Michelle Sagara - Cast in Silence

Kaylin grimaced. “No. I don’t know if he knows when they’re coming or not. He’ll wait it out with his victim until he hears the howls. He cuts them,” she added, staring at the tabletop as she spoke. “And then he makes them run.

“If they can survive until morning, they’re more or less free to go.”

“Happen often?”

“Pretty much never.” She started to rise, to shed the bench and its confinement, and his hand tightened.

“Severn—I don’t want to talk about Barren. I’ll talk about anything—and I mean anything—else.”

He met her gaze and held it, and she found it hard to look away. After a moment, she sat, heavily. He hadn’t forced her back down; her legs had given way. They waited in silence.

Kaylin surrendered. “There’s a bit more foot-traffic coming over from the right side of the bridge. Barren’s got storehouses and brothels on the riverside. But his own place? It’s not at the heart of the fief. He lives near the edge.”

“Which edge, Kaylin?”

She shook her head. “Inner.”

“You’ve been there.” It wasn’t a question.

She looked away again. “Yeah. I’ve been there. It’s not like Nightshade’s Castle.”

“It’s an old building, though?”

“I don’t know if it’s any older than the rest of the buildings there. There is a building that’s kind of like the Castle, but it’s older and more decrepit. I don’t think anyone lives there.” She paused, and then added, “I don’t think anyone who tries survives.”

“But Barren doesn’t.”

“No.”

“You’re going to meet him.”

“No. I’m probably going to meet Morse. I don’t know where she’ll take me, or what she’ll tell me to do.” She looked across the table at Teela and Tain. She wanted to either drink a lot more, or have drunk a lot less. “I don’t want Marcus to know,” she whispered. “He thinks I’m a kit. He thinks I was a—a child—when the Hawklord dumped me on his division.”

“Kitling,” Teela said, almost gently, “you were.”

“He thinks I was a good child, turned thief because I had no other way of living in the streets of Nightshade.”

“But you know better?”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not. I’m treating you like a self-absorbed and ignorant human. Patronizing is different.” Teela lifted her mug. “Look. What humans do when they’re desperate is just an expression of fear. What they do when they feel safe is a better indication of whether or not you can trust them.”

“I thought the Barrani were allergic to trust.”

Teela shrugged. “It’s a figure of speech. What you’ve done, feeling safe? Volunteer with the midwives. The foundling hall. You’ve been, in Marcus’s estimation, a better officer than most of his Barrani. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. You did what you did—”

Kaylin let her talk. It did not, however, make her feel any better; the words felt hollow, built on a foundation that was shaky at best. Not as she remembered Elianne, who’d fled Nightshade after the deaths of Steffi and Jade. Fled Nightshade and ended up…elsewhere.

“Kaylin?”

Severn’s voice pulled her back from the sharp bite of memory: her first night in Barren. She tried to school her expression, to force it into casual, neutral lines. It would change nothing. He knew what she was thinking.

She had taken a name for herself, not once, but twice: when she had first met the Hawklord, and when she had seen the Barrani pool of life. The one had been a lie that had slowly enfolded her, becoming a truth she desperately wanted to own; the other?

She had given it to Severn.

He knew what she was thinking. But as he could, he now gave her room.

It never went away. The regret. The guilt. Sometimes it ebbed for long enough that she could believe she was beyond it, but that was wishful thinking, another way of lying to herself. She didn’t want to share this with Teela and Tain. Sharing bar brawls and near-death, yes. But this?

“Come on,” Severn told her quietly. “Let me take you home.”

“I can find home on my own.”

He waited.

Teela snorted and rose. “This,” she said coolly, “is as much fun as the High Court.”

“Less,” Tain added. “No danger.”

“Pardon me for boring you both,” she snapped.

“We might. I have a question for you,” Teela said, as she rose. “You left Nightshade, and you entered Barren, yes?”

Kaylin nodded. It was brusque, and invited no further questions—but that was too subtle for Teela when she was determined.

“Did you notice nothing at all about the transition?”

“Transition?”

“You left Nightshade.”

“I enter Nightshade and leave it now. I don’t notice it either way.”

“Now, you’re not of Nightshade.” Teela glanced at Tain, who shrugged.

“It was a straight run along the border nearest the river,” Kaylin told them both. “I wasn’t close to the—the other border.”

“No. If you’d run in that direction, you’d never have met the Hawklord. And,” Teela added, “our lives would generally be less interesting for the lack.” She nodded to Severn. “Tain and I have a little drinking to do. See that she gets home.”

He didn’t even bridle at the casual order.

“I’m not angry anymore,” Kaylin told Severn as they walked along the river’s side. Her gaze traveled across its banks, and into the shallows of night. Night in the fiefs was death unless you were armed and trained. She could walk there now without much fear, and that was something she’d never even dreamed of as a child.

Severn said nothing.

“I know why you did—what you did.”

He nodded. “But?”

She frowned. “It’s Barren,” she said quietly.

“The fief or the Lord?”

“I’m not sure you can ever separate a fief from its fieflord. But…the fief. The first night. The first day. I don’t think about it much anymore.” She kicked a loose stone with her right foot, and found that it wasn’t as loose as it had looked. The pain was almost a relief, it was so mundane.

“But then?”

“I wanted to kill you.” She stopped walking and turned to face him. What he saw in her expression made him look away. “I wanted to be able to kill you. I thought, if I did, it would end the nightmares. It would somehow let Steffi and Jade rest in peace.”

In the muted streetlights, she could see his face; it was shadowed, and it was stiff. She searched around for another stone to kick, because it was better than looking at what was—and wasn’t—there. “It was the only thing I could think about, when I could think at all.” She lifted her hands, found they were almost fists, and lowered them again.

He watched her. He said nothing.

But he didn’t turn, didn’t walk away. She would have. She knew she would have. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t,” he said, his first word. He lifted a hand, palm out. “Don’t apologize to me. What you did, what we did, is in the past. Leave it there, Kaylin.”

“I did. I thought I did,” she added bitterly. She lifted Barren’s missive and waved it in the air. “But it’s here. Again.”

“Ignore it. Walk away. Don’t walk back.”

She knew, then, that’s what Severn would do.

And what could she say that wasn’t pathetic? I don’t want Marcus to know.

“Marcus will understand, Kaylin. Trust him to do that much. Given a choice, he would never, ever have you walk back into Barren.”

“I do trust him,” she said quietly. “I want him to keep on trusting me.”

He nodded, as if he’d never really expected her to say anything else. Maybe he hadn’t. “Take me with you.”

“No.”