Slip Song (Devany Miller Series) (24 page)

“Yeah. I’m not sexing up a complete stranger. It’s called motivation. Besides, I just met you. Don’t you have any decency?”

He chuckled. “We enjoy living here in the Wilds. We enjoy the pleasures life brings. Why waste time on formalities?”

“Getting to know someone is a formality?”

“
Why do they have to be separate things?”

I ate more meat since our argument wasn’t going anywhere. “Your sister seemed quiet.”

“She lost her husband to that offal who calls himself ringmaster but three weeks ago. She still grieves and it’s hard for her to be civil to strangers, especially those who smell like the Carnicus.”

“
Oh.” I resisted the urge to lift my arm and smell myself. “My husband was murdered a few days ago.” Had it been only days? How could it have been? Eons had passed since then.

He leaned forward and touched me on the knee, his eyes kind. “My sympathies.”

“Thank you.”

“
Life is short and uncertain.”

“
That doesn’t mean I’m sleeping with you.”

His very sharp teeth flashed. “We’ll see.”

Okay, so I was flattered. Truly. I hadn’t had so many man wanting to be with me since college and now there were three. Okay, I wasn’t sure about Jasper’s intentions. A kiss could just be a kiss, after all. Tytan, and now Kroshtuka, didn’t have any qualms about announcing what they wanted. After years of being married and faithful to one guy, it was a novelty I’d have to be careful not to let go to my head.

Because, if I were to be honest with myself, it was hella flattering. Just saying.

“All right, let’s go see your village. And then we hunt?”

“
First you see the village, meet my people. Then we will feast and at dusk, gather for the celebrations. Tomorrow we’ll perform the sacred hunting ceremony.”

Tomorrow. Great. I was never going to get out of here. “Fine. Sooner the better.”

“Such impatience.”

“
I have kids waiting back home for me. I don’t want to be here wasting time when I still have a shitload of things I need to do before I can get back to them.”

“
How old?”

“
10 and 13.”

“
Ah. They are with family?”

“
Yeah.”

He held open the door for me. “Then they are taken care of and fine without you. It’s good for children that age to be away from their mothers. Teaches them independence.”

I dropped my hands on my hips. “You don’t know anything about my family, so keep your opinions to yourself.”

“
Fierce. I will enjoy having you on my furs.”

Oh for the love of. Heat shot through me because my body was seriously perverted and didn’t care about things like―hello, complete stranger! Or in the case of Ty, dangerous demon guy, danger. Danger! Nope, my body was a rebel and it liked what it liked despite my doubts or misgivings. “So not going to happen.” Right Neutria? Right?

Another chitter. It made me worry. I hoped her fiercely competitive nature won out over her desire to get me laid.

He took me around camp, introducing me to some of his people but not all. When I asked why he ignored some of them, he said that they weren’t fully changed. It took years for the wild magic to change someone and in the middle times, they had to concentrate hard to keep themselves on the straight and narrow. “A slip could skew the change or break their minds. We leave them without distractions as much as possible.”

“How long does the change take?” I asked, picturing an abbey with silent nuns who hadn’t spoken for years and years.

“
Half a trip around the star.”

I thought of Tam asking to get whipped to forestall the change. “Is there a cure?”

“It is not a sickness. It is a gift.”

Not to everyone. But I kept my mouth shut and kept pace with him as played tour guide. We made a complete circuit of the camp before he said we would visit the village elders next. “They read in the waters of your coming.”

I arched a brow. “They say anything about you and me, you know, getting it on? Is that why you’re so cocky?”

Another laugh. I was on a roll with this guy. “No. I’m cocky because there are some truths I can see and one of those truths is you and I together.”

“Considering I didn’t even know you existed until last night, somehow I doubt that we were fated or some such nonsense.”

“
Fate. Coincidence. Either way, it works in my favor.”

“
Not if you lose!”

“
I don’t lose.” His voice, deep and confident, made me shiver in all the right places.

“
Yeah, yeah, dream on, big guy.” He led me to the extreme north side of the village—or what I was thinking of as north, anyway—where a sheer rock cliff rose up off the valley floor. Windows, doors, and stairs were cut into the cliff, reminding me of the Pueblo ruins in New Mexico. He scaled the tall, narrow stairs with sure footed ease, pausing at each landing to allow me to catch up. Each time, he’d grin at me as if to say, “See? Even here you can’t keep pace.” On the last one, panting and trying to hide that I was winded, I stuck my tongue out at him.

He led me through a small doorway that even I had to stoop to get through. I almost bumped into him, he’d stopped right in the entryway. As I moved around him, ready to fire a retort about him getting in my way, I caught sight of what lay beyond him and gasped. A huge cavern, alight with soft, glowing stalactites and crystal formations stretched as far as I could see and then some. A deep, blue reflection shimmered in the shadows along the far wall, and wet red dirt banded a pool of water that snaked and curled out of sight.

The air was cooler and it smelled sacred, of candles and incense, worship and books, the kind of smell that expanded my chest and made me feel anointed.

“
This is our Dreaming Place. Where the elders meet to talk and look at the future. Where our young people come to look at their destinies. Where we come for solace when one of our own passes on to the Dream Lands.”

“
It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

He looked pleased at my response and led me down a gently sloping path along the west side of the cavern. It led us through a small tunnel carved into the rock and emptied out into a smallish room with a group of ten or twelve older people seated around a stone table that rose in the center. The walls of the cave in this room were a peach color, with horizontal striations of green, blue, and pink.

“Kroshtuka, honored guest. Welcome.” A tiny lady, swathed in blue and green, gestured for us to be seated. When Krosh tried to sit next to her, she pushed him away and pointed at me. “Her. I see you every day, whether I welcome it or not. Sit, sit.”

I sat, feeling out of place and uncomfortable with all of them staring at me.

“So you’re the duallie that our fearless leader was telling us about. He said you smelled different and I’ll give him that. I’m not sure what to make of you.”

An old man leaned forward, squinting. “Are those gills on your neck?”

I covered one with my hand. “Uh, yes. A gift from the fleshcrawler queen.”

He sat back. “And you’re alive to brag about it?”

I was pretty sure I had put quite a bit of disgust into my words but maybe that hadn’t translated too well. “I guess she still needs me alive for some reason.”

“
Hmph.”

“
Oh hush Fisli. Tell me, from where do you originate? I smell human. World walker. Witch-folk. Fleshcrawler.” The tiny old woman sniffed, leaning close, her nose almost touching my arm. “Wing? Mermaid. My goodness, child, what have you been up to?”

“
She was riding with the Carnicus, I told you.” Kroshtuka shifted in his seat and settled, leaving his body pressed up the full length of my own. I moved my leg but he just moved with me. Damn it.

“
That does explain some of it.” She sniffed again then shut her eyes, the same contemplative look a sommelier had on his face at a wine tasting Tom and I attended long ago. “World-walker. Witch. Human. Fleshcrawler. All these together. And something else. Something dangerous. I can’t quite place it.”

She was entirely too savvy with her nose; if world-walker meant Skriven, then she’d nailed everything but Neutria. They would know about her tomorrow but I didn’t want to lose any advantage I had by revealing her now. So I just shrugged. “I’ve had some crazy adventures.”

She patted my hand, not reacting to me like Zed had. Which was good. It was rather disconcerting to have someone fall down from touching you.

“
Do we really want a stranger in our sacred caverns?” This from the old guy who’d been squinting at me.

“
She cannot find us unless we give her an emiliometer.”

An argument ensued. Kroshtuka leaned over and whispered, “They like to fight. It keeps them young, or so they say. Personally, I think they believe it makes them look smarter.”

His breath against my ear made felt good in all the right ways. Or maybe it was all the wrong ways. Either way, if I wasn’t careful I’d be giving in without a fight.

“
What brings you to the Wilds,” the grumpy guy finally asked.

“
I’m looking for someone. A Wing. She’s in danger where she’s at and in danger from a world-walker who is also looking for her.”

They exchanged glances. “World-walkers are powerful. Are you sure you want to undertake such a task?”

“Of course. She doesn’t deserve to be killed. Or tortured, which is entirely a possible outcome considering the players. Then there’s another whose well-being is on the line, and his life is also contingent on whether I find the Wing first or his captor does.” Had I said too much?

They were looking at me, at each other, one man was muttering and rubbing a crystal in his fingers. The old woman pulled a small orb from her pocket that reminded me of the ball Zed gave me. She rolled it and everyone stopped talking to watch it spin to the center of the table where it stopped, rotating. As we watched, it began to glow a light green, sparks of red and orange flashing intermittently. The old woman smiled.

“Honorable.” Grumpy didn’t sound happy about that.

Suck it, old dude.

“Just so. She may visit the Dreaming Place and ask one question of the oracles.”

Kroshtuka nodded. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank us yet. She may not like the answer to her question.” She glanced around the room then turned to me. “Come. I will lead you there myself.”

“
Dream Mother, I can take her.”

She turned her pale blue eyes on Kroshtuka and pursed her lips. “No.” She lifted one leg then the other with her hands to get them over the bench. I rose to help her but she waved me off. Kroshtuka rose, as did everyone else around the table. When the Dream Mother gained her feet, she took my arm. “Somethings are better if a woman does them.”

I smiled, catching Kroshtuka’s flash of humor as we angled for the door. It took awhile to get there. She moved at a snail’s pace. In fact, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a snail speed past but finally we were traversing back through the tunnel to the magnificent caverns. She guided me down another path past gleaming stalagmites, glistening with moisture and lit from within. Once we were out of site of the doorway, her pace picked up and she straightened, letting go of my arm.

She caught me staring and grinned. “It’s not all an act. I’m ancient and most days I feel it down to my toes. But I’m the Dream Mother and I am in my element here. It strengthens me. Come.” I followed her to a sheltered grotto with a small pool of crystal clear water and soft-looking moss covering the ground around it. “This is the most sacred spot of our people. Not many strangers get to visit, let alone use the Dreaming Place.” She spread her hands wide as if to say, ‘Look at this. Look at it well. It’s an honor.’

And I felt honored.

“
You must get rid of your clothes. Bathe in the pool until you’ve let go of the Real.” She leaned against one of the stalagmites, the damp seeping into her dress and darkening the colors along one side. “You’ll know when it’s time to leave the pool. Lay upon the moss and close your eyes. Before you go to sleep, ask your question. When you wake, you will know the answer.” Her hand grasped mine and she squeezed it as she gazed at me. “I was not being facetious when I said be careful of the question. Because you will get the true answer, whether you are ready for it or not.”

I was alone in the caves. The sound of her footsteps faded until even the echoes had gone silent. I eyed the pool then began pulling off my clothes. It may have been stupid, but I had the feeling that this was truly a sacred place. I didn’t need to worry someone―Kroshtuka, for instance―would show up or spy on me. It was an honor. I just wished I had an idea what I would ask.

I slipped into the pool, settling myself on the rock shelf under the water. The tension I’d been carrying since Tom died poured into the warm liquid and away from me. My muscles relaxed, my mind eased. The sorrow I’d been carrying floated away. Everything left me. Everything but the nagging thought: what would I ask? What did I most need to know?