward.
Tethiel caught hold of both her hands. He was close. His breath smelled of roasted coffee beans and autumn.
“Have you ever watched a hawk fly, my heart? Free in the sky, cutting through clouds, diving like an arrow.”
“I indulge in jewel carving, not ornithology.”
“And the gems suit you.” He touched the diamonds of her earring, and his hand grazed her chin. “With you, I am the hawk.”
He coaxed her to step onto a circle etched into the crystal, and with an uplifting sensation, Hiresha was pulled by enchantment in a well of gravity into the center of the room. She held onto him, and he onto her. They spun about each other in the air.
Triangles unfolded in
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