Chapter 14
SEREYA
Dhomhes and his brother had the same way of pretending to be offended.
Tivek was still practicing. His mouth kept giving him away. Dhomhes could hold the expression longer, which only made it worse when she caught the beginning of a smile.
She had been sitting with one shoulder against him for several minutes now.
Neither of them had moved.
“The important part,” Tivek said, apparently unwilling to let the subject die, “is that the second descent was excellent.”
“It was,” Dhomhes agreed.
His brother glanced at him, briefly startled out of his argument.
Sereya liked that too. Dhomhes hadn't made the praise into another joke.
“Show me,” she said to Tivek.
He brightened, picked up the practice sling, then looked at the garden wall with interest.
“In words,” Dhomhes said.
“I knew that.”
“Did you?”
Tivek gave him a patient look and turned toward her.
“The descent is only the beginning. At the rite you have to find a vein yourself, cut from it, and bring up what you've taken.” He held the sling between his hands, showing her where the load would sit. “No one points out the best place. You have to judge it.”
“And then climb back with that?”
“With the stone in it, yes.”
“How much stone?”
“As much as you can carry.”
“As much as you can carry safely,” Dhomhes said.
“That is what I meant.”
“No, you meant as much as Kessin carries, plus a piece large enough to irritate him.”
Tivek's expression betrayed him.
Sereya pressed her lips together.
“I see,” she said. “A very spiritual undertaking.”
Dhomhes laughed. The sound was lower this close, warm against the garden's quiet, and she found herself wanting to make him do it again.
“My brother,” he said, “has mistaken a coming-of-age rite for a chance to win a lifelong argument.”
“It's an efficient use of the occasion.”
“You see what I live with?” Dhomhes asked her.
“I think he may have learned something from you.”
Tivek spread his hands in triumph.
Dhomhes gave her a long, wounded look.
She smiled back at him, without checking first to see who might object.
The unfamiliar freedom of it caught her a moment later. So did the realization that she had almost spoiled it by looking for Roemary.
She let her gaze return to Dhomhes instead.
He was watching her. He didn't make the smile larger or try to turn her hesitation into a question. His fingers rested on the bench between them, close to her hand.
She touched one of them with hers.
Just that. A brief, deliberate contact.
His hand turned beneath hers.
Tivek had begun explaining how to read a break in the rock. He was drawing on the path with the end of a fallen stem, crouched forward, wholly occupied with making her understand. Sereya leaned enough to see the diagram.
Dhomhes's fingers stayed loosely around hers. Moving just enough to caress her.
Enough that she felt the simple touch all the way to her belly.
“Here,” Tivek said. “If you cut at the wrong angle, you can spoil the piece. Dhom makes me say what I think before he'll tell me what he sees.”
“Does he always agree?”
“No.”
“Do you?”
Tivek looked up. “Not always.”
“Good,” she said.
His grin faded into something more thoughtful.
“Most people want the answer they were going to give you.”
Dhomhes's thumb went still against her hand.
“Is that about the practice shafts?” he asked.
Tivek scraped a little dirt over the diagram.
“No.”
They waited. Sereya could hear water moving beyond the thick leaves along the wall. Somewhere on the main path, footsteps came and went.
“Mother's been in that office a long time,” Tivek said.
Dhomhes looked toward the building.
“Would you like me to check?”
“She said she'd send for me.”
“Then we can wait.”
Tivek nodded, but the stem snapped between his fingers.
Sereya knew only what Tivek had told her before Dhomhes arrived. He and his mother had come for a lineage attestation that should have been a small part of preparing for the rite.
It was plainly taking up more space than that.
“What happens in there?” she asked.
“They ask Mother to prove things they already know.”
Dhomhes's jaw tightened.
Tivek glanced at him. “I know. You're waiting for the answer about why my form is different. I'm waiting too.”
“I haven't forgotten.”
“I didn't say you had.”
The edge in Tivek's voice surprised her. His brother didn't answer it with one of his own.
After a moment, Tivek added, “I just don't want every conversation about the rite to turn into this.”
“All right,” Dhomhes said.
“And I don't want to be the interesting exception. I'd like to come up with a decent piece of stone and have someone complain it's smaller than theirs.”
Dhomhes considered him.
“Kessin will do that even if you bring up half the mountain.”
Tivek huffed a laugh.
“There. Something to rely on.”
Sereya squeezed Dhomhes's hand once. He glanced down at their joined fingers, then at her.
She could have kissed him for that answer.
The thought arrived so clearly that she looked away before he could see too much of it.
Tivek began winding up the sling.
“Does it bother you?” he asked her.
“What?”
“That I don't have his title.”
“No.”
He studied her for a moment, trying to decide whether she understood.
“Father's second union,” he said. “That's the part some people can't get past.”
“I understood.”
“Oh.”
“Should I be offended about the rope on your mother's behalf?”
Dhomhes made a protesting sound beside her.
Tivek's face broke into delight.
“Yes. I think she'd appreciate that.”
“Enough,” Dhomhes said. “Both of you. I can see exactly how this alliance will end.”
“You were the one who sat down,” Sereya reminded him.
“So I was.”
The way he looked at her made the small space between their shoulders feel suddenly insufficient.
She remembered his hand on her back outside the housing office. How close she'd stood. How the weight of her own fear had eased enough for her to notice the warmth of him through his clothes.
This was different. She wasn't shaking. She didn't need someone to hold her upright.
She wanted him close because he was Dhomhes, and she liked his terrible injured dignity when his brother teased him, and the small care he took over answers that mattered.
The wanting felt more dangerous now that she could name reasons for it.
Across the garden, the family attendant straightened. Tivek looked up at once.
His mother had appeared in the office doorway, speaking to the clerk beside her. Sheira's posture was composed, but the set of her shoulders brought Dhomhes and Tivek off the bench.
Dhomhes had already stepped forward.
Sheira saw him and lifted a hand before he could ask.
“Finished for today.”
“Did they—” Tivek began.
“Accept the attestation? Yes. Decide they have no further questions? We shall see.”
His face fell.
She caught his chin briefly between her fingers, making him look at her.
“Your part is done. Don't carry their questions home.”
He nodded, although Sereya suspected the instruction would prove difficult to obey.
Sheira turned to Dhomhes.
“They have promised a written response about the additional requirement.”
“I'll watch for it.”
“So will I.”
Something passed between them that made Sereya like her immediately.
Then Dhomhes turned back.
“Sheira, this is Sereya.”
Sereya stood, her empty hand suddenly very noticeable.
Sheira greeted her with a warmth that required no elaborate answer. There was no measuring glance at her dress, no search behind her name for a more useful one.
“Are you comfortable? Did the residence staff get you taken care of?”
The maternal question felt so foreign to her, she almost wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Yes. Thank you.”
“She found the good bench,” Tivek said.
“I see that.”
Sheira's eyes moved briefly to Dhomhes. His expression became much too innocent.
“We should go,” she told Tivek. “The transport is waiting.”
He gathered the sling, then bent to scuff out the rest of his drawing.
“What is that?” his mother asked.
“A lesson.”
“Should I be worried about the wall?”
“I never touched the wall.”
Dhomhes's mouth twitched.
Tivek pointed at him. “You needn't look like that.”
Sereya had to bite back another laugh.
Then they were going, mother and son with the attendant behind them, Tivek already demonstrating something with his hands. Sheira caught one of those hands before it struck a branch.
Sereya watched them until the path turned.
“He's lovely,” she said.
“He's insufferable.”
“You're very proud of him.”
Dhomhes followed her gaze. “Yes.”
She liked him for giving her that answer too.
They sat again, with more bench available and no additional space between them.
For a while they watched the water where she could now see it slipping beneath a low stone arch.
The artificial shade overhead cut the hard light into soft, shifting patches.
Beyond it the sky remained bright. She was beginning to understand how much of an evening on this side of the planet had to be made by hand.
“I've stolen part of your afternoon,” she said.
“I came when you asked.”
“I know. That's what I like about it.”
He turned toward her.
Her face warmed. She had meant the words to be lighter than they sounded.
“I'm glad I came,” he said.
She looked at the weary crease beside his mouth.
“Was it a bad day?”
“Parts of it.”
“Do you want to tell me about those parts, or sit here?”
He was quiet long enough that she thought he would choose the second.
“I went to see Fiviel's father.”
“Oh.”
“He thought I had news when I walked in.”
She moved her hand back into his.
“Nothing?”
“Nothing that answered his question.”
The garden's small sounds returned around them. Water. Leaves. A bird making a sharp complaint somewhere out of sight.
“Did he want you to stay?” she asked.
Dhomhes looked at her.
“He asked me to come again.”
“Then you gave him something.”
“Not what he wanted.”
“No.”
She didn't try to improve the answer. Some absences couldn't be talked into smaller shapes.
His hand tightened around hers.
“I keep thinking of things I should have done,” he said.
“Before the platform?”
“Before. During. After. There is a generous selection.”