Against the Odds
Page 46
"Admiral Serrano," the man in front of the group said. He had, Cecelia noticed, stars on his shoulders. More than any of the others.
"Which Admiral Serrano," muttered Oblo, along with something Cecelia refused to admit she'd heard.
All the admirals Serrano stood up, and Cecelia was suddenly reminded of the confrontation scene in a bad historical drama, two rival gangs facing each other down. Sabado Serrano moved, as if to speak, but Heris put out her hand.
"We are sorry for your loss," she said, into the silence.
"You—" that was the senior Livadhi, but his voice choked. He shook his head, then went on. "We came to apologize to you. For what he did."
"I named him," Heris said. "As an absent friend."
Cecelia felt an ache in her chest; it had never occurred to her to name a traitor as an absent friend, to grieve for an enemy.
"Is it too late to sing him home?" asked the senior Livadhi.
"It is never too late," Heris said, "to honor the good in a man's life, or grieve his loss." She nodded to the other Serranos and began the song; other voices joined in.
This for the friends we had of old . . .
The End