Wicked Bronze Ambition

8

I could not get over the deference Old Bones showed Strafa. He could have touched her mind at will, but, instead, he had me carry a verbal invitation.

I will not give this one any excuse to run away.

I found her not only charming Dean but also eroding Penny’s adamant heart. Singe was hunkered down in her office, doing something productive. That girl never took time off to loaf.

Back to the Dead Man’s room. Ask Miss Algarda.

Miss Algarda demanded, “Why won’t he deal with me directly?”

“He might be afraid of you.”

Not true. But the suggestion ought to trigger. .

Very well. Inasmuch as neither of you cares much about courtesy.

He left me out of their exchange. And she did not bother speaking her half of the conversation aloud.

Later, Singe would tell me, “He is smitten with Strafa, you know. He does not want to do anything that will stress your relationship.”

Amazing. With the rest of us he shows all the thoughtfulness and sensitivity of a barbarian horde. Which he would deny, of course.

Very well. Dean has a meal ready. Go enjoy that while I digest this information.

I could smell the food. My gut was clamoring already. He didn’t have to sweet-talk me.

• • •

Dean served up steaming bowls of chicken and dumplings. I wondered how he had managed so fast, but not much. I was used to his kitchen magic.

Once I began to slack off, I asked Strafa, “What did he want?”

“Whatever he couldn’t get from you.”

“Like?”

“Like what Grandmother told me when we were out of the meeting room at the same time.”

“Secret from me?”

“No. But we’ll talk business later.”

Penny was there with us. So was Dean with his big, hairy ears. What they did not overhear they could not repeat if someone caught them on the street and squeezed. Kind of harsh, militaristic thinking for inside the family, but still realistic.

Strafa was taking this business more grimly than was I. That was scary in itself. Normally, she avoided taking the mystical, magical side of life anywhere as seriously as most Hill people.

She did not want to turn into her grandmother.

Penny understood. She harrumphed, left the table, then left the room. She stomped along the hall, presumably to go cry on Singe’s shoulder, or maybe the Dead Man’s.

She wouldn’t get much sympathy from either.

Strafa observed, “She sure is developing a cute butt, isn’t she?”

“Honestly. A guy can’t help noticing those things.” Especially a guy who is a trained observer.

This guy was on his way to becoming a trained companion, too. He made no effort to defend himself any further.

The hole only ever gets deeper.

“You can notice. I don’t mind.” With a whole lot of subtext. “She is growing up fast. And she’s going to be a heartbreaker.”

Strafa is less unreasonable than most members of her species, but fully open-minded she is not. None of them really is. Those who make the claim can be the most dangerous.