He pulled back enough to meet her gaze.“It’s fine.Really.Don’t—”
“Isaac, for fuck’s sake,stop apologizing.Stick upfor yourself.”She gave him a few slaps on the cheek, her paw pads like wornleather.“Call me names.Spit in my face.You’ve been doin’ that well enough.”
He wiped his face, taking a deep breath through a rawthroat.“I meant what I said.What happened in the chapel—it was the best thingthat’s ever happened to me.It made me aware of all that I never knew, and allthat I want.You know, I—I liked it.I liked it a lot.I’m glad it happened.”
She gazed into his eye, unsure of what to say.
“Of course,” he said, “you should’ve fucking untied me.”
She began to laugh.
“Truly,” he continued, “now that we’re on the subject, haveI heard any appreciation, for anything?‘Oh, Isaac, thanks for rescuing me.Thanks for giving me all the treasure.Thanks for protecting me from anecromancer’s thralls.’No, nothing.You—you—” He looked at her.“You fuckingpirate.”
She released her grip on him.“Okay, love.Point taken.”
“No,” he said, “you stupid bandit, I’ve risked my lifeseveral times over for you, and I will hear some gods-damned thankfulness.”
She gave a small bow.“My brave squire.Couldn’t ask forbetter.”
He retreated to his knees.“No.You know what?I carenothing for the opinions of common thugs.I am beyond such concerns.”
“Oh, aye.Clearly.Made for better things.”
“Yes.Better things!Warlock at Arms!Chancellor of theSpheres!Oh, the nations of the Diet will have no choice but to name me Archon,mark me clearly!”
“Head so up your arse,” Zaria said, “you’ll taste yourbreakfast.”
He got back to his feet, feigning a prideful look.“Keep toyour corner tonight, pirate.I expect no funny business.”
She returned a salute.“Oh, aye there, captain.You know me.Prim and proper, as always.”
He met her gaze, and, for just a moment, he thought he wouldfind something hidden under the surface.He imagined some mockery held behindthe eye.He looked for a grimace on the edge of her snout.He waited for theslightest hint of rejection, something that would betray her true innerfeeling, the reality that he was a wretched creature that could only betolerated, never enjoyed.
But he saw nothing.Zaria was looking at him with her usualcocky expression.She flicked her head over to his blanket across thewatchtower.He looked away, felt himself smile, and moved back to his restingspot.
He lay down on the blanket and looked up at the glowing ribcage.He felt the heavy silence of the dead city around him.He imagined theancient sorceress further down the cavity of the giant corpse, raising morethralls and abominations in response to their intrusion.He thought of hisfather trapped somewhere in her lair.He wondered if he would still resembleall the portraits he had seen of him.
“We’re not normal people, are we?”Isaac asked, suddenly.“You said so, earlier.”
Zaria snorted.“Is that what you’ve always wanted?”
“Yes,” he said.“Always.”
She leaned onto her side, cheek in a palm.“Isaac, behonest—would you have been happy shoveling shit and tilling fields?Would youwant to spend all your life on the same few acres of farm, hoping not to getblight on your crops?”
He thought about it.“Probably not, no.”
“You think other people like being normal?You don’t thinkthey imagine knights and royalty and magic, too?”
“What do knights and royalty imagine, then?”
She shrugged.“Probably the deeds of some better knight.They probably think how much more gold that king over yonder has in his palace.If they’re real out of touch, they probably think that growing crops is somenoble callin’, much the same as you.People just want what they don’t have.”
He scratched at his bandages.“Is it ever possible to stopwanting?”
“Why would you want to?”
“Because wanting just leads to suffering.”
