At their house, Christian fumbled his key into the front door, kicked off his shoes, and headed quickly for the living room at the back of the house. Presumably he was after something in either his own room or the library, both on the second floor, and the main stairs opened off the living room.
“Calling a cab,” Mark said, turning to the right into the kitchen where the nearest phone was.
“Thanks!”
He made a brief phone call to one of the local cab companies, then went upstairs himself to fetch his black denim jacket. He unplugged his cellular phone and checked that it had charged properly; he’d discovered, before they’d gone out, that he’d forgotten about it entirely for a couple of days and the battery had run down.
It was a very new purchase, and a fairly expensive one, since he’d chosen a recent and novel innovation: one of the first to have an internal antenna instead of an easily-damaged external one. It was small enough to fit readily in most pockets and had a sliding cover that protected the number keys from being damaged or soiled or pressed by accident. He wanted to see how useful it was before making a decision about buying a second one for Christian—there were implications to that act that he still needed to consider. The shiny chrome finish rather appealed to him, with a more futuristic look than the more common dull plastic, and a phone that fit in a pocket and could be used without being plugged in felt very sci-fi.
The battery indicator on the little screen informed him that it was fully charged, so he slipped it into the pocket of his jacket. If they were in the middle of nowhere, it might come in handy. As long as it wasn’t so far in the middle of nowhere that he was out of range. He’d already noticed odd dead spots around the city where he couldn’t use it.
He beat Christian back to the front door, but not by much; the witch had his khaki-green canvas backpack slung on one shoulder. He looked at Mark, paused for half a beat, and grabbed his chocolate-brown hoodie from the coatrack before bending to pull his running shoes back on.
“It’s very unlikely that it’s a liminal fight,” Mark said. “I admit, I didn’t know about them, but they’re outside the range I have marked. It’s not an area useful to me. The odds of anything else in this area that is powerful enough to take down a troll and willing to try and yet stealthy enough that I haven’t seen any signs of intrusion across my boundaries are low. Not zero, but low.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
The headlights of a car drawing to a halt in front of the house spurred them both into motion.
“Where to?” the driver asked. In the uneven light, and from directly behind, Mark couldn’t make out much beyond short pale hair that could easily be blond or grey, plus a moderately-deep male voice with a local accent. He didn’t particularly care, anyway.
“We’re headed out by the breakwater,” Mark said casually. “Meeting up with a friend. Sorry, I don’t know the exact proper address. I’ll let you know when we get there. Wish I could give you a better idea but I’m going to have to kinda figure out what he meant as I see it. Some people just should not be giving directions, y’know?”
“Tell me about it,” the driver said. “There are a few houses on the same street the marina’s on, one of them?”
“Sweet, someone who knows where we’re going.”
He leaned back to wait, absently watching Christian. The witch had something glittery in one hand. That was, he decided, a toy Christian used sometimes as a portable crystal ball of sorts, although it was actually a faceted glass ball of the sort people hung in windows to catch the sunlight. At the moment, this one was catching more light, of more colours, than could be accounted for by the lights of cars passing in the opposite direction, streetlights, and building lights. It flickered erratically, constantly changing, while Christian kept his eyes fixed on it, his breathing slowing down.
Mark had no idea whether he could actually find anything from here. Given that his family wasn’t particularly good at divination, aside from Christian’s Tarot cards and that made sense considering his vila teacher, he wasn’t sure that the witch would be able to find anything useful even at the site where the missing troll had last been seen.
And if the search came up empty, he wasn’t at all sure how the trolls would react. He was not letting Christian out of his sight until they were safely home.
Christian’s soft heart was going to make protecting him harder, and Mark was quite sure he hadn’t seen anything like the extent of it yet.
Mark tapped Christian’s upper leg with one hand, drawing his attention back.
“This is the one. Lights are on so he didn’t forget us and go to bed. Just here by the side of the street’s fine, don’t worry about pulling in.” Mark fished a twenty-dollar bill out of his jeans pocket. “Thanks, really appreciate it. Keep the change, eh? It’s a bit of a drive back to anywhere you’re likely to have a passenger. Have a great night.”
Christian hastily vacated the cab, slipping the glass prism into a pocket of his hoodie.
“Why are we getting out here?” he asked, as the cab drove off, turning at a corner no more than thirty feet away and disappearing into the night.
Mark heaved a sigh. “Sorry. Not ideal. But seriously, we do not need cab drivers who know what house we called from also wondering just what we’re doing out in a deserted park after midnight.” Least of all one frequented by trolls. “Drivers see a lot and don’t shock easily but they remember things.”
“Oh. That makes sense, I suppose. I wouldn’t have thought of that. A bit of a walk won’t be so bad.” Christian dutifully looked around, settling his backpack more securely on his shoulder. “I’m pretty sure the park is that way.” He pointed.
Mark simply nodded. He hadn’t been this far out of the core of the city before, and had no idea, but it was believable that Christian knew the area.
There were streetlights, but not many. They walked in darkness, for the most part, through puddles of sulphur-yellow light. The street went up a small rise, then sloped downwards, allowing them to see the lake straight ahead—open space with glitters of moonlight on the rippled waves. On either side, as they descended, scrubby ground flanked them, weeds and brushy growth and a few scattered small trees.
“Wish I’d packed a flashlight,” Christian muttered. “There are things moving out there.”
“Don’t worry about it. There’s nothing out in the dark scarier than me.”
It was only halfway true. An entire troll family, all at once, would be a challenge even for Alexandra.
Still, he could see some of the tension leaving Christian’s stance, and that made it worth it. If the young witch was going to find anything, he needed to be able to focus.
They passed through a paved area meant for four cars to park, with a sign announcing that it was strictly for use by those enjoying the park. Given the location, far from bus routes and anywhere people might walk from, that seemed inadequate, but what did he know about city planning? That took them onto a packed-dirt path strewn with fine gravel. The cropped grass crowded up close to it, and there was a single large spreading tree in the centre of it, the path dividing around it on its way towards the waterfront. There were lights on poles, but Mark had no idea why, since they illuminated so little and only made it harder to see into the gloom around them.
Christian started, though he tried unsuccessfully to make it look like a stumble, and let out an odd squeak that might have been a choked-off yelp. “Oh, uh, hi.”
Mark paused. “Here?”
Before Christian could say anything, the troll said, “Apologies. Your friend can see me now.”
“Thank you,” Christian said. “Can you show me a place you know your missing sibling has been, as recently as possible?”
“Yes. You can stay on the path to the end. En was by the water. My family are here, but you are safe, you have my word.”
“Okay.”
The massive troll walked beside them. Here, it was no longer hunching to take up less space, so it was all too easy to see that it was half again Mark’s height and, even taking that into account, somewhat broader. The shapeless fluttery draperies had been thrown back to bare its head, hairless and rough-skinned and mottled in colour; given the way Christian was squinting, it must be hard to see even to a witch’s sight.
“Is there anything else you can tell me?” Christian asked. “Did your sibling have a disagreement with anyone? Was en acting oddly?”
En. Mark rolled his eyes, but kept it to himself. Some witches and liminals had come up with that as a neutral form that was supposedly less insulting than ‘it’ and less open to confusion than ‘they’ considering that communal liminals existed. Christian used it without thought, having grown up with it as a normal pronoun.
Alexandra preferred old-fashioned straightforward ‘it,’ sometimes for things that did have identifiable gender but were too inferior for her to care. That spilled over to Mark.
“No disagreements of any note. Families are not always harmonious, but nothing has happened out of the ordinary. En was not acting oddly in any way. We scattered to gather food. My missing sibling meant to gather fish. Humans do not notice the fish traps we make of piled stone, if we place them away from frequent human traffic. I would take you there but I don’t know whether en reached it, and it would be a difficult trek for you. We gathered together but we were less one. We have searched the area, even the water. We do not swim, we’re too heavy. We can trip or be caught or injured. We have found nothing in the water or on land. No sign of injury, no tracks, nothing.”
Christian bit his lower lip, brows drawn down. “Any recent conflict between your family and other kinds of liminals?”
“Not that I’m aware of. We have little interest in what others do.”
They reached the edge of the water, the huge blocks of limestone built up into a wall to hold back erosion.
“Right here,” their guide said, indicating a spot on the stone retaining wall. “En was here when I last saw en.”
Christian flinched, gaze going to the darkness near them, flickering rapidly from point to point.
Mark, watching him closely, frowned. “More?” he asked in an undertone.
Christian nodded. “One, two... four... six,” he murmured back. “That’s the whole family, I think.”
Their guide stood up tall. “Seth’s grandchild is willing to help us search. A witch can do things we can’t.”
A brief pause, silent only to Mark.
“I did not!” Christian said hotly. “I don’t do that! Bindings, I mean, and I was taught to always make summoning an invitation! Binding anyone is... is... it’s unfair and it’s appalling!”
“As Seth always has,” said their guide. “Grandchild following grandparent. If the witch can find our lost sibling, our search and our fear can end. Let him try. Show courtesy to the witch’s companion. Let him see you.”
With a harsh laugh, another troll materialized to Mark’s sight, stepping closer to loom over him. “Want to see us, human?” This one was making no effort to moderate its voice to make it more comfortable to human ears, a high-volume barely-audible rumble with unpleasant undertones.
Mark regarded the troll calmly, though he had to look up to do so. “It’s more comfortable, yes, so thank you.”
“Witch’s mate, are you? Not a sibling.”
“A friend. Who doesn’t like the witch being out alone this late. There can be different dangers at night.”
The belligerent troll laughed again. “We’re here day or night.”
“I didn’t mean you. So, are you going to keep thumping your chest and trying in vain to frighten me, or are you going to let the witch get on with searching? Because if you’d rather keep trying to frighten me, then I’m dragging Christian home by the scruff of the neck against any and all resistance. I don’t know how you value your time, but the witch and I have better things to do with ours.”
Christian’s eyes widened, and he bit his lower lip hard. Mark already knew that the witch would never have actually voiced any of that. Whether it was excessively-tactful diplomacy or lack of confidence didn’t really matter, but it was predictable. That was fine: Mark could handle drawing boundaries.
It was effective: the belligerent troll actually retreated a couple of steps.
“Search,” their guide said pleadingly. “No one will interrupt you or harm you. Please. Forgive my other sibling for being... foolish.”
“Depends on whether it continues,” Mark muttered.
“Exactly here?” Christian asked their guide. “Or at least, as close as possible?”
Their guide nodded. “Right here.”
Christian swung his backpack around into reach, and sat down there. Mark hoped he wouldn’t get distracted by the abundance of creepy-crawlies that thrived next to the water and would be active at night.
“Shoulda brought a flashlight,” Christian muttered. “Can’t even try cards. Oh well.” He pulled the glass prism out of his pocket, cupped it in his hands, and gazed into it. Mark saw a spark of light glitter in its heart, gradually changing hue.
The trolls stayed still and quiet; Mark kept an eye on them, as best he could.
“En’s alive,” Christian said slowly. “I’m sure of that much. En’s... angry, and resentful, and scared. And alone, en doesn’t like that at all.”
“Witch bindings,” rumbled one of the trolls, and two of them stepped closer. “Being hurt would not mean being resentful and angry.”
“Only one witch in the area,” said a different one.
Mark saw Christian’s muscles tense, though he tried to keep his attention on the glass prism.
“And the witch who summoned our sibling would certainly come out here to us,” said the lighter voice of their host, impatiently, though the pitch was beginning to drop and the volume to rise, much less controlled. “Don’t be so foolish.”
“I suggest that you be less threatening,” Mark said lazily. “Do you honestly believe that Seth Terevan would leave the city and the family house to the only child of his only child without making sure that the family line wouldn’t be abruptly ended by, say, one group of liminals that decided to act badly? If you keep crowding him, you’re going to find out what felt adequate to him, and to his naga friend—remember him? I’m sure you met him. He helped raise the current witch and was one of his mentors and teachers. If you trigger those defences, you’re going to regret the consequences more than the witch will.” Hiding behind Vadin’s reputation stung, but it was a practical way to reduce the odds of breaking his camoflauge. For all and sundry to know that Christian shared a house with a lamia wasn’t a good idea, although he had no idea how long he could maintain that.
The sudden uncertainty was all but palpable. The looming trolls retreated a couple of steps.
“We don’t even know that Seth truly left,” one grumbled. “Maybe his whelp here killed the rest.”
Mark laughed out loud at that. “Wow, you just proved that you know nothing at all about that family or this witch specifically, and that you’re stupid enough to think that naga would allow it.”
“There are other witches,” a different troll said, and this one was making at least some effort to modify its tone to something easier on human ears. “It does not need to be the nearest. It is poor gratitude to this witch who is willing to help, for us to make accusations with no foundations. Safety was promised and it would taint us all to violate that.”
“If he did summoning and binding,” one growled, “we’ll take our chances with dishonour and protections.”
“I don’t like bindings,” Christian said. “I told you that. They‘re not playing fair. Can I please concentrate now?”
“Please,” said their host. “You know en is alive. Can you tell where?”
“Not unless I get a bit of quiet so I can focus. Possibly not then, depending. But I’ll try.”
At their house, Christian fumbled his key into the front door, kicked off his shoes, and headed quickly for the living room at the back of the house. Presumably he was after something in either his own room or the library, both on the second floor, and the main stairs opened off the living room.
“Calling a cab,” Mark said, turning to the right into the kitchen where the nearest phone was.
“Thanks!”
He made a brief phone call to one of the local cab companies, then went upstairs himself to fetch his black denim jacket. He unplugged his cellular phone and checked that it had charged properly; he’d discovered, before they’d gone out, that he’d forgotten about it entirely for a couple of days and the battery had run down.
It was a very new purchase, and a fairly expensive one, since he’d chosen a recent and novel innovation: one of the first to have an internal antenna instead of an easily-damaged external one. It was small enough to fit readily in most pockets and had a sliding cover that protected the number keys from being damaged or soiled or pressed by accident. He wanted to see how useful it was before making a decision about buying a second one for Christian—there were implications to that act that he still needed to consider. The shiny chrome finish rather appealed to him, with a more futuristic look than the more common dull plastic, and a phone that fit in a pocket and could be used without being plugged in felt very sci-fi.
The battery indicator on the little screen informed him that it was fully charged, so he slipped it into the pocket of his jacket. If they were in the middle of nowhere, it might come in handy. As long as it wasn’t so far in the middle of nowhere that he was out of range. He’d already noticed odd dead spots around the city where he couldn’t use it.
He beat Christian back to the front door, but not by much; the witch had his khaki-green canvas backpack slung on one shoulder. He looked at Mark, paused for half a beat, and grabbed his chocolate-brown hoodie from the coatrack before bending to pull his running shoes back on.
“It’s very unlikely that it’s a liminal fight,” Mark said. “I admit, I didn’t know about them, but they’re outside the range I have marked. It’s not an area useful to me. The odds of anything else in this area that is powerful enough to take down a troll and willing to try and yet stealthy enough that I haven’t seen any signs of intrusion across my boundaries are low. Not zero, but low.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
The headlights of a car drawing to a halt in front of the house spurred them both into motion.
“Where to?” the driver asked. In the uneven light, and from directly behind, Mark couldn’t make out much beyond short pale hair that could easily be blond or grey, plus a moderately-deep male voice with a local accent. He didn’t particularly care, anyway.
“We’re headed out by the breakwater,” Mark said casually. “Meeting up with a friend. Sorry, I don’t know the exact proper address. I’ll let you know when we get there. Wish I could give you a better idea but I’m going to have to kinda figure out what he meant as I see it. Some people just should not be giving directions, y’know?”
“Tell me about it,” the driver said. “There are a few houses on the same street the marina’s on, one of them?”
“Sweet, someone who knows where we’re going.”
He leaned back to wait, absently watching Christian. The witch had something glittery in one hand. That was, he decided, a toy Christian used sometimes as a portable crystal ball of sorts, although it was actually a faceted glass ball of the sort people hung in windows to catch the sunlight. At the moment, this one was catching more light, of more colours, than could be accounted for by the lights of cars passing in the opposite direction, streetlights, and building lights. It flickered erratically, constantly changing, while Christian kept his eyes fixed on it, his breathing slowing down.
Mark had no idea whether he could actually find anything from here. Given that his family wasn’t particularly good at divination, aside from Christian’s Tarot cards and that made sense considering his vila teacher, he wasn’t sure that the witch would be able to find anything useful even at the site where the missing troll had last been seen.
And if the search came up empty, he wasn’t at all sure how the trolls would react. He was not letting Christian out of his sight until they were safely home.
Christian’s soft heart was going to make protecting him harder, and Mark was quite sure he hadn’t seen anything like the extent of it yet.
Mark tapped Christian’s upper leg with one hand, drawing his attention back.
“This is the one. Lights are on so he didn’t forget us and go to bed. Just here by the side of the street’s fine, don’t worry about pulling in.” Mark fished a twenty-dollar bill out of his jeans pocket. “Thanks, really appreciate it. Keep the change, eh? It’s a bit of a drive back to anywhere you’re likely to have a passenger. Have a great night.”
Christian hastily vacated the cab, slipping the glass prism into a pocket of his hoodie.
“Why are we getting out here?” he asked, as the cab drove off, turning at a corner no more than thirty feet away and disappearing into the night.
Mark heaved a sigh. “Sorry. Not ideal. But seriously, we do not need cab drivers who know what house we called from also wondering just what we’re doing out in a deserted park after midnight.” Least of all one frequented by trolls. “Drivers see a lot and don’t shock easily but they remember things.”
“Oh. That makes sense, I suppose. I wouldn’t have thought of that. A bit of a walk won’t be so bad.” Christian dutifully looked around, settling his backpack more securely on his shoulder. “I’m pretty sure the park is that way.” He pointed.
Mark simply nodded. He hadn’t been this far out of the core of the city before, and had no idea, but it was believable that Christian knew the area.
There were streetlights, but not many. They walked in darkness, for the most part, through puddles of sulphur-yellow light. The street went up a small rise, then sloped downwards, allowing them to see the lake straight ahead—open space with glitters of moonlight on the rippled waves. On either side, as they descended, scrubby ground flanked them, weeds and brushy growth and a few scattered small trees.
“Wish I’d packed a flashlight,” Christian muttered. “There are things moving out there.”
“Don’t worry about it. There’s nothing out in the dark scarier than me.”
It was only halfway true. An entire troll family, all at once, would be a challenge even for Alexandra.
Still, he could see some of the tension leaving Christian’s stance, and that made it worth it. If the young witch was going to find anything, he needed to be able to focus.
They passed through a paved area meant for four cars to park, with a sign announcing that it was strictly for use by those enjoying the park. Given the location, far from bus routes and anywhere people might walk from, that seemed inadequate, but what did he know about city planning? That took them onto a packed-dirt path strewn with fine gravel. The cropped grass crowded up close to it, and there was a single large spreading tree in the centre of it, the path dividing around it on its way towards the waterfront. There were lights on poles, but Mark had no idea why, since they illuminated so little and only made it harder to see into the gloom around them.
Christian started, though he tried unsuccessfully to make it look like a stumble, and let out an odd squeak that might have been a choked-off yelp. “Oh, uh, hi.”
Mark paused. “Here?”
Before Christian could say anything, the troll said, “Apologies. Your friend can see me now.”
“Thank you,” Christian said. “Can you show me a place you know your missing sibling has been, as recently as possible?”
“Yes. You can stay on the path to the end. En was by the water. My family are here, but you are safe, you have my word.”
“Okay.”
The massive troll walked beside them. Here, it was no longer hunching to take up less space, so it was all too easy to see that it was half again Mark’s height and, even taking that into account, somewhat broader. The shapeless fluttery draperies had been thrown back to bare its head, hairless and rough-skinned and mottled in colour; given the way Christian was squinting, it must be hard to see even to a witch’s sight.
“Is there anything else you can tell me?” Christian asked. “Did your sibling have a disagreement with anyone? Was en acting oddly?”
En. Mark rolled his eyes, but kept it to himself. Some witches and liminals had come up with that as a neutral form that was supposedly less insulting than ‘it’ and less open to confusion than ‘they’ considering that communal liminals existed. Christian used it without thought, having grown up with it as a normal pronoun.
Alexandra preferred old-fashioned straightforward ‘it,’ sometimes for things that did have identifiable gender but were too inferior for her to care. That spilled over to Mark.
“No disagreements of any note. Families are not always harmonious, but nothing has happened out of the ordinary. En was not acting oddly in any way. We scattered to gather food. My missing sibling meant to gather fish. Humans do not notice the fish traps we make of piled stone, if we place them away from frequent human traffic. I would take you there but I don’t know whether en reached it, and it would be a difficult trek for you. We gathered together but we were less one. We have searched the area, even the water. We do not swim, we’re too heavy. We can trip or be caught or injured. We have found nothing in the water or on land. No sign of injury, no tracks, nothing.”
Christian bit his lower lip, brows drawn down. “Any recent conflict between your family and other kinds of liminals?”
“Not that I’m aware of. We have little interest in what others do.”
They reached the edge of the water, the huge blocks of limestone built up into a wall to hold back erosion.
“Right here,” their guide said, indicating a spot on the stone retaining wall. “En was here when I last saw en.”
Christian flinched, gaze going to the darkness near them, flickering rapidly from point to point.
Mark, watching him closely, frowned. “More?” he asked in an undertone.
Christian nodded. “One, two... four... six,” he murmured back. “That’s the whole family, I think.”
Their guide stood up tall. “Seth’s grandchild is willing to help us search. A witch can do things we can’t.”
A brief pause, silent only to Mark.
“I did not!” Christian said hotly. “I don’t do that! Bindings, I mean, and I was taught to always make summoning an invitation! Binding anyone is... is... it’s unfair and it’s appalling!”
“As Seth always has,” said their guide. “Grandchild following grandparent. If the witch can find our lost sibling, our search and our fear can end. Let him try. Show courtesy to the witch’s companion. Let him see you.”
With a harsh laugh, another troll materialized to Mark’s sight, stepping closer to loom over him. “Want to see us, human?” This one was making no effort to moderate its voice to make it more comfortable to human ears, a high-volume barely-audible rumble with unpleasant undertones.
Mark regarded the troll calmly, though he had to look up to do so. “It’s more comfortable, yes, so thank you.”
“Witch’s mate, are you? Not a sibling.”
“A friend. Who doesn’t like the witch being out alone this late. There can be different dangers at night.”
The belligerent troll laughed again. “We’re here day or night.”
“I didn’t mean you. So, are you going to keep thumping your chest and trying in vain to frighten me, or are you going to let the witch get on with searching? Because if you’d rather keep trying to frighten me, then I’m dragging Christian home by the scruff of the neck against any and all resistance. I don’t know how you value your time, but the witch and I have better things to do with ours.”
Christian’s eyes widened, and he bit his lower lip hard. Mark already knew that the witch would never have actually voiced any of that. Whether it was excessively-tactful diplomacy or lack of confidence didn’t really matter, but it was predictable. That was fine: Mark could handle drawing boundaries.
It was effective: the belligerent troll actually retreated a couple of steps.
“Search,” their guide said pleadingly. “No one will interrupt you or harm you. Please. Forgive my other sibling for being... foolish.”
“Depends on whether it continues,” Mark muttered.
“Exactly here?” Christian asked their guide. “Or at least, as close as possible?”
Their guide nodded. “Right here.”
Christian swung his backpack around into reach, and sat down there. Mark hoped he wouldn’t get distracted by the abundance of creepy-crawlies that thrived next to the water and would be active at night.
“Shoulda brought a flashlight,” Christian muttered. “Can’t even try cards. Oh well.” He pulled the glass prism out of his pocket, cupped it in his hands, and gazed into it. Mark saw a spark of light glitter in its heart, gradually changing hue.
The trolls stayed still and quiet; Mark kept an eye on them, as best he could.
“En’s alive,” Christian said slowly. “I’m sure of that much. En’s... angry, and resentful, and scared. And alone, en doesn’t like that at all.”
“Witch bindings,” rumbled one of the trolls, and two of them stepped closer. “Being hurt would not mean being resentful and angry.”
“Only one witch in the area,” said a different one.
Mark saw Christian’s muscles tense, though he tried to keep his attention on the glass prism.
“And the witch who summoned our sibling would certainly come out here to us,” said the lighter voice of their host, impatiently, though the pitch was beginning to drop and the volume to rise, much less controlled. “Don’t be so foolish.”
“I suggest that you be less threatening,” Mark said lazily. “Do you honestly believe that Seth Terevan would leave the city and the family house to the only child of his only child without making sure that the family line wouldn’t be abruptly ended by, say, one group of liminals that decided to act badly? If you keep crowding him, you’re going to find out what felt adequate to him, and to his naga friend—remember him? I’m sure you met him. He helped raise the current witch and was one of his mentors and teachers. If you trigger those defences, you’re going to regret the consequences more than the witch will.” Hiding behind Vadin’s reputation stung, but it was a practical way to reduce the odds of breaking his camoflauge. For all and sundry to know that Christian shared a house with a lamia wasn’t a good idea, although he had no idea how long he could maintain that.
The sudden uncertainty was all but palpable. The looming trolls retreated a couple of steps.
“We don’t even know that Seth truly left,” one grumbled. “Maybe his whelp here killed the rest.”
Mark laughed out loud at that. “Wow, you just proved that you know nothing at all about that family or this witch specifically, and that you’re stupid enough to think that naga would allow it.”
“There are other witches,” a different troll said, and this one was making at least some effort to modify its tone to something easier on human ears. “It does not need to be the nearest. It is poor gratitude to this witch who is willing to help, for us to make accusations with no foundations. Safety was promised and it would taint us all to violate that.”
“If he did summoning and binding,” one growled, “we’ll take our chances with dishonour and protections.”
“I don’t like bindings,” Christian said. “I told you that. They‘re not playing fair. Can I please concentrate now?”
“Please,” said their host. “You know en is alive. Can you tell where?”
“Not unless I get a bit of quiet so I can focus. Possibly not then, depending. But I’ll try.”
