The Argument
SEVRIN
He was beginning to find a strange sort of comfort in it. The way it escalated and then plateaued and then escalated again without ever quite resolving. It was, he had come to realize, the most honest thing that happened in this castle on any given day.
He cut his steak and took a bite, not missing the careful way that Ivanoxa was looking at him. She looked less calculating than usual, and he had noticed that ever since he had told her how much he enjoyed the steak from her cook, it had been on the menu much more often.
Perhaps that meant something. Perhaps it did not. He was weighing both possibilities when Aviaryn looked up at him and scowled.
"You look even weaker than usual," she said.
He sat up. "I do not."
"You do," Nox said.
He looked between them. It seemed they only agreed when it involved coming together against him.
In truth he had grown weaker. The Morraks had required more of him than he had anticipated--calling them across distances, directing them through libraries he could not visit himself, sustaining the searches long enough to be useful.
He would not admit that. He would not admit it to anyone in this room or any other.
"You need to go to the Bloodhaven,” Nox said. The exasperation in her voice was not new.
"Are you scared?" Aviaryn asked. She said it without malice.
"No," Sevrin said.
"Of losing your memory?" she continued. She turned to Nox. "Mother, have you gone?"
Nox frowned. "Not in a few months."
Aviaryn sighed. "Well," she said, looking at Sevrin, "since you are scared. Perhaps mother can warm your memory stones while you are gone."
Sevrin turned sharply to Nox. "Do not bother. That would take power you do not have."
"I have plenty," Nox said.
He was not stupid. She had come to Kelsey Castle to build her own depleting strength. She knew it and he knew it and neither of them had said so.
"It would be kind of you, mother," Aviaryn said. "I would like to see you do something kind. The bear in the story I read embraced such a practice and it pleased me.”
The room fell silent. Nox turned slowly to Aviaryn and spoke. "I have never had much use for it, nor am I very familiar. But if it is something you long for and a skill you are familiar with, then perhaps I am willing to...be taught such a thing."
Aviaryn nodded approvingly. "I believe, mother, that your ability to parent has been improving lately.” She paused. “I am pleased that you are here.”
Sevrin cleared his throat. He would not let Nox endanger herself on his behalf. Then the child would hate him. “I will not let you—"
"You say you are my friend," Aviaryn said, turning to Sevrin, "yet you let yourself grow so weak that—"
"I will warm the fucking stones," Nox said. "I do not mind. I have the strength and I am tired of waiting for you to understand that you will not get strong without the Bloodhaven."
"It is dangerous—"
"I have done it many times." Her voice was flat. "I have made the stones and taken them to the Witchward myself, then made my way to the Bloodhaven. It is not as much energy as you imagine."
Sevrin considered it.
It was, he had to admit, a sound solution.
The witches of the Witchward were known keepers of memory stones.
One could use the magic to preserve their memory in the stones before entering the Bloodhaven, but only a Witchward witch could keep it warm enough to hold.
When you wanted it returned the magic stayed sealed until you unsealed it yourself.
Then it was gone from the stone forever.
"You have always done this?" he asked.
"Yes." A pause. "Though I have never used them to learn the past. Only to preserve it. In case one day the truth becomes necessary."
He said nothing.
"Besides," she said, "I am going to take my own there regardless. Whether you give me yours or not."
He was still deciding.
"It is settled," Nox said. "Make the stones tonight. I will take them to the Witchward in the morning. Mine and yours." A pause. "In five days you will return. Then I will go to the Bloodhaven." Another pause, shorter. "That way Aviaryn is not alone."
He could not hide his surprise. Nor the warmth that rose in his chest at it, which he could not explain and did not examine.
"Normally Axar would entertain her during those five days," she said quickly.
"My mother perhaps likes you," Aviaryn said calmly. "Or she is indifferent about my safety. It is unclear which." She folded her arms across her chest. "Either way I will not read with you until you go to the Bloodhaven."
The thought of not reading in the east wing, or sitting in the east wing alone, displeased him immensely.
He was not stupid. He had known for some time what the child was.
Her blood smelled Rathmor. The proximity of Thrykis to Yorali was answer enough.
The child was Teorin's. And Nox, calculating as she was, had found the perfect way to position herself while getting exactly what she wanted.
Whether humiliating Teorin was part of the intent he could not be certain.
But if they were on good terms she would not be here. That told him enough.
It did not anger him. If anything it impressed him.
"Tomorrow, then," Aviaryn said.
He realized that indeed, he did wish to go to the Bloodhaven. He wanted to show her what he was like when he was not in constant pain, not hobbling through corridors, not struggling to take a full breath. He wanted her to see that version of him.
He stood.
"Tomorrow, then," he said.