Page 12

Alex made a sound close to a laugh and stopped when Corian looked at him.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"That didn't sound like nothing."

"It isn't important."

That usually meant it was. I didn't know him well enough yet to push.

Halver walked past the bag and picked it up with one hand.

"I can carry that."

"I know."

He kept walking toward the far side of the room.

Corian set my file on a low table by one of the sofas. It landed heavier than paper should, with my whole recorded life pressed into a stack thick enough to need two hands, resting now beside a chipped mug ring like any ordinary delivery.

"We'll show you the house first. It's small, you won't have trouble finding anything."

I looked around the common room while he talked. Two long sofas faced a stone fireplace, mismatched chairs filling the gaps, a low table between them scarred with cup rings and what looked like the point of a knife driven into one corner. Books stacked beside the fireplace with no order I could see, a blanket thrown over one sofa back so badly half of it touched the floor.

Nothing matched. It was perfect.

"Common room," Alex said, spreading both hands. "Obvious, I know."

Corian led me through an open doorway at the back. The kitchen was bigger than I expected, a long wooden table down the middle, more cupboards than four grown men reasonably need for storing food. Copper pans hung above one bench. Bundles of dried herbs hung near the window; the whole room still faintly warm with the ghost of something cooked hours ago.

Alex pointed at a cupboard. "Mine."

Corian didn't even look. "It isn't."

"It should be."

"It's communal food."

Alex glanced at me. "This house has some deeply oppressive views on food ownership."

Nykos laughed quietly behind me.

I turned fast enough to catch it.

He wiped it off his face almost immediately, but not before I saw the corner of his mouth move.

Not so grumpy, then.

"You cook?" Nykos asked, like he'd been turning the question over since we walked in.

"No."

"Didn't think so." He said it without judgment, more like he was filing away one more fact.

The kitchen opened into a narrow pantry lined with shelves. Most were full. Dried meat, grain, preserves, wrapped vegetables, enough to last weeks without anyone starving.

"Supplies come twice a week," Corian said. "Anything personal, add it to the order or buy it yourself."