face I loved so dearly. There was an air of suppressed excitement that didn’t fool me. “You found the two stones?” I asked.
“I didn’t, but Avas located one.” He smiled again, his hands on my arms as he gave me a little squeeze. “He was passing through Ilam, and he sensed the presence of one of the stones close by.”
“Ilam?” I asked, confused. “But that’s in the High Lands of Poronne, isn’t it?”
“Aye.” His eyes positively danced with mirth. He waited, clearly expecting me to piece together the clue he’d just given me with what I knew about Exodius.
“Why would Exodius send a stone to the lands held by the Tribe of Jalas…Kiriah’s nostrils, tell me he didn’t give it to the ice queen?”
His smile turned into a cheeky grin. “One of these days, you’re going to have to get your jealousy of Lady Idril under control. And no, Exodius didn’t give it to her.”
“I’m not in any way jealous of Idril. Her life choices are not mine. The fact that she threw over Deo to marry his father is neither here nor there. If I had wanted Deo, I could have had him.”
“Yes, I’m perfectly aware that your boyfriend claimed kisses from you before I did,” Hallow said with a pointed look that was softened by the twitch of his lips.
“He was never my boyfriend,” I said automatically, then clicked my tongue in disgust. “Exodius must have given the stone to Idril’s murderous father.”
“I’m not going to comment about the methods a man must use to control as many fractious tribesmen as Jalas controls,” he said evenly, taking my hand and pulling me after him down to our tower room. “But you are correct—Avas felt a stone’s presence in Jalas’s keep.”
“That means we just have one to find if Avas retrieved Jalas’s stone.”
Silence met my statement.
“Avas did get the stone, didn’t he?” I asked, watching when Hallow, having released my hand, pulled out two stiffened leather packs from under our bed, hauling them around the screen that gave us a modicum of privacy.
“No.” The humor in his eyes faded a little when he went to the shelves that held baskets containing our clothing. “Jalas would not admit he had the stone, and when Avas tried to locate it, there was an incident with a bear.”
“A what?” I gawked at him, absently pulling out a few garments I used when we traveled: my old Bane of Eris tunic and leggings, a robe designating me as a priestess of the temple of Kiriah Sunbringer, and my one nice gown of a rich, very soft garnet velvet that Hallow had given me on the day we were wed. I had only worn it once—on the night of our wedding, and then only for a few minutes before he stripped it from me, saying it made him mad with lust—but I felt strongly that if we were going to the court of Jalas and his perfect, never ruffled daughter Idril, then by the twin goddesses, I was going to look the picture of elegance.
“Evidently Jalas has a pet bear.” Hallow stopped tossing clothing into one of the leather packs, rubbing his stubbly chin. “Avas was a bit hesitant to give details, but I gather that when he found out there was a bear guarding Jalas’s bedchamber, he shaped arcany to fool the bear, and there was…an incident.”
I stared at him, the soft folds of my velvet gown in my hands. “You can shapeshift?”
“Me? No.” He shook his head, gathering up a couple of journals and the sword that Deo’s father, Israel Langton, had given him. He strapped it to the top of the pack. “Master Wix never taught me such things. I doubt if he knew the way of it, himself. But Avas has spent much time in isolation, perfecting his abilities to shape arcany, and evidently he can don the appearance of other beings for a short time.”
I carefully folded my gown and tucked it away in my leather pack. “So he went into Jalas’s bedchamber disguised as a bear, and the other bear attacked him?”
Hallow made a choking noise, his face averted as he tucked the journals into his pack. “In a manner of speaking.”
“But…” I thought about that for a minute. “Did he disguise himself as a female bear?”
“No.” Hallow’s face was a mixture of amusement and what I assumed was sympathy for the arcanist who was helping him.
“But what did Jalas’s bear do to him if not attacking or attempting to mate?”
“Er…I didn’t actually say the latter.”
My eyes widened. “Oh. You mean…oh! I see.”
“I fervently hope you don’t, my heart,” Hallow answered, laughing now. “You are a priestess, after all.”
“Pshaw,” I said, gathering my bow and quiver. “I’m not as innocent as you think, arcanist. We have men in Temple’s Vale who prefer the company of other men to those of women. Sandor said that all were blessed in Kiriah’s eyes, although she didn’t care much for those who rutted with the temple’s sheep.”
“The goddess said that?” Hallow asked, his eyes round with surprise.
“No, Sandor did.” I added a metal girdle that was set with silver links that Sandor had given me upon leaving the temple, feeling it would go well with the velvet gown, then closed the pack, and buckled the straps. “She said it made the sheep overly skittish around the shearers.”
“I should imagine so,” Hallow said, his lips twitching again.
Silence fell for a few minutes while he finished packing, then slid into the scabbard on his back the straight black wooden staff that contained the spirit of Thorn, a previous Master.
“Mind you, she threatened to shut the sheep buggerers into a shed with one of the rams just so they could see how traumatizing it was for the ewes, but I don’t know that she ever did so. The older priests were reticent to answer my questions about that.”
“Allegria!” he said with a shout of laughter, taking me into his arms to kiss me on the nose.
“What?” I asked, wiggling against him, wondering if we had time for a little dalliance before we had to be on our way.
“You are a priestess. You shouldn’t know of such things such as men preferring sheep over women, let alone terms like ‘sheep buggerers.’ You, my love, are incorrigible.”
“I like to think of it as being curious. And that same curiosity is prodding me to ask if we’re leaving immediately to sail to Aryia, or if we have time for me to make sure that your exposure to intensive arcany last night hasn’t caused you any bodily harm.” I waggled my eyebrows at him.
He glanced behind me toward the screen and bed. “I had intended for us to be on our way as soon as Kiriah graced us with light, but perhaps I should have you check. So long as you let me check you over, as well.”
His hands were roaming as he spoke, sliding the bow and quiver from me and unbuckling the scabbard I wore on my back.
“I would appreciate that,” I told him, my breath catching in my throat when the warmth of his hands seeped through my linen tunic.
His head bent toward mine, his breath hot on my mouth when all of a sudden he swore and jerked backward, spinning around to glare at the window. “Kiriah’s bane on him!”
“No,” I said on a whimper. “Don’t tell me.”
“I’m sorry, my heart,” he said, handing me my scabbard before pulling the straight black staff from his back and holding it out.
A little breeze ruffled my hair when a small black swallow darted through the window, circled us both three times, then landed on the top of the staff. The bird—like the staff itself—was made of wood.
Thorn had returned.
I sighed, wondering how long it would take Hallow to find some other mission upon which he could send Thorn. Although the