Her little nod felt like a confession. Tamas may have left the Church, but the judgemental look she knew from growing up was still stamped on his face.
‘Misi is here because he was expelled.’
The Izir’s face was dark, but he didn’t protest. Csilla turned, her mouth dry. The little dead things in his barn... it wasn’t the first time he’d tried to change the world with blood. He’d shown her as much.
‘He has always been the first to try things he shouldn’t, and he went too far. He came out of his experiment thinking that despite the... mistake... he could still get what he wants, that it was everyone else who was wrong. And ifyouare now what he wants, you’d be smart to run.’
Something small knotted in the pit of Csilla’s stomach. Tamas said run, but there was nowhere to go. Silgard was her home.
‘Do you think he can give me a soul?’ That was what she needed to focus on. Saving the city and herself so she could go back to saving others.
Tamas paused, and Csilla’s hopes dangled on the filament of the second. It wasn’t a yes. But it wasn’t a no.
He reached for a pipe, hands fumbling with the tobacco tin.
‘This is dangerous stuff.’
Of course it was. Csilla rubbed her scarred palm. All power was dangerous, no matter how Brilliant. Humans were not gods. Even the best of them, standing next to her and murmuring placating words, was no more than a sliver of an angel.
‘But do you?’ She wanted Tamas to say yes, and she wanted him to say no. She was strung across the chasm of what Mihály wanted of her and the marrow-deep desire for a way to serve openly.
‘No.’
Her heart sank with the simple word.
‘I can.’ Mihály’s hand pressed harder on the ridge of her shoulder, thumb digging in. ‘I’ve learned from my mistakes. And I wasn’t entirely wrong—’
‘Mihály.’ The soft tones of the nickname were replaced with clipped irritation. ‘May I speak to you in private?’
Csilla glanced around for a place to slip to, but there was nowhere. She smiled as if it didn’t matter and returned to the stoop. The night was turning grey-violet, the icy breeze chilled the skin still exposed to the air. Csilla pressed her ear to the door, but their voices had dropped to a muffle. When the door swung back open, she nearly fell.
‘You can think what you like,’ Mihály spat, a flush on his skin. ‘Come on, Csilla. He’s only going to try to convince you that it’s better not to meddle in things. Apparently when you’re old you stop caring to learn.’
Csilla frowned at the honest sharpness in his tone. His sweet words to her seemed practiced in comparison.
‘No need to attack, Misi. You’re clearly tired.’ Tamas reached out to turn Mihály’s face one way, then another, picked a few stray hairs off his coat. ‘Send her on and stay with me a while. We can bleed you if you’re hot, give you something if you’re cold. You’re no good to anyone ill.’
It was kind of him to still care. She thought of Ágnes and her endless patience.
Mihály brushed his hand aside.
Tamas’s face took on a resigned air. ‘If you won’t think of her, think of Evaline...’
Csilla couldn’t help but shiver at the name. Of course he would have known her; they’d both been at school.
‘I do.’ There was a snarl there, that of an animal with a fresh wound. ‘Every day.’
It hurt to see, and Csilla stepped up to at least draw this to a close and soothe that pain.
‘Thank you, sir. I’ll go home.’ It wasn’t a lie. She hadn’t said when.
‘Good to see one of you has sense.’ Tamas glowered and muttered old blessings at their back.
‘Let’s go get some food, shall we?’ Mihály’s tone was light, putting the conversation behind them, and it stoppered Csilla’s questions. ‘That was a worthless stop. I know somewhere that will cheer you up.’
He seemed to need the cheering more. Csilla trailed a few steps behind, glancing over her shoulder and searching for movement in the shadows.
At least she was safer with Mihály than alone. She followed as the Izir guided her down streets where the stones were bleached white and scrubbed clean, the buildings marked with Eyes that were gilded and not merely carved. In daylight it would have been beautiful. In the dark the gilt threw shadows.
