“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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