She looked far from convinced. ‘Something else concerns me,’ she said.
‘You really are a worrier, aren’t you?’ he gently teased.
‘I’ve just found you; I don’t want to lose you again.’
He planted a light kiss on the side of her face. ‘What is it?’
‘Your pacifism.’
‘You don’t approve?’
‘No, no, it’s not that. Far from it. It’s just…’ The words tumbled out. ‘You know I killed someone. I didn’t mean to, it was an accident, or at least unintentional. But how can you respect me when I’m a murderer? Being a whore was bad enough, but -’
‘Don’t e ver call yourself that. Nor are you a murderer. And believe this, Tan: I can’t think ill of you, whatever you might have done. You took a life, and that pains me, but I see it as righteous self-defence. If you hadn’t…’
‘I know. The thing is, I have a code, too. I follow Iparrater, who values the sanctity of human life above all else. I’ve violated that precept, which must mean I’ve cast myself out from her protection.’
‘Not if the goddess’s reputation for compassion means anything. She’ll understand that you acted through necessity, and that your motives were pure.’ He sighed reflectively. ‘People think trying to live non-violently is an easy option. But my actions have put lives at risk, and no doubt caused the loss of some. All any of us can do is what we believe to be right, for a greater good. You’ve no more reason to blame yourself than I have.’
‘That gives me comfort. Though I wonder if your opinion’s clouded by your feelings for me.’
‘Possibly. But I think not. I’ve found life to be a series of moral compromises. That’s as true for you as anyone else. There should be no burden of guilt for you to carry.’
‘Would you say the same of Serrah Ardacris?’
‘Serrah? Yes, I believe I would. Why do you ask?’
‘From what I know of her she made a profession of murder.’
‘That’s too harsh. I’m sure she thought she was doing the right thing, too. I can’t approve of what she did before coming to Bhealfa, but I’m grateful to her for helping us.’
‘So am I, don’t get me wrong. It’s just… she seems so troubled. As though she shoulders some awful weight.’
‘Do you know anything about her background?’
‘Only that she was an assassin.’
‘She commanded a special forces unit. Her superiors saddled her with a member of one of Gath Tampoor’s more powerful families; little more than a boy, who fancied himself a warrior. When he was killed they made a scapegoat of her.’
‘She must have been bitter about that.’
‘There’s more to her misery. Karr told me a little of the intelligence he had about her. Apparently she lost her daughter a few years ago. Due to ramp.’
‘That explains why she appears so tormented. She’s forfeited everything. How sad.’
‘One thing you’ll learn about the Resistance is that it attracts strange bedfellows. Unhappy and even bizarre stories aren’t uncommon.’
‘I’ve seen something of it already. That young sorcerer’s apprentice, for instance.’
‘Kutch.’
‘Yes. There’s a boy who’s been through bad times for one so young. But he seems to have kept his innocence. I think he’s sweet.’
‘And Caldason?’
Her smile evaporated. ‘Ah, that one. In my line of work I saw many men who were hard-hearted and callous. Men who had no respect or real liking for women. The worst of them gave off a kind of dangerous coldness. But I never came across any like him. He frightens me.’
‘I’m surprised to hear you say that.’
‘Why? Because we’re both members of the same race and should have so much in common?’
‘Well…’
‘People have stopped me on the street and asked about Qalochians I’ve never heard of. They think we all know each other! Every Qalochian is bound together by blood and our history. But that’s not to say we have to like each other. I mean, do you get on with all the other
singers
?’
Kinsel had to grin. ‘Now that you come to mention it, no, I don’t.’
‘They say he has fits, did you know that? Violent, crazy, frightening outbursts when he’s a menace to himself and others. A berserker.’
‘Yours
is
a warrior race.’
‘It goes far beyond that, from what I’ve heard,’ she said, frowning. ‘There’s something about him, Kinsel. The way he’s supposed to have lived so long, yet doesn’t look it. And those
eyes
… Do you know what I think?’
‘Go on.’
‘I think he wants to give to others what he can’t have himself. Death.’
‘But there’s no need to fear him. He’s on our side, remember?’
‘Men like Caldason have only one side: their own.’ She shrugged. ‘Or perhaps being a prostitute made me too cynical about everything.’
‘Let’s forget all that for now. This is our first night together in our own home. We should celebrate.’ He reached under the table and brought out a small wooden box. It was chestnut, smoothly lacquered, and had no catch or hinges. Its top bore the red outline of a heart. He set it down in front of her.
‘What is it, Kinsel?’
‘It’s for you. Go ahead, open it.’
‘How?’
‘The heart.’
Tanalvah stretched a hand and lightly touched the heart with her fingertips. The box took a breath, or so it seemed, and she drew back.
A criss-crossing of fine lines appeared on the lid, all bisecting the heart. The lines marked segments in the wood, which began to rise, like the unfolding petals of a flower. They revealed an interior of brilliant white light.
Tanalvah stared, enraptured. Kinsel watched her, gladdened by her wonder.
The white light dimmed to a softer glow. With the improbability of magic, the fully-opened petals formed not a serrated bloom but a perfectly round, flat disc. It resembled a mushroom, and the base of the box its thick stem. A little smoky eruption occurred in the disc’s centre. The turquoise cloud blossomed, spreading outwards and up into a swirling pyramid. That held for a second, then popped. Vanished.
Leaving two miniature figures, tall as a man’s hand. Male and female, dressed in flowing gowns of choice silk. Music rose. Soaring strings and dulcet voices laid over a leisurely but insistent rhythm. The tiny man bowed as his partner curtsied. They moved together, clasped hands, and began to dance.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Tanalvah whispered, eyes shining.
The petite dancers reeled and weaved, glided and swayed. Their discreet jewellery caught the light and flashed brilliantly. The hems of their gowns floated as they spun.
‘Oh!’ Tanalvah exclaimed, recognising the figures. ‘They’re
us
!’
‘Yes, except he dances better than I ever could.’
‘We’ll have to see about that!’ Laughing, she began dragging him to his feet.
‘No, no,’ he protested. ‘I’m a terrible dancer!’
‘You’re blushing!’
‘So would you if you danced as badly as I do.’
But now she had her arms around him, and his around her. They melted into a shuffling imitation of the little people moving about their pure white dais.
It seemed to go on for a long time, music directing their footfalls, the large mirroring the small. Then a sound more demanding cut through their reverie.
‘Ah,’ Tanalvah said, ‘they’re awake.’
A child’s voice called from inside again. The words were muted but the tone was clear enough; the anxiety that follows a bad dream.
‘I’ll go,’ Kinsel offered.
‘Sure?’
‘I’d like to.’
They lingered for a moment, locked in a tender gaze, then kissed and parted. She sat to enjoy her glamour. He went into the house.
Teg and Lirrin shared a room, their beds side by side. The girl was sitting up.
‘What’s the matter?’ Kinsel asked.
‘Had a nightmare,’ Lirrin replied, massaging her eyes with balled fists.