Zera sighed heavily. “Yes, you’re adorable. And smart. It’s a perfect solution. How’s this: if Marso says Eklor’s dead, then we never speak of this again, and we send a nice anonymous note to Lorn about the remaining constructs. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” both Kreya and Jentt said.
Staring into the fireplace, Kreya watched the flames dance from log to log. The crinkle of the fire was soothing, and she allowed herself to enjoy being here with Jentt and Zera. It would be nice to see Marso again too, even if he laughed at their paranoia. He should be told that Jentt lived. He’d mourned his friend as they all had, and he could be trusted with the truth.
I shouldn’t have distanced myself so much,Kreya thought. She’d missed this, being with friends without fear of losing them. She felt at peace, for the first time in... well, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this.
Zera speared another piece of rabbit. “So what’s death like?”
Jentt considered it.
That was a question Kreya had never asked him, and he’d never spoken about it. It had always felt better to focus on the living moments while he was alive. They were so few and precious. Still, she didn’t try to stop Jentt from answering. She found herself wanting to hear what he’d say.
“Dying was painful, until it wasn’t,” he said.
Zera whistled. “Yeah, figured that. At least the way you went.”
Kreya wanted to glare at her but couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t know how you functioned in high society and still never learned tact.”
Zera wiggled her finger. “Power. And wealth, which is the same as power. You can get away with outrageous behavior if you have what others want.”
Jentt offered her more rabbit. “You didn’t used to be so cynical.”
“Hard living. Or soft living. One of the two.” She waved her jeweled hand. “But you didn’t answer my question. Death. Is it endless dreaming? Or timeless nothingness as you’re suspendedin the eternal now? Were you in the great silence, and was it truly that quiet? Tell me which of the philosophers is right.”
“Can’t.” He shrugged. “Every time I wake, all I remember is life.”
Disappointed at that answer, she tried a different tack. “How does the math work? Are you younger than us now, since you’ve been alive for technically much less time? Kreya, how often did you bring him back? Are you married to a younger man now?”
“Does it matter?” Kreya asked. She’d never considered any of this. It wasn’t as if temporary death were a valid way to preserve one’s youth.
“Curiosity, my dearest. Never talked to a formerly dead guy before.”
Jentt laughed. “I want to hear what you’ve been doing since I died.”
“Oh, little of this, little of that.” But she was being modest. As they ate, Zera regaled them with tales of life on the fifth tier in Cerre, the galas and the banquets and the excesses. She shared gossip about the debaucheries of her tier-five neighbors, and they laughed as the fire dwindled late into the night.
Only when they each lay in a cot, Zera by the hearth and Jentt and Kreya side by side, did Zera’s voice shift to serious. “Many call me frivolous,” Zera said. “They say I have wasted the life you gave me with your sacrifice.”
“Nonsense,” Jentt told her. “You made a success out of yourself. A farmer’s daughter, living with the elite of Vos, the toast of the town. Your parents would have been proud.”
Kreya agreed with him. “You can return to Cerre, if you want. Jentt and I can find Marso, reassure ourselves that we heard nothing, and send word to you. You’ve done more than anyone ever could have asked of you.” Especially given howKreya had distanced herself, never reaching out, never considering Zera’s pain as equivalent to her own. “You made this possible. Thank you.”
Zera was quiet for a few minutes, and Kreya wondered if she’d offended her.
“We’re not trying to get rid of you,” Jentt said.
“Yes—please. I didn’t mean to make it sound like you should go. Come with us if you want,” Kreya said. “Visit Marso with us. It will be like a reunion. All we’ll be missing is Stran.” She couldn’t read Zera’s reaction to tell what she thought, which was a switch. Years ago, she’d been able to read Zera better than she could read Jentt. “I can’t tell what you’re thinking.”
The fire in the hearth burned low, its embers smoldering. It shed a soft light throughout the hut. Outside, the mountain forest was black, alive with the chirp of crickets, the cry of night swallows, and, far away, the howl of a wolf.
At last, Zera said, “I’m thinking I heard a laugh. And I want to hear Marso say that’s impossible.”
Chapter Ten
The mountains of Vos boasted three cities: The gleaming city of Cerre, renowned for its wealth and beauty and as the central headquarters of the country’s most important guilds. Tevvan, the holy city, famous for its philosophers, its flute music, and the serenity and wisdom of its mostly elderly citizens.
And then there was Ocrae.
