Vin lived again the scene he had just put behind him, but in reverse. There again was the elf waggling a key before his eyes, again the key slipping into the lock, again the gate swinging shut. Vin was trapped behind. The elves were on the other side.
In his joy at being free again, breathing fresh air again, seeing the sky again, he had forgotten that these familiar faces were no friends of his. For fourteen years they had lied to him.
“Osh!”
Vin dropped out of the tree and came crashing through the brush with all the grace of a bear cub.
“Who are you making faces at?” Lar grumbled as he unlocked the gate.
“What am I making faces at,” Vin corrected.
Lar had learned the heft and stroke of his magic by wrestling with the wind; gradually learned how to suck the air from beneath a sparrow’s wings, how to blow up the body of a toad, how to send a gust across the floor to lift the skirts of a girl and flash her white legs. No one had taught him.
But it seemed that one could not learn to wield words alone, untaught, merely by struggling with them every day.
Araphel snorted, hoping to hide his fear behind a veil of irony. Such a long delay could not bode well. He feared Baraqiel had used it to tell Ezeqael, the leader of his decade, or—worse—the leader of them all.
“I was beginning to think the old elf had captured you,” he said. “He certainly never lets me near the house.”
Baraqiel rose slowly over the baby’s shoulder like a tiny sun. The infant watched him with her eyes and tried to turn her head to follow him. This was already remarkable. She was worth a closer look.
He drew away from her and slipped fully into the world, coming to hover over her cradle.
All evening long Dantalion had been reminded of the truth behind Foras’s wish to escape their mother’s notice. Her mere thoughts turned in his direction had been like rasps grating over his flesh and tempests roaring in his mind.
He was already on his belly when she arrived, and not only to do her honor.
“I know, baby,” Leofric pleaded, “but you simply can’t run off like that alone. Not all men are as nice as Wyn. What if one of them tried to hurt you instead of bringing you home?”
“You’re back!” Vin cooed.
“I had meat!” the dog cried. “I’m so happy! I’m so happy!”
“So kiss me one more time and then go back to your bed like the good girl you are not.”
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