Jes nodded in emphatic agreement.
She wished Tier was here, to say the next part. But she needed to warn Jes, and this was as good a time as any other.
“Another thing that will be very difficult for you is sex,” she told him.
Jes stiffened beside her, and Seraph kept her face a little averted so he couldn’t see the rising color in her cheeks. She cleared her throat. “You have a hard enough time controlling the volatile nature of the Guardian without dealing with your own emotions running wild as well.” And that was all she was going to say about that, she thought firmly. “Hennea knows this last adventure was dangerous for you, because the Guardian was called out so often. The Eagles who have lived the longest avoid situations that might call on the Guardian. We depended upon your abilities while we were trying to save Tier, and there were consequences. You must have noticed some changes in yourself.”
“The Guardian is closer,” he told her. “He used to sleep a lot, but now he’s always near. We switch more often, too.” He hesitated. “He listens to me better, though, and when he takes over, I can still be there with him. I used to wake up walking in the woods and not know why, but now he usually lets me stay if I want to.”
“I didn’t know that,” said Seraph. “It sounds like a good thing to me.”
He nodded. “To me, too.”
“Hennea doesn’t know about that part,” said Seraph. “She only knows you are very vulnerable right now. She believes she is too old for you—however old that is. She thinks what you feel for her is”—her command of the Rederni tongue twenty years in the gaining failed her, and she waved her hands before she found the word—“mooncalf love; which is, maybe, even more emotional than real love, but not permanent. Something you would recover from if she were gone.”
“She wants to leave to save me,” he said, and, from his aggravated tone, he wasn’t appreciative of the idea.
“She wants you to be safe because she loves you,” said Seraph.
His head jerked around.
“Your father told me she loves you,” she told him, knowing he’d trust Tier’s judgment.
He took a deep breath, his shoulders softening with some emotion Seraph thought might just be simple relief.
“She loves you too much to trust in your strength when it is your life at risk. She doesn’t see what a gift she is to you: a woman who is not afraid of the Guardian, a Raven who has enough control she can touch you without causing you distress, a woman who is strong enough to love an Eagle.”
A slow smile crept across his face. “Pretty,” he said, and Seraph felt an answering smile rise in her.
“Very,” she agreed.
Jes stood up and started for the temple, but then stopped and turned back to her. Seraph got to her feet—slowly, because the hair on the back of her neck told her it was the Guardian who watched her out of her son’s eyes.
“Why is she still here?” he asked. “If she wanted to leave to save us, why doesn’t she just leave? The puzzle of the gems is more important than Jes is?”
“The gems are more than just a puzzle,” answered Seraph. “Guardian, the Travelers are dying. We can’t afford to lose so many Orders when the Orders may be the only thing that can save us. I don’t know why she hasn’t told me everything she knows, but I think she has earned the right to expect me to trust her judgment.”
The Guardian nodded and retreated behind Jes’s eyes. “It’s all right if Hennea has secrets,” Jes said in his usual cheerful voice. “Ravens are happier with secrets. Papa says.”
Seraph raised her eyebrows and started walking toward the temple. “Oh, he does, does he?”
Jes laughed.
CHAPTER 5
The pristine antechamber of Seraph’s memory was gone. The temple flooring was covered with dirt blown in through the open doors. The furnishings Seraph remembered were gone.
Only when she and Jes entered the great domed chamber with its frescoed birds flying in a circle around a false sky did the temple match her memories, even down to the magelights that illuminated the walls. She wondered how long the lights would continue without the wizard who fed them.
Jes paused to look at the eagle that dominated the sky. “He thought the Eagle was the Stalker, didn’t he?”
“No,” Seraph said, walking briskly toward a door on the far side of the room. “He didn’t know anything about the Stalker at all, except that it was trapped. He knew even less about the Eagle. You know Travelers don’t talk about the Eagles because your Order has enough to bear, and the clans try to protect the Guardians from the few things we can. Volis heard whispers of parts of the two stories and put them together with a handful of straw and came out with nonsense.”
Jes followed her out of the room.
They found the library and the others, thanks to Jes, who followed the sounds of voices through the labyrinthine series of narrow halls dug into the stone of the mountain.
Though it was a large room, it was sparsely furnished, as if Volis had just begun to fill it. One wall was lined with shelves that were half-filled with books. On the other side of the room were a bench, a chest, and several cabinets. Lehr and Rinnie were parked in front of one bookcase paging through books, Hennea was doing the same thing in front of another.
Hennea looked up when they entered. She saw Jes, humming happily to himself, and raised an eyebrow at Seraph.
Seraph couldn’t help but smile at her a little smugly. “Ravens like secrets.”
“Papa said,” agreed Jes cheerfully.
He walked behind Rinnie and crouched just behind where she sat on the floor, a book opened to a colorful illustration of a Traveler camp.
“That’s a karis,” he said, pointing at a picture of one of the little wagons. “The Lark, Brewydd, had one of those she rode in because she was very old.” He looked up at Hennea. “Very old,” he said again, and winked.
Hennea stiffened. Then she turned on her heel, grabbed Seraph by the arm, and tugged her out of the room into the hallway.
“What did you say to him?” she demanded, her usual aura of calmness gone as if it had never been.
In contrast, Seraph felt quite tranquil—an unusual state for her. She enjoyed it.
“His hearing is quite good,” she reminded Hennea. “Though he’ll pretend he didn’t hear us because someone taught him manners.” She looked pointedly at Hennea’s hand.
Hennea let her go as if Seraph’s arm had turned hot as a coal.
“Why are you doing this? Why encourage him?” Hennea asked in a harsh whisper. “You know it’s not safe.”
“My son doesn’t hide from life,” said Seraph, making no effort to shield her words from the three people in the next room, who were doubtlessly holding their breath so they could hear better. “You might trust him to know what he can bear and what he cannot. He is not stupid.”
Hennea stared at her incredulously. “You are encouraging him.”
“I told him nothing but the truth as I know it,” said Seraph. “What he does with that knowledge is his business—and perhaps yours.” She looked at the other Raven and sighed, putting away her secret amusement. “Life can be so hard sometimes, Hennea; it’s easy to forget it can also be wonderful. Don’t throw away gifts that come your way.”
Deciding she had dispensed more advice than she was comfortable with, Seraph left Hennea and returned to the library, pulling a book out at random.
“Hennea’s already been through that shelf,” murmured Lehr. “It might be best if you moved over one bookcase. We’re setting aside any books that are about the Travelers, and there’s a big pile here for books written in languages we can’t read.”
“Thanks,” she said, touching his shoulder. Instead of sorting through a bookcase, she sat on the floor and began going through the pile of books until she came to some she could translate.