The apparition standing in front of Rowan in the vast Sehani Hall had shaggy blond hair. He was wearing scruffy cargos and an equally disreputable t-shirt with a rude logo. He could have walked down the main street of an Earth city without anyone batting an eyelid… so long as he wore shades to cover his remarkable golden eyes—eyes that were a match for her own since her transformation into what the Dayamari called a Sehan.
Rowan shook her head. Okay, so she’d witnessed all sorts of supernatural woo-woo since she’d arrived here, but this guy took the cake by claiming to be a god. Hah. No way.
“Yes, way.” He grinned at her.
“Prove it.” Rowan didn’t react to him reading her mind. That was nothing special. Ryley did it all the time.
“Okay.”
She stared at him expectantly. And was finally provoked to say, “So, are you going to get on with proving it any time soon?”
“One point for me.” He traced a tick in the air with his forefinger.
“I don’t think so,” she said, and curled her lip. Pathetic. Did he think she was stupid or something?
“I don’t think you’re stupid.”
Ryley barked a laugh and fist-bumped the delusional guy with the god-complex, whose name was actually plain old Marc. “Very clever,” Ryley said, grinning widely.
“What’s very clever?” Rowan demanded, giving both men her best glare.
“You’re speaking Dayamaru,” Ryley told her.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re speaking our language, Rowan. Not English.”
She stared at him, eyes slitted with concentration as she probed his aureya, as the Dayamari called it. Huh. He was telling the truth—or the truth as he believed it to be. She turned her focus on Marc. “Really? You can do that?”
He nodded. “Yep. Come on, babe, admit it’s heaps more convenient for you to speak Dayamaru rather than expecting Ryley to translate all the time. And sure, a Sehan could have done something similar for you but it wouldn’t have been exactly painless. I’m more attuned to Earth physiology, so I can do it like that.” He snapped his fingers. “So. Considering I just did you a huge favor, how would you like to show your appreciation?”
Ryley growled deep in his throat. “Don’t push your luck.”
Rowan crossed her arms beneath her breasts while she worked herself up to a really good insult. “How about I show my appreciation by not smacking you upside the head for mucking around with my brain without permission, you arrogant… uh…. What’s Dayamaru for ‘pig’?”
“Boar,” Ryley said.
Marc snickered. “Feel free to insult me in English, Rowan. Dayamaru sucks for swearing and insults. Okay, you win. What can I do to prove to you I’m a god?”
She flashed hot-cold-hot. Had she really just called a god a pig? Sooo not good.
Ryley slung an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “It takes a lot more than that to mortally offend Marc. He won’t do anything to hurt you—will you, Marc?”
The scruffy young god blinked at the underlying threat. “Of course not, dude. I’d never do anything to hurt Rowan.”
That had sounded awfully sincere.
“You mean,” Ryley said, “other than ripping her away from her life on Earth to bring her here and subject her to a possibly life-threatening spore. Right?”
Marc had the grace to look abashed. “Well, yeah. Aside from that minor little detail. I owe you an apology, Rowan. I shouldn’t have brought you here without cluing you in and giving you a choice.”
She smiled gently at him. “No need to apologize. I understand completely. The sad thing is she didn’t want to be saved.” As soon as she uttered the words she wished she could take them back because Marc looked like he’d just been sledgehammered between the eyes.
“You didn’t know?” Shit. She bit her lip and puffed out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, Marc. All she would let me do was anchor her spirit to her body long enough for her to name her daughter and say goodbye to Kraig.”
“Ah.” He disciplined his features into a pleasant mask but Rowan had already noted the glimmer of pain that had flashed across his face. “Anyway, Rowan, what do you think of little old Dayamaria?”
“I haven’t seen all four settlements yet but this one’s idyllic. Everything’s so… so… harmonious. I mean, everyone fills their days doing whatever they’re best at—leatherworking, weaving, sewing clothes or whatever—and then they barter their goods for whatever they require. No job dissatisfaction. No um, what’s the word?” She resorted to English after realizing Dayamaru had no equivalent for the concept she was trying to get across. “No politicians, no taxes, no pollution. Everyone’s equal. It’s an anthropologist’s dream!”
Marc guffawed and Ryley broke into outright laughter.
“What did I say?” she asked.
Marc’s eyes were sparkling with mirth. “Wherever there are humans there’s the desire for power and status. We’re no exception. Dayamaria is chock-full of petty little power plays and nastiness. You merely haven’t seen enough of it to realize that yet. Now she’s fully recovered you should have a chat with Romana. With the exception of perhaps Ryley, here, she’s the least entrenched in Dayamari tradition. She’ll tell you more clearly than most what our failings are.” He seemed to tune out for a moment, as though listening to a voice only he could hear. “Uh oh. Wisa’s on her way. I’d better clean up my act. Last thing I feel like is another lecture.”
He snapped his fingers and Rowan could only gape. And blink. The disreputable-looking young man had been replaced by a being who looked every inch a young Apollo. With each movement he made the cloth of his tunic and trousers shimmered with blindingly bright hues spanning the color spectrum.
“Hey, tone it down a bit.” Ryley shielded his eyes with a hand. “You’re giving me a headache.”
“Sorry.” Marc dulled his glory ever so slightly.
“Wow,” Rowan couldn’t help saying. “You really are a god!”
“And haven’t I been trying to drum this very point into you for years?” a woman’s voice said. “If you cared enough to look godlike, perhaps it would be easier for you to act like one.”
Marc mock-winced. Ouch, he mouthed at Rowan.
Wisa’s disembodied lecture was followed by the goddess herself—a gloriously beautiful woman with a perfect complexion, golden eyes, and long hair that was a true silver no hair-dye on Earth could ever replicate. “Hello, Ryley. And this—” she smiled “—must be Rowan. Welcome to Dayamaria, Rowan. I’m Wisa, Ryley’s grandmother, and soon to be your Grandmother-by-Joining, I hear.”
Rowan swallowed, overwhelmed. Ryley had tried to explain his complicated family to her but somehow she’d glossed over the fact his grandmother was a bona fide deity. Or that she regularly visited. “It’s lovely to meet you, uh—”
“Just ‘Wisa’ is fine. I don’t stand on ceremony.”
Marc snorted and although Wisa didn’t deign to look at him she sniffed.
Marc opened his mouth and Rowan hastily intervened before he could say anything provocative. “Ryley’s told me so much about you, Wisa.”
“Good things I trust?”
Rowan darted a glance at him. “Of course!”
Wisa laughed and tossed her head. “I see. You and I must have a private chat sometime, Rowan. I’m sure you’d enjoy hearing all about the scrapes this young man of yours got into as a youngling.”
“I’ll take you up on that.” Rowan arched her brows at the man to whom she was unofficially Promised. “He might seem almost perfect but I’m sure he must have a few faults he’s hiding from me.”
Her Promised groaned and covered his face with a hand.
“Does she know about Aryn?” Wisa asked, her gaze intent.
“Aryn’s spirit is part of what makes Ryley who he is,” Rowan said, and if her tone was possibly a little sharper than might be considered diplomatic then too bad. “And I love who he is. That includes Aryn.”
“Good.” Wisa smiled in a satisfied way and Rowan got the distinct impression she’d passed a test.
Marc was smirking. He was enjoying this far too much. Time for a little revenge. “You know, Marc,” Rowan said, “there’s no way I wouldn’t have believed Wisa was a goddess. You really should listen to her because first appearances do count for a lot. I’d have been much more inclined to believe your claim if you hadn’t dressed like you’d gone Dumpster-diving for your clothes.”
Marc’s jaw sagged. “Rude!” he spluttered.
Wisa reached out to pat Rowan’s hand. “I don’t understand exactly what ‘Dumpster-diving’ is but I think you and I are going to get on very well.”
“One point for me,” Rowan said, and drew a tick in the air.
Marc eyed her sourly. “Yeah. You’re going to fit in here just fine.”
“Enough banter,” Wisa said. “Rowan, do you think you’re recovered enough from your transformation to try to help her?”
She gulped. “About that—”
Thankfully Ryley smoothly intervened. “We’ll both try. We’ve discovered we have a kind of symbiotic relationship—similar to the way Romana and Hopian’s powers complement each other’s.”
Wisa quirked one eyebrow. “What are you suggesting?”
Marc cocked his head and glanced from Ryley to Rowan. He nodded slowly. “Ah. I See it clearly now.” A huge grin lit his face. “Oh, I’m good. I’m really, really good.”
At that moment, Ryley knew absolutely that he and Rowan would succeed in healing his mother. Exhilaration pulsed through his veins. He was Sehani, yes, but he’d also been born with an affinity for healing like his father. And in Rowan, he had found a partner to complement him in every possible way. They truly were soul mates.
“What’s going on, Marc?” Wisa’s voice had an edge to it that should have had the Younger God falling over himself to enlighten her. Marc being Marc, winked and tapped a finger on the side of his nose. “Patience, Wisa. All will be revealed in time.”
“Marc.”
The only word Ryley could think of to accurately describe Wisa’s tone was “dangerous”.
Marc relented, but only slightly. “I’m about to justify bringing Rowan to Dayamaria in such a huge way you’re never going to hassle me about it again. And don’t glare at me like that, either. I refuse to spoil the surprise and there’s nothing you can do to make me change my mind.”
“Oh no?” She smiled in a way that made the hair rise on the back of Ryley’s neck. “I believe the idea I came up with for how Mother Nature could chastise the Elementals might make you reconsider.”
Marc shrugged. “I admit that was inventive even for you, Wisa. But I can take anything you can dish out.”
Her eyes flashed. “You think so?”
“I know so.” A golden flash from Marc’s eyes answered her challenge.
“Now might be a good time to make ourselves scarce,” Ryley whispered in Rowan’s ear. “I suggest we meet back at the Healing Hall.”
“Are you sure we can do this? What if our meddling makes things worse?”
“How can they be any worse than they already are? We have to try. We can’t just leave her like that. It’s too cruel.”
She sighed and with it sloughed off all self-doubt, replacing it with the fierce determination he loved. “Let’s go.”
“Do you remember what I taught you about transporting yourself from one place to another?”
“Even if I didn’t,” she whispered back, “if it was a choice of remaining here with two gods about to throw a tantrum, and risking ending up on the other side of this world because I didn’t know what I was doing—” She vanished but her thought floated back to him. If they wreck the building your Dad will be furious!
~~~