“He’s coming here without sekasha?”
Wraith nodded.
What game was this? Why include someone that lacked the most basic abilities of building a household? Did this mean that the Stone Clan didn’t intent to create holdings in Pittsburgh?
“I’m not sure you should be trying to call the spell stones.” Stormsong was the only one that actually voiced the doubt all of them were clearly thinking as they followed her through the enclave’s enclosed gardens.
“I’m fine.” She said for what seemed the millionth time in the last three days.
“You spent a month working around the clock,” Stormsong started. “And you haven’t—”
“Shhh!” Tinker silenced and worked to find her center. Getting her fingers into the full suit position took a moment of concentration. Bringing her hand to her mouth, she vocalized the trigger word. The magic spilled around her, pulsing with potential. Carefully, she shifted her fingers to the shield position and spoke the trigger. The magic wrapped around her, distorting the air.
“Yes!” Without thinking, she threw up her hands in jubilation and the shield vanished. “Oops!”
The sekasha were too polite to comment. Finding her center was harder while burning with embarrassment. Her heart still leapt up when she called up her shield but she managed not to move this time. She held it for several minutes and then practiced at looking around, and then moving, without forgetting to maintain her hand positions.
“Okay,” Tinker said. “Can I talk? Can you hear me?”
Pony grinned at her. “We can hear you. As long as you don’t have your hands near your mouth, you can talk — but it’s not always wise.”
She dismissed the magic. Only after the power drained completely away did she celebrate. Laughing, she hugged Pony. “I did it!”
He surprised her by hugging her tightly back. “Yes, you did.”
The walkie-talkie chirped and Stormsong answered with a “Yes? It is nothing — she is only practicing.”
Tinker grimaced. She forgot Windwolf would notice her tapping the spell stones. “That’s Wolf Who Rules?”
“Yes, ze domi,” Stormsong said.
“Sorry, Windwolf!” Tinker called. “But I did it! I called the shields!”
Stormsong listened for a moment and then said. “He says ‘very good’ and wants to know if you plan to continue practicing?”
“For a while.” It occurred to her that the stones might only support one user. “That isn’t a problem for him — is it?”
“No, domi.” Pony answered the question. “Both of you can use the stones at the same time.”
Stormsong listened and then said goodbye. “Wolf Who Rules merely wanted to be sure you were fine. Practice away, he said.”
So she did until she momentarily forgot how to dispel the magic. When at last the magic washed away, Pony came and took her hands in his.
“Please, domi, go to bed. You can do more tomorrow.”
Tinker woke from her nightmare to a dark bedroom. For a moment, she couldn’t figure out where she was. She’d fallen asleep in so many places lately. She eyed the poster bed, wood paneling, and open window — oh yes — her bedroom at Poppymeadow. Even awake, her dreams crowded in on her. She put out a hand and found Windwolf’s comforting warmth. It was all she needed to push away the darkest memories.
Sighing, she snuggled up to her husband. This is one of the unexpected joys of being married, her secret treasure. She had never realized how lonely she was at night. Back in her loft, any light noise had her out of bed, and once awake, she often found herself getting dressed and wandering out into the sleeping city, in search of something she’d couldn’t name or identify. Before Windwolf, if asked, she would have said she was perfectly happy — but if she had been, how could she be so much happier now?
She was just noticing something hard digging into her side, when she realized it was Pony beside her, not Windwolf. While Pony wore his loose pajamas, he slept on top of the blankets beside her, instead of under them with her. It was his sheathed ejae beneath her — she’d rolled on top of it when she cuddled up to him.
“Pony?” She tugged the sword out from under her, dropped it behind him. His presence confused her.
“What is it, domi?” he asked sleepily.
It took her another minute to sort through memories and dreams to know what reality should be. They weren’t still prisoners of the oni and her husband really should be in bed with her. “Where’s Windwolf?”
Pony rubbed at his face. “Hmmm? He’s probably still with Prince True Flame. There was much to do before the troops arrived tomorrow.”
“I had a bad dream about Windwolf. He couldn’t see Lord Tomtom. I could but the black willows were holding me — I couldn’t move — couldn’t warn him.”
“Hush.” Pony hugged her loosely. “Tomtom is dead. Wolf Who Rules is safe. It was only a dream — nothing more. Go back to sleep.”
“What if the oni attacked?” She started to get up but he tightened his hold.
“No, no, Wolf would want you to sleep. You’re exhausted, domi. You’re going to make yourself sick if you do not sleep.”
She groaned because she was so very tired but the nightmare pressed in on her. “I can’t go back to sleep. Windwolf could be in trouble.”
“He’s fine.”
“How do you know? We were asleep. He could be fighting for his life right now.” Oh gods, she was turning into such a drama queen. Go to bed, go to bed, go to bed, she told herself, but she couldn’t banish the memories.
“Oh, domi,” Pony crooned. “When I was little and my mother was out with Longwind — Windwolf’s father — I’d be worried just like you are now. And my father would say, ‘look at the clear sky, see the stars? If the Wind Clan fought tonight, the wind would throw clouds around, and lightning would be everywhere.’”
She relaxed onto his bare shoulder, gazing out the bedroom’s wind at the peach trees beyond, standing still against a crystalline sky. “What did you do when it stormed?”
Pony chuckled, a good warm sound that did much to banish away her fears. “Ah, you’ve spotted the weakness in my father’s ploy.”
It puzzled her that his mother was out with Longwind when he was fighting until she realized that both of Pony’s parents would have been sekasha. Pony’s mother must be beholden to Windwolf’s father.
“What is your mother like?” she asked.
“Otter Dance? She is sekasha,” Pony said as if that explained everything. Perhaps it did. “We of the Wind Clan sekasha are known to be playful and lucky where the Fire Clan sekasha are considered hot tempered and rude. When we come together in large cities, we of the Wind Clan like to gamble and win, and the Fire Clan tends to lose and start fights. Almost every night ends in a brawl, everyone black and blue.”
He smelt wonderful. His braid was undone and his hair was a cascade of black in the moonlight. As if it had a mind of its own, her hand drifted down over his chest, feeling the hard muscles under the silk shift.
“Hmmm,” was all she managed as exhaustion — thankfully — was beating out desire.
“I do not know which my mother loves more — to gamble or brawl.” Pony went on to expand his mother’s adventures in both, but she slipped back to sleep.
Tinker woke twice more that night. The second time was another nightmare, this of being chased by Fu Lions through the ironwoods. Pony was there again to soothe away her fear. The third time was Windwolf finally returning home, but by then she could barely stir.