“What game?” the New One finally replied in a voice that was barely above a hoarse rasp. He had the voice of a ghost. That would be his new name. Ghost.
“Hide-and-Find, Ghost,” Roth said. “Interested?”
Much to Roth’s delight, Ghost nodded.
“Phier!” Roth clapped, turning around with a little hop. “We’re Moppet hunting! Start sniffing! If we win, we get the first infant we find; if Ghost and his confused beast win, we have to eat sizzling lizards that scorch our tongues!”
The phoenix took flight as Roth began to sniff at the air like a dog. The game was on.
***
Rain in Mahala never lingered for long. The heat returned with the vengeance of a thousand suns, sapping the life from every living thing in Azucena.
“It’s hot here,” Reven complained turning back into the manse. He leaned on a cane, unable to stand upright without aid. Demon wounds did not heal properly no matter what was done to them. It was a horrible reality barreling down on the young tirsai heir to the Phoenix Throne. Despite Serai’s assistance, the boy continued to fail, growing weaker by the hour. His sisters and the Kormandi princess sat vigil over him in hopes that he might recover. Reven did not have the heart to tell them the brutal truth. Reven’s ailments were not quite as potent, the creature that delivered his wound not truly a ‘full’ demon like the one that wounded Aeron. Reven was still puzzling out what that meant. The basis of a Corruption was easily understood: a blending of science and fell magic that forced the Corruption of a demon’s natural wound on the victim. The why of it was something else entirely. Nothing good for sure.
“S’always hot,” Liam grumbled, feet propped on the newly delivered dining room table. Reven shot him a glare, knocking the thief-taker’s feet off the table with his cane by way of reply. The man loitered because Ajana loitered. He was allowed to stay for her sake, otherwise Reven would have sent the thief-taker halfway to the moons above by now. “Rev…”
“What?” Reven grumbled. He was not particularly interested in hearing another tirade from the duende man. He instigated two since Reven’s recovery back to consciousness. Anything to save his skin.
“Sorry,” Liam mumbled. Reven frowned, turning to look over his shoulder to make sure he heard right. The thief-taker stared at the floor or his hands or anything but the bard. Reven felt the guilt, the regret that rolled off of Liam. He heard every thought, every excuse that flooded the man’s mind for why he’d done what he’d done, why he lied or kept so many secrets. Reven sighed, limping back to where Liam sat. To his credit, the man flinched, looking up in surprise when Reven set a hand on his shoulder instead.
“Forget it,” the bard said and moved on. At some point, a serious discussion was in order. The paths Reven and Liam walked were splitting. Knowing that put a heavy weight on the bard’s heart. He hobbled through the grand foyer to the opposite end of the manse where there would eventually be a sitting room. It opened up to a rear garden that boasted a rather impressive array of weeds and overgrown shrubbery but also offered a bit of shade and respite from the heat. Navid sat out in the garden with Kaleo and the Kormandi king and queen. They would leave in the morning for Itahl, the queen’s home nation. Both looked at him as he walked out to join them, the quiet conversation between the four coming to an end with Kaleo going so far as to shrink up behind the centaur. Reven threw a glare at the incorrigible child but ignored him otherwise.
“Things are in order for you to leave tomorrow, Majesty,” the bard began, addressing the young king. Reven had made all of the arrangements earlier that day on his trip into town. He needed time to think, to sort things out away from the coterie of people invading his home; needed food. Plus, Reven had collected his new caretaker, returning with a wagon full of supplies that the elderly human set himself to organizing. “Sergio will escort you to the Port Circle and make sure you have what you need.”
The young man offered a gentle grin, nodding but looked at Kaleo as the winged brat began to translate what was said into the Imperial tongue. Only then did the king truly nod and regard the bard with appreciation. Interesting.
“Sangkyu, Reven-san,” the king said. The language switch surprised Reven, especially given that Kaleo translated. More surprising was his own capacity to understand the language of the kitsune.
“Of course,” Reven said, using what the king seemed to know best. It made the young man smile. He, like many others in his home, looked at him with reserved recognition. They knew him, knew who he was, and now adapted to an unexpected change. “It is my understanding that Nadya will remain with the Phoenix prince.”
Again, the young king nodded allowing Kaleo to translate for the queen now rather than the king. She, like most Itahli, only spoke the Trade Cant out of a belief that they were exempt from stooping to the lesser nations. History tomes told the bard that the tirsai of the Phoenix Empire once had the same arrogance. Once.
“Will you be staying with us, Navid?” Reven continued. The centaur looked at him then at Kaleo, mentally mulling over his response. Whatever was discussed prior to Reven’s intrusion played a part in the centaur’s answer.
“For now,” he replied. “Until Aeron is well enough to return to Tierra Vida.”
Reven was not familiar with Tierra Vida outside of its position on a map. From what he understood, the island nation was where the Phoenix Empire refugees fled, where the twins and their brother belonged. Navid too and, as much as it pained Reven to even consider it, perhaps
