“Also true.”
Her chin came up, her eyes deepened into darker brown. “The ladies Comosums are . . . haughty. They will expect exceptional food. My friend, Camellia Darjeeling D’Hawthorn is sending me a food chest with temporary no-time spells. And the cost of
Glyssa’s face softened. “Yes.” She smiled slyly. “You are still welcome to eat whatever you like.” With a chuckle, she said, “And fast.”
“I could give a couple of meals to Myrtus Stopper for being kind to Zem,” Jace said.
She nodded. “That would be good.”
“And Symphyta.”
Glyssa’s mouth tightened, could she be a little jealous? “That would be very kind of you. She likes sweets, so maybe the desserts especially. If you want to keep some of the food from the contents, you’re welcome to do that, too.”
He didn’t have anywhere to put it.
“Right.”
“You won’t be leaving?” she said, then frowned as if she hadn’t meant to ask.
“I have the pay, from working with you and Maxima”—and from the damned digging, though that was the minimum—“to return. I’m not going,” he answered roughly. “But the Elecampanes were right before. This smear on my name could follow me wherever I go. I’ll be investing.” If he had enough gilt.
He looked at the cowards and the bored and the stups who’d gathered around the owners, taking them up on the return trip. So many other exciting options right here!
Across from them, Funa stamped her foot and appeared a little sulky, then perked up when Symphyta teasingly bumped her with a grin. “Guards, new blood. New men.”
“Oh, yes,” Funa hissed.
That evening after dinner, Jace and Carolinia fed Zem and Jace stocked the new no-time with very warm kills. The cat ate some of the good human food and then had taken herself off with a high and waving tail. Zem himself appeared better already since the cat and a competitive Lepid had made sure he was fed throughout the day and brought food for his no-time.
Lepid scratched at the dirt outside Jace’s door. The FamFox’s ears flattened to his head.
Now that he mentioned it, Jace realized some of the depression that pervaded him came through the bond from Glyssa.
Lepid fox lay down on the ground, and put his forepaws over his muzzle.
Jace winced. His shoulders twitched.
Jace actually shifted from foot to foot, one of the first things anyone taking self-defense or fighter training was told not to do, and he could usually control that. Not this time. “What makes you think I’d know what to do?”
The FoxFam was good with laying on the guilt.
Nothing Jace liked more than jollying up a crying woman.
That’s because the fox was too young to know any better, Jace figured. He didn’t think the young fox had the patience to pester him until Jace caved. But the Fam was right, Glyssa had gone out of her way to help him.
Not as if Jace would be welcomed around the campfire, anyway. He rubbed his chest. “All right.”
Lepid ran ahead. Jace plodded after. When he got to Glyssa’s pavilion, he couldn’t see a thing, privacy spells shielded the windows and door. He paused.
He became aware of the soft dark, the chirping of insects, the singing of night birds. Tonight the sky was clear with the galaxies that painted the Celtan sky bright and close, the twinmoons brilliant. Maybe there wasn’t a better place to be.
Glyssa opened the door, a figure in a thin summer robe with the light behind her outlining her body. He caught her fragrance and he knew he was in trouble.
She looked at Jace with an expression as doubtful as he felt.
Clearing his throat, he said, “What’s the problem?” He’d meant to be brusque but his mouth had gentled the words, pushed more after them. “How can I help?”
With a frown, she shook her head. “I don’t know if you can.” She stepped aside and let him in, gestured to the desk with Hoku’s journals spread out, sheets of papyrus and a writestick. Messy as he hadn’t expected her to be. Almost looked as if she couldn’t accomplish something.
Stupid idea.
“I don’t recall. Do you know the terms of my fieldwork? What I must accomplish to advance in my career?” she asked.
“No.”
“Oh. I didn’t discuss them with you as well as Maxima?”
“No.”
She scrubbed at her puffy face. He didn’t comment. With a sigh and drooping shoulders she walked over to one of the chairs at the far end of the sitting room, pointedly ignoring the desk.
“I have to record what’s going on in camp, and transcribe Hoku’s journals . . .” Glyssa was reluctant to tell Jace her failings.
“Looks like you might have a problem,” Jace said, took the few steps to the desk and stared at her and the mess of papyrus and writestick. “Huh. Thought you were expert in everything.”
Too tired to snap at him, she said, “No.” If she let it, panic would eat at her that she might fail, fail her fieldwork, and remain a SecondLevel Librarian.
He rolled the writestick and smiled angelically. “Whatcha doing?”
“Writing a paper.”
His brows wiggled. “
“All right, trying to write.”
Tilting his head, he whisked a sheet of papyrus from the table, read, and winced. Glyssa sat in stiff mortification.
Jace grabbed a legged chair with his ankle, dragged it over, and dropped into it. “This doesn’t read like a scholarly paper to me, GrandMistrys Librarian.”
And more tears came and everything poured out, Camellia and her need to have her ancestor vindicated, wanting Glyssa to write a popular piece instead of a restrained research monograph. Glyssa’s review with her Family, how she felt set up for failure.
He
