Page 227 of Children of Fallen Gods

Sammerin muttered a curse just barely loud enough for me to hear.

Iya turned around and gave me a stare that accused me of being a lunatic. “We need more time to prepare.”

“We don’t have it,” Nura said.

“If both candidates are willing,” another Councilor said, “then I see no reason why we should not put the issue to rest today. At sundown, of course.”

They all turned to me, asking a silent question.

Max, what the hell are you doing?

But I just smiled.

“Sundown,” I said.

“Sundown,” Nura repeated.

And we looked at each other, the battle already started.

* * *

Sundown was two hours away.Two hours to prepare for the biggest fight of my life.

When the meeting adjourned, a wave of people descended upon me, but I managed to slip through them and escape off to Tisaanah’s apartment with Tisaanah and Sammerin — a battle in itself. Every set of eyes was on us, and I acutely felt every stare. So I remained serious and stoic until the door was firmly closed behind us, at which point I slumped down into one of the dining chairs, threw my head back, and let out a manic laugh.

“I cannot fuckingbelieve,” I said, “that I’m doing this.”

“I’m glad I’m not alone in that, at least.” With a movement that managed to be both graceful and brutish, Sammerin took a bottle of wine that had been sitting on the table, uncorked it with a whisper of magic, and poured a glass, which he downed in one gulp. Then he turned to me with a deadpan stare.

“I assume you want the bottle.”

He assumed right.

Sammerin slid into a chair and poured himself another glass before handing it over. Tisaanah didn’t sit. She did that standing, hovering, pacing thing she did when she was nervous.

“Well, it appears I’m behind,” Sammerin said. “The last I knew, the two of you were supposed to be off being sickening in a garden somewhere.Resting.”

He said the last word as if it were some sort of wry joke. Which, I suppose, it was.

Tisaanah and I exchanged a glance. The sheer absurdity of everything that had happened in the last two days was overwhelming.

Tisaanah leaned towards Sammerin.

“We will tell you everything, but only if you promise you will not think we are insane.”

“Oh, that ship has long sailed,” Sammerin said. “But please, do continue.”

* * *

It was always a strange experience,telling Sammerin outrageous news. He was an excellent healer because he carefully controlled his reactions. During the war, I’d seen him lean over dying men screaming in pain and maintain steady, comforting composure. It would only be afterwards that he’d turn to me, let the mask drop, and admit, “I was absolutely terrified.”

One might think that after all these years of friendship, I’d be better at recognizing whenIwas the dying man on the battlefield. Sammerin had been doing that to me — managing me — for nearly a decade, and I didn’t even realize it. Now, maybe I was seeing the world in full color again. Because even though Sammerin’s reactions were, as always, carefully regulated, I could now see the slow rising fear bubbling up beneath all that serenity.

When we finished, there was a long, awkward silence. Sammerin opened his mouth and then closed it, several times.

“Say something, Sammerin,” I said. “You look like a broken man.”

“What can I say to any of this? It’s…” He trailed off, and I realized that maybe hewasa broken man, in the sense that we’d just shattered every perception he had of a world that made any degree of sense.

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