The Quest for Normania #1: The Door of Andrios

18. Exchanging News

It appeared that the calendar had changed course as it sometimes did, and Blue Moon Night wasn't the day it was thought to be.

Norin hissed a curse. "The damn thing has changed course again," he muttered.

Mithra, sitting beside him, leaned forward and placed a hand lightly on his shoulder. "Do you know when it'll be then?"

The women from Seliana, sitting on the other bed in Sanguines' room, waited with bated breath.

He hissed again, but did make the calculation. "At least twenty days from now."

"Well, that's all right. Isn't it? Just another twenty days."

"You don't get it, Mithra!" he exclaimed, frustrated. "What if... what if the date changed again and... and..." His voice died away, his voice reduced to choking.

Mithra shook her head, as calm as she ever was. "You knew the last time you were taking a look that we were pretty close to another course change. Weren't you?" She sounded surprisingly stern. To the older women, not to Norin; he was used to all her ways. Even otherwise, from his bond with her, he knew she only meant well.

Finally, he nodded his head. "Yes, I... I did. I just... I hoped it would be after tomorrow night."

"That's all right." She embraced him. "Hey, here's an idea: You've got twenty days. Why don't you take this time to create a portal of your own?"

He frowned. "I think it's going to take more time than that, but I suppose I can give it a try. To kill time, at least."

She nodded. "Do it. Who knows, it may come in handy again in the future."

He gently removed her arms around him and got to his feet. "I suppose I better let A – Eurin Ayesha know that it will take more time."

Teresa stood up, too. "We can all help you with the portal."

Norin gave her a wane smile. "Thank you. I'd love that."

Even as he shuffled out of the room, the others stared at his back, until it disappeared into the corridor.

Mithra hissed a curse and stamped a foot, much to the astonishment of the older women. "I hate seeing him like this," she muttered, "all hope crushed, on the verge of slipping into a deep crevice with nothing to hold on to or no hope of coming back up again! I just... I just..." Her voice trailed away and she hid her face behind her hands. "You can go help him if you want. I'll... I'll be there in a minute." Her voice sounded shaky now, her gullet quivering.

Teresa and Cassandra turned to each other in silent conversation. A few seconds later, the latter nodded and got up to leave the room, while the former stayed behind.

Teresa sat back down on the bed and looked around her. The walls of the room were rock, but they were painted here and there to make it look like they were in a garden. Even the carpet underneath her felt like grass. Maybe it was made of real grass.

"You're waiting for me?"

She looked back to Mithra, whose eyes looked red and puffy, but she didn't have to wonder why. "Of course, I was. I couldn't leave you."

The younger girl gave a sarcastic snort of laughter. "Thought I'd kill myself with all the grief, eh?"

"Why, no. I don't think you're the type."

Her eyes narrowed. "What type do you think I am?" she whispered dangerously.

Teresa didn't care for the tone. "I think you're the honourable type."