With A Spirit Of Love

Greetings!

Some of you may have noticed that I've been away from AFF for a long while. That's because I’ve been working on a story commissioned by RoundGalaxies, who intended to publish it on a paysite she was developing. Sadly, she had to put that project on hold indefinitely. But she was kind enough to allow me to post the story here.

Before we begin, I'd like to thank RoundGalaxies for asking me to write this story and for coming up with many of the ideas I use in it, including the entire history of the world, from the god who created it and the beings he populated it with to their descendants and the overall world situation at the time of the story. She also came up with the six realms of magic and the natures of those realms, and with the initial concept of Kythos, including his name, ancestry and Telis. Finally, she devised the grand overall plot of six interlocking tales, the beginning of which is only hinted at in this story.

I’d also like to thank my loyal beta, Moonstar, who took time out from writing his own wonderful story, "Prince Charming" (Read it!), in order to give me help and encouragement. Thanks so very much!

I know I have alot of stories by my favorite authors to catch up on, and new authors to discover, so I'll be doing alot of reading for a while. Also, I want to let you all know that I haven't abandoned my old stories. As soon as I finish this one (in about eleven chapters, I think) I plan on returning to "Wager Me A Kiss."

By the way, this story has some nifty (I hope) surprises in it, which I expect different readers to pick up on at different times. So I'd like to ask all of you particularly clever people out there to do me a favor. If you think you may have figured out any of the mysteries in the story, or even just have a guess, please don't mention anything in your review if it might spoil any surprise for anyone else. Please feel free to send me a private email about it if you want -- and, if you're right, I'll applaud you for your perceptiveness and give you credit for it after the truth comes out in the story. But please don't risk ruining the thrill of discovery for other readers. Thanks!

And now, on with the show...


With A Spirit Of Love

Chapter One

Kythos rested his hands against the stone railing. To either side of him, nobles flowed down the twin staircases like brightly-colored blossoms caught on the currents of two diverging waterfalls. None of them greeted him as they hurried past, and Kythos doubted that their lack of courtesy had much to do with their rush to join the couples already dancing below them in the moonlit courtyard. He was just something that they’d rather forget -- the last jagged fragment of a fallen household, whose future had died along with his mother.

However, although the nobles didn’t speak, they couldn’t completely ignore him. Kythos felt the sting of their furtive glances, and his lips twisted into a bitter smile. It was all so stupid. He was eighteen, a youth on the verge of manhood, and if he’d come from a strong family, these people would have adored him. The men would have laughed at his wit while the women swooned over his dark hair and emerald eyes. But as things stood, he was only their toy, their jester, to be used when it amused them, then scorned or forgotten.

“Kak?” Acca inquired. Perched on the stone railing beside Kythos’s right hand, wearing no hood or tether, the falcon stared out at the world with eyes as pitiless as his own. Seeming to sense that she’d captured Kythos’s attention, Acca tilted her head questioningly. “Kak? Kak?”

“Soon,” Kythos assured, stroking the dark patch of feathers that crowned her head. “Soon you’ll have a chance to stretch your wings.”

And, as if summoned by his promise, Kythos heard a voice call out to him. “There you are! I was beginning to think that you’d decided to back out of our little wager.”

“Lord Bothain.” Kythos turned around in time to see the tall, handsome man in his prime striding down the garden path toward him. The feather on the man’s cap bobbed as he walked, like some fawning sycophant, endlessly bowing to its master. “You should know better, M’lord. I never back out of a wager once I make it.” Because, he added silently, I never make a wager I won’t win.

“Yes. And I see that you’ve brought that ill-tempered bird, just like we agreed.” Lord Bothain moved to pet Acca, but she arched her wings and hissed warningly, forcing the noble to yank back his hand. “She’s as charming as always. I can’t believe that the two of you haven’t yet pecked each other to death.”

Gently, Kythos smoothed the feathers on Acca’s back. “If I recall, our wager was not about the temperament of my bird, but her skill.”

“You still claim that she can hunt at night?”

“I do.”

“Well, then. Prove it.”

Kythos raised his arm, and Acca immediately hopped from the stone railing to perch on his forearm instead. Her talons dug into the flesh beneath his coat sleeve, but Kythos ignored the pain, accepting it as a mark of her fierce spirit. He could still remember the day he found her, a badly injured fledgling fallen from her nest. When he picked her up, she pecked his hands until they bled. So he rewarded her by carrying her up to his room and nursing her back to health, never imagining that she might choose to stay with him. Since his mother’s death, so few things stayed with Kythos.

“Go,” he whispered. “Find us a prize.”

With a single powerful beat of her wings, Acca leapt into the air. Kythos watched as she shot upward, rising like a fine arrow expertly shot into the sky, before she checked her ascent and began to circle.

“Even if she can see in the dark,” Lord Bothain protested, “I doubt she’ll find much prey wandering around my estate.”

But Kythos didn’t even turn his head to look Bothain. “Acca has never failed me.”

Indeed, at that moment, something seemed to catch her eye. Acca’s body stiffened and she started to drop downward. Kythos heard Lord Bothain draw a sharp breath as he guessed her trajectory -- straight toward the dancing couples. Seeing her approach, a woman screamed. Seconds later, the courtyard dissolved into in a churning mass of lords and ladies, alternately chasing after the falcon and attempting to run away from her. For an instant, Kythos lost sight of Acca. Then, like a phoenix from the fire, she rose up out of the chaos with something shiny clutched in her talons. Returning to her perch on Kythos’s arm, Acca took the diamond necklace with her beak and dropped it into his outstretched hand.

“That’s not quite...” Lord Bothain objected.

“...not quite what you had in mind?” Kythos finished. “Perhaps you should have worded your wager more carefully. I said that Acca hunts at night. I didn’t specify what she hunts.”

“Kythos!”

Even as she shouted his name, the young woman stomped up the stairs. Blood trickled from a scratch on her throat, and the ribbons which should have supported her elaborate hairstyle now hung down around her face like the tatters of a shredded rainbow. Secretly, Kythos thought that the young lady’s dishevelment suited her better than the stiff, formal styles favored by most nobles. But he could see that she was in no mood to be told so.

“Kythos! What new madness have you driven your bird to? It attacked me, and stole my necklace!”

“Perhaps Acca thought you were a rat,” Kythos suggested. “Or some type of large weasel.”

Throwing a wave of blonde hair over her shoulder, the young woman puckered her lips into a pout. “I’ll not be mocked like this!”

“Alright. In what manner would you prefer to be mocked?”

“Young demon!” She lunged at him with such ferocity that Kythos stumbled backward, afraid that she might attempt to throttle him. But she only snatched the necklace out of his hand. “And look at this! The clasp is broken.”

“I’m afraid that the damage to your property is my fault,” Lord Bothain interceded. “I initiated the wager. Please, let me take the necklace to be mended. Or, if you prefer, entrust it to the jeweler of your choice, and I’ll reimburse you for the cost of repairs.”

“Never mind,” the young woman snarled. Then, with a stomp of her foot, she turned around and marched back down the stairs and into the crowd. As they watched her go, Lord Bothain cast a sympathetic look at Kythos. “That was the daughter of Lord and Lady Coradine. If she tells her parents what you did, you might be in for a very unpleasant visit.”

Kythos laughed, like a man choking on mouthfuls of sand. “Let them talk to my father. I wish them more luck with that thankless task than I’ve ever had.”

As always, thoughts of his father pained Kythos, and he quickly changed the subject. “Now, I believe I’ve won our wager.”

“Certainly.” Lord Bothain reached into his coat pocket and produced his coin pouch, then hesitated. “But it occurs to me -- perhaps this was not an entirely fair test of Acca’s skills. There are so many lights on my estate, especially when I have guests. Would you still be so confident of her ability to hunt if it were darker?”

“As long as the faintest glimmer shines from the smallest star, Acca can hunt.”

“So you say. I’ll double the amount of our last bet, and wager it that she won’t be able to bring anything back from beyond the borders of my land.”

Kythos didn’t even try to conceal the hungry grin that spread across his lips. “It’s your money. But I’m telling you right now, she can do it.”

“We’ll see.”

Slowly, murmuring his best imitation of her harsh language, Kythos moved his face closer to Acca’s, until he could look directly in her eyes. Her unblinking yellow met his unblinking green. “Go,” he instructed. “Bring me a treasure.” Then, struck by some impulse he couldn’t explain, he added “Bring me my heart’s desire.”

“Kak!” Again, Acca rose into the night sky and soon vanished from sight. Lord Bothain didn’t seem particularly inclined to make conversation, so Kythos kept his eyes fixed on the stars. Was his father right? Did something precious lay hidden in their patterns? If all of their countless number could ever be named, and charted, would they reveal a map that might guide father and son across the wasteland of their grief? Now, as on so many nights, Kythos stared upward and tried to understand his father’s obsession, tried to understand the man whose blood he carried. But all he ever saw were points of light, distant and cold.

Time seemed to stretch out forever. Then, a black speck appeared against a moon and Kythos recognized it as Acca, returning to him. As she soared closer, he allowed himself to anticipate the money he was about to win from Lord Bothain -- enough to restock his family’s depleted larder for several weeks and maybe begin some of the repairs that the roof so desperately needed. “Kak!” he called out to her, his voice rich with triumph. “Kak! Kak!”

Like a sharp needle plunged through dark velvet, Acca plummeted down and landed on Kythos’s raised arm. Again, she took something from her talons with her beak, although this object didn’t glitter or shine. Kythos frowned as she dropped it into his outstretched hand.

Beside him, Lord Bothain laughed. “She’s brought you a pebble!”

Puzzled, Kythos examined Acca’s prize. The thing was about an inch long, rounded on the sides, and colored like tarnished ivory. “It’s not a rock,” he realized. “It’s a small bone.”

“Rock or bone, are you going to insist that this proves your bird’s skill? Retrieving a bit of carrion doesn’t make her a great huntress.”

Kythos shook his head, stunned by Acca’s failure. Casting his mind backward, he tried to remember what instructions he’d given which might have prompted her to return with such an odd gift. Bring me a treasure. Bring me my heart’s desire. Was this Acca’s answer to him? That his heart’s desire was a worthless, dead thing?

“I...I guess you win,” he conceded.

Now it was Lord Bothain’s chance to look hungry. “And you have the money to pay me?”

Ice filled Kythos’s stomach. He never had enough money to cover his wagers; that was why he only made bets he planned to win. Except, this time, things hadn’t gone according to his plans. “I...”

To Kythos’s surprise, Lord Bothain only smiled. “I thought not. You know, Kythos, I always hoped this day would come.”

“What?”

Lord Bothain’s smile grew more indulgent. “You think I’m an easy mark, don’t you? An old fool willing to take any bet you dream up? I always understood that the odds were firmly in your favor. But it was worth the money I lost to keep you coming back to me. Because I knew that, sooner or later, your arrogance would get the better of you, and you’d make a mistake. And then...” Lord Bothain brushed his fingers across Kythos’s cheek. “And then, I could claim what I really want.”

Bile rose up in the back of Kythos’s throat. “I’ll get the money. I’ll talk to my father...”

“You do that,” Lord Bothain mocked. “Tomorrow, I expect you to come to me, with or without the money. Either way, I’ll take what I’ve won.”

Even long after Lord Bothain had departed, Kythos remained by the stone railing, staring down at the dancers without seeing them. No doubt existed in his mind about what sort of payment Bothain intended to collect. And, while the act itself didn’t bother him, the fact that he’d been trapped into surrendering it made his blood burn with anger. If his survival depended on playing the fool for these people, then he could live with that. But, by the gods, he wasn’t going to be their whore!

A woman’s laughter broke Kythos from his thoughts. Repressing the urge to spit on the nobles and their unearned happiness, he nodded to Acca. “Go on home, my friend. I’ll meet you there.”

Obligingly, Acca flew from his arm and soared out over the tree tops. Kythos waited until he could no longer see her silhouette against the stars. Then, as he turned away from the stone railing, he remembered the small bone, still gripped in his hand. For a moment, he considered hurling it into the shrubbery. But something stopped him. Instead, he dropped it into his coat pocket and stalked off to Lord Bothain’s stable.

His ride home passed uneventfully. Arriving at the entrance to his family estate, Kythos dismounted and shoved open one of the rusty gates, ignoring its screeching protests. Then, still on foot, he guided his horse down the broken driveway. When his mother was still alive, she’d made sure that no cobblestone was ever out of place. Kythos remembered standing at the window of his childhood bedroom, watching the magnificent carriages roll up, every lord and lady in Deorwine eager to attend another of her legendary parties. Now, no one came. Why would they? Distracted by the past, Kythos stubbed his toe on a piece of cracked paving and cursed under his breath. How quickly things could change. How quickly they could all fall apart.

After securing his horse in the stable and feeding it a few pitchforks of hay, Kythos walked up to the front door of his house. But when he reached into his coat pocket to get the key, it seemed to be missing. Puzzled, Kythos pushed his fingertips deep into the pocket’s corners, and still his search yielded nothing except that stupid bone. Nor did he discover the key in his coat’s other pocket or either of the pockets in his pants. “Dammit,” Kythos swore. The door was locked, so he must have had the key when he left that evening. Where could the cursed thing have gone?

Left with no other choice, Kythos circled around to the side of the house and climbed in through the parlor window. As usual now, everything lay in darkness. Kythos found a lantern and lit it, watching the battle between light and shadow spill across the bare floor. Years ago, on late summer nights like these, a golden glow had filled every room with cozy cheer. But now they could no longer afford oil for the few lamps they still had, or even candles for the chandeliers they’d sold long ago. And, even if they could, there would be no point. None of these rooms mattered, not anymore. Most of their furnishings had been sold, and they remained behind, hollow and cold -- empty monuments to empty hearts.

Reluctantly, Kythos moved through the graveyard of his memories and began climbing the stairs. He dreaded doing this. But the feel of Lord Bothain’s caress lingered on his cheek like the trail left behind by a slug. His only chance to escape being covered in that slime lay ahead of him, in the one room that still did matter. Maybe, for once in his life, he could make his father listen to him.

Three flights up brought him to the spiral staircase, and numerous turns around its center pillar finally brought him to the observatory door. As he stood before it, still slightly out of breath, Kythos considered knocking, like some stranger come to call on the lord of the house. But, in the end, he simply pushed the door open. “Father?”

Kythos’s father stood beside a table littered with star charts, frowning down at one of them. He was still a handsome man, despite the grey creeping into his hair and the lines that the passing years had begun to etch into his face. In appearance, Kythos barely resembled his mother -- he’d inherited her bright green eyes and the delicate beauty of her smile, but nothing else. Other than that, he was his father’s son. And Kythos could never understand how two people could be so similar on the outside while remaining so completely different on the inside.

Seemingly unaware of his son’s arrival, Kythos’s father tapped the celestial map with his finger before peering through the strange segmented tube that was the current focus of his obsession.

“Father--?” Kythos repeated.

“Just a moment, Kythos. Just a moment.” While Kythos watched, his father adjusted the tube, pulling the small, end segment he was looking in through further out from the larger segment in front of it. Kythos couldn’t imagine what effect that might possibly have, other than making the overall tube longer, but his father shouted in triumph. “There it is! I can see it clearly now.”

Turning away from the tube, Kythos’s father clasped his son by the shoulders. “You understand what this means? When the distance between the lenses changes, it changes how well I can see certain stars. Amazing!”

Kythos blinked. He wanted to understand, to share in his father’s victory. But he couldn’t. There were so many stars in the sky. Why did glimpsing a new one matter so much to his father? Why did it matter more than his business dealings, and his estate, and his own son? “Amazing,” he echoed, just to say something -- just to say anything at all.

“Now, Kythos. What brings you up here?”

“I...” Kythos swallowed, trying to gather his courage. “I need money.”

His father seemed to deflate a little, as if disappointed that Kythos hadn’t joined him just for the sheer joy of sharing in his astronomical pursuits. “For what?”

“I have a debt to pay.”

“A gambling debt?”

Staring at the floor, Kythos wondered why he felt so ashamed. He wondered why his father’s approval still meant anything at all to him. “Yes. A gambling debt.”

“Kythos! How could you be so irresponsible? We barely have enough money to eat, and you’re off wasting it on some wild wager?”

That stung too much to be ignored. Kythos’s head snapped up and he glared at his father with fierce eyes. “And where do you think our money comes from? You’ve neglected every aspect of the business my mother left you. If I didn’t win my ‘wild wagers,’ we’d be eating those cursed lenses of yours!”

Kythos’s father frowned. “You don’t have to gamble. You could work for the money.”

“Work? What sort of work, exactly, did you ever prepare me to do? Who did you apprentice me to? What school did you enroll me in?” Kythos could hear his voice beginning to crack, like a dam overcome by the waves of his anger, but he didn’t care. Not anymore. “You let me run wild because you couldn’t be bothered to do otherwise. And now it’s too late. I’m too poor to be a noble, and too genteel to be a peasant. I’m nothing! Nothing at all.”

“Kythos--”

Without warning, the heat went out of Kythos’s rage, and his lips twisted into the mockery of a smile. “No, I suppose that’s not entirely true. I am good for something. Lord Bothain made that clear to me tonight. And, since you can offer me nothing better, I suppose I’ll have to accept his assessment.”

“Lord Bothain? Kythos, what--?”

But Kythos turned his back on his father and fled from the observatory. The thought of spending another moment in that house seemed like too much to bear. Nearly blind, despite the lantern still clutched in his hand, Kythos dashed down the stairs, following a path so familiar that it had been worn smooth in his mind. When he finally reached the back door, he barely slowed down long enough to shove aside its iron bolt. Then he was outside, running through the summer night.

During the long years of its neglect, the estate’s garden had slowly turned wild. Now it was an overgrown and tangled landscape, a maze that changed too constantly to ever be completely learned. Each day, another root pushed up another paving stone, another vine grew that much longer, another weed boldly staked its claim on some new section of another path. But still, Kythos didn’t slack his pace. Heedless of the branches slapping at his face and the brambles tearing at his clothes, he kept running. Until his foot caught on the broken remnants of a stone urn and he pitched forward. Crying out in alarm, Kythos let the lantern fly from his grip as he flailed to catch his balance, but it was too late. He hit the ground with a crash.

Bruised and disheartened, Kythos remained facedown, sprawled out on the dirt. Why bother to get up? Why bother to do anything except lie still and curse his wretched fate? But then a familiar call stirred him from his self-pity.

“Kak! Kak!”

“Acca?” Kythos raised his head to look for Acca, and recognized the place where instinct had guided him. His mother’s burial shrine. When he’d dropped the lantern, it had rolled into the shrine’s shallow pond, extinguishing itself, but Kythos could still make out the marble tomb that stood in the pond’s center. Ornate columns guarded its locked doorway, and the white stone of its walls looked eerily ghostlike in the moonlight.

Slowly, Kythos pushed himself to his feet. He’d torn the knee of his pants -- a loss he could ill afford -- but he took no notice. Instead, he unfastened the collar button of his shirt and drew out the necklace he always wore beneath it. A single, large charm hung from its leather cord. Seemingly shaped from the tooth of some immense creature, it had been hollowed out and turned into a conical vial with a delicate gold cap. Tiny runes, remnants of a language older than the foundation of Deorwine, circled the tooth in an increasingly tiny spiral. This was his Telis, a priceless heirloom passed down through his mother’s family. And she’d given it to him. He could still hear her voice telling him that he’d always be safe as long as he wore it.

Kythos raised the Telis, touching it to his lips. “Mother? The gods have taken you to a better place and I hate to disturb your peace with my prayers. But I don’t know what to do anymore. I just don’t. Please, open my eyes. Show me the path I need to walk.”

A slight breeze whispered through the garden, stirring ripples on the pond’s surface, and Kythos imagined that he heard the echo of his mother’s voice. Imagined that he caught a whiff of her rose-scented perfume. Then everything was still again.

“Kak!”

“Acca! Where are you?”

Tucking the Telis back under his shirt, Kythos walked in the direction of Acca’s last call. And, on the far side of the pond, he found her perched in a dead, stunted cherry tree. But she wasn’t alone. A young man, about the same age as Kythos, stood beside the tree, looking around in a mixture of curiosity and wonderment. Light brown curls framed his earnest face, and he wore the plain white robes that marked him as a follower of Lilis, Goddess of the Moons.

“I’ve never been here before...” the young man murmured to himself.

“Hey!” Kythos demanded, somewhat startled by the discovery that he had company. “What are you doing here?”

But his question seemed to go unheeded by the young man, who turned his head to watch a light grey moth flutter past. On top of everything else that had happened that evening, being ignored by some trespasser proved to be the final straw, and Kythos took an angry step forward, fully prepared for a fight. “Answer me! I may not have much, but this land is still mine, and I’m not incapable of defending it.”

Finally, the young man turned toward Kythos, his expression a strange combination of fear and hope. “You can--? You can see me?”

“Of course I can see you. You’re not trying to hide, are you?” Kythos began to wonder if his guest was the mad son of some neighbor, normally locked away, but recently escaped. “Now, tell me what you’re doing in my garden.”

The young man’s lips curved into a large smile. “Is it yours? It’s wonderful. There’s so much energy here. So much love...”

Kythos snorted. “Love? There hasn’t been love anywhere near this house for years.”

“You’re wrong. This is a powerful place. They can sense it, and it draws them here.” Stepping closer to the dead cherry tree, the young man reached up into its branches and stretched his hand toward Acca. Kythos started to shout a warning. But it wasn’t necessary. Instead of pecking or clawing, Acca remained placid as the young man ran his fingertips across her wing.

“Acca -- she’s never let anyone else touch her,” Kythos admitted, stunned.

“She doesn’t see me as a threat.” Withdrawing his hand, the young man looked at Kythos with eyes the color of recently fallen leaves. “And, more importantly, she doesn’t see me as a threat to you.”

“I wasn’t particularly worried about that,” Kythos muttered, a touch defensively. “I can take care of myself.”

“Kak!” Acca scoffed.

Kythos glared at the falcon. Then he returned his attention the young man. He certainly didn’t seem like a vagrant, or a drunkard, or a thief come to plunder the shrine. Still, there was something vaguely unsettling about him. Something not quite right. Maybe he truly was crazy. But even if so, what did it matter? Kythos thought about Lord Bothain, and his father, and realized he was sick to death of sane people. A little madness would be a welcome change. “Who are you, anyway?”

“Me? I’m -- I’m Effrem. Yes, that’s right.” The young man seemed delighted by the sound of his own name. “Effrem.”

“Well, I’m Kythos. And that, as you’ve probably guessed, is Acca. Normally, she’s a skilled huntress. But tonight, she seems to have gotten something in her eye, or developed an unfortunately-timed rebellious streak. She cost me an important bet.”

“Really?”

A moment passed before Kythos realized that the inflection in Effrem’s voice meant that the young man wanted to hear more. Since his mother’s death, he’d grown unaccustomed to anyone caring what he did, or thought, or felt. “It’s a long story,” Kythos mumbled.

Effrem shrugged. “I’ve got time.”

Slowly at first, stumbling over his words, Kythos explained the wager with Lord Bothain and Acca’s odd failure. When he got to the part about the bone, something unreadable flickered in Effrem’s eyes. But it soon vanished, replaced by anger at Lord Bothain’s proposal, and then sympathy when Kythos concluded his story by describing the fight with his father.

“My father and I had our differences as well,” Effrem confessed. “He could never understand why I wanted to enter a temple instead of doing something properly masculine like taking over his blacksmithing shop. We used to have some real shouting matches about it.”

“But eventually, he let you go?” Kythos asked, pointing to Effrem’s white robes.

“He forbade it. So, one night, I ran away.” Effrem bowed his head, and the cherry tree branches cast a veil of shadows across his face. “I never saw him again. And now...now, it’s too late.”

“He’s dead?”

“Long dead,” Effrem whispered, staring at the ground between them. “Long, long dead.”

Kythos sighed. “Sometimes, I think I’d have about as much luck with my father if he was dead. Or if I was dead. He just -- he never listens.”

“Fathers have trouble listening, because they think they already know all the answers. But they do love us, I think. In their own way.”

“Maybe,” Kythos conceded, still somewhat dubious. “Maybe.”

Silence settled over them, wrapping them in its gentle wings. Usually, people wanted Kythos to entertain them with cruel wit or scandalous stories, but Effrem seemed to hold no such expectations. He just stood in the moonlight, smiling. Somehow, the garden spoke for them, communicating on a level deeper and more intimate than words ever could. Kythos felt naked. The rustling of some creature in the underbrush seemed to give voice to the rustling sensation he felt in his own heart. And, scared by the sudden sense of vulnerability, he pulled back. “Would you--? Would you like to come inside? I don’t have much to offer, but if you’re hungry, I could find a little food.”

Effrem shook his head. “I’m not hungry. But there is something you can do for me.”

“Yes?”

“Can I stay here? In the garden?” There was urgency in Effrem’s voice that Kythos hadn’t yet heard, a hint of sadness and despair. “The place I was before -- I didn’t like it. It was so lonely.”

Kythos understood about loneliness. “You can stay here for as long as you like,” he assured him.

“Thank you.”

That seemed to bring their first meeting to a satisfactory conclusion, so Kythos turned away, intending to head back to the house. But before he’d taken more than a few steps, Effrem called out to him.

“And Kythos? Trust Acca. I think she knew what she was doing when she brought you that bone. Keep it with you. I think -- I hope it’s going to bring you luck.”