Chapter 18Talis woke to the velvet of Jer’s voice, deep and comforting and melodic. Of course, he thought hazily. The last memory he had was also Jeryn saying his name, frightened, speaking to him; of course Jer would be with him. So much loyalty.
This time that voice was singing to him, low, a tether in the dark. Talis knew the first song—he picked out bits, a ballad he recognized, an old humorous tale about the narcissistic sorcerer and the mirror. He guessed that Jer had tried to pick something familiar.
Jer had been at the last verse, and sighed softly, after, and whispered, “Talis.” His voice ached: defeated, afraid, not giving up. He must be sitting close; the familiar large presence of his fingers cradled Talis’s hands. “You said you wanted to know what I like…can I give you that?
