Softly, Marso said, “People can change. Heroes can stop being heroes. Villains can stop being villains.” It was obvious he was talking about himself as well as Eklor.
Zera rolled her eyes at him too. “You know, the last time we saved the world, you people didn’t have so many issues.” She’d imagined reuniting the old team dozens of times, but she’d never once imagined it would be so annoying. Seriously, defending Eklor?Eklor?It was like... like... she couldn’t think of a comparison; that was how absurd it was.
With a sad smile, Kreya said, “That’s just it, Zera. Maybe the world doesn’t need saving this time. Maybe we do. We deserve a future beyond Eklor.” She turned to Marso. “Think of it: Youdon’t have to be a bone reader anymore. You can declare that part of your life done and pursue whatever you want.”
He fidgeted. “But if I’m not a bone reader, who am I?”
“You could discover that,” Kreya said. “You could travel.”
Marso shuddered.
“Okay—how about a career in the arts? You’ve liked coordinating with artists and theater troops in Cerre. That could be a future to explore.” She turned to Stran and Amurra. “And you have a future to return to, one that you already built.” To Zera: “You as well. You’ve built a life here. Let Grand Master Lorn handle Eklor. He’s as much as said it isn’t our concern anymore. Maybe we’re seeing problems that don’t exist.”
Zera stared at her old friend for a long moment. At last, she said, “That’s bullshit. You need to get yourself together and quit letting genocidal maniacs mess with your mind. You already tried dumping this problem on someone else’s lap. Remember how you had this lovely epiphany that that was wrong? Nothing has changed since then.Nothing.” To emphasize her utter disgust at Kreya’s idiocy, she walked out the door.
She instantly felt silly for stalking out of her own house. But she was also convinced she was right. Yes, people could change. Yes, people could seek forgiveness and redemption. Blah blah blah. But not everyone. Some got worse. She was willing to stake a lot on the conviction that Eklor was firmly in the “got worse” category.
After all, she’d heard him laugh on the plains as his soldiers chased them. How could Kreya have forgotten that?She wants to forget,Zera thought.She wants there to be no threat, for this all to be over, for her to have her happily-ever-after where she can ride off guilt-free and responsibility-free with Jentt into the sunset.
“Arrrgh!” she shrieked out loud.
A small crowd of voyeurs beyond her yard gawked at her.
“Shoo,” she told them. “Hero stuff going on here.”
“Master Zera?” one called. “Did you see the miracle on the pyre? Is it true that Grand Master Lorn’s son died and now lives again?”
“Go ask him,” Zera told him.
Because certainly no one here knew what was going on.
She’ll come around,Kreya thought,once nothing disastrous happens. Or she’ll revel in saying “I told you so” if it does.Either way, Kreya didn’t intend to relax her guard completely. She wasn’t going to recall her constructs or ask Jentt and Stran to stop searching for signs of Eklor’s army. If Eklor betrayed her, she wasn’t going to be caught by surprise.
But shewasgoing to allow herself a moment of peace.
She turned to Jentt. “Have dinner with me?”
He kissed the back of her hand. “Of course.”
She toyed with the idea of visiting one of their favorite restaurants, if any were still in business after all these years, but in the end decided it wouldn’t be private enough. Not with the public so interested in the “miracle of the pyre” or whatever they were calling it. Bringing Jentt out into the open wouldn’t be wise.
So she talked with several of Zera’s servants. As she suspected, they had zero problem with preparing an elaborate dinner—apparently, what Kreya described as a gourmet meal was just an ordinary snack for Zera. After confirming the menu, Kreya retreated to her room to dress. Again, she asked a servant for assistance. A few moments later, the man brought her a silk dress, the kind she’d sworn off, then bowed and retreated.
Holding the dress up to the light, she twisted it. It shimmered, forest green and sky blue. Minuscule diamonds had been sewn into the hem, delicately, so as not to tug on the silk.
She shed her bone worker coat, hanging it by the door, close just in case, but still separate from her. She felt fifty pounds lighter without it. Changing into the silk dress, she let it flow around her, along with the memories of who she had been long ago, the last time she’d worn silk. This time, she found she could bear the memories.
Just one moment of peace,Kreya thought. She might have been deluding herself into thinking she’d have more, but she wanted this one.
Crossing to her hanging coat, Kreya fished in one of the pockets and took out one of her rag doll constructs. It had rolled itself into a tight ball and was, if such a term could be applied to a nonliving creation like this, asleep. “Are you okay?” she asked it.
Unrolling, it looked up at her, and Kreya would have sworn it looked happy, though she hadn’t designed the rag doll to show emotion.
“It’s good to see you too,” she told it. “Jentt and I are going to be spending the evening together. Will you stand guard for us? Let us know if we’re about to be murdered.”
It chirped as if it understood.
She retrieved the other two rag dolls. After she instructed them all, they chittered to one another in their singsong made-up language. “We’ll be on the balcony,” she told them.
