“It went well?”
Manny nodded. “Let us just
say the Scriostóir is dead, but not happily so, mijn commandant.”
Sofietje arched one white
eyebrow. “He’ll spend forever in eternal damnation? How unfortunate.” The tone
of her voice gave lie to her words. “It is good to finally have you back,
Manfred.”
“Thank you, mijn commandant,”
he replied quietly.
“What is it?” she asked when
he said nothing more. “Something troubles you.”
Manny smiled wryly. “You
live up to your name, Sofietje. Another Scriostóir died when Cerdic did.”
“I would say excellent but I
have the feeling you are betwixt and between about that.”
“He was a man of honor who
died to save my life. If you had asked me before I met him I would have said it
was impossible for a Scriostóir to have anything close to honor, but he did.”
Sofietje, who knew Manny
perhaps even better than he did himself, asked in a kindly voice, “Did you love
him?”
“A little I suppose, at the
end. In another time and place, if we had been different men, I might have
truly loved him.”
“I’m sorry,” she replied
softly. “And what of your human lover?”
Manny glanced at her in
surprise. “You know about him?”
“I suspected. I didn’t
actually know until this moment. Now that your job is over are you thinking
about continuing the relationship?”
“Of course I am thinking
about it. I care for him and he cares for me. But as you were so careful to
point out, he is human. I am not.” He paced across her office now, stopping in
front of the night-darkened window to stare at his reflection. Finally turning
back, he sighed. “Not human, and forever eighteen, so while I would like to be
with him, how could it work? He’s already four years my senior, at least—“
“At least in appearances.”
Sofietje smiled in compassion. “So, enjoy him while you can and then—disappear.
There are many tasks I can give you, as always. You have been too long in this
century as it is this time.”
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