all that worried about the possibility.”
“Is that concern the only thing that’s keeping you from attacking me from behind right now?” I asked. “Because, if it is, then we’re never going to establish the kind of trust that we’re going to need to make this work, and we might as well get this over with.”
“No, it is not the only thing,” said the Meld, speaking through Vala’s mouth. “That would be me. I have chosen to overrule the thinking of my motes.”
And how did that work?
I wondered. Clearly there was more to the Meld than just the sum of its parts. There were definitely three distinct people sharing the two bodies.
“So far you’ve done us nothing but good turns,” continued the meld. “Most recently, giving us the chance to have this conversation, instead of simply killing Stel when Vala drew on you.”
“What?” Stel looked shocked. “He’s empty-handed. Even if he’s a mage, he hasn’t so much as pointed a finger in my direction.”
“Yeah, I’d have blasted him before he could even begin to get off a spell,” said Vala. “What haven’t you told us, Valor of Steel?” Vala sounded indignant, and I had to assume she was addressing the Meld by its formal title, a thing I’d heard rumored but never confirmed.
“He is a Blade,” said the Meld, speaking through Vala’s mouth. “Some would say
the
Blade, if I’m not wrong in my guess at his identity. You
are
the Aral known as Kingslayer, are you not?”
I nodded slightly, but said nothing. I don’t really think of myself as the Kingslayer anymore, but this weird conversation was far too fascinating to interrupt.
“I still don’t understand,” said Stel. “A Blade is just another type of mage, no matter what the legends say. What makes you think he could kill me before Vala could stop him?”
“You’re sitting in his
shadow
,” said the Meld, and exasperation crept into her voice. “His Shade holds your life in the palm of its hand, and has since before this conversation started. Honestly, motes, I sometimes wonder how I manage to think half so clearly as I do when it’s your minds I have to use to do all the work.”
“Oh,” said Stel, her voice gone suddenly very small, while somewhere behind me Vala swallowed audibly.
“You both know about Shades,” said the Meld. “I know you do because I can see the lessons about Blades in your memories. But apparently it’s never occurred to either of you to actually
think
about them. Not even when you’ve got one with its fingers wrapped around your throats.”
The Meld’s eyes looked out at me through Stel’s face. “I’ve turned the battle wands away, Kingslayer. Now I’m going to bring Vala over here so that we’re all where you can see us. At that point I’d take it as a gesture of good faith if you’d step out of the light.”
Again I nodded without saying a word. Creaking boards warned me of Vala’s approach. She paused as she passed, laying the battle wands on the ground in front of my feet without ever looking at me. Then she went to take a seat on Stel’s barrel with her back turned to both of us, thus preserving what I had already come to think of as the quintessential Dyad posture—looking both ways.
“My turn,” I said. “Though there’s no need to actually physically move out of the light. Triss?”
My shadow slid to the left and up onto the ceiling, uncovering Stel. Then it shifted shape, assuming the familiar outline of a small dragon and his normally concealed identity.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” he asked, his voice strangely diffident.
“If you like.” I wondered at the formality, but now wasn’t the time to ask him about it. “Triss, this is Stel, her bond-mate, Vala, and their Meld, Valor of Steel …At least I believe that’s how the Meld should be addressed—please correct me if I’m wrong.”
The Meld interjected, “VoS will do, actually. Valor of Steel is a formal thing worn only for formal moments.
“Is that concern the only thing that’s keeping you from attacking me from behind right now?” I asked. “Because, if it is, then we’re never going to establish the kind of trust that we’re going to need to make this work, and we might as well get this over with.”
“No, it is not the only thing,” said the Meld, speaking through Vala’s mouth. “That would be me. I have chosen to overrule the thinking of my motes.”
And how did that work?
I wondered. Clearly there was more to the Meld than just the sum of its parts. There were definitely three distinct people sharing the two bodies.
“So far you’ve done us nothing but good turns,” continued the meld. “Most recently, giving us the chance to have this conversation, instead of simply killing Stel when Vala drew on you.”
“What?” Stel looked shocked. “He’s empty-handed. Even if he’s a mage, he hasn’t so much as pointed a finger in my direction.”
“Yeah, I’d have blasted him before he could even begin to get off a spell,” said Vala. “What haven’t you told us, Valor of Steel?” Vala sounded indignant, and I had to assume she was addressing the Meld by its formal title, a thing I’d heard rumored but never confirmed.
“He is a Blade,” said the Meld, speaking through Vala’s mouth. “Some would say
the
Blade, if I’m not wrong in my guess at his identity. You
are
the Aral known as Kingslayer, are you not?”
I nodded slightly, but said nothing. I don’t really think of myself as the Kingslayer anymore, but this weird conversation was far too fascinating to interrupt.
“I still don’t understand,” said Stel. “A Blade is just another type of mage, no matter what the legends say. What makes you think he could kill me before Vala could stop him?”
“You’re sitting in his
shadow
,” said the Meld, and exasperation crept into her voice. “His Shade holds your life in the palm of its hand, and has since before this conversation started. Honestly, motes, I sometimes wonder how I manage to think half so clearly as I do when it’s your minds I have to use to do all the work.”
“Oh,” said Stel, her voice gone suddenly very small, while somewhere behind me Vala swallowed audibly.
“You both know about Shades,” said the Meld. “I know you do because I can see the lessons about Blades in your memories. But apparently it’s never occurred to either of you to actually
think
about them. Not even when you’ve got one with its fingers wrapped around your throats.”
The Meld’s eyes looked out at me through Stel’s face. “I’ve turned the battle wands away, Kingslayer. Now I’m going to bring Vala over here so that we’re all where you can see us. At that point I’d take it as a gesture of good faith if you’d step out of the light.”
Again I nodded without saying a word. Creaking boards warned me of Vala’s approach. She paused as she passed, laying the battle wands on the ground in front of my feet without ever looking at me. Then she went to take a seat on Stel’s barrel with her back turned to both of us, thus preserving what I had already come to think of as the quintessential Dyad posture—looking both ways.
“My turn,” I said. “Though there’s no need to actually physically move out of the light. Triss?”
My shadow slid to the left and up onto the ceiling, uncovering Stel. Then it shifted shape, assuming the familiar outline of a small dragon and his normally concealed identity.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” he asked, his voice strangely diffident.
“If you like.” I wondered at the formality, but now wasn’t the time to ask him about it. “Triss, this is Stel, her bond-mate, Vala, and their Meld, Valor of Steel …At least I believe that’s how the Meld should be addressed—please correct me if I’m wrong.”
The Meld interjected, “VoS will do, actually. Valor of Steel is a formal thing worn only for formal moments.
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