Wild Thing
“was attending in person.Although the man's lips had turned up in something of a sneer as he too shook hands with the young girl, thankfully he said nothing.The three shamans, strangely, seemed to treat the introduction with genuine gravity, and he noticed that each examined her quite carefully with their Imaginal senses, before eyeing Harmon himself speculatively.To Godsson, he had explained earlier that Sara had become so distraught that he had been presented with a choice of either sedating h...er, and permanently damaging his own relationship with her, or allowing her to be present to “help” if necessary, as she had three years earlier. Harmon had simply laid out the rationale he had used to convince the higher-ups to authorize her attendance, knowing that his patient was well aware of the standard interpretation of his mostly-yearly battles.As he had expected, Godsson, in contrast to everyone else, grew quite vituperative, calling him ignorant, arrogant, high-handed, and uncaring for his “daughter.” Did Harmon not see the risk he took? Did he not know that these were real, if abnormal, entities intangibly manifesting within the Institute grounds, judging from what Sara had told him?Abruptly, though, at that point he had simply stopped talking, and Harmon was certain it was not because he knew he would be unable to convince him to change his plan, but because there was something Godsson did not wish to tell him. Some dark secret he concealed.Rationally, Harmon knew this was all simply part of Godsson's elaborate delusion. Knew that they argued over fantasies.One small part of him, though, continued to whisper, “but what if…?”Now they all waited, tense, not quite certain when the episode would begin. The attack, as Godsson and Sara would say. The mad mage, however, was very clearly far more worked up and nervous than was normal even for a tri-annual attack, and Harmon was sure this was because he was genuinely fearful that something would happen to Sara.It was gratifying, if a little surprising, to see that Sara had apparently succeeded so well in gaining the madman's affection.For her part, she stood on the sturdy wooden bench that had been set up against the side of the corridor opposite the cell, as solemn and alert as any of the adults as she stared at the small window.The intercom system was turned on, the sound of Godsson's measured pacing a wearing beat against the collective nerves of the watchers.And at the instant of sunset, the attack began.The only sign was Godsson's invocation of his dauntingly-powerful protective circle, its golden light blazing forth from the small window. But as usual, the barrier appeared to offer little protection to him, and soon Godsson was writhing, twisting and dodging, muttering incantations, prayers to his heavenly father, and physically fighting something only he could see.Harmon saw Sara flinch, her little hands closing into white-knuckled fists, and she stared at him accusingly, the thought “why don't you go in and help him?”MoreLess
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