by Martha Wells
Khat listened to her, but under Elen's calm surface she was vulnerable, and for some reason that annoyed him no end. He knew she needed him, and had to fight the urge to push her away. Not for the first time, he was glad to be dead to the Warders' soul-reading.
But he wasn't as good at concealing things from her as he thought, and one afternoon Elen said in frustration, "This is so typical of you."
"What?"
"You risked your life to look for me when I went missing, and now you'll barely talk to me."
It wasn't until that moment that Khat understood himself what was wrong. Slowly, he said, "You're Master Warder now, Elen."
"Yes." She had heard the words, but not the meaning behind them. "I don't know how long I'll hold on to it. As long as I can, I suppose. I've never been much of a courtier." She was trying to make it all sound as if it meant nothing, but under the false lightness her voice was bitter. "The only thing I have is my power, and that was handed to me by the Remnant."
Khat was hardly hearing her now, too occupied with his own revelation. Well, maybe it wouldn't matter. Maybe she need never know. He said, "Aren't you ever happy with anything?"
"Well, you're a fine one to say that."
Sagai and Arad-edelk came up the next day and with Elen's help managed to see him, Sagai to make sure he was all right and Arad to hear the story of the Remnant from his point of view. Arad had heard it from Elen, but she hadn't taken as much notice of the details of the Doorway's construction as he would've liked. Khat was glad to see them, no matter how briefly, but it only reinforced his feeling that everyone was off having fun while he was trapped here.
By the fourth day Khat finally persuaded his keepers to give him back most of his own clothes. The things they considered too hopelessly worn to return they replaced with tough plain stuff suitable for the Waste, and that was more reassuring than anything else. It meant that as far as the lower echelon of the palace was concerned, he really was going to be released at some point. The next day Elen came to tell him that the physicians had pronounced him fit to leave the palace, and Khat had never been more relieved in his life.
On the way out, she said, as if making a sudden decision, "There's something I'd like to ask you." They went out to one of the stepped terraces that cut into the lower level of the palace, empty in the afternoon heat, its vine-covered arbor casting alternating bars of light and shadow across the tiles.
Elen leaned against the low wall and was silent for a time, her preoccupied gaze on the court below, tapping her fingers on the stone. Khat didn't interrupt her thoughts; they were far enough out of the palace that he didn't feel trapped, and he suspected he should be in no hurry to have this conversation. Finally Elen said, "Would you ... consider staying here? I know Sagai's heart is already in Kenniliar, but . . . there's going to be a new study of the Tersalten Flat Remnant by the Academia, and the Warders are to be involved. I've been working it all out with Arad and Ecazar. I would appreciate your help."
Khat looked away, toward the view of Patrician manses and the green squares of their courtyards. It was unfairly tempting. The Academia might even be persuaded to accept him for a time, with Elen's patronage. And he was sure that Arad would help. Arad's world was centered on two things: the Ancients and the scholarly politics of the Academia. He might have noticed Khat was krismen, but it didn't make enough of an impact on his world to make any difference to him, and he would see Khat only as an ally in the latter cause. But Khat could too easily see the problems it would cause for the scholar. And Elen.
Especially Elen.
The other Warders in her household had reacted badly enough when she had worked with him to find the relics. As Master Warder she would have more latitude, but she would have to get along with those men in her household, and his regular presence would make that impossible. But that was really the least important reason.
If his silence rattled Elen she didn't show it, but he knew from experience that the worse the crisis, the calmer she became. She turned to look at him then, resting one hip on the wall and saying more directly, "I think we're friends now, and I suppose I'm not asking for anything more than that. But... I'd like the chance to find out if there might be something more than that."
Khat had been propositioned by city people more times than he could remember, but he had never been courted, and never had a request for his company held so much respect for his own feelings. For an instant he almost considered it. He shook his head. "You need me like you needed Kythen Seul, Elen."
She smiled a little. "I don't think you're quite as much of a liability as that." She watched him, taking the refusal as calmly as she had made the offer. "Can you tell me why?"
He could, but didn't want to. He made himself meet her eyes, and it wasn't only the sun's muted glare through the vines that made it difficult. "You said once that you trusted me. Do you still trust me, after I lied to you about Constans?"
Elen didn't like being reminded of it, and dropped her gaze briefly. "I could forgive you that. After all, you were right." She hesitated, as the truth began to occur to her. "Do you still trust me?"
Khat didn't answer, torn between wanting to make her understand and not wanting to hurt her. It would have been easy to lie, to invent an excuse, but she didn't need any more friends to do that to her.
He told her the truth. "You're Master Warder now, Elen."
A breeze came over the balustrade, bringing a blast of smothering heat from the sun-drenched pavement, and the smell of incense and flowers. A group of Patricians with their entourages went by on the walkway just below, perceivable only as chattering voices, soft whipping of robes in the wind, and the jingle of bronze rings on parasols.
Elen had heard the meaning beneath the words this time. She said, "I see."
Her voice was still calm, but the pain was there. Defensive, he said, "I don't tell Sagai everything, either."
"Yes," Elen agreed. "But he expects it, and he's more understanding than I am."
"It isn't you," he said. "It's me. I wish I could trust you."
"I know."
"Sorry."
"Don't be. I'm Master Warder now; that's probably the last dose of honesty I'll get." She pushed herself away from the wall. "I'll walk you down to the Fourth Tier."
They went most of the way in silence, though towards the end it was companionable silence. He had told her the truth, and maybe that was what she needed now, however hard it was to hear.
When they reached the Fourth Tier he kissed her good-bye, and she didn't gasp or change color, though one of the vigils at the tier gate dropped his rifle. She only looked up at him, said, "Good luck," and that was that.
Khat reached the Academia without trouble and found Sagai, who had had a glorious time studying the Survivor text with Arad-edelk, but was ready now to go home. It was too late in the day to get passage on a caravan, so they spent the night at Arad's house, but by morning they were at the docks, and ready to leave the dust of the city behind them.
About the Author
Martha Wells is the author of over a dozen fantasy novels, YA fantasies, and media tie-ins, including The Wizard Hunters, The Ships of Air, The Gate of Gods, The Element of Fire, and the Nebula-nominated The Death of the Necromancer. Her newest series, The Books of the Raksura, beginning with The Cloud Roads, The Serpent Sea, and The Siren Depths, was published by Night Shade Books. She has had short stories in the magazines Black Gate, Realms of Fantasy, Lone Star Stories, Lightspeed Magazine and Stargate Magazine, and in the Tsunami Relief anthology Elemental, The Year's Best Fantasy #7, Tales of the Emerald Serpent, and The Other Half of the Sky. She has essays in the nonfiction anthologies Farscape Forever and Mapping the World of Harry Potter from BenBella Books. Her web site is www.marthawells.com.