Oracle's Moon (Elder Races #04)

Carling had been ancient at the time of the Roman Empire, but she still had the face and figure of a thirty-year-old human. By modern standards, she was an average height for a woman, with a slender, exquisite bone structure; smooth, luminous skin the color of honey and a sensual mouth. Until recently her dark hair had been long, but now she wore it short. The choppy style emphasized her patrician Nefertiti-like neck; long, almond-shaped, dark eyes; and high cheekbones. She wore soft, gray trousers and a sleeveless shirt, and was, as her usual habit, barefoot.

 

Carling’s new mate, Rune, was barefoot too and bare-chested, as he wore a pair of denim cutoffs. Rune was an immortal Wyr. As such, he carried an intense furnace of energy that rippled the air around him. He stood six foot four, with sun-streaked, tawny hair and the body of a natural swordsman. He had sun-bronzed skin and lion-colored eyes that were normally smiling. Khalil noted Rune’s smile was absent. His handsome face showed the marks of recent strain.

 

He had also been Dragos’s former First sentinel for a reason. He looked at Khalil, his face hard, but he kept his voice even. “Came in a little rough on your landing there, Khalil. Care to tell us why?”

 

Khalil ignored him. He had no interest in conversing with the Wyr. He looked at Carling and spat, “In all the years of our long association, I never thought I would be calling you honorless.”

 

 

 

 

 

Carling’s expression sharpened. Even though Rune had not moved, his Power spiked with aggression.

 

Khalil did not mind that in the slightest. His own Power flared into battle readiness.

 

Carling’s hand shot out, and she gripped Rune’s muscled bicep. “Easy,” she murmured to him. In a louder, calm voice, she said to Khalil, “Clearly I have caused offense to you when none was meant. I would be grateful if you would instruct me on the nature of my transgression, so that I may make amends.”

 

“You don’t owe amends to me,” Khalil said. “And I am not your keeper.”

 

Rune had begun a low, barely audible growl. Carling whispered to him, “Stop it, please.” She looked at Khalil. “The only way I could have become honorless to you is if I did not meet my side of a bargain. Khalil, I want you to hear me on this. Rune and I have been under a lot of strain.”

 

“That holds no meaning for me,” he snapped.

 

“I know. The Djinn keep an immaculate accounting of favors owed and favors paid. But you and I have had an association that has been filled with honor for many centuries. We struck a bargain a long time ago, and yes, you paid me three favors, but I helped you first with something so dangerous I might not have survived to collect. I’m asking that you remember that and let it weigh against your anger. Please understand, at times these last few weeks, my thinking has not been very clear. If I owe someone, it is a mistake, not a choice to live without honor. I want to pay the debt.”

 

He struggled to hear what Carling was saying. She was right, his sensibilities were outraged. For the Djinn, only pariahs behaved in such a way, but Carling was not Djinn. And the Djinn might suffer from damage, but they did not suffer from disease. He could not calculate or fully understand what effect that may have had on the clarity of her thinking.

 

The Oracle’s website had explained everything perfectly. Khalil didn’t know who had created the content, but the webpage devoted to donations had been gracious and well written. A short paragraph described the history of the ancient social contract and the reasons why the Oracle would not speak of such matters whenever someone came to make a petition.

 

The tradition was very like those found in certain American Indian nations. The elders gave their teachings and healings to the people, passed down oral histories thousands of years old, and they often provided a place where sacred ceremonies were held. It was the people’s responsibility to support and honor them. Like any church or social service, it cost money to provide the space and time for sacred ceremonies. Mortgages, rents and utilities had to be paid. Lawns had to be mowed, firewood cut, properties maintained and food bought.

 

As the unknown writer explained, often petitioners were grieving or otherwise preoccupied with important issues and challenges in their own lives when they arrived to consult the Oracle. The experience could be overwhelming. It often left one with a sense of epiphany, so it was important to come already prepared to fulfill the contract.

 

No matter how nicely the webpage was phrased, Khalil thought, the underlying message was plain. Don’t forget to make your offering, because the Oracle won’t bring it up.

 

His respect for Grace grew. It took a particular kind of strength to hold true to one’s side of a bargain, no matter what. Most Djinn did not bother to find that out. If someone reneged on a bargain, they took revenge.

 

And he could not quite let go of all his anger, as he glanced around at the spacious villa that was, by anyone’s accounting, extremely luxurious, and he compared it to Grace and the children’s situation. If anyone should know better, it should have been Carling, who was so well versed in bargains, payment and balance not only in the culture of the Djinn but also in matters of magic.