Page 16
“I’m working it.”
“Those aren’t the same thing.”
No, they were not. His eyes went to the scorch mark on the oak, worn but holding. Then back at her.
“No, they’re not.” Neither of them moved to end it. Then the creature at her hand made its small hum-question sound. She turned to it, and the moment closed.
Drayce hadn’t read the data until the walk back to the truck. Tor could tell: he’d been through his own copy, and Drayce’s questions went straight to the part Tor had been staring at since six that morning. The truck was in sight. Mirelle was ahead of them, the small creature at her knee. “Same gap both times,” Drayce said, low. “Fifteen-forty.”
“Yes.”
“Not stray Rift energy. This is targeted.”
“Yes.”
Drayce’s eyes stayed on the path ahead. On Mirelle, who had stopped: a creature lingered at the tree line, one of the forest’s summoned residents. She crouched toward it, and it edged toward her hand, and she did not seem startled. She moved as if learning the language. “She’s getting comfortable with it,” Drayce said.
“Quickly.”
“The creatures are tracking her. Not just her summons. The residents. They know what she is.”
The creature from the undergrowth reached her hand. She said a few words to it, and it sat. “The source knows too.” Drayce turned to him.
“Whoever is doing this knows her. They’re not guessing; they know where to push.”
“Which means they’ve been studying her.”
“Long enough to know her signature.”
Ahead of them, Mirelle stood, and the creature slipped back into the undergrowth. Drayce kept his voice down. “She doesn’t know.”
“Not everything. She knows her magic is being pushed from outside. She doesn’t know it’s deliberate.”
“When are you going to tell her?”
“When I have a source. Right now, I have data and a theory, and I’m not going to alarm her with a theory.”
“Tor.”
“She trusts the process. I’m not breaking that over half an answer.” Drayce turned the folder over in his hands without opening it.
“What.”
“Nothing.”
“Say it.”
“In sixteen years, I’ve never seen you volunteer to find a source any faster.” Drayce kept walking. “You always wait for the data.”
“This is different.”
“Yes,” Drayce said, straight-faced. “She trusts you. That’s why it’s different.” Drayce glanced at him. Tor did not answer. He didn’t need to.
Ahead of them, Mirelle had reached the truck and was leaning against the passenger door with her coffee. He could smell that it was still warm, though it had been over an hour. That wasn’t her doing it on purpose. That was the magic doing it for her, and she didn’t know yet. When he reached the truck, she lifted her head from her coffee. “The retriever is not becoming a regular part of the Thursday sessions.”
“No promises.”
“I’m going to need a whole new category for that. Somewhere between alarming and professional.”
