Page 39 of Gift of Dragons
He raised his carafe of the Egyptian iced tea in salute.
“There is no better man than he.”
Ere’s mouth twisted in a wry slant, tinged with regret and sadness that was quickly there and gone. He smiled broadly at Ben’s pointed jab, knew that Ben said it only in teasing, and clinked his own mug with Ben’s.
“Hear, hear. Gabriel D’Angelo is indeed a model of manhood. The perfect husband and father. Who raised the very best son.”
After they sipped and swallowed the bracing, cool drink, while Sorin quietly watched them, nursing a dark, frothy beer, Ben decided to answer Ere’s initial query.
“I did find what I was looking for. The General Director was kind enough to loan it to me.”
Ere arched a brow, not quite believing their luck.
Ben pressed his lips together in a slightly embarrassed smile.
“Well, it could be that the earthen ware and other trinkets Sophia and Dalair donated to the museum last year helped soften the Director toward my cause,” he revealed.
“The Pure and Dark Ones are anonymous benefactors to just about every museum in the world.”
“The benefits of longevity,” Ere murmured. “I have many a pretty bauble in my own collection as well.”
“Begotten through unscrupulous means?” Ben arched a brow, alluding to the time when Ere used to be known as the “Creature,” a loyal henchman of the evilest she-demon in the history of the world.
Ere sniffed.
Talking about his morbid, bloody, shady past didn’t bother him anymore. It was just that—past. He was confident and comfortable in his own skin now. His true skin. For he was a shapeshifter that could take on any humanoid appearance. As well as transform into the Black Dragon.
Thanks to Sorin, he was whole. The past could no longer hurt him.
“Not all unscrupulous,” Ere returned. “And in any case, Iearnedthem fair and square, no matter the how.”
“Tell us what you found, Ben,” Sorin spoke up, redirecting the conversation.
Ere might not be bothered by his past any more, but Sorin avoided it whenever possible.
Ben rather thought that the warrior felt protective of Ere, and perhaps guilty that he’d not been there to protect Ere from all the ills that he suffered.
That was Sorin for you. He never thought of his own trials and tribulations; he only thought of Ere. His own suffering, as Ben saw first-hand in pursuit of the Forgotten Truth back in the time of Dark Queen Ashlu’s rule, was just as severe and full of anguish, in some ways worse for the interminableness of the agony.
At least, with Ben’s help, Sorin’s soul seemed healed as well. He finally felt like Ere and Sorin were solid. Not only in each other, but in themselves.
“It’s a broken slab of stone that was only recently recovered from a dig,” Ben related.
“I made a rubbing of it and took a few pictures. It’s still being analyzed in the lab, interpreted and unraveled. Nothing formal has been noted yet, but if what it says is true, history could very well be rewritten.”
“Well?” Ere pressed. “Don’t keep us in suspense.”
“It speaks of Thutmose III, or Thutmose the Great, as he came to be known. Perhaps the deadliest and mightiest military Pharoah across the entire history of Egypt.”
Sorin frowned in thought.
“But we are here to find out about Hatshepsut, are we not?”
Ben nodded, leaning in eagerly.
“Thutmose III is Hatshepsut’s step-son, according to the widely-accepted interpretation of historians.”
“Merely interpretation?” Ere queried, picking up on what Ben didn’t say.