Back and forth, on and on,
A tale that never ends.
Justinius, Corbenus, and their father arrived at the old grain house to find it caved in and burning. The smoke of the ruin turned the sunlight filtering through the dust and smoke into a red sheen. As the city watch sifted through the rubble, they began to pull out the bodies: broken, bloody, and mangled corpses of men, women, and children. Their fine garments were shreds of their former glory, covered in dust and the blood of their former owners. Justinius had been scanning the line until he found Damianus. Lumina’s brother. He felt an overwhelming sense of guilt upon seeing his corpse. He felt it was his fault. He failed to save her brother. He had failed to save any of them.
“We should never have done this…” he murmured, his voice small and weak.
“What?” His father, standing by him and looking coldly down at the body of Damianus.
Justinius looked at him, feeling nauseous. “We should never have attacked Carxandria. It was wrong. We knew it. I knew it…”
“It was not about right or wrong,” said Horatius. “It was about doing what was necessary.”
“You can say that?” spat Justinius. “You can say right and wrong don’t matter? I knew it was wrong! I knew Laurentius wasn’t dead but I didn’t speak up. We started this war on a lie. I knew it was wrong to attack that city but I didn’t stand up in front of that senate and argue in favor of Damianus-”
“That would have been political suicide,” said Horatius. “I would not have allowed it.”
Justinius stared at his father, fury building inside. Words he had felt but never dared say began to burst for the surface. He struggled to contain himself but he knew his control was slipping. The blood at his feet from the body of Damianus was too compelling to stop him. “You wouldn’t? Like you wouldn’t allow Paulus to foul your name and political status with his presence? Like you have never allowed me to? That's why you hid me away. Truth be damned so long as everything goes your way.”
His father turned on him, his cold stare showing the barest trace of fire itself. “You think I do this for myself? This republic is on the verge of collapse. If you need proof, it lies before you. A bloodthirsty people split into factions ready to be set on each other. This is Alexus’s work no doubt.”
“It’s just about politics,” said Jusitnius. “All it's about is politics for you. Save the republic at the cost of everyone's life, is that right? At the cost of truth.”
“I do what I must,” Horatius replied. “Now hold your tongue. You are in public.”
Justinius became aware that the soldiers around could hear him but he didn’t feel the need to stop. “I’m sure you tell yourself that. We attacked a city of innocent people. Lumina is gone. Her family is dead or captive. And we did nothing to stop this!”
“Justinius,” hissed Corbenus, his gaze flicking back and forth between him and Horatius.
Justinius ignored him, pointing to Damianus’s body. “This! This is our fault. Maybe we didn’t want it but did we really do everything we could to stop it? I can’t take this!” He put his head between his hands, pulling back and feeling ready to pull at his hair. “I can’t do this! This is all wrong! And you don’t care! You care only about your position, and power an-”
His ramble ended abruptly as, when turning to accuse his father, Horatius lashed out with an open palm. He felt his father’s large ring as it struck his face with a sting of pain. He gasped and clutched his face, tears springing to his eyes automatically as he felt them burn with shame. Horatius seemed to pull himself back, retreating a step and composing himself before responding. “Keep your opinions to yourself or return home. You speak on things you don’t understand.”
Justinius’s posture crumpled, his heart hammering in his chest and he began to breathe heavily with suppressed anger. He hung his head and struggled to control his tears. His father suddenly spoke again. “What are you doing?”
Justinius looked up, expecting his father’s disapproving glance. But it was directed elsewhere. A figure, dressed in a simple tan tunic, leather sandals, and knotted belt of corded rope was leaning over Damianus. His eyes were closed and his lips moved slowly. Justinius had completely missed his arrival in his frustration. He backed up slightly, realizing he was almost next to the man. Horatius spoke again. “Stand away from that man’s body and tell me what you do? There should be no one here but watchmen.”
The man looked up and Justinius was struck by his appearance. Though his garb was simple and poor, he had an almost beautiful face. His hair was light brown, his facial hair a deeper shade, and his eyes were a soft sea green as they gazed with an expression that could best be described as compassion. Justinius was taken aback at the look that radiated peace as they fixed on him for a moment then to his father. “Forgive me, Horatius Honerius. I came to give a final parting blessing to Damianus Humilius.”
“What do you mean?” asked Corbenus. “You aren’t one of the priests from the temples.”
“I am not,” said the man, turning to Corbenus. “I serve the one who made even them. I serve the Cause.”
“The Cause?” asked Justinius, his voice quavering with emotion still. “You are part of his religion?”
The expression turned back to him and Justinius felt calmer under his look. “Do not feel defeated, Justinius. His death is a tragedy, but he is at peace.”
“How do you know our names?” asked Corbenus.
“I simply listen,” said the man, turning back to Justinius. “It is important to listen, is it not?”
Justinius was reminded of Falehiam’s words and gasped. Before he could respond, Horatius stepped in. “What do you play at, coming here amongst this violence? There are no places of Cause worship here.”
The man nodded, gazing around sadly at the bodies. “I have been gone for many years…from both Carxandria and Aquilla. But my test is complete and I am ready to begin.”
“Begin what?” Horatius was stern, hand going to his sword hilt.
“My mission,” said the man. He noticed the hand on the sword hilt and he smiled. “Do not fear. I am not here to cause any unrest. I am here only to heal and show the people there is another way. One void of violence, vengeance, and the vices that plague the hearts of men.”
“You are a preacher, then? Or a prophet?” asked Justinius, recalling what he could of such people from the past. He knew they weren’t uncommon among certain religions, especially amongst those of the Cause.
The man smiled kindly and simply responded. “I am a servant. My words are for those with the heart to listen.”
This confused the three men who stood in silence, staring at him as he bent one last time over Damianus and, closing the man's eyes, placed a hand over his bloody forehead and breathed onto the corpse. He rose, taking a deep breath, and bowed to Horatius then the others. “Consul. Senators. I must find a place to lodge before night falls. Peace be with you.”
Justinius was distinctly reminded of Falehiem at this and he bowed in return. “Pax tecum.”
The smile that stretched across the man's face gave him a thrill of happiness that he couldn’t describe. As the man began to walk down the street, Justinius suddenly came to his senses. “Wait! What is your name?”
The man turned and said, “I am Iowanus.”
“No family name?”
“I gave that up some time ago when I gave up all my possessions.”
Iowanus turned and walked away with one last parting call, “Farewell for now, Sons of Honerius.”
***
Lavinia stood awkwardly in the doorway to their guest's bedroom. Veronica and Ignatius had arrived at their home only that day, exhausted and dirty from their travels and emotionally drained. But now this…she wasn’t sure how to help them. Night had fallen and the news of the murder of their brother was just relayed to them. They had not only lost their home but their brother and parental figure as well. They were alone in the world in a land of strangers.
Lavinia wanted to reach out, to give them help. But she had always been shy and having been alone for much of her life hadn’t helped. Now, as she watched Veronica weeping bitterly on her bed and Ignatius standing pale-faced next to her, she wanted so badly to help. But how could she do that best?
She knocked lightly on the wall by the door and Ignatius looked up at her. Veronica buried her face in her arms, trying desperately to wipe the tears and dribble from her nose away. “Come…come in.”
Lavinia took a few hesitant steps into the room. “I’m…I’m so sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine it…”
She trailed off, feeling the ineptitude of her words. Veronica nodded and attempted to compose herself. “Thank you, Lavinia. I…I will be well…I.”
She fell back into sobs and had to bury her face again. Ignatius didn’t move to comfort her but seemed completely lost in another world, gazing out the window with his own tears shining upon his cheeks. Lavinia felt a moment of rage at herself and forced her legs to move. She sat down on the bed next to Veronica and took the girl who was the same age as herself into her arms. Veronica didn’t resist but clung tightly to her, sobbing. “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t be…”
“You have no reason to apologize,” said Lavinia. “It is only right. You…you have every right. I’m so sorry.”
They sat in that silence for a while, Veronica struggling to control herself and Lavinia letting her take all the time she needed. Ignatius finally looked away from the window and to Lavinia. “What will become of us?”
Lavinia smiled kindly at him. “You will stay here in my father’s house where you will be safe from any harm.”
“There is so much hatred out there,” said Ignatius, “I see it in their faces.”
Lavinia was surprised at this observation, at the wisdom behind it. “No one will harm you, I promise.”
Veronica lifted herself from Lavinia and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry. Thank you.”
Lavinia smiled and mumbled. “It’s nothing.”
Veronica looked around the small room she now shared with her brother. “What will we do? We cannot stay as guests forever.”
In truth, Lavinia didn’t know what would happen, but she wasn’t going to tell them that. “You will stay here with us. Ignatius might get a tutor. You and I can learn to be proper women under my tutor, Myra Montinius. She’s excellent. I’m sure she will help you fit in easily.”
Veronica nodded. “So…I am to become a woman of Aquilla. To be married off one day…I suppose.”
Lavinia shrugged, uncomfortable at this topic. “I don’t know. I know that is what awaits me.”
“It was not much different at home,” said Veronica with a sigh. “Only there, I hoped to have more say in who I married. It wasn’t strictly required of me but there wasn’t much future to be had if I didn’t.”
Lavinia smiled and put an arm around her. “Cheer up. I hope we shall become friends at least. I have no doubt you will like Myra. And maybe Augustina too. She will have had her baby by now.”
“I do love babies,” said Veronica, “I can remember helping to take care of Ignatius when he was young.”
Ignatius stepped forward and looked closely at Lavinia who pulled back a bit, concerned. “Um…what are you…what is it?”
“I’m sorry about him,” said Veronica. “He means well. He just sometimes…”
She trailed off, unable or unwilling to finish. Ignatius smiled, strange to see on his tear-stained face. “You are very beautiful. You sort of glow with radiance…”
“Oh…um, thank you,” said Lavinia.
Ignatius nodded and sat down on his bed, seeming to be lost in thought as he stared at her. She looked to Veronica who no longer took notice. Her gaze was on the floor, her body starting to shiver. “I can’t believe it. I just can’t…”
Lavinia squeezed her hand and said nothing. In truth, she didn’t think there was much that could be done. Grief would have to take its course like it always did. Instead, she would remain with them in their grief and offer her own.
***
Augustina was stirred from her prayers by the arrival of a maidservant at the door to the household shrine. “Domina, your father, Magnus Conditius, is here to see you.”
Augustina opened her eyes. Had it only been a full rotation of the sun since she had heard the news of her husband's death? It still didn’t feel real. He should still be coming home. She took a deep breath and stood. “Very well. I will see him in the atrium. Bring me my child. He will want to see his grandson.”
She still hadn’t named their son. She wasn’t even sure what to name him anymore. It seemed too cruel to name him after his father, a constant reminder of what was gone. But what name would fit?
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She pulled a shawl over her shoulders and, receiving her son into her arms, careful to keep him sleeping, she entered the atrium. Her father, Magnus, stood in its center, his expression sour with impatience. When he spotted her, his expression immediately changed to simpering softness. “Ah, my dear Augustina. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
He moved in and embraced her lightly, kissing her cheeks. She proffered her arms to him. “This is your grandson. Would you hold him?”
“No, not right now,” he said, all but ignoring the child sleeping in her arms. “I have other matters that bring me here.”
She pulled her child close. Even in her numbness, the bitter resentment rose to the surface. She knew why he was here. “What is it you want, Father? I am in mourning.”
“It was a terrible loss, a shock to us all. Cut down at such a young age and the beginning of the rise in his political career.”
Augustina had to turn away in disgust at his false words, only to notice that her sister, Lesbia, was present as well. Her sister stood with a smirk on her face, totally unbefitting the present situation. Augustina thought for the briefest moment to offer her baby to Lesbia before deciding against it. She turned back to Magnus who continued speaking. “But now that he is gone, we must face the reality of things. His belongings must be settled by the lawyers and courts but we should be able to obtain his property and wealth in due time.”
“This property belongs to my son and I,” said Augustina.
“That is the course we hope to take to convince them,” said Magnus. “I have no doubt we will succeed.”
Augustina shifted the blanket about her child’s tiny, red face. It was all she could do to control her anger. But he still wasn’t finished. He approached, holding her arms and patting them. “My daughter, I am sorry for your loss. You may complete your time of mourning at home with us. Have your servants gather your things, and let us be off.”
A stoic resolve filled Augustina. It was time. She had never thought to be here. “No.”
Magnus spun on his heel and spat, “No? What do you mean, no?”
Lesbia’s smile widened. “I think she means to openly defy you at last, father. Or did you think her marriage to Rufus Ambitius was all for your political gain?”
Augustina turned to her maidservant and handed her son over. Only then did she turn back to face her father, hands calmly clasped in front. “No, father. I am no longer under your house. I am an Ambitius now.”
Her father’s gaze hardened, a dangerous look entering his eye. “I think you will find you are wrong. The law states that the widow must return to her family or be married to the brother of her deceased husband. He has no brother.”
“Unless there is a male heir to their family,” stated Augustina, gesturing to her sleeping son. “If you cared to look, you would have seen that he is your grandson. My son. And the heir to the Ambitius name and property. And I, as his mother, will be acting as his guardian till he comes of age to claim it as his own.”
She turned back, her expression calm but feeling triumph within. “So you see, father, I will not be returning to your home. Not ever again.”
His face turned from cold anger to one of outrage. “You dare to defy me? You know what I am capable of.”
“That is not my intent,” said Augustina. “If you wish to make enemies with my son and I, that is your business. I cannot stop you.”
Magnus moved toward her, his face livid and his fists clenched. “You stupid girl. It is a foolish thing to do and will doom your family to obscurity. While you wait for him to grow and mature, your family name loses significance and power in the political world. No one will remember you by the time he comes of age. Better to let the name die now in battle then let it face the shame of a slow death into ignominy.”
She stared him down, ignoring the quivering fear in her heart. “You might be right. But the name of Ambitius will not remain inactive. My husband still has a place in the senate. I will take it till my son comes of age to claim it.”
Even Lesbia appeared shocked at this claim. “My, you are more ambitious than I thought.”
“That is absurd!” said Magnus. “No woman has been in the senate and it won’t be allowed.”
“I still have his seat,” said Augustina. “If the senators wish to vote me out, then they may try. But for now, I have a place there. After my period of mourning, I will be there to represent my son, our family, in matters of state.”
“You stupid girl!” said Magnus, his grip tightening on her arms. “You will obey me!”
“I’m sorry,” said Augustina, “Did I not follow your plan? That is no longer my concer-”
She gasped as a blinding flash lit her gaze. Her father had struck her cheek. She hadn’t felt that blow in years and hadn’t missed it. She felt her gaze pulled back to him as he grabbed her jaw and pulled her to look back into his old but soft and pampered face. “You will obey me, disobedient child!”
She breathed heavily, feeling the heat of the blow rise on her cheek and left eye. “Guards!”
He released her as several guards entered the atrium, stationed just outside the doors. She backed away from her father. “Magnus Conditious was just leaving. Please escort him to the doorway if he cannot find it himself.”
He snatched at his toga, his furious glance keeping the guards in their place, and he backed to the doorway. “You will pay for this, daughter. You and that welp.”
“Now you threaten me and my son in our own home?” asked Augustina. “You are no longer welcome here, father. Do not think about returning while I am head of this house. Perhaps your grandson will one day forgive you and allow you in…but I doubt it.”
He gave one last glare of such hatred that she felt the quaver of fear again within. She wished, more than anything, that Rufus was here. He would never have allowed her to be treated like this. He would have probably run her father through with his sword in his fury. But he was no longer here. She faced the future alone now. But she would not back down.
Magnus turned and stormed from the house. Lesbia remained just a moment longer, staring at her sister with almost grudging admiration. “Well done, sister. Perhaps you are not as stupid as I thought. But you will not win.”
She left too, leaving the door open so that a guard had to close it. She turned back to her maidservant. “Give me my son.”
The child had begun to cry at the noise around him. Augustina held him close, making shushing noises. There was much to be done in the near future but for now, there was only one thing to consider. The name of her son. He was the hope of their future, the new beginning of the Ambitius family. “You are the rebirth of our house,” said Augustina. “Renatus. My little Renatus.”
***
Justinius sat, waiting quietly in his father’s study. It was a new day and the previous night's encounter still hung in the air. Corbenus was beside him in another chair, his face sagging with weariness. It looked like he hadn’t slept all night. As their father kept writing on the scrap of papyrus, Justinius leaned over to his brother and whispered, “What have you been doing?”
“What I have asked him,” responded Horatius, signing the sheet and putting his quill aside. “We have been preparing for the chaos to come while you have been sulking in your room.”
Justinius struggled not to make a sulking face at that moment but grit his teeth. “You had but to ask, Father.”
Horatius ignored that last remark, choosing instead to move on. “I have considered your words, despite what you may think, and I admit that there is merit to them.”
Justinius stared at him a moment, unsure he had heard right. “Pardon?”
“Paulus.”
Justinius felt his face grow red and he cast a glance at Corbenus. His brother appeared sullen and refused to look back. “What about him?”
“You are right. I have been unwise with my children. I was focused on keeping you away from trouble or for your safety. But in doing so, I did not prepare you for what I need from you.”
“Is that why you sent Paulus away?” asked Jusitnius. “Was it to keep him ‘safe’.”
Horatius didn’t rise to the bait but merely shook his head. “I don’t expect you to understand. He couldn’t escape punishment and he would have been a greater danger here than away. In truth, I fear he might still be a danger when he returns…”
His father trailed off and Justinius felt the need to prod him. “Was it because of some prophecy? Virgilus told me about-”
“Virgilus spends most of his time in stories rather than reality,” snapped his father, ending the discussion.
Justinius took another tact. “And why this change of heart?”
“I have realized that, in order to achieve my aims, I need my family around me. I need people I can trust and my family to succeed me when I am no longer able to perform my duties.”
Justinius glanced at Corbenus again. His brother still refused to look his way and his face was a darker shade than usual. Justinius spoke again. “The plans to save the republic?”
“Indeed. All my children have skills. All of you have something to give. I cannot keep you shut away from the troubles anymore…all of you.”
“What does that mean going forward?” asked Justinius.
“It means I will be sharing my plans with you instead of asking you to follow blindly, as long as you do as I ask and don’t defy me.”
“Your plans?”
Horatius leaned back in his seat and stared at Justinius, sizing him up, seeming to decide if he was worth telling secrets. Justinius stared back, unwilling to give ground. Horatius nodded. “Our situation is unstable in the republic, as you know. Revolts, a war, food shortages, another poor harvest potentially in the future. Now, we have received confirmed news that Marius Montinius is funding his own private army. He claims it will be used only to deal with the threat from the Northmen. Time will tell if that is true. At any rate, he has gone rogue and no longer heeds the senate's words. Not that they could unite in a concerted effort to stop him. They are so busy bickering over the next candidate for Consul and trying to ensure their party gains the upper hand that they are neglecting most other problems.”
Corbenus snorted. “A full-scale revolt is in swing and they ignore it.”
Justinius frowned. “I don’t suppose they would be willing to put aside their arguments till the war was over?”
“No,” said Horatius. “They are too afraid someone other than their party will take power in the process.”
Justinius sighed and threw up his hands. “Well, that’s wonderful. So what is your plan?”
Horatius took another beat to stare at him. Justinius couldn’t mistake it this time. He was hesitant to share. His father knitted his fingers together and said, “I plan to step down as consul.”
Justinius’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. This was unexpected. “Is that wise?”
“It will reset the electoral process so that it will be far less messy.”
“And the revolt?”
“I shall deal with it personally…when I am elected as Praetor.”
Justinius felt his blood run cold. It wasn’t unheard of. Praetors had been present throughout their history and had saved the republic before. But the last few had been unmitigated failures. The most recent had been the Tyrant himself. “Father…they will never vote you in.”
“I need only a two-thirds majority, the lords and the moderates should do. Corbenus and I have been busy the last twenty-four hours preparing for this. Bribes, threats, promises, favors. Anything it could take. It will happen…so long as everyone votes as they should.”
His statement was too pointed to miss. Justinius shook his head. He didn’t want to really say what was on his mind. He couldn’t help it though. How well did he really know his father? Was his father beneath repeating the Tyrant’s actions and seizing power when in his position. He changed his question. “For how long?”
“Till this crisis is over and peace is restored in our nation.”
It was not a clear answer and everyone in the room knew it. “Many won’t accept it.”
His father raised an eyebrow. “That is not my concern. I need to do what I must to save this republic. And I cannot promise that I can do that in a certain period of time. But I am not some power hungry man, like the Tyrant. That is not my goal.”
Justinius had read the history of the Tyrant’s war, the exact copy made by Virgilus. Hadn’t the Tyrant claimed the same thing at the start? Internal strife and a failing economy had moved him to call for the position and, within the year, his opponents were gone and control of the puppet senate was his. Justinius wanted to believe his father so badly. But he couldn’t bring himself to. “So…so you need me to vote the right way, like a good pawn? Son, I mean.”
Horatius frowned at him. “Again with dramatic statements. You are not a pawn. You are my son. And you have a duty to your father as well as your nation.”
Justinius sat rigid in his chair, his mind racing. There seemed little choice in this matter. “I understand.”
His father nodded. “For now, deliver this letter to the runners. Order a swift delivery.”
Justinius took a parchment from his father. “What is it?”
“It is a letter to your brother, Paulus. As I said, I will need all my family around me to succeed. Be quick though. The senate meets at the ninth hour.”
Justinius rose and Corbenus followed him. As they exited into the atrium, he turned to his brother. “What have you been doing?”
“Too much to talk about,” said Corbenus, his expression sour.
“And you didn’t care for it?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Is that why you are so grumpy?”
Corbenus didn’t answer but stood, sullen and refusing to look at him. Justinius leaned over to catch his gaze. “Corbenus? What is it? What did father make you d-”
“It isn’t father!” snapped Corbenus. “Or not really. I…I have…”
He stopped. The words had caught in his throat and he seemed unwilling to keep going. Justinius pressed him further. “If Father has had you do something terrible, I must know.”
“Gods, you are stupid Justinius,” said Corbenus. “It has nothing to do with that. I have always served my father well and I believe in everything he is working toward.”
Justinius caught the slip. “Your father? He’s ours. He’s suddenly very keen to claim us as his children and make us participants in the family business of politics, including Paulus.”
The look on Corbenus’s face gave away the nerve that struck him. Justinius prodded further. “Corbenus? You don’t want to see Paulus?”
“No, I don’t,” said Corbenus.
“Why not? I always liked him.”
“Of course you did,” said Corbenus, a snarl entering his voice. “Everyone liked him. Father doted on him, even when he openly rebelled against him! He betrayed Father and got a slap on the wrist and banishment to the ancient city of wonders to live life in the luxury of Father’s villa. We were fine without him. I did everything Father needed when he was gone. I have never let him down.”
Justinius was taken aback and stared at him. Corbenus took a few heavy breaths then straightened, composing his features. “I just don’t see why we need him.”
He left, leaving Justinius standing even more concerned and anxious than he had been before. He stared down at the letter he was to deliver. Perhaps it would be better for Paulus to just stay away. He would likely be happier for certain.
A flash of light flew into his field of vision and he gasped. A Fatae was hovering in front of his face, tilting its face at him in curiosity. “Whisper? What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you since you saved me.”
The Fatae smiled and did a backflip in the air, waving its arms about. Justinius smiled. “I wish I could understand you…or that you could speak. What is it?”
Whisper beckoned with a hand and moved in closer. Justinius stood still as the Fatae flew up to his forehead and he reached out a hand to touch him. Justinius felt a presence fill his mind and he stiffened in alarm. The presence felt calm and collected, and when the voice sounded in his head, Justinius recognized the truth in the words. Falehiem.
“Justinius. I hope this message finds you well, my friend. The Fatae are incredible things. Not only are they guardians of nature but also vessels to pass thoughts to others. It is how they communicate. They can only take short messages though, so let me be brief. I understand much has happened since our last parting. Your people have conquered Carxandria and many have died according to the reports. Worse still, your nation has disrupted the trade we held with Carxandria for food and supplies. We will be sending a delegation to speak with your senate soon. I plan on joining them. I think I will see you sooner than you expect. In the meantime, I bid you peace. Let truth guide your steps and the Cause watch over you.”
The voice disappeared along with the presence. Justinius felt like he was pulled from a great distance and he opened his eyes. It was then he realized that he had heard not just Falehiems voice and felt his presence, but could also feel his emotions and the gentle presence he seemed to project. It was like he had been there with him and could feel exactly what the Aequendar felt. He looked at Whisper who was hovering in front of him. “Thank you. I…how do I thank him?”
The fairy held up a hand, palm down, and extended a finger out below the rest. He nodded and Justinius furrowed his eyebrows. “You…you want me to do that?”
He stuck out a finger and let his middle finger dip below the rest. Whisper’s wings were a blur as he hovered below the hand and pushed his forehead to Justinius’s fingertip. Justinius felt a strange sensation like he was standing in a void. He cleared his throat, felt stupid for doing so, and wondered if that would be sent to Falehiem, then spoke. “Thank you, my friend. I can’t wait to see you. I…I have many things troubling me. I hope you can help. Peace to you as well.”
Justinius felt it was a stupid message but he was unsure what else to say. If he got started, he would talk on and on and wouldn’t be able to stop. He was also frightened that, raw as he still was, he might break down in his message. Whisper smiled, nodded, did another somersault, and flew through the opening in the roof of the atrium to deliver his message.
It was a small comfort for Justinius. There were few enough these days.