Lupi 04 - Night Season

“That isn’t funny.”
    â€œâ€¦Agent Weaver?”
    That was Ruben, seated across from her with his splinted leg stretched out, his foot resting on a cushion. Unlike her and Cullen, he faced forward.
    Cynna flushed. “Sorry. I wasn’t listening—or was trying to listen to too many things at once.”
    â€œI asked if you were having trouble with the translator charm,” Ruben said dryly. “I take it the answer is yes. Perhaps you could leave it outside your clothing for a moment.”
    The translation charm was a heavily scribed silver disk about the size of a half dollar, strung on a leather cord. It needed physical contact to work, so as soon as Cynna pulled it out from beneath her shirt, the whispering voice stopped.
    Ruben was still talking. “Tash was just explaining that our charms will need periodic recharging. The spell is good for nine or ten sleeps.”
    Tash rode next to the carriage on a horse much larger than the ponies the Ekiba used. “Usually,” she said, “the charm is supplied for a fee, and each renewal also has a fee. The councilor has said yours are free, however.”
    â€œGood of him,” Cynna muttered.
    If Tash heard, she ignored it. “Most people use the charm as a tool to help them learn the Common Tongue and then dispense with them.”
    Cynna looked at her. “Did you learn English that way? You speak it really well.” Unbelievably well for someone who’d been exposed to it on Earth for only two days.
    â€œWe, ah…there is another spell to impart a language. This was done to Wen and myself—the councilor had already learned your tongue from Daniel Weaver. But the spell is…there are difficulties. Most humans do not tolerate it well.”
    â€œI’m not human,” Cullen pointed out pleasantly. “I might tolerate such a spell.”
    â€œI know little about lupi. Perhaps. You would have to open your shields.”
    â€œAh. Well, we have many things to talk about, don’t we? Obviously the Ekiba tolerate the spell’s effects. And you…” He let his voice drift away, inviting her to explain.
    â€œI am a half-half. Mixed breeds, you would call us. Some half-halfs are accepted into their mother’s people. Most are not. I do not have a people.”
    â€œYou clearly have status. Our escort saluted you. They gave you some title, but the charm burped. I heard reckon or recka or something like that.”
    â€œ Rekka is my rank, which does not translate well. I am in charge of the City’s guards.”
    Cullen had heard more than she had at the pier, hadn’t he? She’d been too busy looking for someone who resembled that old photo, however old, fat, or bald he might be now. Or married. He might have remarried. Oh, God. He probably had, once he realized he couldn’t go home. He could have had more children. She could have half siblings.
    Please, God, don’t let them be waiting for me at the Chancellery, too.
    â€œWhy didn’t the councilor ever address you that way?” Cullen asked Tash.
    â€œHe does, when we speak among ourselves in Common Tongue.”
    But not when he introduced her to them. Was that because he habitually hogged the spotlight? Or had he had another reason to want them to think Tash was unimportant?
    Ruben, as usual, spoke politely. “Perhaps you can explain something, Rekka Tash. Do I have the address correct?” He paused for her to nod. A nod meant yes to everyone here, just like back home, Cynna had learned. No doubt anthropologists would find that fascinating. “Why did the councilor insist from the start that he needed a shield spell that didn’t exist? Why was he determined to trick us into coming rather attempting first to obtain our willing cooperation?”
    â€œYou would need to ask the councilor that question.”
    â€œI have, but his answers fail to satisfy me. To be blunt, they fail to make sense. Obviously he’d planned from the start to trick us into creating a gate. I don’t understand his reasoning.”
    â€œThe councilor does not confide in me.” Tash’s words were stiff, but her voice wasn’t. She gave Ruben a long look, then added, “We, too, have seers, Mr. Brooks. And now perhaps you would like to look ahead. Awkward for those facing backward, but your first sight of the Chancellery is worth a strained neck.”
    Cynna twisted around. And