He had been about to pull his pants on but tossed them on the bed and went to her. Going to one knee, he took her small hands in his. “When my world fell apart, you stood by me, and we’d barely even met. Now your turn’s come, I could do no less.”

“Your mother is a terrible person, not to mention totally wrong, it doesn’t take a genius to spot.”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” he said levelly. “I hated Xar so much… but for six years he was my life. When he died, I didn’t even know who I was without him to teach me and worship me and order me around. When I went out the door that night, I was running scared, running from his death, and I went home as much because it was the last thing he ever said to me that could be interpreted as an order as because I actually wanted to. You walked a hundred miles by my side, kept me company and kept me safe while I figured that out. You never once tried to take the choice out of my hands.”

Her eyes misted over, but when she spoke, her voice was dry. “That’s not true. I’ve been trying to tell you since day one that you’re the Avatethura Master Havec anKebbal, you just wouldn’t listen.”

Laughing, he stood and reached again for his pants. “Anyway. My point is, I’m not going to turn around a week later and tell you how to be.”

She let go a shaky breath, and he realized she had genuinely been afraid he would turn his back on her. “Thank you.”

“Just returning the favor. So what’s the plan?”

“I don’t know.” Her tone was easier now, free from the tension that had choked her. “I guess it depends on whether I can work out a deal with my new partner.”

“I don’t see why not. Do you think he’s developed such a sense of loyalty to your mother that he would sacrifice his own ambitions to defend her on a point of principle?”

“Only one way to find out.”

The girl was already dressed and came to join him at the door. While he tied his boots, he asked, “What is that thing, anyway? Other than creepy.”

“What, Arandgwail? It’s a shyin. A conjured entity. A semi-permanent semi-static sorcerous construct powered by an open channel into barana rakis.”

“None of that meant anything to me.”

“A sentient creature born of whim and will? Honestly, Havec, this is very advanced, I don’t entirely understand it myself.”

“Oh-ho! No wonder you have a crush on him, he’s smarter than you!” She punched him on the arm and he let her. “You said ‘born of,’ does that mean he made that thing himself?”

“Yeah.”

Impressed in spite of himself, he asked, “He created that spooky demon creature from scratch?”

“It’s only sort of alive, it’s life is coterminous with his.”

He raised his brows.

“It can’t live if he dies,” she clarified, “or get too far away from him, I think.”

“Does it serve a purpose or is it just for show?”

“Shyins can do things human sorcery can’t. Spread illness, twist people’s thoughts and desires against themselves. Make them forget.”

Havec stopped tying his boot and slapped a hand across his face. “You swore sorcery couldn’t do that kind of stuff!”

“It can’t!”

“I see your point and it’s ridiculous.” She didn’t answer, and he put his hand down in order to fix her with a look. “That thing has a crush on me. Are you telling me it can just,” he waggled his fingers.

She made a face. “Possibly, but. Conjured entities have personality, but they don’t really have volition of their own.”

“You mean it wouldn’t do something like that without permission.”

She held up a cautioning hand. “It’s not ever going to leave you alone. I don’t think you can do anything that would scare it off. Sticking a sword through it will make its body bleed but won’t actually do it any harm.”

“It was definitely fixing to hex me last night,” he reminded her.

“You attacked it. It fought back.”

He felt his eyebrows climbing. “So if I stay on the far side of the room and leave it alone, it won’t do anything but stare?”

“Basically. Unless its master tells it to, which he won’t.”

Havec was less certain of that but finished tying his boots without a word. Done, he stood. “Why doesn’t everyone have one, if they’re so great?”

“They’re really powerful, but they’re also a liability. Shyins are intelligent, but reckless and impatient. They don’t do much of anything without being told, but, um,” she fell silent for a moment, looking for words. “They’ll do absolutely anything you tell them to, if you get what I mean. Arandgwail wouldn’t pause to question the order the way a human would if he told it to drown a baby or set an occupied building on fire.”

“So you better have self-control and judgment.”

She nodded seriously. “I remember one account I came across at university, the line always stuck in my mind, the writer described it as ‘having a small child made of fire.’”

“Huh. So not really worth it.”

“Worth it provided you’re willing to put in the work,” she corrected.

“But no one is anymore? You said they went out of style.”

Qanath reached for the door but paused with her hand on the handle, giving him a very direct look. “They can do things human sorcery can’t, so when people really unleash them, it stands out. The accepted way of dealing with a conjured creature of any kind is to kill its maker.”

“And now that little bundle of joy is yours?”

She twisted the handle and opened the door, saying forcefully, “Absolutely not.”

Havec grinned as he followed her into the hall, but as they made for the stairs, he considered that he understood the girl better than she thought. It wasn’t something he related to, certainly, but he could grasp the appeal. Making the familiar had been a bold move, daring, contrary to fashion, difficult to pull off. Probably Smooth Guy had done it as much as a gesture as in hopes it would accomplish anything. He wanted things and had the talent to get them, and no mere social norms or long odds would scare him off.

Not so different from a frail young sorceress getting herself apprenticed to an Avatethura Master at the unheard-of age of eighteen. So far as he could tell, that was where the similarities ended, as the girl was earnest and decent, while Smooth Guy was a smarmy dick. If he was what she wanted, though, he was what she would get.

Their new friends were waiting for them in the common room. They seated themselves at the table where only last night they had had a fight, before two extra mugs of tea breathing steam. Breakfast arrived not long after they did, and while they ate, the girl and her putative swain fell to talking. Speaking cautiously of sorcery, a wary sharing of ideas. Although he understood very little, Havec would have been enthralled, but it was hard to concentrate on anything with Hair-On-End raptly watching him. He could agree with the girl that it was cute, but it was too small and feminine for his taste. Also too super-fucking-creepy and too constantly-staring-into-his-face.

As soon as he had finished with his breakfast, Havec stood and gave the girl’s shoulder a pat, telling her to let him know if she needed anything. Then he left the room with alacrity, going in search of a bath. The way The Thing kept giving him smoldering looks and pursing its lips was giving him ideas. His heart thundered hard enough it hurt, and he placed a hand over it. He stopped in the hallway, leaning up against a wall so they could talk.

I won’t, don’t be crazy, he said to the creature that shared his mind. I get why that thing bothers you, and I would never mess with you like that. I never said I wanted The Thing, he added. Just that all those smoky looks are making me want.

Kebbal didn’t respond with words, but his heart began to calm. He was incredibly glad Qanath had finally explained to him that Kebbal was alive. Knowing it was a person with opinions helped.

Shaking his head, he set off again down the hallway. It was painful to contemplate how much agony Xar must have been in during the last years of his life; knowing Kebbal as he did now, Havec could imagine how it raged over their bargain, hurting him in order to express its own pain. Involuntary servitude wasn’t an arrangement it would approve of in the first place, and as the years wore on, it would have been increasingly clear to Kebbal, if not to Havec, that Xar would never make good. It must have been torture for Kebbal to be party to it. They had never agreed to an endpoint for their bargain, but the principles of contract law weren’t going to be persuasive to a spirit of justice older than the gods.

He patted his belly, thinking, I may not be Tabbi, but I will take care of you. I will be happy, and I will let you love me, and I will never leave a debt unpaid.