Free Oberon's Dreams by Aaron Pogue

noticed it. “A man like that…he always needs a helping hand.”
    Just then, Jeff caught his calf in a sure grip. Corin tensed despite himself. This would not be fun. He fought to take slow, calming breaths while a tight pressure clamped around his lower calf. Next would come the saw blade. Or did they use a knife to cut away the muscle first? He clenched his teeth and waited for the searing pain.
    It didn’t come. Jeff clapped his hands together once and gave a sound of satisfaction. “That’s broken bad,” he said. “I can’t do much for it here, but at least the pain is gone. You’ll want to keep it elevated and stay off it for at least two weeks. It’s mostly set, but if you’ll come with me to my office, we’ll get it cast.”
    “Set? Cast?”
    Corin snapped his eyes open to meet Jeff’s gaze, and the leech looked startled. Nervous.
    The money changer barked a laugh. “You never even try.”
    “There’s not much room for role-playing in modern medicine,” Jeff shot back.
    Corin looked from one to the other. Then he glanced down at his foot. There’d been no saw. There’d been no amputation. Instead, he wore some kind of boot. It seemed stiff as steel plate, but light as leather. It gripped tight around his calf, but below that, his whole foot was numb.
    He looked at Jeff. “What did you do?”
    Jeff threw a miserable glance at the money changer, then almost whispered, “Just a local anesthetic.”
    Corin frowned. “A what?”
    “Druid magic,” the money changer said. “All of this is druid magic.”
    Corin’s brows shot up. “Oh! Oh, you are druids?”
    “Yep,” she said. “Right off the ship. We meddle in things man was never meant to understand.”
    Jeff said, “That’s hardly fair.”
    She shook her head. “It’s how it has to be.”
    Corin looked back and forth between them, mystified. At last he shook his head. All this was beyond him, but he had a question far more pressing. He said, “The prince.”
    “No. Forget him,” the money changer said.
    “I don’t believe I can. What is his name?”
    Jeff answered, though the money changer tried to stop him. He didn’t seem at all concerned. He shrugged and said, “That’s Ephitel. Ignore him.”
    Ephitel. He had looked a bit familiar. But Corin hadn’t thought to compare him to the ancient marble friezes or the etchings carved in stone. But aye, the resemblance was there.
    So that was Ephitel. The tyrant god of all Ithale.
    Corin closed his eyes and groaned.

CHAPTER NINE
    Of all the gods in all the world, why did it have to be Ephitel? But of course it was. That arrogant bravado. That sneering swagger. It was the hallmark of the whole Vestossi clan, and they’d been Ephitel’s anointed throughout Ithale for years.
    How many years? The druid’s question struck Corin again. How many thousands? What was this place? When was this place?
    Corin caught Jeff’s sleeve. “Who are you, druid?”
    “I think that hardly matters,” Jeff said. “The real question is who are you?”
    Corin pointed toward the door. “That was really Ephitel? The Ephitel? I’d heard stories he once served Oberon, but…”
    Jeff frowned. “What do you mean, once ?”
    The money changer stomped her foot. “Don’t you say another word! Jeff, we are so far outside the strictures—”
    Perhaps the druids’ magic could send him home. Or perhaps Oberon’s. Strange as these creatures were, Corin needed their aid. He raised his voice before the money changer could stop him. “Ephitel is chief among the gods. Where I come from. He’s a scurvy dog, but he runs things.”
    The money changer rolled her eyes and collapsed into a wide armchair. “See? That’s the kind of thing we should not have heard.”
    Jeff rounded on her. “Are you mad? Do you have any idea what this could mean?” Back to Corin. “How can Ephitel be chief? What about Oberon?”
    Corin’s mouth fell open. He’d heard more than a touch of affection every time they’d mentioned