A Plague of Giants (Seven Kennings #1) - Kevin Hearne Page 0,213

journal to my chest, a record of a now-extinct way of life. Once again, I had been too late to be of any help to the Brynts. I had to find some way to leap ahead of the Eculans and anticipate their next move or I would be doing nothing but writing their histories.

—

The bard sighed heavily when he dissolved his seeming. “That is, of course, how I came to know of the contents of Kallindra’s journal. Gondel Vedd brought it here to Pelemyn. Tomorrow we’ll have more from Abhi and revisit Culland du Raffert.”

Tidal pools can mirror life at times, for they are simultaneously a place of beauty and wonder, yet occupied by horrors with teeth and there is no place to escape them. After I returned home from the bard’s performance, I felt trapped in one.

Elynea had found a job and was positively beaming about it, her face and indeed her entire body transformed by the personal victory. But since this came as a complete surprise to me and I had walked in expecting to say that I had a job waiting for her if she wanted it, my face wasn’t suffused with unadulterated joy when she said, “Isn’t that great?”

It was only a second or two’s delay, if that, for me to let go of my expectations and embrace her good news. But she noticed. When I said, “Oh, yes. Of course! That’s fantastic!” she frowned and folded her arms across her chest.

“Are you sure? You don’t seem that thrilled.”

“No, I am! Honestly, congratulations. Sorry, I was just surprised because I was about to say I’ve found a job for you if you wanted it.”

She cocked her head. “When did I ever ask you to get a job for me, Dervan?”

“Well, never—”

“That’s right. I never asked. Because I didn’t want your help. I wanted to get a job on my own, and I did. Drown me if I didn’t.”

“And that’s wonderful! Seriously. I’m very happy for you. Please forgive me my presumption. Tell me about your job.”

She eyed me for a moment, uncertain of my sincerity, and I admit that it hurt. It was a pain I’ve felt before—wounded pride, perhaps? Far too simple a label but perhaps close enough. It was more accurately an intellectual awareness that I was wrong, a fervent desire to be right from the start and go back in time to be right, coupled with an awareness that I couldn’t do that and that in fact wishing to do so was stupid and immature, piled on top of the stupidity I already felt for assuming Elynea would want my help, and underneath it all an irrational desire to lash out in anger at Elynea when she had done nothing wrong and in truth I was angry at myself.

Sarena had trained me to identify at least what was going on in my head. She could tell what I was thinking and feeling because she’d seen the same things in the faces of men around the world. It didn’t stop me from feeling any of it, but it did stop me from acting on those things the way many men would. So I restrained myself from making it worse and did what I knew to be right: give Elynea nothing but encouragement. When she was convinced I wanted to hear about it, she unfolded her arms and clasped her hands together, beaming and bobbing up and down on her toes.

“I’m formally apprenticed to a Fornish master woodworker! Eee!” She gave up the bouncing and did some full-on jumps, and that set off her kids. Tamöd and Pyrella leapt around the house, delighted because their mother’s mood was so infectious, making high-pitched noises of joy and laughing.

I congratulated her again; she thanked me and then said that some post had arrived for me and she’d put it on my desk to keep it safe from the playing kids. That was my chance to escape with a shred or two of my dignity intact, and I withdrew to investigate, closing the door behind me and sighing.

“Brilliant, Dervan,” I said aloud. Maybe the letter would make me feel better.

It bore the seal of the university, and I gave a surprised grunt. That was an impressively quick response. I tore it open, nearly as excited as the children for a moment, but my face quickly fell. Greetings, and then:

“I regret to inform you that while the university will open again, it will do so at greatly diminished capacity