“Liar. Barrani don’t need sleep.”
“I’m sleeping anyway. It’s better than angst.” Mandoran’s voice was not muffled although a closed door stood between Kaylin’s ears and the Barrani.
“You talk in your sleep? I guess that shouldn’t be surprising given how much you love the sound of your own voice.”
Mandoran laughed. “If you promise not to nag me about Teela or Annarion, I’ll get out of bed.”
“Are you actuallyinbed?”
“Yes. You can join me, if you want, but I can’t promise—”
“I’ll pass.”
He laughed again. “No Teela, no Annarion?”
“Done.”
“What’s the penalty for failure?”
“What?”
“What do I get when you fail?”
“Dinner.”
“Helen will feed me anyway.”
“Not if I ask her not to.”
“Helen?” Mandoran said, raising his voice. “Will you starve me if Kaylin demands it?”
Helen failed to answer, and Mandoran chuckled.
“Don’t disturb your brother,” Helen then said.
“Nothing I could possibly do would make him anyworse.”
Kaylin, in the hallway, waited for another minute; the door opened. Mandoran was tugging his left arm into the empty sleeve of a jacket. He did not otherwise look rumpled. Or unshaven. Or sleep deprived. She opened her mouth.
“We have a deal. No Annarion. No Teela.”
“Fine. Can I ask about Tain?”
“Boring old nursemaid.”
“He is not!”
“Is too.” Mandoran held up a hand. “Have you ever had to live with him?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, you’ll soon see what I mean. I’m beginning to understand the phrasemisery loves company.” He grinned.
“Barrani don’t have that one?”
“No. But it’s oddly useful. If someone makes us miserable, we generally feel justified in attempting to end their lives.”
“Annarion makes you miserable all the time, according to you.”
