“Because there’s so much for a living horse to do in there,” Vaste quipped. He eyed his old chair at the table and bent over, picking it up and setting it upright again. “What are the odds that this old thing will still hold my-” He pulled his hand away from it and it promptly broke in half along a split at the back, then the bottom collapsed under its own weight. “Well, damn.”
“There’s a chair in the other room if you’re of a mind to sit,” Cyrus said, waving at the archive.
“I don’t really want to sit, but my body would appreciate it after a few days of unpleasant travel. Hard to find a ride down here nowadays.”
“Do you blame ’em?” Cyrus asked, looking over his shoulder dully at the troll.
Vaste pursed his lips. “No. Not particularly. Not after what happened. Still, made it damned inconvenient to get here.” He stood in the middle of the room and looked around. “So … before I go get that chair … you were serious, weren’t you?”
“About what?”
“In your letter.”
Cyrus waved vaguely at the walls around them. “Clearly.”
“But, I mean … the other-”
“Yes,” Cyrus said quietly. “Yes, I meant it.” He waited for Vaste to say something, something light and funny, something to redeem the darkness of the moment that felt as though it had seeped in from outside unchecked by the candles. “It really is good to see you, by the way.” He looked and caught the troll staring back at him. “I meant it when I said it to you. I wasn’t just being polite this time. It’s … good to see another one of us around.”
“One of us?” Vaste said mockingly. “You mean … one of the handsome? The debonair?”
There was that lightness I was looking for. Cyrus looked around the wrecked Council Chambers, felt the pervading sense of grief and loss that came with the memories of this place. It didn’t have quite the effect I was looking for, he decided, looking back out the window. It never does anymore. “No,” he said, and his eyes took in the world outside-darker than it had been a few years ago-and with … so much less to believe in. “That’s not what I meant. I meant-”
“I know what you meant,” Vaste said. Cyrus felt the troll’s tall presence next to him, and they looked out into the darkness together. Just like we always have. “I know what you meant. You meant …” The troll’s scarred face grimaced, and his onyx eyes flicked toward Cyrus, the light dancing off them.
“Survivors.”