Page 123 of Guiding Desire
The Hound said something else in his tongue. Rose rolled his eyes, then opened the door behind Orrey and gave him a little push to move, which he did. The bench that leaned against the house suddenly seemed very inviting. It was as well made as the door and the chest, also completely out of wood, and Orrey slumped onto it with less grace than the craftsmanship deserved.
“You just rest, ma? I get you some tea.”
Orrey chuckled. “You make tea.”
Rose didn’t comment, went back into the house. Orrey could hear the two of them talking, but they were speaking the Hound tongue. It mixed with other noises, none that gave Orrey a reason to be concerned.
Still. I shouldn’t be out here. I should make sure Loquin is okay. What if he needs channeling?
Orrey stood, and when he did, the world started spinning.
“Hey, hey,” said Rose, coming out of the house with a cup of steaming tea in his hand. It was just a regular cup, earthenware, something Orrey’s mother might have bought at an artisan festival.
“I…need to check if he needs channeling.”
“Not if you can’t stand. And Anandas can handle him. You rest. Drink this, but mind; it’s hot.”
Rose sat next to Orrey, handed the cup over. It was too warm for drinking tea in the middle of the day, even if the house offered shade where they sat. Still, Orrey found himself shaking, his hands cold. The warm cup was actually soothing.
This warmth, like Senlas’s warmth. I shouldn’t be here. I should be with him.
“I need to get back to—fuck. My Guardian is out there. Did you see what happened?”
Rose shrugged. “We didn’t get any medicine, that’s what happened. He is not your Guardian, ma?” Rose jerked his head toward the inside of the house.
“Loquin? No. He just…he was just there. I was trying to…shoot the people who were shooting us. No, wait. I don’t know if they were shooting.”
“They were. I saw. Heard too. Their guns used to be louder, like ours, my grandmother would always say, but they are still loud enough in the forest.”
“Your grandmother?” Orrey looked around. “Do other people live here?”
“No. Just me and Anandas.” He leaned back against the house’s wall. “It’s…a tale. I used to live in Thistletown, by the Rose River. Got my name for it, and because it’s an old kind of flower, one the wayfarers knew. That’s what my grandmother said, anyway. Then that one time, I ran into a certain member of the Vashana. Turns out he had an opinion about letting me leave.”
“Wait, Anandas is one of the people who attacked us?”
“Oh, no. He left that group. And Vashana isn’t even a group. They come together every year to watch how your people move. Then they plan attacks, try to take what they can for trade. Their members always come from different families, but you have to be at least middling royalty to join. Anandas hasn’t tried joining in years now, not since he met me.”
“Middling what?”
Rose looked at Orrey and scratched his head. “Royalty. Like Lords and Queens and that sort of thing, ma?” He grinned. “You did away with those in these cities of yours and raised Guardians instead, ma?”
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Orrey said and sipped his tea. It was surprisingly tasty, sweet and rich, something floral in there as well.
Rose snorted. “Strange little Guardian pet you are.”
“I’m not a pet. I’m a Conduit. And I’m supposed to protect that Guardian in there, so if you—”
“Yes, yes. Murder, bloodshed. I know my stories and the history my people and the city dwellers share. Spare me. Just enjoy the tea, let your Guardian heal, and leave. Also never return. Please.”
The Hound—Anandas—stepped out of the house, wiping his hands on a cloth.
“Humans really know no kindness, ma?”
Rose shrugged. “I made him tea. You saw me make him tea.”
“He is scared.” Anandas looked at Orrey. “I apologize he scares you. He has no way with words.”
“Hey!”
