“Sit a moment,” he says, indicating the table. “Refresh yourself.”
It’s nicer than he’s been so far, and I allow him to guide me to one of the chairs. He takes his place opposite me and pours from a decanter into two goblets.
I take mine, and after a moment I realize he’s watching the way I hold it.He’s judging my manners.He wants to know who I am. And Nimh’s guidance didn’t extend beyondTell them you helped me get home. What would she want me to say? And what’s best for me?
I wish I knew whether it was safer to be a helpful nobody or a noble guest. But I have no idea, and I also have a more urgent question on my mind: he’s just swirling his drink around in the goblet, but he hasn’t taken a sip—is it safe to drink? Am I being completely dramatic even wondering that? I’ve always been taught to be wary around unknown food and drink—though a tiny part of my mind notices I forgot those rules around Nimh.
Before I can decide what to do, he notices me noticing—and with a tiny little smile that I don’t like very much, he lifts his drink to take a long, deliberate sip, swallowing as he lowers it.See?his gaze says smugly.Safe.
But it says more than that—he’s smug because he knows that you don’t get instincts like mine drilled into you unless you’re somebody. I’ve told him something I didn’t mean to, and I could kick myself.
This guy is a player. He’d get on well with my bloodmother.
“Thank you,” I say eventually—polite, but not too gushing. I don’t want to give the impression I owe him anything, if I can help it.
He takes my words as a signal to resume conversation. “We must select clothes for you for the Feast of the Dying.”
He speaks as if I know what that is, and I don’t correct him. I assume the feast won’t involve any actual dying on my part, given Nimh could have organized that already if she wanted, and nod. “I’m honored to be attending.”
“Of course,” he agrees. “I am eager to ensure we follow the correct protocol for such an esteemed guest, to whom we owe such a debt of gratitude. Please, tell me about yourself.”
He says it so smoothly, as if the question is nothing. As if he isn’t trying to slot me into a hierarchy—figure out what value I hold for him and everyone else in the temple.Oh, old man. You have no idea whose student you’re dealing with.
I blink slowly and take my time swallowing. “About myself?” I ask, as if I barely know my own name.
“Where are youfrom?” he says, practically clicking his tongue now. “I am asking about your people, your home.”
“Oh,” I say, as if I understand, then proceed to completely fail to answer the question. “I just helped her make her way safely home.”
He closes his eyes for a long moment, takes a breath, tries again. “I am aware of what you have done,” he says carefully. “I am asking who youare. I hope you are not evading the question.”
Bold move, calling me out like that, but it tells me he probably doesn’t think I’m powerful. I can see him trying to decide whether I’m a player or a game piece. He’s leaning toward writing me off, but he definitely hasn’t made that call just yet. He’s too wily.
Nimh’s voice is in my head:Tell them nothing.
She’s certainly mastered that.
There was such an intensity to her face when she first saw me in the wreckage of theSkysinger, and in her voice as she questioned me—I’m not convinced she brought me to this place solely for my own safety.
Iwantto put my faith in her. Out there in the wilderness, she seemed kind, and capable, and fascinating—and she seemed to be almost as fascinated by me. The little seeds of something—friendship, my mind supplies instantly—felt real. It felt true. Here, though, I’m adrift. Iwantto be able to trust this girl, but she’s left me in the middle of a game without telling me anything about the board.
Nobody at home is looking for me—no one who falls Below ever returns. They’re probably planning my memorial service right now.
If I’m ever going to make it back, I’ll need to make it happen myself. So for now, I choose an answer that at least shouldn’t screw with Nimh’s plans.
“I’m a scholar,” I say. When one of Techeki’s impeccably groomed eyebrows rises, I add, “In training. I was traveling to the temple in the hopes of meeting with the Master of Archives when I came across N—the Divine One. That’s why I hurried straight to the library when I arrived. I didn’t think I had much of a chance of talking to him in person, so when the opportunity arose …” I trail off with the grin that usually gets me out of trouble with my heartmother.
Techeki doesn’t look convinced. I don’t know if that’s because he doesn’t buy my story, or because one doesn’t simply ask to meet the Master of Archives. But eventually he inclines his head. “I will see to it that you are escorted to Matias in the archives tomorrow for further discussion.”
The wordescortedsounds an awful lot like I’m not allowed to leave this room without a guard. It sounds an awful lot like being a prisoner.
Nimh told me she’d keep me safe. Butsafedoesn’t meanfree. It doesn’t meanallowed to find a way home.
For that, I can’t rely on anyone but myself.
THIRTEEN
NIMH
