Her depression continued as she was moved, lock, stock, and barrel, to the tree-top city of Chanta. As the others stowed her few possessions in the small shelter built against the bole of a giant redwood, Deanna just sulked. When asked a question, she only shrugged. It didn't seem worth it to try to make a decision, when apparently everything was being decided for her anyway. It wasn't a bad place—just a little room with a small stove for cooking and warmth, a wooden floor that was actually a branch of the redwood worn smooth from years of use, and walls carved of the same living wood. Her bedroll was laid over a framework in the corner, and the rest of her things deposited on the single chair. There was another little room, apparently for storage, and they put her bike in there. So, at least she had a workshop. Not that she really felt like using it.
She barely paid attention to the native Haltans, though every time she poked her head out of the door there was at least one hanging around. They were mostly human, though Deanna noticed that their toes were nearly prehensile, and every one of them had hair of some shade of green. Obviously, Grimnyr was a Haltan as well, though his boots had disguised his feet at first. But she didn't poke her head out much—in fact, she didn't do much of anything those first few days. Even working on her Electronic Thumb—the device she hoped to use to signal a ley-line walker—didn't have much appeal. Eating was something she did to keep her body from complaining and distracting her from some serious moping.
When she woke up one morning without anything for breakfast, it occurred to her that maybe she needed to do something about that. Reluctantly, she started leave, to look for Talon or Salus, but then she realized that her clothes were filthy, and that she smelled pretty high herself. She groaned and sat down again, faced with a choice between bathing and changing her clothes or just staying where she was and starving. Her stomach interrupted the debate, growling loudly and uncomfortably. Deanna groaned again and gathered clean clothes—realizing that she also needed to do her laundry—and managed a sort of sponge bath in the little basin that collected rainwater for drinking and washing.
As she pushed open the door, it snagged on something. Puzzled, Deanna looked down and saw a leather bag sitting on the branch outside. It was tied with a crude thong. Curious, she picked it up and glanced inside. It was filled with what looked like some sort of small hard berries. She looked around, in case anyone had lost it, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to her or looking for anything.
"Hey, Salus…"
The merchant looked up from his figures to see Deanna standing in the door of his pavilion with a bag in her hand. Pleased to see her out in the sunlight, he rose to greet her.
"Deanna, what can I do for you?" he asked as he planted a kiss on her cheek.
"Um, well, two things, actually. I'm kinda hungry, and I'm outta food…"
"No problem, my dear." Salus bustled around his pavilion, throwing together a quick meal. As the tea brewed, he moved a sheaf of papers and set the table for three. "Talon will likely be by soon," he explained. "I need him to examine one of my little blossoms. Now what else can I do for you?"
Uncertain what he meant by "little blossoms," Deanna ignored the comment and opened the bag. "Someone left this at my door," she said. "At least, that's what it looks like. Do you know what they are?"
Curious, Salus stirred the berries with one finger. It took him a moment to identify them, but gradually a memory filtered through… "I believe they're kava berries," he said.
"What the heck are kava berries?"
"When dried and roasted, they are brewed to make a sort of tea. Soldiers and mercenaries use it sometimes to stay alert on sentry duty. These are nearly dry, but they haven't been roasted yet."
Realization dawned. "Coffee," she murmured. "Someone sent me coffee." A huge grin spread over her face. "Cool!" Suddenly the depression that had weighed her down was gone, and she applied herself to the meal with enthusiasm.
It took her nearly a week to get the trick of roasting and grinding the berries. At Talon's advice, she spoke to one of the tinkers, who came up with a superb little mocha pot for her. Now she sat at her single table, happily tinkering away at the Electronic Thumb while a fresh pot of coffee brewed on the stove. She had the basic idea, cannibalizing the little emergency beacon her father insisted she carry for the housing and parts. But instead of the regular transmitter, the guts had been replaced with a curious tangle of wires and crystals. Red zircon, of course, for the electric arc spell that would power it, and black garnet for the magic pigeon that would carry the message. The main problem she was having was finding a spell that would actually cross the dimensional barrier. She thought she would talk to Talon—he was a wizard, what they called a sorcerer here. Maybe he would know a spell like that, and be willing to cast it for her.
She had just gotten a fresh cup, burning her mouth on the scalding liquid but unwilling to wait until it cooled, when there was a tap on her door. She hurried to open it, and blinked when she saw no one there. But there was another bag just outside the door. This time when she opened it, she saw that it was filled with food. Nuts and dried meat were in smaller bags, there were several kinds of fruit, and in the bottom she found several combs of honey wrapped in leaves. Again, she looked around for the anonymous donor, and again, she saw no one.
She didn't know whether to be pleased or embarrassed. Actually, she was feeling a little of both. On one hand, someone was going through an awful lot of trouble to be nice to her. On the other hand, she didn't really know anybody here, except for Talon and Salus and Grimnyr, and they wouldn't need to be anonymous. If they wanted to give her something, they would, and if they wanted something, they'd ask. She couldn't think of anybody who'd need to sneak around, except…
This time, she sought out Virtuous Guardian. It wasn't easy; she went all over Chanta asking for the Lunar. Mostly she got blank looks and a statement like, "I think she might be…," or "I thought I saw her talking to…." Finally, as she was getting ready to give up, there was a tap on her shoulder, and she turned to find Virtuous Guardian standing there.
"What do you need?" was her abrupt greeting.
As always, Deanna felt clumsy and young next to the enigmatic woman. And like always, she plunged forward anyway.
"Um, well, I just wanted to know…do Lunars ever apologize?"
Virtuous Guardian raised an eyebrow at the hurried question. "Only when we admit we're wrong," she said dryly. "Which is almost never, to outsiders. Why?"
"Well, someone's been leaving me stuff," Deanna explained. "And it isn't Salus or Talon or Grimnyr, so unless someone in Chanta's got a crush on me, I figure it's got to be Fox Clever Hunter. I haven't seen him at all since they moved me up here, and I guess you could say we didn't exactly part friendly—which was totally his fault." The girl paused for breath while Guardian tried to untangle this remarkable statement. "So, I wanted to know if it was an apology, or what."
"Ah." A slight smile touched the woman's lips as she regarded the girl. She had heard about the incident at Talon's domain, from both Grimnyr and Hunter. She wasn't sure how much to tell the girl. It was Hunter's business, after all. But then, the child had come to her. Abruptly, Virtuous Guardian made up her mind.
"I believe he left you gifts, yes," she said. "Though not by way of an apology. He is courting you."
The girl's face went absolutely blank. "What? Courting me?"
"He wants you for his mate. The gifts signal his desire."
Now panic touched Deanna's voice. "Whoa—hold on just a minute. You mean, he wants to be my-my boyfriend or something?"
Guardian tried to hide her amusement. "Or something, yes."
Deanna drew her duster closer around her body and backed up a step or two. "So, what have I committed to? Does accepting the first one mean I've said yes?"
"No." Taking pity on the outlander's panicked confusion, Guardian decided to enlighten her. "If you accept his gifts, you accept his suit, but not necessarily him."
"So…I haven't said yes, just that it's okay to keep trying?"
"Exactly. If you refuse a gift, it means his suit is no longer welcome."
"Huh." Deanna pondered that for a moment. "So…where is all this leading? What does he expect? I mean, when you say 'mate,' does that mean a 'let's-screw-around-until-we-get-tired-of-each-other' kind of relationship or more of a 'till-death-do-us-part' sort of thing?"
"That, child, is between you and him."
A week or so later she was walking home after dinner with Salus and Talon. It had become a regular thing now—Deanna would talk sorcery and engineering with Talon, and Salus would share amusing gossip passed along by his "little blossoms." She had been introduced to Garulf, the baby that the pair were raising, and she had to admit he was pretty cute. One of the pair would often hand him to her so they could finish cooking, and lately Deanna had discovered a warm and fuzzy side to herself. At first she had been a little embarrassed, but when the dignified Talon had gotten down on the floor to coo at Garulf—well, really, it hadn't been such a stretch for her to do the same. Though she was more than happy to let them take care of the diapers, especially since disposables apparently hadn't been invented here. Babies certainly made for a lot of laundry.
This particular night she was feeling a little melancholy. She'd tried pumping Talon for information about a message spell to cross the dimensional barrier, but had come up short. He knew a couple of good ones, but they would only work if the recipient was on the same plane as the caster. Without such a spell, her Electronic Thumb would send its signal—but only through this dimension. And she needed some emeralds for the "magic battery." Otherwise she'd drain herself trying to keep a constant signal going.
There was the slightest of tremors on the branch she was walking on (and wasn't that a heckuva thought—tree branches as wide as streets) and she turned to find Fox Clever Hunter standing behind her. He was in his man-shape, the first time she'd seen him so close since the incident in the clearing, though she had caught glimpses of him now and then. Deanna's insides knotted at the sight of him. Part of it was apprehension, and that was understandable, and part of it had to do with Guardian's revelations, and that was a little more tangled. He wanted her, and she wasn't quite sure how to handle that.
So she tried to play it cool. "Enjoying the moonlight?" she asked.
He smiled. It was just the barest curve of his lips, and something about that coupled with the direct stare of his eyes turned her insides to mush.
"The moonlight is always enjoyable when it shines on something beautiful."
It was a line, but so well delivered that she had to give him points for it. "Yeah?" She raised an eyebrow and glanced around. "Were you looking at something in particular?"
He took a slow step forward, and his smile curved a little deeper. "Yes," he said. "I was."
Deanna felt the craven urge to run. Instead she jammed her hands into the pockets of her duster and stood her ground. But she couldn't help the way her breath hitched when she said, "You'll have to point it out to me, then. I like the scenery here."
He advanced another step, and suddenly Deanna realized he was close enough to touch her. Her whole body hummed with tension, and she forced herself not to flinch when he reached out, very slowly, to brush a wisp of hair from her forehead.
"To do that," he said in nearly a whisper, "I would need a mirror."
Her mouth went dry and her mind went blank. She had never really understood the term "animal magnetism" before, but now as her senses were overwhelmed by his mere presence, she began to know what it meant. Her eyes drifted closed as she reeled under that brief touch of his fingers, and when she opened them, he was only inches away.
"Wow, you're…tall," she muttered, and immediately blushed. Hunter only chuckled, a sound more like a purr, as he tilted her chin up. His eyes were so dark, the pupils so wide, that none of the green showed at all.
"Deanna…" he breathed. "I want to kiss you. Will you run away if I try?"
Her brain was short-circuiting, all her synapses firing randomly. "Hmm? Oh, kiss…" she said faintly. "Yeah, sure…"
His lips were warm and firm over hers as he nibbled gently at her mouth, and one big hand cradled her head as the other rested on her shoulder. Deanna was trembling with nerves, passive underneath his hands, half expecting a return of the same violence he had shown at the clearing. Instead, he continued the light teasing pressure of his mouth until her tension broke on a long shuddering breath, and she leaned into the kiss with a soft sigh.
Now he allowed himself a fuller taste of her, deepening the kiss. Her hands lifted, not to push him away, but to stroke his chest. Her hands were small, but not soft; he felt every nick and callous against his skin, and he began purring at the sensation.
Deanna went cross-eyed as his fingers dug into her hair and began combing through its length. The chaste caress was somehow as intimate as his mouth on hers (and, oh god, he could kiss!) and had her imagining how those hands would feel under her shirt. As her hands stroked his chest, she heard that rumbling purr begin, and her knees nearly melted. He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her, and she suddenly had ample evidence that his arousal matched hers.
Hunter scented her body's response, and the potency of it had him clutching her close. Now he was trembling with the effort of holding back. Luna's eyes, he wanted her, but he wanted her willing. For the last weeks he had watched her, learning her needs and her tastes, as she hunched over her devices or tinkered with her machine, as she laughed with Salus and played with the baby and had long earnest discussions with Talon about sorcery. He had half-hoped that she would become less appealing to him, that familiarity would reveal some irritating trait and allow him to resume his former distance from her. But he had only liked her more.
Part of it, he admitted, was the lure of the forbidden. There had never been a wench he could not have, a woman he could not win, from the Haltan treetops to the Harlotry of Nexus. Most of them, except for brief dalliances with the likes of Virtuous Guardian, had hardly been worth the effort. But this outland sorceress had resisted him, had actually managed to injure him defending herself.
He had begun by admiring her body, then respecting her courage. Now as he felt her melt in his arms, as her warm lips parted and her desire rose to match his, he realized that the Hunter had been caught by his prey.
Deanna squeaked with surprise when she found herself literally swept off her feet and into Hunter's arms. He cradled her against his chest, his arms sliding under her duster as he nuzzled her neck. Instinctively she threw her arms around his neck as he began striding swiftly toward her little cottage. As he kicked the door shut behind him, the owl that watched from a nearby branch shimmered, and resolved into the slender form of Virtuous Guardian. As her keen ears caught the unmistakable noises from within, she shook her head tolerantly.
"Well, it's about time," she murmured. She sighed, a small smile gently curving her lips as she went to find Grimnyr. That little scene had made her own pulse race…
Deanna woke to the green-gold light of morning sun filtered through the redwood leaves. She was on her bed, covered by her coat. Something small and soft and warm was pressed against her side, and she looked down and smiled at the sight of the small tamarind that snuggled against her.
Well, of course, she thought. The bed's not big enough for both of us otherwise…
The coat fell away as she sat up and stretched, dappling bare skin with early sunlight. She caught sight of her clothes on the floor and blushed. She'd never be able to wear them again, not with the way he had torn them off of her. She hoped he'd be a little more restrained in the future; she didn't have many spare outfits.
The future. That thought had her pausing halfway out of bed. Her face went milk-pale, and she began to tremble. What the hell had she got herself into?
"Oh, God," she whispered. "Oh, God, what have I done?" Her shoulders began to shake as quiet tears began to flow. She tried to control her sobs, not wanting to wake Hunter.
Unfortunately, his senses were far keener than she anticipated. Fox Clever Hunter was used to many different reactions after a tumble, but not tears. Not from someone who had so clearly enjoyed herself. Yet he woke to the unmistakable sound of sobs. He rolled over and shifted to his human shape, concerned by the way Deanna huddled miserably on the edge of the cot, weeping uncontrollably. Hesitantly, he reached out to lay a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Deanna," he rumbled. "Why do you cry?"
She knew enough of the language by know to know what he was asking, and shook her head. She wasn't sure she had the words to explain even in her own language, and she tried to scoot away from him.
But motivated by an instinct he did not entirely understand, hunter pulled the girl close against him, feeling her heart beat like the wings of a caged bird. She resisted for a moment—then collapsed against his chest, sobbing openly now and clutching him as if he were a safe rock in the midst of a tempest.
She cried until her eyes were sore and gummy, her nose was red and swollen, and her damp hair straggled in her eyes. With a patience he had not guessed was in him, Hunter weathered the storm, cradling her against his chest and stroking her hair and murmuring soothing nonsense in his native what seemed like hours, the sobs that seemed ripped from her chest began to ease, becoming gentler, and finally trailing off into little hiccups. Still Hunter did not release her. Instead, he shifted her weight and lifted her easily in his arms and carried her to the water barrel. He filched a scrap of cloth left from her shirt, dampened it in the fresh cool water, and then sat on the floor and began to gently wipe her face.
She submitted quietly to his ministrations, huddled miserably in his lap. She turned her face up to his, but he could not read the expression in her deep brown eyes.
When her nose was a bit less red, and her eyes could see clearly again, Deanna reached up and stopped him with a hand on his wrist. Fox Clever Hunter paused, and she rose unsteadily from his lap. Signaling him to wait, she stumbled to where her knapsack leaned against the smooth wood of the wall, and opened it, returning a moment later with her digital recorder and a scrap of paper about the size of his palm. Apparently oblivious to the fact that they were both still naked, Deanna sat cross-legged in front of him, activated the tongues spell, and handed him the paper.
"That's a boy," she said quietly, her voice hoarse from strain. "His name was Tommy—James Thomas, actually, but everyone called him Tommy."
Hunter looked at the paper and saw a startlingly lifelike picture of a young man with his arm around Deanna's shoulders. The boy had carrot-orange hair, a spatter of freckles across his face, and a mile-wide grin. He wore an utterly ridiculous outfit—a short fur-trimmed coat, baggy britches tucked into knee-high boots, and an odd little cap that covered his ears. Deanna wore her usual duster and was smiling as well. They both looked very young and careless and happy.
"This Tommy…he was special to you?" Hunter asked carefully.
Deanna nodded slowly. "Yeah. We had plans, me and Tommy. We were going to finish University, get married, open a shop—he was a tech-wiz like me. Make magic, and a family." The hurt in her voice was plain. "Then the Coalition attacked Tolkeen."
Her gaze turned inwards. "I guess you wouldn't know what that means…the Coalition States don't like magic. Well," she added with a bitter laugh, "that's an understatement. They don't like magic, they hate psionics, and they're paranoid about anything that doesn't qualify as 'human' by their standards. I'd be watched, and arrested at the first sight of magic. You…you'd be shot on sight. You don't look human enough for them."
"Tolkeen was just the opposite. It was a city that encouraged magic and beauty and learning, and the mingling of native humans with rift travelers. So of course the Coalition saw it as a threat. And a lot of people from Lazlo—that's where I lived—wanted to go help, try to break the siege. Tommy…Tommy wanted to go. He wanted to be a hero."
"He died." The words were a statement, not a question.
Deanna nodded. "Yeah. But not in the siege. He was captured when Tolkeen finally fell. The Coalition…they don't ransom wizards. They torture them before they publicly execute them. And they broadcast the deaths of every one of Tolkeen's defenders across the whole continent. I saw him die, Hunter." Her hands were shaking and her voice was hoarse, but she had no more tears left and could only shake with the memory. "I saw everything they did to him, and then I saw him die with the others."
"Deanna…" Fox Clever Hunter felt a surge of sympathy as he reached out to stroke her tangled hair. Had he thought her brave before? To see such a thing…and yet to be able to laugh… he was in awe of her courage now. "Deanna…do you cry because what we did felt untrue to your Tommy?"
To his surprise, she shook her head. "No. No, I got over that a long time ago. I've had other lovers—not many, granted, but…." She lifted her gaze to his face, and her eyes pleaded with him to understand. "Hunter, you're a hero. That's obvious. But I've seen what happens to heroes and I—I really don't think I'm strong enough to go through that again."
"You've got an army that's going to be coming through here in, what, two weeks? And I know you're going to help try to defend this place. You might survive, and you might even win, but…what about next time? Or the time after that? How many wars, how many battles, can you survive before the odds catch up with you? And what am I gonna do if I let myself give a damn about it?"
She rose suddenly and paced away from him, rubbing her bare arms. "I'm an alien here, Hunter, and I want to go home more than anything. But I'm starting to give a damn, not just about you but about this place and these people. And I guess that's why I was crying. Because really…I don't see how there's a happy ending here at all."
Fox Clever Hunter sat silently absorbing her words, once again taken aback by what a fascinating, complicated creature she was. Yet he understood her reluctance, better than she could know. Standing, he wrapped his arms around her, stilling her pacing, and dropped a light kiss on top of her head.
"Deanna," he said quietly, "I will not make empty promises to you. Only Saturn knows the length of our days, and I would not venture to gainsay her."
"But think on this: There is pain for you, if you care for me, but there is pain for me as well. Your presence has become infinitely precious to me. The fact that you exist—that you live and breath and laugh and make your magic machines—makes this Age of Sorrows just a bit brighter for me."
"But the Exaltation that sets us above mortals also sets us apart. Even the paltry Dragon-Blooded number their years by the hundreds, and if I do not die in battle, I might live ten centuries or more." The girl in his arms grew very still as this penetrated. "It would pain me, Deanna, to watch you grow old while I was yet in my prime. But it is a pain I would willingly endure, in exchange for the joy of having you, for however brief a time."
Deanna trembled as she thought about his words. After a moment, she turned to face him, lifting her chin to look into his eyes. "Wow," she said. "That…kinda puts things in perspective."
"That it does," he agreed. And lowered his head to kiss her softly. "If you truly do not want me to stay, I will leave," he murmured against her mouth.
"Stay," she whispered back, suddenly conscious of the fact that they were both still naked. Her heart began to beat double-time as his hands slid up her back. "And I guess we'll figure it all out later…"