Avishraa Reloaded

There was a vague sense of time passing, somewhere outside his head. Sometimes of being moved, of voices. Once or twice, it seemed to him that he was roused just enough to drink water or broth, but he could remember nothing afterward but the bare fact of it.

When at last he surfaced again into consciousness, the first sensation, before vision or even sound, was pain at the end of his tail. It was nothing at all like the pain of Ynudh's powers being used on it, either in quality or intensity, but it was there, a kind of heat, as if he had recently been burned. As if this were not enough, the rest of his body ached as well, though it was extremely minor by comparison.

He became aware of other things. The sound of water, or at least liquid, boiling. Some kind of intensly herbal smell, or more likely some confused mix of different herbal smells. Someone moving around nearby, and others talking in the distance, in some tongue that he did not recognize. It felt like he had been laid on some kind of pallet stuffed with leaves and moss.

Then hands were laid on him. They were not rough in their work, but they were businesslike; they felt the side of his neck, the base of his antenna, his chest. With somewhat more care, they explored the area around the end of his tail.

When he opened an eye, he observed that he was in some kind of tent. The person examining him was a woman of his own kind; she was a very dark brown, covered in small, tapered golden markings. He'd never seen her before.

There was a strange dizziness in his head. He was unsure whether it was physiological or some kind of after-effect of the strange vision. The straight-forward disorientation and pain weren't helping. He let his vision scan through the room, trying to understand enough of his environment to at least guess when he was and maybe even where, in broad strokes, relative to where he last remembered being.

The woman turned back to his face, saw that his eyes were open and at least somewhat focused, and spoke a few words. Her expression was professional, but she sounded relieved and pleased. She glanced off to one side, said something else with a gesture indicating that she would be back momentarily, and then left.

Looking in that direction, he saw the entrance of the tent. He couldn't make out much beyond it, but the flickering light suggested that it was night and that there was a fire going not far outside. The smell of the air was not dissimilar to that of the area where he and the others had been before, but cooler and damper and tinged with a strange but not unpleasant resinous scent.

A certain amount of effort resulted in the vague recollection that Tikke had pointed out, high up on a spur of the hills, the location of a xtauh encampment to which the others had tried flying; possibly this was it.

The woman returned, carrying a bowl of something that smelled like food - it made An-uxhwi realize that he was also fammished - how long had it been since he'd really eaten - and trailed by Unitti, who seemed to be under a certain amount of stress, but who smiled on seeing An-uxhwi awake. “Friend An-uxhwi, how you feeling?”

His own expression brightened at seeing the familiar face, although he made no secret of the confusion he felt at Unitti's stressed state - not that they didn't all have shared experiences that would be enough to explain all manners of stress, but this seemed unique to Unitti in the very moment.

“Alive,” he answered, letting his tone convey the complexity of meaning for him: It was more than he had perhaps expected. It was all he could say in polite company. It was a state that promised a future to him. “But what about you?” he asked, willing his pain away for long enough to make space for his sincere concern.

It let in another concern that he'd been hoping to stave off, and he found it difficult to suppress it, so he didn't: “And, do you know - is Evrith all right?” A glance leapt to the bowl, lingering a little more than was polite to look away from Unitti, guided by the ravenous hunger that roiled in his gut. A tinge of shame touched him, then rippled into a firm tension as he kept himself politely still - no tearing the bowl from his benefactor's hands, no side-lining Unitti. He clearly owed these people his life - another debt, then, equally gladly taken - and being polite was the absolute least he could do for now.

The pallet on which he lay was on the ground, so when the woman set the bowl just beyond its edge, it was in easy reach. Before Unitti could answer, she said something to An-uxhwi with a certain amount of sternness. Unitti, who looked even more uncomfortable after An-uxhwi had asked his questions, sighed lightly.

“This Hyd'natt,” he introduced her, or so An-uxhwi interpreted the name; some of the sounds used were unfamiliar to him. “She say to eat now, talk later - you need strength. But Evrith is… er, in book right now. She scratched up. Shyriath trying to sew up. Tikke and I, we not hurt, but we have… tough discussion with tribe here.”

An-uxhwi glanced to Hyd'natt, as though that explained the business of the tough discussion, then back to Unitti. There were a number of tough discussions he could imagine - the whole 'traveling with a takmar' came to mind as something that might spook some tribes - but ultimately he could only guess.

So he decided to ask, even as he took the food with as much composure as he could manage, trying not to immediately bury his face in it and managing, somehow. “What of this discussion?” he asked, then began to eat as slowly as he could muster, trying to keep his eyes on Unitti - it meant that he made a mess of his muzzle like a hatchling.

Unitti grimaced, and turned briefly to speak to Hyd'natt. An-uxhwi did not recognize the language, except that it didn't sound like the one that Unitti and Tikke used between themselves.

“<You might want to go outside. He's normally a sensible fellow, but he's asking for clarification and I don't know how angry he's going to be. I'd rather it not get directed at you.>”

Hyd'natt expelled air from her nostrils in a sigh. “<Just make sure he eats. He lost a fair amount of blood, and it needs restoring.>” She turned and ducked out of the tent.

Unitti turned back to An-uxhwi, hesitated, and then said, “We having problems with tribe. They… they suffer much from giants - takmar, you see. They not like them. When Evrith go back for you, we continue to tribe to get help, but they not happy about Shyriath. They make him stay away. They follow Tikke and me to help, because we tell them one of the People is captured by bad giants. They follow Tikke and me to save you.”

There was a pause, and then Unitti continued, “But… when we arrive, they see you, they see missing piece of tail. They see Evrith standing over you. They attack. Evrith not defend, not do anything. Tikke get tribe to stop, but Evrith bleeding. Tribe angry, confused. They find book, put you and Evreith in, bring it back to camp. We bring you out, but they say Evrith must stay in book. Shyriath come back and argue, he go in book to help Evrith. And now…” Unitti took a deep breath. “Evrith and Shyriath in book. Tribe has book. Tribe argue over whether to destroy book. Tikke trying to convince to give back.”

Anger was not quite An-uxhwi's emotion. It didn't sound like Evrith was immediate peril. Still, some smaller cousin of panic welled in his chest, accompanied by a deep, tired annoyance, laced with the unwelcome understanding of someone who had himself once been enslaved. He closed his eyes, trying to compose his response. Then: “And I imagine they would not believe me if I told them we need Evrith to save the world, so cutting her off from it would be very, very bad.”

Unitti jerked his head in a negative. “Tikke try to explain, but-” He paused. Tikke's voice was barely audible outside, and it sounded like he was either shouting or on the verge of it. “-but they think we crazy or bewitched.

“When we come this way with you, we hope to ask Evrith to allow tribe to move into land inside book. Here land is rough, hunting poor, giants all around, but there, they have better life. When they get hold of book, we try to tell them this. They give back book, let giants go free, they get new home. But elders not trust giants. Not trust magic. Very much not trust giant magic. Some argue book is evil. Most think giants in book should stay there. All think that we not in right minds if we trust giants.”

An-uxhwi's grumpiness was rising. “Do they know that Evrith saved my life, and the life of several other women and men besides who were toiling in the mines I was enslaved in?” A pause, but not quite long enough for an answer. “Do they know that I owe Evrith my life and they are interfering with the repayment of my debt?”

Unitti shrugged helplessly. “You can try to tell them. We not know whole story. But you should eat. You not help if you pass out-”

There was the sound of someone approaching the tent, and Tikke pushed his way in. He looked as serious, and indeed as angry, as An-uxhwi had ever seen him. “<Bunch of stubborn, thick-headed idiots,>” he declared to Unitti, snarling. “<We bring them useful goods for years and they're happy to take it all from us, but we ask for a little consideration in how our friends get treated and suddenly- oh.>” He switched languages. “An-uxhwi, you finally awake! Sorry for shout, we have difficulty-”

“Yes,” Unitti muttered, “I tell him.”

“I understand and appreciate your concern,” An-uxhwi said weakly, beginning to push himself up, readying himself to walk to where the tribe was discussing the destruction of the book. Distress gnawed at his joints, both from the unwelcome motion and the situation at hand. “But should they destroy the book while I eat, that seems a rather worse outcome than me passing out. I have to talk to them.” He exhaled, grasping the bowl again. “I can eat while I go,” he promised in compromise.

Unitti and Tikke glanced at each other. Tikke said, “He have point.”

Unitti muttered mournfully, “Hyd'natt smack my head. Yours too.” He glanced at An-uxhwi. “Maybe also yours.” He shook his head. “We stay at sides. Lean on one or another if need be.”

With Unitti on one side and TIkke on the other, An-uxhwi was herded out of the tent and into an evening scented with wood smoke and resin. The camp of these xtauh lay in a U-shaped hollow in the rock, a semicircle of widely-spaced tents around a large fire. Most of the inhabitants seemed busy at various tasks around them - some on lookout atop the surrounding stones, others carrying food or crafting items or attempting to herd children - though many of them glanced up to peer at An-uxhwi as he passed near.

But sitting near the fire were a number of older men and women; some of them simply sat or lay near, warming their bones, but among them were a trio of women - two of middle age, and one of them very nearly the most ancient xtauh An-uxhwi had ever seen - speaking among themselves and passing some long, narrow object between them. The conversation, and the passing, stopped as An-uxhwi was brought before them.

These three women were evidently the local matriarchs; all of them, unlike any of the others, wore headbands from which dangled tufts of dyed fur. The one holding the object - some kind of elaborately carved stick? - was one of the middle-aged ones, a bitter-looking woman with old claw-inflicted scars running across one eye socket and the corresponding eye missing. She began speaking, and Unitti translated.

“<You should not be out and about,>” the woman said - or so An-uxhwi thought, the translation being provided by one who was not completely fluent. “<You have been subjected to injury and to devil-magic, and lost much blood.>”

“I was told you were considering the destruction of the linking book, preventing my friend from returning to us,” An-uxhwi said. He sounded very, very tired - and very, very serious about what he was saying, in a manner that rather explained his urgency. “Please understand, I owe that woman my life and I have yet to repay my debt.

“I have attempted it, but, well…” He gestured to his mangled tail. “It would seem I did an embarrassingly poor job of it.” He crinkled apologetically. “I vow to do better next time, as that I might not need to tax your gracious hospitality or anyone else's - but please, allow the woman, Evrith, to return.”

It occurred to him that it might be rude not to make the same case for Shyriath, but if his argument was going to be about life-debt, it factually was only to Evrith.

The woman who spoke closed her eye, took a deep breath, and released it through her nostrils in controlled exasperation. She glanced at the other two, and the three arranged themselves in a line and sat; the woman passed the stick to her elderly colleague. “Sacred speaking-stick,” Unitti murmured. “Do not speak unless they point at you.”

The ancient matriarch raised the stick and began speaking in a raw, cracked voice. “<To allow either giant to return,>” she proclaimed, “<would negate the main purpose of destroying the book. We do not trust it; we trust the giants far less. Regardless of what happens to the book, inside it they are and inside they must remain. That has already been decided.>”

At a motion from the one-eyed woman, the stick was passed back to the latter, who added firmly, “<The fulfillment of a life-debt is understandable. But no debt exists, none may exist, to one who is not of the People. There is nothing to repay.>” She fell silent, a stubborn expression on her face, though after a nudge from one of her colleagues, pointed the stick - with a certain amount of reluctance - at An-uxhwi to signal his permission to respond.

“With all due respect, it is not your choice to whom I owe a debt,” An-uxhwi said. “Nor would it be any business of yours why I owe it, but I shall share the story, because it is important, and you deserve to know who it is you are considering banishing from Avishraa:

“I was one of many of our people enslaved by Soakers to work in a mine. Evrith was a slave there, too, abilities curtailed by meekleaf, pressed to tell our captors where to find the most valuable resources quickly. But she had fallen ill, which made our captors reluctant to poison her further - and since they were scared of her, they sent me to take care of her so they would not have to be in a room with her.

“Even then, it took a clever ruse and careful timing, but together we were able to coordinate a successful uprising. With her help, we destroyed the gates, guards and obstacles to everyone's freedom. Without her, we would all have perished, either at the end of our strengths or in an attempted rebellion, broken against the gates.”

For a moment, it looked as though An-uxhwi might collapse to the side, exhaustion still having a firm hold on him. He clutched in part to his kind aides, in part awkwardly to the bowl, as though it might do anything to hold him. Then he continued: “I would have died a long time ago without Evrith and so would many of our people from those mines.”

The elderly matriarch listened impassively; the other middle-aged one looked uncertain; but the one-eyed one, after a moment's hesitation, hardened her expression. “<A beast may, in freeing itself, cause freedom to a person, but the person owes no debt to a beast,>” she replied coldly. “<Lightning may burst one's chains, but there is no debt to the lightning. Those with no souls are, at best, only the tools of the spirits that watch over the places in which we are. If the giant, in seeking to free itself, freed you along with it, then what it did was neither selfless nor its own doing->”

The younger of the other two matriarchs leaned over and murmured quietly near the one-eyed one's antenna, and the latter paused, snorted, and then, with somewhat more moderation, continued, “<-and besides, this matter is immaterial. Giants may not walk among us in safety; that is our rule.>”

“Ignoring your disgusting xenophobia for a moment–” A part of An-uxhwi hoped Unitti would translate that correctly, despite the outrage it would cause, but expected it to be somewhat deliberately lost in translation. “–again, it is not for you to decide who I owe a debt to. If I wished to indebt myself to a river, I could do so. I don't require your blessing.

“But though I don't wish in any way to be ungrateful, let me put not too fine a point on this: Should you try to destroy the book, I will fight to prevent it. It might make no difference. I might die trying, especially in my current state. But it would be the only choice you leave me.

“Make no mistake, I don't ask you let Evrith out within your village, but let me take the book with me. You have my word that we won't bother you - I will fight on your side if the future makes a liar of me. And in the interest of both gratitude and fairness, I would like to work to return the things my poor health has taken from you, regardless what the future holds.”

Both other matriarchs glanced nervously at the one-eyed one, who had stood up after An-uxhwi called her out. One of them nudged her as if to request the stick, but she ignored her until An-uxhwi had finished speaking; then, in a very deliberate way, set the stick down where she had been sitting with a click and approached.

She stopped a very short distance away and looked An-uxhwi in the eyes, her antennae set and quivering with barely-suppressed rage, and she said, translated by a very nervous Unitti, “<You accuse me of… blind hatred? …giants have taken our lands, defiled the place-spirits. They have left us in want. They have taken much, as much as they can, even when it does not benefit them. My eye. One of my fathers. Four of my brothers. Three of my sons. My sons. So do not think, outlander, that you can shame me, or any of us, for our hate. We bear it gladly and with good reason.>”

She turned and returned to the others, picking up the stick and snapping something at them. The three went into a huddle, passing the stick around as they discussed. Unitti commented, sounding shaken, “They speak on what you say. Ok'ah' very angry, she argue that you be tied down, that you mad for claiming debt with giant. Tlett think it bad luck to punish for debt one think one have whether it real or not. Hna'i not want to kill one of the People if you fight to keep book from being destroyed - wait…”

The three matriarchs turned back to them. The other middle-aged one, the one Unitti had identified at Tlett, took the stick from a clearly disgruntled-looking Ok'ah' and said, “<We do not feel confident in releasing the book from our custody, nor in allowing the giants to come forth from it. But we… some of us,>” she amended, glancing at Ok'ah', “<acknowledge that your feelings on this matter should not be entirely disregarded. If you wish to remain associated with the one giant, we will permit you to enter the book to do so. We shall defer the decision whether or not to destroy it for some small time.>”

A kernel of anger in An-uxhwi nearly made him address the misguided matriach to detail precisely what the mines had done to him and the other xtauh caught in it, and that she could shove her special pleading up her ass, but fortunately, there were saner individuals at hand, and more pressing matters rapidly needed his attention. The process of considering the offer sapped at the angry flame until it was only a mild simmer. Still, with a calm rather greater than he felt, he said to Unitti: “Perhaps you might want to tell Ok'ah' that her crude dismissal of the suffering of the slaves does not flatter her case.” Then he turned his attention to Tlett, nodding his muzzle respectfully, took a deep breath, and said: “Thank you, I appreciate the consideration. It is not ideal for many reasons, but if it is the only thing you offer me, then I would indeed like to join Evrith.”

Unitti translated An-uxhwi's words, though he felt it impolitic to include his message to Ok'ah'; the situation was quite volatile enough. As it was, An-uxhwi's apparent preference for Evrith's company caused a look of utter disgust to cross Ok'ah's face, though she remained silent.

The eldest matriarch, Hna'i, brought out a sack and withdrew the book from it, passing it into Tlett's hands; Ok'ah' looked like she wanted to snatch it away and throw it in the fire, but made a snarling sort of snort and called out Hyd'natt's name in a peremptory way. Tlett carefully, and somewhat hesitantly, opened the front cover of the book, staring at the endlessly swirling lines on the front page, and then, taking care to keep a firm hold on it, turned the book around to face An-uxhwi.

“Thank you,” he said, again. “To reiterate, if you do allow us to take our leave, I intend to do my best to return to you what my poor health has taken from you. I appreciate the hospitality. I hope we will meet again and I can repay you.” Said, he touched a hand to the swirling patterns.

Once more, the world spiralled away, to be replaced by another.

He had not spent long here before, but clearly things had changed a little, most obviously in that now it was daytime. The sun was high, slightly larger than the Burning Eye he knew, and its light very slightly different in color - even if he had been in a mood to pay attention, he would have found it hard to say exactly how it was different.

Shyriath had obviously been at work here, because where there had once been merely an uncovered shelf of rock projecting out, someone with the power to shape stone had fashioned a kind of crude pavilion to keep the weather off. Beneath it were piled their supplies, as well as a pair of takmar, lying on whatever vaguely soft things it had been possible to scrounge together. The green one lifted its head.

“Thank the gods,” Shyriath muttered weakly. The bruises covering his face and sides suggested that he'd been beaten, with considerable enthusiasm; and he looked like he hadn't slept in some time. “They didn't hurt you at all, did they?”

Evrith, for her part, didn't rise. She appeared to be asleep, or at least unconscious, and shuddered and twitched as she lay. There were a number of claw-inflicted scratches and cuts crisscrossing her scales, and one of her arms in particular had had to be thoroughly stitched up by Shyriath.

“No. I seem to be of the privileged peoples in these parts,” An-uxhwi said with a deep sadness. “I see that the irony of mistreating people who are different to them was lost to them. I am sorry I wasn't there to prevent it.” His attention lingered only briefly on Shyriath, although he made an effort to make it count, to understand the damage, before shifting his attention to Evrith.

He sighed deeply. The questions that came to his mind all answered themselves. Was she recovering? She was. Would she be all right? Yes, at some point. It might take several vigils before she could do anything as useful as fly of her own accord. Not usually the dreamer, he nonetheless briefly indulged in a fantasy of flying for her - but he currently only barely had the strength to carry himself, let alone the weight of a takma in addition, regardless how small by the measures of her people.

“They're discussing burning the book,” he said, matter-of-factly. “I tried to sway them, but they can't even grasp that Evrith rescued me. I did not try to test how well they might understand a threat to the world as a whole and Evrith's ability to avert it; I believe that would have diminished my chances, one of the matriarchs already considers me insane. To be fair, the feeling is mutual.”

Then, after a flick of his muzzle: “That failure aside, what can I do to help either of you, here, right now?” He was still deeply exhausted, but that was really his only problem, which made him better off than either takmar.

“Honestly? Just being here is probably the best I could have hoped for, at least for now,” Shyriath replied gloomily. “I haven't had much of a chance to sleep. Evrith, I should tell you, was in deep distress when she was brought in, and it only got worse.

“She was not coherent enough for me understand all she said, but what I gathered,” he continued uncertainly, “was that she could not see what was happening to you while she was here, and also that she could see futures in which you never arrived here at all. I also had to remind her that attempting to go back might put not only herself but you in danger. And then she… well,” he concluded uncomfortably, “I felt that it was best to put her to sleep and keep her that way for a while. I expect that she might claw my face off for it afterwards, but she was in danger of affecting her own health.”

Shyriath did not feel able to convey that he'd been afraid that she might 'affect her health' by bashing her own head open on the rock.

“Hopefully,” he added wearily, “being able to see you alive and present will ease her mind. In all other respects, nothing much needs to be done for the moment, though we may need to help each other changing wound dressings and other delightful things. And, eventually, hunting and obtaining water, if we end up trapped here until our supplies run out - or later.”

“I can scout around for sources of clear water and possible prey,” An-uxhwi offered. In truth, what he should be doing is rest, but the idea of simply letting himself lie down when their future was still less than certain and Evrith was in such a poor state left him with a sense like insects crawling under his skin.

There was a brief thought that it was better to stay for Evrith's sake, but presumably now that he was in the same world as she was, she would see him regardless where he wandered, and Shyriath could truthfully say that he was here now. Staying would technically not be necessary to soothe her mind once she woke.

“Oh, sit down,” Shyriath said, maybe a bit more sharply than he'd intended. “We might look worse, but my understanding is that you lost much more actual blood than either of us did. Just take it easy. We won't run out of supplies immediately, and at least in the case of water there's a whole river full of it off in the distance if there's nothing closer-”

He was interrupted with a sudden cry from Evrith, who came awake with a violent start. She looked wildly around her, fixed her gaze on An-uxhwi, and expelled a shuddering breath before trying without much success to clamber up onto all fours. She seemed to be having similar trouble assembling sentences. “Anuwi, are - alive - shouldn't've let-”

An-uxhwi was about to protest Shyriath's insistance, even though the wire of nausea in his gut vehemently agreed that sitting down was the best idea, when Evrith stirred and slurred fragments of sentences. Both heartened and alarmed at the same time, he stepped toward her, then sank to sit beside her - technically doing as Shyriath asked, as a part of him noticed grudgingly. What he wanted to say was 'you should have let them kill me and escaped', but it didn't seem right to chide her in her current state. “I'm sorry I wasn't able to stop them from hurting you,” he said, instead, parroting what he had told Shyriath already.

Evrith put a hand on An-uxhwi's shoulder, and for a moment it looked as if she might try to do the same with the injured one, but it just twitched gently. She shook her head desperately, and tried to align her brain with her tongue. “You're sorry-” Her voice cut off, and she tried again, miserably, “don't be absurd. I didn't stop them from hurting me either.”

“Will you recover?” he asked. It felt like an obsolete question - they were no longer in any immediate peril, she had just woken from slumber and proven she could transition from unconsciousness to consciousness, and she could see into the future and had only just effectively admitted that she'd let the xtauh manhandle her, presumably in the knowledge that she would survive. But he had to know.

“Yes,” she snarled with such venom that, off to the side, Shyriath winced. “For all the good it'll do.” She removed her hand from An-uxhwi's shoulder and slumped back into lying down. After a moment, pushing aside her evident disgust at knowing she would live, she managed to add, “I'm glad you made it back. I was afraid-”

She stopped, unable to finish the sentence.

He misread the moment, feeling chastened, drooping visibly. Should he have risked more back at the village, fought, in his present state, for control of the book, and escaped with it to secure their return? If she could see that they would be trapped here indefinitely, then it would indeed not help her cause if she were to survive; they would have lost their chance to make a difference. Was that his fault?

He would have been willing to accept it, if he saw a means he could have acted differently and not made things immediately worse. Tiredness blossomed through his skull. “I apologise for not securing the book, but I think I could only have made things worse. Have I stranded us here?” he asked.

Evrith was astonished. Was that what he thought she was upset about?

“The- I don't care about the book, I damn well almost got you killed!” she exclaimed, in a voice that would have been a shout if she'd been able to put together the energy. “After everything you've tried to do to help me! What are you doing apologizing to me?”

An-uxhwi shook his head slowly. “You didn't almost get me killed, you gave me a life I couldn't otherwise have had,” he reminded her, gently. “Everything else is borrowed time. I don't intend to squander the gift unduly, but it's very important to me that I help you. Please don't blame yourself for my peril. I chose that life. And I am, evidently, doing a bad job at my stated goal. That is why I'm apologising to you. I promised you help, but I've barely given any. I seem to just be getting you into trouble.” It was all said quite observationally. Maybe if he were less tired, himself, there would be more emotion to it, but he was currently mustering less of it than Evrith was.

How… how could just sit there and talk like that? Like his life had no other meaning or purpose? It was enough to make Evrith angry. She grabbed his shoulder again and shook him with what little force she could muster.

“You are one of the best of men, you understand?” she demanded. “One of the best! And if you do nothing else, you can help me by not dying on me!” She stopped, struggling with other words, words that tried to pile on top of each other and stuck in her throat, and then awkwardly squashed him against her shoulder in a one-armed embrace.

He folded his arms around her, in turn, quietly curving his neck and resting his head against her shoulder. “I will try,” he promised softly.

Shyriath watched them with a mixture of relief and uneasiness. The self-destructive impulses that he'd seen in Evrith's mind were ebbing, but he wasn't sure he approved of the other feelings he saw there.

As he began to open his mouth, Evrith slowly craned her head to look straight at him. He licked his lips awkwardly, then closed his mouth again.