his one true constant; his purpose for being. For the first time it held no appeal.
“All the more reason to quit this sphere.” He paused beneath an elm. The river called from beyond the trees. He breathed deep, inhaling the scents of forest and water. “Hannah is too unsettling for a warrior accustomed to solitude.”
You mean Sassy is too unsettling.
“Where have you been, Provider? I requested a location from you. You did not respond.”
I heard you. I chose to disregard you.
“You cannot disregard me. You serve the Dalvahni.”
I serve you. You are the Maker, I your creation. You brought me into being.
Unease snaked through Grim. “That is absurd. Whatever gave you such a notion?”
Ask any of your brothers. Ask Conall. They will tell you there is no “Provider.” To them, I am but a mechanical drone that imparts knowledge. A tool to aid them in the hunt. Nothing more.
Grim’s head began to throb anew, and not from chocolate. For centuries, he had shunned his brothers, preferring to grieve alone for Gryff. Focus his energy, guilt, and hate on the enemy. When had the Provider stopped being an implement and become something more, a companion, a confidant, a sparring partner to keep his wits sharp?
He tried to pinpoint the exact moment, and could not. The change had been too gradual, the centuries spent alone with the Provider a long, gray tunnel beyond reckoning.
Could this be? Was such a thing possible? Was it allowed? Creation was for the gods. The punishment for such an offense would surely be severe, banishment or imprisonment in the deepest, darkest part of the Pit.
Panic sliced through Grim. What would become of Sassy if he were jailed or dead? True, Evan was a force to be reckoned with when angered, but who would protect Sassy from Evan?
Grim lashed out at a branch in frustration, sundering it. “I will report my transgression to Conall at once, then seek out Kehvahn and tell him what I have done.”
No confession is required. I assure you, Kehvahn and I are on excellent terms.
The Provider knew the god of the Dal?
Grim’s unease grew. “You are? How can this be?”
You are an excellent warrior, Grimford, but at times you are dense. Not to mention taciturn and surly as a molting dragon. I require intellectual stimulation. Kehv and I enjoy conversing.
“Perhaps I am mad and you are the product of my disordered faculties.”
In which case, he would request beheading. Better dead than chained to some wall, a raving lunatic. An object of pity.
You are not mad. I am quite real. Ask Sassy.
“What has Sassy to do with it?”
Rather a lot, I suspect, though I make no claims to prescience. Sassy and I are friends.
“Sassy can hear you?”
We could hardly have become friends otherwise. I have been observing her antics this morning. That is why I did not respond to you earlier. She has charmed one of the nibilanth. No easy feat. You know how difficult they can be.
“A lessling?” Grim was alarmed. Lesslings were powerful creatures, half fairy, half imp, and all trouble. “Whose?”
One of Sildhjort’s, I believe. Not a bad sort, as lesslings go.
“The woman is a menace. Getting stuck in a tree is but her latest folly.”
She is no longer in the tree. She is in the river.
“What?”
An icy fist gripped Grim’s vitals. Sassy was in the river, floundering beneath the weight of the heavy gown she had donned the night before.
She would drown.
I suspect the witch’s brew contained a healthy dose of water sprite, the Provider continued cheerfully, for our Sassy swims like a—
The Provider’s words were an incomprehensible mumble. Sassy was in the river. Grim bent his will on reaching her and vanished.
Chapter Fifteen
Grim materialized on the dewy lawn near the house. The early morning air smelled of pine and resin, splintered wood, fallen leaves, and river damp. In a nearby oak, a small bird sang see see see. There was no sign of Sassy on the dock. No robe-clad figure struggling in the relentless grip of the rolling brown water.
Pain and regret knocked him to his knees. He was too late. He had failed her.
She was gone.
The surface of the water parted and a siren shot out of the drink like a salmon leaping upstream. She landed on the pier. Water sluiced off her sleek body and honey-colored ringlets.
Grim’s despair was displaced by a surge of lust. Clad in a short white shift that clung to her narrow waist and round hips, she was temptation itself, this siren. Her