The Eyes of a Doll (The World of Shijuren Book 2) by Rob Howell

nodded. “How are the Gropa doing?”
    He chuckled harshly but, as usual, said nothing.
    “Let me guess. Vesela’s gathering what power she can. Jeremena’s clutching her beloved money-making institutions to her heartless breast. Zacharia is gathering info, but not sure who to give it to. Andrija is wandering around, clueless, not at all understanding what happened. Davorin is trying to manipulate Vesela, knowing it’s his one shot at getting control of the Enchelei. He knows he can’t control Agata, who is biding her time.”
    He laughed louder and fuller than I had ever heard him laugh before.
    “You know us too well, Sevener.”
    I sighed and nodded. We both turned and stared at the lake with the afternoon sun at our backs.
    “Whatever is happening with this body, it’s not the Gropa. You’re all just holding what you can and recovering.”
    “That’s the right of it, Sevener.”
    Svetislav was feeling loquacious. I had expected a sharp nod.
    “See you at the Faerie?”
    He shrugged. “Soon.”

Chapter 12
Evening, 2 Blommemoanne, 1712 MG
     
    I sat at my table facing a huge brute of a lamb shank, spiced with that same red spice Zoe put in her gulyas. It was so big I was not even sure how to eat it, much less recover from the spice.
    There were honeyed turnips in a bowl as well. At least I knew I would like the turnips, a statement that would make my mother cover her mouth in shock.
    “What is to be holdin’ you up, Sevener, ‘tis bein’ a fine lamb that is to be sittin’ in front of you and yer to be knowin’ that Zoe is to be cookin’ it right. Could it be bein’ that there paprika? Are you to be bein’ feared to be eatin’ it?”
    I glared at Ragnar as he rattled all this off in the small moment it took for him to bustle past my table carrying mugs and plates.
    No help for it. I started cutting off pieces small enough for me to handle. Soon my fingers and hands were soaked in the spicy juices, for despite the pain of the spice Zoe’s cooking was, as always, delicious.
    With no shame I hung my tongue out from the heat. Karah’s scorn was a welcome price to pay for the relief a mug of cold lakewater provided.
    When I had eaten my fill I looked desperately my plate. Most of the haunch sat there, taunting me. Suddenly Zoe stood before me.
    “My cooking not good enough for you that you leave that much?”
    My eyes opened in horror at the thought of eating anything more, even if it had been spiced solely with salt or ginger or dill.
    Before I could say anything I realized that the entire crowd at the Frank Faerie was waiting for my response with mirthful smirks, and I laughed.
    “You know better, you damned witch.”
    She laughed.
    “Watch your language dear, some of us here are innocent creatures.”
    I gave her a dry look and we both laughed.
    “You gave me everything that was left, didn’t you? Oh, you’re evil.”
    I could not hear her prim laughter over that of all the patrons. I soothed my tongue, and my feelings, with more of the cool lakewater.
    “I’ll just be takin’ this so as you can be havin’ it for tomorrow and you’ll just be lovin’…”
    “I have to finish the rest tomorrow?”
    At my horrified interruption of Ragnar, everyone burst into laughter again.
    “No lad, we’ll just be bein’ usin’ that there wee piece of meat as but a small part of what’s to be served for everyone’s dinner tomorrow. You’ll be enjoyin’ it I’m to be sure, and you’ll be makin’ sure to finish it all so that me Zoe isn’t to be saddened, for I’m sure to be thinkin’ yer not to be wishin’ that…”
    I shook my head, losing track of what he was saying as he walked away.
    Soon the Faerie turned its interest to tonight’s scop, a small dark-haired woman with deep eyes and a husky, twisting voice that beckoned each ear irresistibly. After a while, I wrenched my attention to the scrolls that Gibroz had given me.
    Gabrijela wrote as quietly and calmly as she stood by Gibroz’s