None of that answered my questions, but then, no one else would probably ever answer them.
“How’s Tamra?” I changed the subject.
“Ask her yourself. I’ll send her up here shortly.” He smiled. “She will bitch at you. She told me she would.”
I let him go. He wasn’t about to answer the real questions, not the ones I wasn’t about to ask, and that still hadn’t changed. So I waited.
And waited.
And waited, remembering in time that Tamra had never been punctual for anyone.
Click. She didn’t like knocking, either.
Those blue china-doll eyes, cold as ice, took me in as Tamra stepped-clothed in dark-gray once more, wearing a bright-blue scarf-onto the chill and sunlit balcony. Her red hair glinted in the light as she edged up to the railing; then she turned to look at me. She was wearing it longer, with matching black combs sweeping it away from her face.
“Good morning, Lerris.”
“Good morning, Tamra.”
I walked over to the edge. I was careful out of habit not to stand too close-either to the railing, or to Tamra-and looked out on Kyphrien.
As the silence continued, I said nothing, for it was not my turn to speak.
A puffy white cloud edged toward the sun, casting a brief shadow across the narrow walled balcony where we contained a corner of Recluce, a corner that needed to be expanded beyond the black walls of the Brotherhood, beyond the black walls of Nylan and the narrow confines of the High Temple.
“I should thank you.” Her voice was as flat as I had ever heard it.
“Don’t. The one who deserves thanks is Justen.”
Her hand came to her mouth, but she still did not look in my direction.
“If Justen hadn’t given me just enough hints and forced me to answer my own questions, neither of us would be here.” My guts twisted slightly.
“You believe that? Or is it just more poor little Lerris?”
Good old Tamra! I actually grinned. “More poor little Lerris, of course. But remember that I die/have something to do with rescuing you.”
“Do you really expect me to fall at your feet and be eternally grateful? To mirror your great shining light?”
I kept grinning. She sounded like the Tamra I recalled. “Well… eternal gratitude would be nice…”
“You’re still impossible.”
“Only sometimes. The rest of the time, I look for perfection.”
She didn’t answer for a long time. Finally, she said, “I meant what I said about not falling at your feet.”
“I know that. You want to get out your staff and thrash me soundly again.”
“I can’t do that-you broke your staff.” Then her voice dropped. “We’d fight too much, and if we didn’t, I’d hate you, and if we did, you’d hate me.”
She was right, but that was one of the answers I had figured out already, one of the few. There were hills south of Kyphrien, not all that far away, with water and trees, even some of the right kinds of trees. “You’re right. I realized you were right, back when we talked on the ship. I just wasn’t bright enough to understand. Now it may be too late.”
“What will you do?” She ignored my unspoken real question.
“I have an idea. But I don’t know if the sub-commander of Kyphros would be interested in a mere woodworker who occasionally dabbles in order.”
For once, Tamra looked surprised, almost foolish.
“Or having him build a house on a hill not too far from her place of business.”
Her mouth opened a shade wider.
“Or having a redhead whom I regard as a sister come to visit occasionally.” For a time, but only for a time, she was speechless.
“You’re… still… impossible. You honestly think…”
“No. But I can hope.”
I left her there when I saw green leathers on the adjoining balcony-green leathers, black hair, and black eyes.
The Sub-Commander unlatched the doorway, and I walked onto her balcony.
“You were successful, I hear.” The music was still there, linked within the order she had found.
“So were you, I understand.”
She looked over my shoulder. “How is Tamra?”
“Bitchy as ever, thanks to Justen.”
“Give him hell, Krystal!” called Tamra before leaving my balcony.
“She does seem recovered.” Krystal’s lips turned up at the corners for a moment. We still stood there looking each other over at arm’s length, or more.
“Recovered enough,” I answered, wondering why I was dancing around all the things I wanted to say. “Enough.”
In the end, I stepped forward and took her hands.
And, like Tamra would have hoped, she took them back, walking to the railing and turning to look out on the city. “You may think you have your answers, but did you ask me?”
My stomach turned. Why was I always doing the same thing, assuming I knew what was best for the women I cared for? “No. I apologize, Highest Sub-Commander, for possibly thinking that the affections of a woodworker who dabbles in order could possibly be of interest to you.” I swallowed, looked down, wondering how soon I could get the hell out of Kyphrien-except I needed whatever reward the autarch might offer.
Krystal shook her head sadly. “You’re still doing it.”
“Doing what?”
“You won’t ask anything of anyone. You may want answers, but you never ask for help. There’s a difference.”
I shrugged. There wasn’t much to say. I looked at her short and graying dark hair, although I knew enough to keep her young, just as my father had my mother; at the broader shoulders that carried half the weight of Kyphros on them, and shook my head.
Krystal looked vaguely amused. “Just a moment. I’ve worn this damned sword straight for the past five days.” She unbuckled the belt and laid both sword and belt on the table.
“Damned sword?” I asked. “Not any longer. It’s ordered.”
“Stop assuming things.” She stepped around the table.
“What?”
“Like whether I would be or wouldn’t be this or that. I am. I always have been.”
“Been what?”
It was another stupid question, but it finally didn’t matter. This time, her hands didn’t stop at my fingertips, nor mine at hers. We couldn’t say anything more. Even the gusts of the full winter wind didn’t bother us. Then again, we didn’t stay on the balcony long, and she had already barred the door.
Someone knocked, of course, but that was later. Much later.
The Magic of Recluce Page 52
