The krynn held out his left arm without a word.
Besides him, the borman shifted the unconscious figures in his grasp. His left arm wrapped tight around their torsos, securing them against his chest, while the parts that were their legs hung limp over his right forearm. Like that, he presented his free paw, palm up, fingers curling, not from hesitation but from sheer thickness.
The paw was easily large enough to crush a skull. Yu’s, for example. Yet the shaman met it without pause, cradling it with a calm that spoke of fearlessness — as though she had touched far worse than bormen. As though she was far more dangerous. She, and The One Who Listened through her.
Her left hand moved slowly. One of her long, pale fingers traced the borman’s lower arm, not stroking, but marking. She pressed into the hide, as if etching something. Then she turned to the krynn and repeated the motion, with her finger running over his arm just beneath the fur.
“Blood is life,” she said to both travellers. “And essence is memory. Both carry truths the mind forgets, and those it never learned. Sometimes, even those it was never meant to know. Will you give of yourself, to be understood in a language beyond lies?”
The borman grunted. “Yes.”
The krynn gave a sharp nod.
“Borman,” the shaman said, “I will begin with you. I will draw from your hand, both blood and essence. It will not take more than you offer. But offer you must.”
“Just make,” the borman repeated.
From the folds of her semi-translucent cloak, the shaman drew a small pouch. Its drawstring was braided from some dried, pale fibre, too thin for leather, too sinewy for any fabric Yu knew. She unfastened it with care. From within, she removed a narrow, silver-sheened case, and from that, she selected one of three crystalline needles. They were almost invisible; long, thin, and too clear to cast a shadow. Yu, standing just two paces away, caught their shape only where the orblight bent slightly at the edges. Even then, they seemed barely real. There was no weight to them, like something not meant to be handled. They looked like they could break from mere touch.
The borman kept his paw outstretched.
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