response to your information was necessary, so you may speak freely in their presence.”
The door was pushed open once more as the big man, Bull, returned. He placed a tray of steaming cups on the table, giving the Major a shame-faced grin as he did so. She smiled back wearily. Her Captain reached for a cup and passed it to her, pursing his lips as she accepted it with trembling hands.
The big man then served Taran and his friends and there was silence while they all savored the hot, strong fellan. Taran frowned as Bull seated himself across the room from the Major, but he made no comment. His erroneous initial impressions had rattled him badly and he was feeling more uncomfortable by the minute.
“So,” repeated Robin eventually, “what did you wish to discuss?”
Taran glanced at Major Sullyan, but she seemed lost in her fellan, her eyes closed. He sighed; if he had to parade his shame he might at least be granted the Major’s attention.
A prickling sensation shot through his body and he glanced back at her face. Her eyes had opened and she was studying him closely. He frowned, surprised he should feel her gaze so strongly. He was sure there was a hint of amusement in her eyes.
The young Captain was waiting for a response. Taking a deep breath, Taran tried to control his nerves. He had not counted on having to explain himself to three people—one of them an extremely beautiful young woman—but as he let his breath out, he began his tale, addressing the Major.
“My name is Taran Elijah and my friend here is Cal Tyler. This is his partner, Rienne Arlen. She’s a healer.” Taran thought he heard a sharp breath from the Major as he mentioned his name, but she didn’t speak. “A friend of ours recommended we come to you.”
Interrupting him, Robin spoke casually to the Major. “The village elder, Paulus. Near Shenton.”
Sullyan made no reply, her eyes soft and unfocused. Taran was irritated by the interruption but took hold of his temper; he didn’t want to antagonize anyone.
He continued, “I’ve known Paulus all my life and have often confided in him when no one else would listen. Normally, listening is all he does, but this time his advice was to come to you, Major. He felt you might have some interest in the problem.”
Robin interrupted again. “Paulus knows a little of what we do here. He knows not to bother the Major with trivia so he must think your problem worthy of her attention. You’d better get to the point.”
Already uncomfortable, Taran was growing increasingly irritated by the Captain’s high-handed manner. He’d given the Journeyman an initially favorable impression. Since then, his attitude seemed to have changed.
To steady his nerves, Taran took a mouthful of fellan. The hot liquid ran through him, reminding him of the awful heat as he’d fled the Andaryan huntsmen. Once again, he realized that Major Sullyan was watching him, her startling eyes hooded and unreadable. At that moment, Taran decided to keep some parts of his humiliating tale—including its fatal outcome—to himself, at least until he knew a bit more about these people. He could always add it later.
He placed his empty cup on the tray and glanced at Robin. The younger man was still perched on the edge of the desk, hovering protectively by the Major’s side. There was a plainly fake expression of polite interest on his face and Taran felt a sudden urge to replace it with respect.
“I am an Artesan,” he stated abruptly. “I hold the rank of Journeyman.”
He watched for a reaction but was disappointed. The polite interest didn’t waver and the young man didn’t speak.
Annoyed, Taran proceeded.
“I was taught by my father, who reached the level of Adept-elite before his death two years ago.”
There was a moment of silence. Then:
“Your father was Amanus Elijah.”
The soft voice was Major Sullyan’s and Taran gaped at her. Her gaze
The door was pushed open once more as the big man, Bull, returned. He placed a tray of steaming cups on the table, giving the Major a shame-faced grin as he did so. She smiled back wearily. Her Captain reached for a cup and passed it to her, pursing his lips as she accepted it with trembling hands.
The big man then served Taran and his friends and there was silence while they all savored the hot, strong fellan. Taran frowned as Bull seated himself across the room from the Major, but he made no comment. His erroneous initial impressions had rattled him badly and he was feeling more uncomfortable by the minute.
“So,” repeated Robin eventually, “what did you wish to discuss?”
Taran glanced at Major Sullyan, but she seemed lost in her fellan, her eyes closed. He sighed; if he had to parade his shame he might at least be granted the Major’s attention.
A prickling sensation shot through his body and he glanced back at her face. Her eyes had opened and she was studying him closely. He frowned, surprised he should feel her gaze so strongly. He was sure there was a hint of amusement in her eyes.
The young Captain was waiting for a response. Taking a deep breath, Taran tried to control his nerves. He had not counted on having to explain himself to three people—one of them an extremely beautiful young woman—but as he let his breath out, he began his tale, addressing the Major.
“My name is Taran Elijah and my friend here is Cal Tyler. This is his partner, Rienne Arlen. She’s a healer.” Taran thought he heard a sharp breath from the Major as he mentioned his name, but she didn’t speak. “A friend of ours recommended we come to you.”
Interrupting him, Robin spoke casually to the Major. “The village elder, Paulus. Near Shenton.”
Sullyan made no reply, her eyes soft and unfocused. Taran was irritated by the interruption but took hold of his temper; he didn’t want to antagonize anyone.
He continued, “I’ve known Paulus all my life and have often confided in him when no one else would listen. Normally, listening is all he does, but this time his advice was to come to you, Major. He felt you might have some interest in the problem.”
Robin interrupted again. “Paulus knows a little of what we do here. He knows not to bother the Major with trivia so he must think your problem worthy of her attention. You’d better get to the point.”
Already uncomfortable, Taran was growing increasingly irritated by the Captain’s high-handed manner. He’d given the Journeyman an initially favorable impression. Since then, his attitude seemed to have changed.
To steady his nerves, Taran took a mouthful of fellan. The hot liquid ran through him, reminding him of the awful heat as he’d fled the Andaryan huntsmen. Once again, he realized that Major Sullyan was watching him, her startling eyes hooded and unreadable. At that moment, Taran decided to keep some parts of his humiliating tale—including its fatal outcome—to himself, at least until he knew a bit more about these people. He could always add it later.
He placed his empty cup on the tray and glanced at Robin. The younger man was still perched on the edge of the desk, hovering protectively by the Major’s side. There was a plainly fake expression of polite interest on his face and Taran felt a sudden urge to replace it with respect.
“I am an Artesan,” he stated abruptly. “I hold the rank of Journeyman.”
He watched for a reaction but was disappointed. The polite interest didn’t waver and the young man didn’t speak.
Annoyed, Taran proceeded.
“I was taught by my father, who reached the level of Adept-elite before his death two years ago.”
There was a moment of silence. Then:
“Your father was Amanus Elijah.”
The soft voice was Major Sullyan’s and Taran gaped at her. Her gaze
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