"I don't know." Din chuckled. "Many, I guess. Their portraits are hanging in a room in the office building. Dalhu, Amanda's husband, sketched them for the clan. He is also a former Doomer, but he is not part of Kalugal's men. He found his way to the clan in a different way."
"I bet there is a fascinating story there." She shook her head. "I'm constantly learning new things about this immortal community, but every time I think I get the gist of it, I discovernew fantastic stories. Is there a book somewhere that documents everything in a systematic manner?"
"Unfortunately, there isn't." He wrapped his arm around her waist. "We believe that oral transmission of history is the best way to preserve it."
She frowned. "You can't be serious."
"I wish I wasn't. I have no idea why no one's undertaken the task of documenting our history." He sighed. "It's a complex world we inhabit. Gods and immortals, ancient grudges and new alliances. Sometimes I wonder if humans have any idea how much of their history has been manipulated by forces they don't understand, and it is still being manipulated to this day."
"Does it bother you?" Fenella asked. "Knowing the truth when the rest of your colleagues at the university are fumbling in the dark?"
Din considered the question. "It used to. I'd sit in academic conferences listening to theories that completely missed the mark, wanting to stand up and tell them the truth. But no one would believe me even if I did. Humans prefer to cling to dogmas and stories that fit the narrative of their beliefs. Truth matters very little to them."
"Very philosophical, Professor," Fenella said. "I imagine it makes writing peer-reviewed papers challenging. 'Ancient Aliens' isn't exactly a respected theory in archaeology."
Din was surprised that she was familiar with the show. "You have no idea. I've had to become an expert in implication and suggestion, presenting evidence in ways that hint at the truth without explicitly stating it."
"Well, tomorrow you can speak freely," Fenella said. "No need to couch your theories in academic jargon when you're among fellow believers."
"True," Din agreed. "Though I'm still trying to wrap my head around Kalugal's invitation. I understand why you were included—your connection to Jasmine, plus your psychometric abilities, makes you a valuable guest. But why does he need me there? I'm sure he doesn't expect me to know more about archaeology than he does."
Fenella's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Maybe he's just curious about the guy who obsessed about a bartender for fifty years until he got to be her boyfriend."
"Boyfriend?" Din raised an eyebrow. "Is that what I am?"
"Well, you're certainly not just a friend," Fenella said. "And 'lover' seems a bit old-fashioned, don't you think?"
"I prefer 'devoted admirer,'" Din suggested. "Or perhaps an enamored suitor." He caught her hand, bringing it to his lips.
Fenella's laughter faded, replaced by a curious intensity. "You're serious, aren't you? About us, I mean."
"I told you I love you. I don't say those words lightly. In fact, other than my mother, you are the only woman I've ever said that to."
A complex mix of emotions crossed Fenella's face—hope, fear, longing, uncertainty. "It's all happening so fast, Din," she said quietly. "You need to give me more time."
"We have plenty of it," he assured her. "Take as long as you need."
