He joined Jotahan at the railing that bordered the marketplace plaza, sliding a sideways glance at him. “You still speak with Farona? I have heard that nixir females are jealous creatures, because even mated nixir males can stray to another bed and often do. Does she approve of your continuing friendship with your former lover?”
Jotahan glanced at Kevos with surprise. “I had not even thought of that. I couldn’t imagine why she would concern herself. Now that I know she is my drahi, I would not,” he gestured to indicate his covered groin, “could not betray her with another female.”
He turned his focus back to the sea-tossed horizon. “Besides, Farona has taken Sarah into her fold and welcomed her to join her circle of females. They spend more time together than I spend speaking to Farona whenever she seeks me out.”
Kevos shook his head again, bending to lean his forearms on the railing, his gaze fixing on the same horizon that Jotahan watched. “Farona is a beautiful female—the perfect yan-kanat female. You could have spent your whole life with her, without bringing Seta Zul’s seal into it. She wants you so much that she would not have insisted you make things official. I never could understand why you chose to be painted with that mark. Did it not concern you that the goddess would choose someone else for you?”
Jotahan crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head at Kevos’ question. “I want nestlings. A large family, if possible. I want to pass my bloodline down to my offspring, because I am the only nestling my parents could have. I would not see our line completely die out simply because I was selfishly clinging to someone familiar and comfortable to me, on the chance that the goddess would not choose her for my drahi.”
“I have two brothers, so I can understand why we would choose different futures.” Kevos straightened and slapped Jotahan on one shoulder. “For your sake, I hope your nixir will not reflect the worst of her species, and will make a good drahi, in time.”
Those words would be as close as Kevos would get to a positive response to Sarah’s presence. Jotahan didn’t dismiss them, or consider them an insult coming from the sentil. In fact, he considered them progress. Perhaps their time spent together in the arena had been enough to knock some of the hatred out of Kevos, or perhaps the fact that Sarah was willingly sharing so much nixir knowledge with the lore-keeper had something to do with Kevos being more willing to tolerate her presence in Draku Rin.
“We should set our grudges aside, Kevos.” He nodded to the nearby food stall. “Let me buy you a drink.”
Kevos sighed. “I wish I had the time to spend your kivan for you, Jotahan.” He eyed the food stall with visible regret. “I need to prepare for a vislog hunt. I must leave at first turning to pick up the trail.”
Jotahan regarded the sentil with curiosity. “A vislog has approached the skilev? I hadn’t heard about this.”
Kevos huffed, his head spines quivering, the rings decorating them sparkling in the sun, making Jotahan idly wonder if Sarah would like it if he wore more ornamentation. His glow had always been enough to impress, but it would soon be gone. Perhaps he should wear jewelry to replace it.
“You’ve been busy with many things, Jotahan. I imagine this is an important moment in your life. News of a vislog hunting the herds in the baselands wouldn’t be much interest to you during these unusual times.”
“This will be a dangerous hunt, Kevos.” He clapped the other male on the shoulder. “May the Ajda protect you on your quest.”
Kevos bowed his head briefly, then huffed. “If I get torn to pieces by the vislog instead of managing to drag my bleeding carcass back to the healer’s tent, then at least I won’t have to worry about Ane-ata constantly pestering me while I try to recover.”
This earned an answering huff of amusement from Jotahan. “Somehow, I suspect you volunteered to hunt down the beast. Throwing yourself into the many-ringed maw of a vislog is a coward’s way out, Kevos.”
Kevos’ expression sobered. “I will bring its hide back to the skilev to serve our people. No simpleminded vislog will feast on me.” He regarded Jotahan with sympathy. “You have always hunted far more dangerous prey. I hope the nixir you captured doesn’t become your doom.”
Jotahan let Kevos walk away without further comment, despite the implied insult to Sarah. It would take time for her to prove herself to those who feared and hated the nixirs. He would consider any positive movement as progress. Besides, he didn’t want to beat Kevos into a pulp right before a dangerous hunt.
Instead, Jotahan focused on a particular stall, one surrounded by the fragrance of many different herbs, with a hundred different uses. There was only one concoction he wanted in that moment. One that might make the next few cycles—or perhaps even longer depending on Priest Zan Cyall’s health—bearable for him and Sarah both as they waited to be sealed as mates.
The herbalist listened to his request without expression, then nodded when he’d finished speaking. He turned to a shelf to pull down several containers of different sizes. He mixed a half dozen different herbs into a pouch, then handed it to Jotahan, accepting his kivan with a grateful bow.
“Do not drink too much,” the herbalist reminded him as Jotahan turned to leave the stall. “Just two pinches to dull your arousal. Any more than that could do permanent damage.”
Jotahan reassured the herbalist that he would follow the correct dosage, though he hoped two pinches would be enough for what he wanted to do.
He could not make love to Sarah yet, but he could explore her body, and learn what to do to bring her pleasure, as long as he did not grow aroused himself.
35
Lore-keeper Trazu Drakene was the one who told her that Zan Cyall’s condition was only growing worse by the day. She’d been in the middle of cataloguing and updating the documentation of the gunslinger’s artifacts when he informed her, his sparse head spines at half-mast with his concern.
She rose from her desk, going to him to put a comforting hand on his arm and offer her reassurances that she was certain Zan Cyall would recover completely, and that he just needed more rest. Her words seemed to help Trazu Drakene relax, and it was clear he needed to believe in her reassurance, but they did nothing to comfort her.
She was afraid for the kindly priest. Afraid that she had brought some human illness into this world that made him sick after he came into contact with her. Afraid that it would be something his immune system couldn’t handle.
She’d been worrying about her potential hand in the yan-kanat’s illness since she first heard that he’d fallen ill. At that time, it had only been a tiny thought that had popped into her mind, and had quickly been swamped by her disappointment at the delays to the ceremony. Now, it was a full-blown fear. She had no idea what to do if she’d brought something to this world that yan-kanat medicine and immunities couldn’t cure.
If the elder named Arokiv was here, he might be able to help. He might have knowledge of human medical techniques that would allow them to test Zan Cyall’s blood and identify the problem and hopefully determine a cure.
Unfortunately, they had tried scrying the elder many times since Sarah had arrived in Draku Rin, and they hadn’t been able to reach him in the human world. This wasn’t entirely unprecedented. Apparently, their “magic” did not work very well in the human world. The elders she’d spoken to said that all magic was dying on Gaia, and that soon, it wouldn’t work at all there, forcing the elders who had infiltrated humanity to devise a new solution for their camouflage and communications back to Theia.