Sam said nothing, and Jigano sighed inwardly, though he couldn’t blame his friend for not wanting to fight. He had hoped that today would be a pleasant chance to catch up… but instead the bookmaker had picked the one topic he knew they didn’t agree on, and that could only end in frustration for them both.
”You don’t have such plans, Sam,” he spoke quietly still, pushing the pillar with its metal rod higher still, finding the very limit of his power as it towered thirty feet into the air. The base was thicker around than an ancient oak, narrowing as it rose in a tall, skinny cone until the metal poked up high into the sky, taller than anything in the nearby ruins and inviting the fury of the storm. As they had been speaking dark clouds had begun to gather on the horizon, moving swiftly as the spring storms so often did, and a cool, damp breeze was beginning to tease at their hair and clothes.
”But the Voice has done it before. And last I heard, she did not always consult you or tell you everything she was doing in advance.” He stepped away from his earthen tower, shaking the dirt from his hands as he looked back to Sam with a sigh. ”And I went because one of Rae’s creatures was guarding the portal and I wanted to make sure it was not harmed, the way the Fae and the Mathair were.” He smiled bitterly as he looked away, fingers flexing with the memory of talons. ”But Wessex and the Voice made sure my efforts to that end were in vain. Your precious Voice bound me and threatened to kill me if I interfered with her wretched portals again. I owe her dearly for that… and when the portals are unlocked with blood and violence and death, ‘amazing’ is not the word I would use for them. ‘Damned’ seems more fitting. Or ‘cursed,’ perhaps.”
”You don’t have such plans, Sam,” he spoke quietly still, pushing the pillar with its metal rod higher still, finding the very limit of his power as it towered thirty feet into the air. The base was thicker around than an ancient oak, narrowing as it rose in a tall, skinny cone until the metal poked up high into the sky, taller than anything in the nearby ruins and inviting the fury of the storm. As they had been speaking dark clouds had begun to gather on the horizon, moving swiftly as the spring storms so often did, and a cool, damp breeze was beginning to tease at their hair and clothes.
”But the Voice has done it before. And last I heard, she did not always consult you or tell you everything she was doing in advance.” He stepped away from his earthen tower, shaking the dirt from his hands as he looked back to Sam with a sigh. ”And I went because one of Rae’s creatures was guarding the portal and I wanted to make sure it was not harmed, the way the Fae and the Mathair were.” He smiled bitterly as he looked away, fingers flexing with the memory of talons. ”But Wessex and the Voice made sure my efforts to that end were in vain. Your precious Voice bound me and threatened to kill me if I interfered with her wretched portals again. I owe her dearly for that… and when the portals are unlocked with blood and violence and death, ‘amazing’ is not the word I would use for them. ‘Damned’ seems more fitting. Or ‘cursed,’ perhaps.”
