shrugged. “It was an accident.”
“You could have hurt him badly.”
“It was an important lesson,” said Arran, sheathing his Sacred Blade. He picked up Luthar’s sword and hooked the scabbard to his belt. “He should keep his eyes on his opponent. A drop of blood spilled now may save him from much more harm in the future.”
Ally sighed. “I guess you’re right. So you’re teaching him to defend himself?”
“I shall try,” said Arran. “I suspect it will be necessary, given what he will face.”
Ally shuddered. “We don’t have much of a future, Lithon and I.”
“No man can see the future,” said Arran.
Ally raised an eyebrow. “Alastarius did. And look at how well that worked out. He’s dead, my parents are dead, and someday Marugon will kill me too…”
Arran took her hands in his own. “Do not do this to yourself. I despaired after Antarese and I almost perished. You must not despair. Marugon fears Lithon. He fears you, what you might become. He has tried his utmost to kill you both and failed. That is reason for hope, I should think.”
Ally stared at him. “Do you think we have a future?”
“What do you mean?” said Arran.
“I love you, you know,” said Ally. “And I think you love me.”
Arran nodded. “The Ildramyn.”
Ally frowned. “What about it?”
“It…told me that I would find light and healing, if I could survive,” said Arran. “I think it meant you.”
Ally almost smiled. “And what I am to you, then?”
“I…” Arran thought for a moment. “Hope. I had no hope, for a very long time. And now I do.”
Ally blinked several times, tears in her eyes. “Arran…I…I…” She coughed and looked up at him. “We should go downstairs. Conmager’s probably wondering what happened to us.”
Arran smiled. “Or what we’re doing.”
She punched him in the arm. “Pervert.”
“I don’t know the word.”
“Oh. Um…lecher?”
“Ah. I see,” said Arran. “Now you speak like Mary.”
Ally rubbed her forehead. “Oh, God. Mary. She thinks…never mind that, she’s probably told you what she thinks.”
“At some length,” said Arran, “and considerable volume.”
Ally laughed. It did Arran good to see some of the shadows lift from her face, even for a few seconds. “Well, come on. We have things to talk about with Conmager.”
They went downstairs together.
###
“A terrible, terrible tragedy,” said Wycliffe, shaking his head. The glare of the camera lights irritated him, but he tried not to let it show. “Yes, Dr. Simon Wester did work for me some years ago, from 2003 to 2004, I believe. He left to pursue an academic career, and his wife to write novels. Their deaths are a terrible loss to our community and to the nation.” The Voice buzzed just beneath his words, conveying grief and sympathy.
The blond reporter leaned forward, her face a mask of sincerity and solemn concern. “Were you and Dr. Wester close, Mr. Vice President?” Wycliffe considered using the Voice to drive her to his bed, but decided against it. It had been weeks since Marugon’s rampage through Chicago, yet the city was still in an uproar.
He did not need any more controversy.
Wycliffe put on a thoughtful face. “Not very, I’m afraid. Dr. Wester respected each other as professional colleagues.” He still could not believe how the Westers had hidden Lithon Scepteris for all those years. “I was almost a historian myself, you know. But I vow that the terrorists who committed these heinous acts shall be brought to justice. It will be this administration’s firm policy to protect the American people from such travesties.”
The reporter nodded. “Do you have any special plans for the upcoming Christmas holiday?”
Wycliffe laughed. “I’m afraid not. Christmas is going to be a working holiday for President Jones and myself. We’ve got a lot of work to do to combat the corruption that has seeped into every level of American
“You could have hurt him badly.”
“It was an important lesson,” said Arran, sheathing his Sacred Blade. He picked up Luthar’s sword and hooked the scabbard to his belt. “He should keep his eyes on his opponent. A drop of blood spilled now may save him from much more harm in the future.”
Ally sighed. “I guess you’re right. So you’re teaching him to defend himself?”
“I shall try,” said Arran. “I suspect it will be necessary, given what he will face.”
Ally shuddered. “We don’t have much of a future, Lithon and I.”
“No man can see the future,” said Arran.
Ally raised an eyebrow. “Alastarius did. And look at how well that worked out. He’s dead, my parents are dead, and someday Marugon will kill me too…”
Arran took her hands in his own. “Do not do this to yourself. I despaired after Antarese and I almost perished. You must not despair. Marugon fears Lithon. He fears you, what you might become. He has tried his utmost to kill you both and failed. That is reason for hope, I should think.”
Ally stared at him. “Do you think we have a future?”
“What do you mean?” said Arran.
“I love you, you know,” said Ally. “And I think you love me.”
Arran nodded. “The Ildramyn.”
Ally frowned. “What about it?”
“It…told me that I would find light and healing, if I could survive,” said Arran. “I think it meant you.”
Ally almost smiled. “And what I am to you, then?”
“I…” Arran thought for a moment. “Hope. I had no hope, for a very long time. And now I do.”
Ally blinked several times, tears in her eyes. “Arran…I…I…” She coughed and looked up at him. “We should go downstairs. Conmager’s probably wondering what happened to us.”
Arran smiled. “Or what we’re doing.”
She punched him in the arm. “Pervert.”
“I don’t know the word.”
“Oh. Um…lecher?”
“Ah. I see,” said Arran. “Now you speak like Mary.”
Ally rubbed her forehead. “Oh, God. Mary. She thinks…never mind that, she’s probably told you what she thinks.”
“At some length,” said Arran, “and considerable volume.”
Ally laughed. It did Arran good to see some of the shadows lift from her face, even for a few seconds. “Well, come on. We have things to talk about with Conmager.”
They went downstairs together.
###
“A terrible, terrible tragedy,” said Wycliffe, shaking his head. The glare of the camera lights irritated him, but he tried not to let it show. “Yes, Dr. Simon Wester did work for me some years ago, from 2003 to 2004, I believe. He left to pursue an academic career, and his wife to write novels. Their deaths are a terrible loss to our community and to the nation.” The Voice buzzed just beneath his words, conveying grief and sympathy.
The blond reporter leaned forward, her face a mask of sincerity and solemn concern. “Were you and Dr. Wester close, Mr. Vice President?” Wycliffe considered using the Voice to drive her to his bed, but decided against it. It had been weeks since Marugon’s rampage through Chicago, yet the city was still in an uproar.
He did not need any more controversy.
Wycliffe put on a thoughtful face. “Not very, I’m afraid. Dr. Wester respected each other as professional colleagues.” He still could not believe how the Westers had hidden Lithon Scepteris for all those years. “I was almost a historian myself, you know. But I vow that the terrorists who committed these heinous acts shall be brought to justice. It will be this administration’s firm policy to protect the American people from such travesties.”
The reporter nodded. “Do you have any special plans for the upcoming Christmas holiday?”
Wycliffe laughed. “I’m afraid not. Christmas is going to be a working holiday for President Jones and myself. We’ve got a lot of work to do to combat the corruption that has seeped into every level of American
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