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Walsharno’s thought put in.
Bahzell retorted, and the earthquake rumble of Tomanak’s chuckle rolled through him. Then the god continued, but his voice was softer, somehow.
Bahzell replied, his own “voice” gentler than it had been a moment before. He felt Walsharno’s unspoken agreement behind his own, then gave himself a mental shake. he pointed out in something much more like his normal style,
Tomanak said seriously.
Walsharno’s ears shifted.
Tomanak said,
Bahzell frowned, intrigued almost despite himself. A portion of his awareness remained firmly focused on the movement of Walsharno’s muscles under him, the caress of the late afternoon breeze as the day wound towards twilight, the jingle of mail and weapons harnesses, the creak of saddle leather, and the slightly dusty smell of grass crushed under the hooves of coursers and warhorses alike. But most of his attention was focused on the question it had never occurred to him to ask and on the answer he would never have anticipated, if he had asked.
he put in,
Walsharno agreed.
There was no disrespect or challenge in the courser’s question. He accepted what Tomanak had said, as a yearling accepted the decrees and explanations of his herd stallion. He was simply seeking explanation, not demanding that Tomanak justify what he had already said.
Tomanak replied.
Bahzell observed dryly, and Tomanak chuckled again in the back of the link he and Walsharno shared.
Tomanak replied.
He obviously recognized Bahzell’s and Walsharno’s confusion, for he went on.
Walsharno thought slowly,
Tomanak replied simply, as if the staggeringly complex and preposterous implication were perfectly reasonable.
Bahzell thought after a moment.