Two Ravens and One Crow (Novella)

her down the passageway to our left. After maybe ten yards she paused and faced the bony wall to her right. »The doors are easily seen with your magical sight. Mortals would never find them.«
    Before I could shift my sight to the magical spectrum, she touched an inconspicuous knob of bone, which pushed in like a button, and a section of the bone wall sank backward and then shifted left with a hiss of air. Pneumatics. The Morrigan must have seen the surprise register on my face.
    »I know you think me old-fashioned and resistant to change,« she said. »And that is probably not without merit. I still prefer the sword to the firearm. But I think I may have learned something from you. Many somethings. Come.«
    She stepped through the door into a humid indoor garden ripe with oxygen and floral scents that tickled the nose. A glass ceiling turned the chamber into a sort of conservatory; along the top of the walls, near the ceiling, bindings carved into the surface spoke of abundance, fertility, and harmony. And, underneath those, bindings that meant the above were to apply liberally to all living things in the room. It was the sort of general, nontargeted binding that my cold iron aura had difficulty suppressing; I’d have to ward specifically against it if I didn’t want to fall prey to it, but, honestly, why would I bother?
    Wait. As Hamlet said, That would be scanned . Harmony with the Morrigan?
    More alarming: abundance and fertility … with the Morrigan?
    I needed to change the subject quickly, even though the subject was only in my head. The Morrigan might spot it there.
    »You know, Morrigan, I’ve been meaning to speak with you about how I got this wound,« I said, gesturing to my scarred right hand. »You were nearby at the time. You could have stepped in and prevented it, yet you didn’t. I could have died, and you would have broken your word.«
    The Morrigan blew air through her nose in a sort of halfhearted snort, and a corner of her mouth turned up. »Why are you paying attention to what might have happened? Tell me what did happen.«
    »I suffered unnecessarily.«
    The mention of suffering caused the Morrigan to close her eyes in pleasure and make a yummy noise. »The necessity can be debated. But you lived. I never broke my word.«
    »But it was an awfully close thing, Morrigan. A skinwalker tore out my throat—«
    »And you healed,« she finished. »I have been faithful in my promise to you. I never promised that you would remain free from injury or suffering. For one thing, that would have interfered with my sex life.«
    I flinched and took a step back. The Morrigan noticed and laughed. »Speaking of which, Siodhachan, how is yours of late? Do you even have one?«
    »Yes, I have one,« I replied. I did my best to keep my tone matter-of-fact rather than sullen. It was more difficult than I thought it would be.
    Her disbelief was clear. »You keep a mistress in that tiny town?«
    »No. We head into Farmington or Durango on the weekends, or Gallup and Flagstaff on occasion. We both have various partners in these places willing to, uh, spend time with us.«
    »Your gift for euphemism continues to thrive. But I think I have heard of such modern relationships. There is a colloquialism for them, yes? They are boogie calls.«
    »Boogie? Oh! Nice try. You were very close. They’re known as booty calls.«
    »That’s what I said. Booty calls.«
    »You said boogie—« The Morrigan’s eyes flashed red for the briefest moment, and I cleared my throat. »Pardon me. I must have misheard you. Quite right.«
    »So your apprentice has these booty calls as well?«
    I shrugged. »As far as I know. It’s not really my business. She’s had a steady boyfriend or five over the years. She got a marriage proposal, too, which she rejected.«
    »And you were not jealous?«
    »It’s not my place to be jealous, because I have made it very clear to her that we cannot have a relationship beyond that of master and apprentice.«
    »I didn’t ask about your place or anything regarding propriety. I want to know how you feel about her dalliances. Are you jealous?«
    I considered. To claim I was completely indifferent would be dishonest. And there were times, perhaps, when Granuaile was a bit too eager to share her conquests with me. After she first met her boyfriend in Durango, she reported that »he was so hot that he damn near made my ovaries explode.« But that was as it should be; there was no reason for Granuaile to