Shoving her hands into her pockets again, the halfling glanced back at the Oracle’s closed front door as she and the Nightstalker headed back down the breezy hallway toward the apartment building’s front door. “He’s been here longer than you.”
“You know, a little stretch of the imagination, and you could say that about every Oracle in existence. But technically speaking? Yeah. By several centuries, give or take.” A silver light flashed at the Nightstalker’s fingertips, and the centuries-old human illusion of Mattie Bergmann replaced the ex-general’s feline appearance.
Cheyenne stepped through the battered door and held it open for her friend. “None of that sounds like a friendship of necessity.”
“Well, it is for him, I guess.” When Maleshi stepped out into the crisp autumn air, she perked up a little more. “Didn’t stop him from trying to lure you into his weaselly little claws, did it?”
The halfling looked as dumbfounded as she had the first day she’d stepped into Mattie Bergmann’s office for a chat about magic.
Maleshi cocked her head. “You almost got roped into a prophecy back there, kid. Anything you said next could have and would have been used against you in that nasty room.”
“Because I wanted him to explain himself?” Cheyenne shook her head as they headed down the short path toward the sidewalk. “I asked him plenty of questions the last time I was here, and hey, not even an accidental prophecy.”
“That’s the way they are. Oracles.” The Nightstalker shook her head, and a little shudder traveled down her spine. “Sounded a lot like he wanted to give you a free reading, kid. Which means if you’d kept pushing him, you would’ve found yourself using up a free ticket for a prophecy you didn’t want. That just muddies the waters, you know?”
“Not really. I’d still have more answers than I got out of him.”
“No, you wouldn’t.” They reached the Panamera, which was parked a full fifteen inches from the curb, and stopped on the sidewalk. “Asking the wrong question with one of those guys is like putting arcade tokens into a vending machine. Only works if you’re still in the arcade. I think.”
Cheyenne rolled her eyes and stepped around the front of her car toward the driver’s side door. “I guess the next time I need a real prophecy and have an offering or whatever, I get a freebie.”
Maleshi burped and grimaced, smacking her lips again. “If you do, kid, don’t let him tell you he doesn’t remember saying you don’t have to pay. Raug don’t forget many things. A raug Oracle holds onto every tiny detail before and after it happens. And speaking of the next time, what happened the first time?”
“I brought him the legacy box like you said I should.”
“Oh, yeah.” The Nightstalker chuckled even as her normally healthy color faded. “Way back when you and I only thought we knew each other. How’d he take it?”
The Porsche let out a chirp when Cheyenne unlocked it with the keyless fob and a smile that didn’t feel quite so forced. “Nearly pissed himself and said he wouldn’t touch that box to save his life. Apparently, it’s scarier than a raging half-drow holding an attack spell under his nose.”
A weak, distracted laugh rose from Maleshi’s throat. “Sometimes, it’s better not to know—”
The words cut off as the Nightstalker pressed her lips together and hunched forward again.
Cheyenne shot her a sympathetic frown. “You’re looking a little green over there. You sure you’re okay?”
“Oh, yeah. I’ll be fine. I just need—” Maleshi let out a strangled heave and reached for the handle of the passenger-side door. “Let’s get goin’, kid. I need a six-pack and a whole box of saltines.”
The Panamera’s locks chirped again just before the Nightstalker tugged on the door handle.
She looked at Cheyenne and shook her head. “What are you doing?”
“You’re not getting in my car until you puke or can stand there for two minutes without looking like you’re about to.”
“Come on, Cheyenne. You’re overreacting. I’m fine.” Maleshi swallowed thickly and failed to look fine. “It’ll pass, okay? It’s like reverse car-sickness. I just need to keep moving.”
“Not in the Porsche.” The halfling eyed her friend and slowly raised her shoulders in a shrug. “I’m really into the new-car smell. Not gonna risk it.”
“I’m not—” Maleshi blinked, staggered back, then turned away from the car and vomited on the dry brown grass in front of the small apartment building. It was quick and violent, and then it was over. Sighing, the Nightstalker straightened and turned to give Cheyenne an exasperated look. “There. Are you happy now?”
“I’d be happier if you’d held back your hair.”
Maleshi grabbed a section of thick, wavy black hair resting over her shoulder and snorted in disgust. “That’s what friends are for, isn’t it?”
“Not when you didn’t give me any warning.”
“Okay, you know what? Fine.” The ex-general could only keep up the ruse of being insulted for so long. A defeated chuckle escaped her. “No, I’m not gonna make you drive me home like this. Just go. I feel loads better, so we’re good.”
“You sure?”
“Do I still look green?”
Cheyenne smirked. “Nope.”
“There you go.” Maleshi glanced up and down the quiet street and lifted her hands. A quickly muttered spell and some hand gestures later, the Nightstalker gestured to a brand-new portal hovering over the sidewalk in front of her. “I’m going home. So should you. Grab some dinner, put up your feet, and as soon as I know what happens next, you’ll be the first person to hear about it.”
“Okay.” Cheyenne let herself smile at the woman who’d started her journey toward controlling a halfling’s drow magic. Even if she’s not who I thought she was. “I guess I’ll...see you tomorrow?”
“Nope. I’ll be teaching my own class, kid. Just check your email and don’t worry too much about standing up in front of a bunch of students who are pretty much your age. You’ll be fine.”
“Sounds like an hour and a half in paradise.”
Shaking her head, Maleshi stepped through the
