Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 141
go back to what he was doing. The feeling of being pursued
that had plagued him was receding.
Best of all, the visitations by Armiger were no longer
arbitrary and uncontrollable. He still dreamed about the
demigod, but in daylight he could tell when a vision fit was
creeping up on him. Using the relaxation exercises Calandria
had taught him, he could usually stop it dead. Calandria
encouraged him to think of the visions as a talent he could
master, and not as some alien intrusion.
He knew this worked to her ends, but was prepared to go
along because, at last, her ends paralleled his own. He was
able to think about the visions with some objectivity, and
report what he saw and heard in detail to her.
Most importantly, what he saw and heard had changed.
Armiger lay in bed in a cabin somewhere to the south. He was
being nursed by a solitary woman, a widow who lived alone in
the woods. In his convalescence Armiger seemed like an
ordinary man. His terrible wounds were healing, and the small
snatches of dialogue between him and his benefactor that
Jordan caught were mundane, awkward, almost shy. Armiger
had not eaten her, nor did he order her about. He accepted her
help, and thanked her graciously for it. His voice was no
longer a choked rasp, but a mellow tenor.
Jordan didn't doubt Armiger’s capacity for evil. He was
not human. But what Jordan saw was no longer nightmarish,
and that, too, was a relief.
"Hey, there you are!" Axel Chan's head poked up from
the open trapdoor of the tower's roof. He emerged, dusted
himself off, and came to join Jordan at the battlement. "What
are you doing up here? The gardens are fine today. Soaking
up the sun?"
Jordan nodded. "I like it up here. I can see all the