Thea Harrison - Oracle's Moon

He had also been Dragos’s former First sentinel for a reason. He looked at Khalil, his face hard, but he kept his voice even. “Came in a little rough on your landing there, Khalil. Care to tell us why?”

Khalil ignored him. He had no interest in conversing with the Wyr. He looked at Carling and spat, “In all the years of our long association, I never thought I would be calling you honorless.”

Carling’s expression sharpened. Even though Rune had not moved, his Power spiked with aggression.

Khalil did not mind that in the slightest. His own Power flared into battle readiness.

Carling’s hand shot out, and she gripped Rune’s muscled bicep. “Easy,” she murmured to him. In a louder, calm voice, she said to Khalil, “Clearly I have caused offense to you when none was meant. I would be grateful if you would instruct me on the nature of my transgression, so that I may make amends.”

“You don’t owe amends to me,” Khalil said. “And I am not your keeper.”

Rune had begun a low, barely audible growl. Carling whispered to him, “Stop it, please.” She looked at Khalil. “The only way I could have become honorless to you is if I did not meet my side of a bargain. Khalil, I want you to hear me on this. Rune and I have been under a lot of strain.”

“That holds no meaning for me,” he snapped.

“I know. The Djinn keep an immaculate accounting of favors owed and favors paid. But you and I have had an association that has been filled with honor for many centuries. We struck a bargain a long time ago, and yes, you paid me three favors, but I helped you first with something so dangerous I might not have survived to collect. I’m asking that you remember that and let it weigh against your anger. Please understand, at times these last few weeks, my thinking has not been very clear. If I owe someone, it is a mistake, not a choice to live without honor. I want to pay the debt.”

He struggled to hear what Carling was saying. She was right, his sensibilities were outraged. For the Djinn, only pariahs behaved in such a way, but Carling was not Djinn. And the Djinn might suffer from damage, but they did not suffer from disease. He could not calculate or fully understand what effect that may have had on the clarity of her thinking.

The Oracle’s website had explained everything perfectly. Khalil didn’t know who had created the content, but the webpage devoted to donations had been gracious and well written. A short paragraph described the history of the ancient social contract and the reasons why the Oracle would not speak of such matters whenever someone came to make a petition.

The tradition was very like those found in certain American Indian nations. The elders gave their teachings and healings to the people, passed down oral histories thousands of years old, and they often provided a place where sacred ceremonies were held. It was the people’s responsibility to support and honor them. Like any church or social service, it cost money to provide the space and time for sacred ceremonies. Mortgages, rents and utilities had to be paid. Lawns had to be mowed, firewood cut, properties maintained and food bought.

As the unknown writer explained, often petitioners were grieving or otherwise preoccupied with important issues and challenges in their own lives when they arrived to consult the Oracle. The experience could be overwhelming. It often left one with a sense of epiphany, so it was important to come already prepared to fulfill the contract.

No matter how nicely the webpage was phrased, Khalil thought, the underlying message was plain. Don’t forget to make your offering, because the Oracle won’t bring it up.

His respect for Grace grew. It took a particular kind of strength to hold true to one’s side of a bargain, no matter what. Most Djinn did not bother to find that out. If someone reneged on a bargain, they took revenge.

And he could not quite let go of all his anger, as he glanced around at the spacious villa that was, by anyone’s accounting, extremely luxurious, and he compared it to Grace and the children’s situation. If anyone should know better, it should have been Carling, who was so well versed in bargains, payment and balance not only in the culture of the Djinn but also in matters of magic.

So he chose to explain but not hold back the bite in his tone. “What exactly do you think you owe the Oracle for your consultation?”

Rune moved suddenly, his aggression ebbing. Stricken awareness flashed in Carling’s long, dark eyes. “Oh, damn,” she said. She and Rune looked at each other. Something passed between them, a troubled shadow from the recent past.

Rune said in a quiet voice, “We owe the Oracle everything.”

“She is in need,” Khalil told them. “You will pay her what you owe.”

“Of course we will,” Carling said. “And offer our deepest apologies. Thank you for telling us, Khalil.” She looked at him oddly. “You are still in contact with her? I—would not have expected that to go well.”

“She is my friend.” Khalil crossed his arms. “We are going on a date tonight.”

Silence filled the villa. Both Carling and Rune stood frozen.

Khalil had nearly forgotten one detail. He added thoughtfully, “I am to dress casually.”

Rune’s suntanned skin darkened dramatically. He broke into a convulsive fit of coughing. “Excuse me,” he whispered. “I need a drink of water.”

Both Khalil and Carling watched Rune stride rapidly out of the room. Carling’s face was rigid as she watched her lover leave, but her gaze held an expression that looked, to Khalil, peculiarly pained, as if she had been betrayed.

Carling turned back to Khalil. She raised her eyebrows. “So what are you going to wear?”

He didn’t have a clue. He hadn’t planned that far ahead. He said, “I thought I would Google for images of casual wear in Louisville.”

Carling had begun to relax. At that she went rigid again, closed her eyes and shook her head. “No, Khalil.”

“No?” He frowned. “Perhaps I should wear a garment like the one Rune is wearing then.”

Carling said, “No.”

A half hour later, Khalil strode toward Soren’s quarters in the north guesthouse. His business with Carling and Rune had gone much better than he had expected.

He had arrived prepared for a confrontation. When he walked away, he had a check written to Grace, along with a handwritten note of apology from Carling.

He had also received impromptu dating advice from Rune, of all people. Rune and Khalil had come very close to becoming enemies in the past. As far as Khalil was concerned, they were still not that far away, so he listened impassively as Carling called Rune back into the room.

“I’m going to write a quick note to Grace and write her a check,” she told Rune. “You need to tell Khalil what to wear for a casual date. Be specific.” Rune gave Khalil a sleepy-looking smile. She smacked Rune in the chest with the back of her hand and added sharply, “And be serious.” She pointed at Rune as she said to Khalil, “Pay attention to what he says. He’s dated quite extensively, and he’s been quite successful at it.”

Carling strode out of the room. Khalil and Rune regarded each other warily. Khalil remembered again how Carling had described male Djinn. He thought her metaphor probably applied to him and Rune as well. They were two betta fighting fish flaring their fins with aggression while talking about dating. It was an oddity.

When the silence had stretched between the two males for too long, Khalil finally said, “Speak.”

“Jeans. T-shirt. Either boots or sneakers,” Rune said. “Pay for everything, and open doors for her. Dating’s simple. Listen to what she says, tell her she’s beautiful and make her happy.”