~ 14 ~
“I’ll never be able to show sufficient gratitude for your aid.” Raelene rested her hand on Bastaeno’s arm. “Without a gifting in language, I’d never have understood the writings here.”
“You’re quite welcome. I feel certain we’ve covered all the writings concerning soulmates. It seems to be a topic of interest as of late.”
“Have others come seeking knowledge of soulmates, recently?”
“Yes, another man came asking about soulmates, but he only studied here for a few days. Your research has been much more thorough.”
“From where did he hale?”
“We would need to ask my granddaughter, Meravelle. I was unwell at the time, so she assisted him with his studies.”
“Your granddaughter is also gifted in language?”
His lips widened in a proud smile. “Mera is gifted in language and wisdom.”
“Would she be willing to speak to me about this other man who came to learn of soulmates? It could be extremely important.”
“I’ll be happy to introduce you to Meravelle… if we can drag her away from her manuscripts.”
*****
Alora’s eyes grew twice their normal size, and she slapped her hand over her mouth.
“What’s wrong?” Kaevin’s heart beat an erratic pattern against his ribcage.
Her nostrils flared as she hid a laugh with her hand. “I just remembered something, but it’s too late to do anything about it now.”
Kaevin glanced around the tightly packed vehicle Alora had named Suburban. Charles manned the wheel and pedals controlling the magick wagon. Kaevin knew it wasn’t really magick, but it was difficult to understand it any other way. Beside Charles sat Jireo, wonder on his face as
he stared out the window while Suburban sped down the smooth road Charles called a highway. The road wasn’t elevated in any way Kaevin could see, so he was uncertain of the term’s origin.
Charles had music blaring in the front of the vehicle—Alora called it country music. Whatever kind of music it was, it was loud enough they had to speak up to hear one another in the rear seats.
Alora sat in the rear seat between Kaevin and Arista, who kept a running discourse on every contrast she’d discovered between Tenavae and Montana, an activity that resulted in a lot of talking and no peace-and-quiet. In the back of his mind he heard her melodic voice tinkling on about “lights without fires.”
Behind them, the compartment was filled with supplies for the trek including rucksacks, warm clothing, food, and a variety of weapons. The rear of the wagon was stuffed to the brim, save one section of the rearmost seat, where Wesley sat wearing a very smug expression, having secured a spot on the expedition by taking his father’s place. Still recovering from his injury, Brian wasn’t fit to help carry the gear to the portal entrance.
Secured to the wagon’s roof were five pairs of long snow-gliders, termed skis. Kaevin had practiced with the strange planks on his feet and had been tempted once again to proclaim them magick, for they slid forward easily but refused to slide in a backward direction. Wesley had attempted an explanation—something about wax combined with the raised pattern on the bottom of the skis—but Kaevin found it easier to accept than understand.
All agreed that the return of Daegreth’s bloodbond probably heralded Vindrake’s first forage into this realm. They planned accordingly, assuming Vindrake knew the location of the portal entrance and might very well have it guarded. But Nordamen’s adroit observation that they wouldn’t have been forewarned without his temporary metamorphosis didn’t seem to comfort Daegreth’s tortured soul. He’d become even more silent and withdrawn than before, brightening only when Beth came to visit. According to Wesley, Beth’s almost-daily, animated read-aloud sessions had actually induced occasional laughter from the otherwise grim Water Clan warrior.
“What is it? What did you remember?” Kaevin whispered in Alora’s ear, though he needn’t bother to speak in a low voice with Arista’s ongoing monologue.
“The wendt.”
“What wendt?”
“The one I sent to our root cellar, remember?”
“During the battle? Do you believe it still lives?”
“I have no idea. If it survived the transport, it probably starved to death. Unless it could open jars and survive on old canned zucchini and carrots.”
Kaevin recalled his transport from Alora’s family room to the kitchen. “I don’t expect the wendt lived through the move. Should you tell Charles?”
Alora’s gaze darted toward her uncle, driving with a somber expression. “I think I’ll wait until he’s in a better mood.”