Chapter Text
Tactical Meld: Connects the mind of the cipher with an ally to gain the ally's knowledge of his or her enemy.
The mess hall rumbled with voices, saturated in the smell of cooked meat and sweat. The six of them sat at one of the long tables in the hall, and two seats were empty. Kit and Konstanten had gone to talk to the caretaker. They were officially deemed contenders now, with every right to walk the halls of the temple unaccosted, but Edér wasn't keen on anyone leaving the sight of their so-called pack. Not least because Aloth had been acting squirrelly lately and Kit was antsy, more so than usual.
"You good?" Edér masked, as Aloth frowned and picked at his food.
Aloth's expression visibly smoothed. "I'm not fond of the noise," he explained, wrinkling his nose.
And Edér had to give him credit: it sounded convincing enough, for someone who wasn't too good at lying. It might have satisfied Edér, had he not been paying attention. "Uh-huh," Edér said. "That why you and Kit have been doing that thing where it looks like you're doing a lot of talking without words? Because I'm pretty sure you don't know how to do that." It was one thing if Kit and Ydwin got to sharing looks like that, which could mean anything. But Aloth was no cipher, which meant that something was up.
The attention of the others around the table had been caught, and Aloth fidgeted under the scrutiny of three pairs of eyes.
"What's wrong?" Xoti asked, curious.
"Hmm," Fassina said, unsurprised. "The casità is up to something, no?"
Aloth looked rather like a cornered animal as he scowled. "It's not for me to share," he said, "and it's nothing we need to be concerned about. She's merely seeking information. If you want to know more than that, ask her yourself."
So it was a Watcher problem, and Aloth was aware of it. And a Watcher problem, well... Edér didn't like the sound of it.
It wasn't like Kit to hide things. At least, not from Edér. A long time ago, maybe, but not anymore, so Edér was wondering now, and he wouldn't be able to stop. It didn't help that Kit and Konstanten had been gone for quite some time, and Edér didn't entirely trust the denizens of the arena to respect their status as contenders.
And so it wasn't long before Edér pushed himself to his feet. "I'm gonna get some air," he said, which was about as convincing as Aloth usually was.
"I don't think it's a good idea go traipsing about by yourself," Xoti said in concern, half-rising from her seat.
Edér waved her aside. "I'll be alright. Not a long walk to the barracks."
Which wasn't where he was going, but he left the mess hall quickly enough that no one had time to voice any more protest, and so he made his way into the rest of the Temple of Toamowhai.
The Crucible quivered with voices swelling in anticipation, and Kit felt the press of emotion, the ebb and flow of excitement and hunger and happiness and anger and passion. She let it roll over her, background sensation easily tuned out as she observed the arena below and took note of how the arrangement of the battlefield had changed for the upcoming fight. That was what she and Konstanten were here for, nominally: to get a lay of the land from up top.
The important thing was that she could feel no familiar trace of essence up and down the length of the spectator stands. Nor had she felt any when they'd been down in the arena below. Nothing at all, no matter how far and hard Kit had cast her senses out, over and over again, since they'd arrived.
Maybe Dherys truly hadn't been here, and Kit's hunch was wrong. Maybe her mentor didn't care enough to seek out a stronghold of Galawain's.
Or maybe she was just good at hiding her tracks.
Konstanten's unease was a discordant note amid the murmur of anticipation all around, and it wasn't entirely wrapped up in his reluctance to be here. Kit wasn't surprised when he finally cocked his head up at her, decision settling into his shoulders.
"Look," Konstanten said, pitching his voice above the din around them, "I'm not too keen on being back. But here I am, because you wanted to come, and I didn't want to let you walk into this place without me to watch your back. So I think I deserve some honesty." He paused, as if expecting resistance, but when Kit said nothing, he hurried on. "I know you're not here because you care about whatever's wrong with the souls here. Well," he amended, "maybe you do, because soul stuff is your thing, but there's something else going on. I can tell. Aloth's been twitching like he's got lice."
Kit sighed, a long, resigned thing. It had been too much to hope that Konstanten would let her earlier behavior pass by without comment. She wasn't even sure why she'd asked to speak to Humaire alone. There was no reason why Konstanten couldn't know, why the rest of the party couldn't know, except that Kit's skin itched with unease of her own, an unbearable thing that made her want to hold the entire world at a distance. "You're right."
Konstanten blinked in surprise. He folded his arms, like he wasn't quite sure how to respond to something that wasn't the disagreement he'd clearly braced himself for. "So what about that talk with Humaire was so important that it needed to be behind closed doors?"
"I'm... looking for someone," Kit said, and the words didn't come easily. It had always been a long shot, and it felt foolish now. "She's, ah... the woman who raised me. I think... she's got a bone to pick with Galawain, so when I heard that there was something wrong with an island of his..."
"You thought she might have passed through," Konstanten finished, somewhere between understanding and further confusion.
Kit nodded. "She's powerful. I think she'd be capable of something like that." Most of the others thought that whatever was wrong here was a symptom of the Wheel's destruction, but Kit wasn't so sure. Muātu and Humaire had both insisted that it started before, and this island didn't feel like the gaping wound on Ukaizo, like the still and empty adra veins. It felt... abuzz. Discontent.
Konstanten considered this. It didn't make him look any more enthused about being here. "I get it now," he said. "Was wondering why you wanted this to be your last stop in the Deadfire. Kazuwari's not exactly a vacation, you know?" He eyed Kit curiously and ventured, "You and her don't get along?"
"Not even a little."
Konstanten aimed right for the heart of it. "Then why do you want to find her?"
Kit pressed her lips together as she stared down at the arena. Konstanten wanted honesty, but at the end of the day, Kit didn't even know what the truth of it was. She wouldn't, she thought, until she saw her mentor again. "She's... been studying the Wheel a lot longer than I have. I need her expertise. Or..." Kit frowned down at the flooded arena below, at the contenders now entering. Only some of them would emerge again, and maybe Kit would have to face them, sooner or later. It made her want to turn away. "... I might just want to kill her. I'm not sure yet."
Konstanten leveled a long look at her, then heaved a great sigh of his own. "Well," he said, "I know a thing or two about leaving, and my advice? Would be not to look back, ever. But I think you and I see things a little differently." Kit almost went to apologize, though she wasn't sure what for, but Konstanten only huffed out a dry laugh. "Even if she didn't pass through, she's gotta be somewhere, right? We'll find her." The we made something in Kit's chest constrict, as Konstanten continued, blithely unaware of the catch in Kit's throat. "Me, personally, I'd like the Wheel to be up and running again before I die, because I don't even want to know what'll happen if it isn't. So if you're gonna kill her, at least get some useful stuff out of her first."
Kit laughed, then, only a bit thick with emotion, and Konstanten gave her a faint grin, and they turned away before the fight could begin, heading back down the stairs to find their pack.
The damp stone of the temple's interior was lit with dim orange light, and it was cooler and quieter within, though the rumble of the mess and the Crucible reverberated like a distant roll of thunder over the rushing waterfalls. The cool mist cleared Edér's head somewhat, as he followed the curve of the temple and made his way towards the Hall of Memories. But when he reached the Hall, Kit and Konstanten weren't there. No one within could tell him where they'd gone.
Edér tried not to feel anxious about that, but he picked up the pace as he left the Hall, pushing past a group of kith to whom he paid no mind as he took a quick glance into one of the arena antechambers. But it was empty, and as he turned back the way he'd come, thoughts on the spectator stands, a voice caught his attention.
"Competition, huh?"
Edér paused, unease straightening his shoulders as he took in the sight of the group clustered near the railing. Five kith, which meant another "pack," and the voice belonged to the wood elf woman at their center. She had white-blonde hair pulled into a bun, and a lazy smile on her face, with a long scar just below her left eye, and she leaned against the railing and looked at Edér like he was meat from the mess kitchen. A godlike woman stood at her side, tall and taller still for her imposing, moss-covered antlers. The aumaua man beside them was nearly as tall, red and looming, and then two folk, one dark like Fassina and one paler than Edér. All appeared to be some variation of druid or wizard or fighter, if their array of weaponry was any indication, and none of them looked nice.
He probably should have listened to Xoti.
"Maybe so," Edér said, shifting so that his back was to the stone wall and his feet were planted evenly. He'd go for the grimoires first, if he had to, because the battlefield would need to be leveled, and that was the risk of channeling power through an object: if it got tipped over into the water below, there was no getting it back quickly. He didn't think fighting between contenders was allowed between matches, but he didn't like the look in the eyes around him. "No hard feelings, though, right?"
"None at all," the woman said, pushing off of the railing and standing tall. Her smile was more like the snarl of a predator, and her jewelry was an incongruous sight between otherwise practical gear. The glittering stones at her neck and ears and wrists were adra, Edér realized, wrapped up in delicate copper. He saw the like every day, and cold prickled up his spine. He'd avoid her, if need be. Something about her told him that if he got too close, he might lose the fight before it had even begun. "I just like to see what I'm up against."
"Hope you're not too disappointed," Edér said amiably, but when he tried to sidle left, he found the aumaua man in the way. Edér shifted back, just out of the man's range, teeth grinding together as he tried to keep an eye on the position of every weapon near him. The pale folk woman was somewhere at his right, where she hadn't been a moment before. "And I don't think this is necessary. Or legal."
"Easy, Ezka," the elf said, and the aumaua stepped back, leaving just enough room for Edér to pass. But Edér didn't move. "This is a friendly talk." It was the woman's turn to move, taking a step that brought her just within range, and Edér fought down the urge to yield ground. It felt like the smarter move, but he would only find wall against his back. The Hall of Memories wasn't far. If this got ugly, if he called out, maybe someone would hear him. "It's not every day I meet someone like you."
Edér blinked. "Me?"
"You travel with the Watcher of Caed Nua, don't you?" the woman asked. "What do they call her now? The Herald of Berath?"
The question put Edér on the defensive more so than being outnumbered. It wasn't uncommon to be recognized nowadays, but that happened to Kit more than him, and there was something else behind the question, he thought. The woman was fishing for something, and he wasn't going to give it to her, not when it involved Kit. "Sure do," was all Edér said, clipped and flat, because there was no point in lying if she knew him by face. "And I've gotta go, so..."
The woman stepped forward in one smooth motion, far too close, and Edér froze when he found his sword half-drawn and the woman's hand against his wrist with just enough warning force. His vision swam, and he couldn't recall going for his sword, only that he'd felt the need to give her a little warning himself the moment she'd moved. The past few seconds were hazy, like he'd blacked out momentarily, and Edér's insides flip-flopped with the woman's sudden proximity. He was a little taller than her, but it didn't matter when it came to the unnatural desire to shrink away.
Cipher, he thought. He'd recognize it anywhere.
"Tell her the competition looks forward to seeing her," the woman said, her unfriendly smile pulling tight, and then she stepped back and turned away from Edér, abrupt and dismissive, as if he no longer interested her. The other kith similarly withdrew, following her lead.
Edér stood there, wrestling with the urge the start an ill-advised fight anyway, because it was one thing to threaten him and another thing to threaten Kit. But he gritted his teeth, settled his sword back into its sheath, and hurried back down the length of the arena's lower level.
He expected one of them to go for him when his back was turned, and he readied himself, but nothing followed in his wake.
When he neared the stairs that led up to the spectator stands, Edér saw Kit and Konstanten emerging from the top, but his relief only lasted for a moment. As he drew closer, as Kit caught sight of him, as their eyes met, something throbbed in Edér's head, a pulse of sickening vertigo and narrowing vision.
He recognized it at once. He and Kit had practiced, in those years after Sun in Shadow and before Eothas had come calling. What Edér had really wanted, in the end, was for her to understand that he wouldn't blink at the worst of her powers, and what she'd wanted was for him to be able to resist a cipher's grasp.
And so Edér punched through, clawing his way past the metaphysical darkness encroaching on either side of him, because Kit had taught him how. It was only a momentary thing, a brief gasp for air above water. It felt different from the kind of cipher spells that he was used to, stronger and stranger, and he didn't know what it was, and it hurt, but it was enough for him to stumble back and hold up a warning hand, even as his other clutched at his head.
"Don't," he gasped out, and an awful, twisting pain throbbed through his skull again and made his eyes water. It was centered on Kit, whose eyes had flown wide and panicked, and Edér couldn't -- wouldn't -- let whatever this was push him to hurt her. He saw Kit hurrying forward, and he saw, flashing in and out of his awareness, rows of massive trees that were nothing like the ones on Kazuwari, dwellings strung high between them. He couldn't make sense of it. "Don't... don't get close, don't--"
Kit didn't listen, of course, but nothing surged to overtake Edér's mind and movements as she ran up to him. His awareness retreated into a hollow, frightened corner of his mind, and when it flooded out again, slamming him back into his own head and his own body, nothing had really changed, except that he was collapsed into a heap on the ground, and Kit was holding him up with Konstanten's help.
"Hey," Kit said, calm and shaky like a tide of rage lurked just beneath the surface, "look at me." Edér lifted his head and blinked, trying to focus on her face hovering close, and he must have succeeded, because Kit let loose a tense breath. "Okay. It's gone. It's-- you're fine." Her words were belied by how tightly she clutched at him, by the shaking of her fingers, by the sick color of her face.
"What's your name?" Konstanten asked anyway, like it was a question he'd asked many a time before. Edér let go of Kit and steadied himself against the ground and made no move to get to his feet, and Konstanten's hand remained on his shoulder.
Edér waved him away halfheartedly. "I know my name," he said. "I'm alright." He took a moment to breathe in and out, making sure that he felt like himself, that nothing intrusive in his mind strained towards Kit. But the throbbing vertigo was only a memory now, and he felt no different, except for a lingering disorientation. "What was that?"
For a moment, it was like Kit couldn't speak at all, but she braced herself and physically swallowed, like that tide was about to come spilling out. "Nothing dangerous," she said, and she couldn't hide the way her voice shook. "It was... I don't know, a... calling card?" Her face grew dark, a ripple of anger that Edér felt shudder through him too. It stirred phantom emotions like a limb he hadn't been aware of until now, making his insides curl with alien temper and his nose fill with the scent of burning candles. "A bit of... memory, that would only wake up near me. So that I could recognize it."
Edér's tried to connect the pieces into a whole that lay just beyond reach, but he was too rattled to catch up. All he said, slow and shaken, was, "I ran into someone. I, uh, I think she knew you."
A look passed between Kit and Konstanten, one that Edér was equally slow to follow. "I didn't think she'd be here now," Kit said, anger and panic and resignation flowing out of her like the waterfalls nearby, a breath or two away from drowning Edér in the deluge.
"Not too late to withdraw," Konstanten said, with the air of someone who knew his advice would go unheeded.
Before Edér could follow the slowly building realization to its inevitable crest, they were interrupted by an arena warden, who wandered over and asked, "Everything okay?" with no small amount of suspicion.
Kit turned on the warden, her eyes flashing. "Go away," she snapped, her voice resonating with compulsion and power, and the warden simply had no choice but to wander back the way he'd come.
It wasn't like her, and Edér stared. So did Konstanten. And at last, Edér's spinning head settled enough to think, as if his surprise knocked his thoughts back into order. His eyes landed on the pendant that hung from Kit's neck, on the adra encased in a circular copper apparatus, on the glow pulled out of it by the sheer force of Kit's roiling emotions. "Your mentor taught you how to make that, didn't she?"
Kit nodded miserably.
"Well," Edér said, "shit."
Kit stormed out of the barracks in a whirlwind of fury that buffeted against Aloth in waves, as he trailed behind her and offered another hasty apology to a surprised Domenga. With Kit's fury came impressions of something else, like light breaking through in infinitesimal cracks, radiant and burning enough that Aloth felt it mingled with the emotions that weren't his. That was concerning, but it was a pattern that had persisted since they'd sailed to Magran's Teeth, and it wasn't out of control yet. It might very well get to that point, however, if Kit didn't get a handle on the fear that lay beneath the fury.
She'd never actually had a chance to test the modifications she'd made to her pendant, which could -- theoretically -- siphon away whatever excess Kit now carried from the god of light. But hopefully, it wouldn't get to the point where it needed to be tested yet.
Aloth didn't call out or attempt to reason with Kit. He merely stopped next to one of the pools, where they would not be easily heard by passers-by over the cascade of the waterfall.
Even in the depths of her upset, Kit noticed at once. She came to a halt and turned on her heel to face him expectantly, but Aloth could see, could feel, that her mind was elsewhere and hungry for blood. He'd often wondered what it was like, for her to walk around and feel so much around her that wasn't hers, in every waking hour and sometimes in her sleep. But every time he experienced a fraction of it, when Kit's control slipped like this, it made him grateful that he'd chosen an arcane path. That his Awakening hadn't also opened his eyes to a deeper sense of the world.
But it wasn't often that he felt it from her like this.
"Kit," Aloth said, calm and patient, "you need to breathe."
"I am breathing," Kit said, mulish, fists clenched so tightly at her sides that she was no doubt leaving marks in her skin.
"You're panicking," Aloth said, and he was ready for her denial, carrying on as she opened her mouth to retort. He understood, he really did. As much as he could, at least. It was why he'd offered to help her search for information here, even when she'd been cagey about it, even when he thought it was a matter best left alone. "I would be too, in your situation. But you need to slow down and think. If she wanted Edér dead, he would be already. I would be already."
"She's toying with me," Kit said, but her face grew a shade more sickly at Aloth's words, as if voicing them aloud gave shape to a potential reality that she had not wanted to think about.
Aloth took a steadying breath, and it was difficult to remember that the mounting anxiety in his chest wasn't his. It was bleeding out of Kit like an open wound, like all of her fine control had evaporated, and Aloth didn't wish to see Humaire caught in the initial blast of Kit's reactionary fear. "I have no doubt that she is," he agreed. "But I don't believe she intends to harm us. I admit, I only met her briefly, but I was under the impression that there were certain lines that she didn't wish to cross. Now, whether that is because she fears what you can do, or because she wants to salvage what she can of your relationship, I don't know. But it is something you can use."
Another presence cut through the foreign sense of anxiety, bringing a sense of pressure relieved, holding fear at bay in a way that Aloth himself had never been able to. "Aye, lass," Iselmyr said, the words of another uncommonly gentle as they left Aloth's mouth. "Listen tae 'im."
Kit sucked in a trembling breath, and when her knees buckled, Aloth and Iselmyr both reached out. But Kit only leaned against the railing around the pool and sank down, and Aloth crouched beside her. There weren't many others present in the arena's lower level, and no one seemed to notice them at all. Aloth wondered if it was a purposeful concealment on Kit's part, which meant a slightly better state of mind, if she was thinking that clearly.
"You're right," Kit said, rubbing hard at the space between her eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm just..."
"... Reacting like a perfectly normal person," Aloth finished. It was usually Kit in his position, talking him through doubts and worries, and he didn't mind the change. He felt less and less of the intrusive fear and fury squeezing at his chest like an invading hand, which meant that Kit was regaining some level of control. It didn't mean that she was feeling better, but it was a start. "And that is heartening. I'm glad to see that you still are a normal person, even after everything. You have me wondering, sometimes."
Kit exhaled hard, and it was almost a laugh. But it faded fast, and she scowled down at the ground for a long while. Aloth remained silent, waiting, listening to the crash of water and the hum of voices. Even Iselmyr didn't thrum with her typical impatience, only sank back into slumber when it was clear that Kit was growing calmer and calmer
"I don't think Humaire knows," Kit said finally, her voice quiet and a little steadier. "She wasn't lying."
Aloth allowed himself to relax as well. There was the Kit he knew. "I had the same thought."
"But I still need to talk to her," Kit continued, some of her usual pragmatism settling back into her, "and figure out what... what my mentor did and why. She's a contender, but she's hiding her trail? Why?"
For that, Aloth had no answers or guesses, but he offered her a hand, and Kit's fingers shook ever so slightly as she took it. Her grip, however, was tight and warm and grateful, as he pulled her to her feet. "We can start," Aloth said, "by asking."
"I've never seen the Watcher so angry," Xoti said. Her fingers, wreathed in gold light, were pressed against Edér's temples, but still, he felt no different. Xoti didn't appear to find anything of concern, either, because it was only a few moments before the light faded. She placed her hands on her hips. "Hel, I've never felt it like that. I was fixing to kill someone myself, for a second."
Even though Kit said that there was nothing dangerous about whatever her mentor had done to Edér, she'd still insisted that Xoti check on him. She had also ordered them to stay together, tucked away in their dim little room in the barracks, and then she'd marched right back to Humaire, this time with Aloth in tow. The caretaker had apparently claimed no knowledge, when Kit had gone asking after any news or sight of her mentor, and Edér didn't think she'd kill Humaire for it, but Kit was looking for something to throw her frustrations at. Aloth would be able to head it off, though.
"She is not prone to such loss of control," Fassina said. She sat on the bed across from Edér's with her grimoire open in her lap, the book all but forgotten as she scrutinized Edér. Konstanten lay sprawled out on the bed behind her, frowning up at the bunk bed above. "This woman you met, what do you know of her?"
"... She's Glanfathan," Edér said carefully. They needed to know the facts, if Kit's mentor was here and a threat, but the rest was for Kit to share if she wanted. "She raised Kit. Taught her." One of Fassina's eyebrows arched, and Edér was in agreement. It didn't bode well, for the kind of power level they were dealing with. "She's a cipher. A scary one. I think she's a contender too, so she's got those friends with her." What had Kit called them? "Resonants."
Fassina's brows drew together. "Hmph," she said. "I am beginning to think we should have brought more than one second." The arena only allowed five contenders to a pack, but Kit had brought Aloth along to serve as a backup, just in case. Considering how unsurprised Aloth had looked when they'd come stumbling back to the pack, Edér got the feeling that Kit had wanted him to come along for a different reason.
"I say we ship off and leave this place behind for good," Konstanten said to the bunk above him.
"Oh, the casità will not go for that," Fassina said confidently, reaching back to pat absently at Konstanten's leg. He sighed his agreement.
"I'll say," Xoti said, flopping down on the bed next to Edér. "But we've faced worse before. Right?" Her voice pitched up with uncertainty.
Edér flexed his fingers, as if to remind himself that they were his to move. "Sure," he said. "Still, wouldn't hurt to send word back to the ship." Kit had left Ydwin in command, and Rekke and Vatnir behind, to provide some measure of protection for Vela and for a certain sword that now held a slumbering piece of a god. Edér had never imagined that he'd want the sword here, but he had to admit, he'd feel better if he knew that Eothas was watching Kit's back.
But Kit had been adamant that she wouldn't bring the sword to any place where Galawain or another god might be made aware of the presence within it. That was reasonable, Edér supposed. They didn't need the Father of Monsters trying to kill them even more than he apparently already was.
All things considered, between Galawain and the island and now Kit's mentor, some more allies on their side wouldn't hurt. Enough that Edér was itching to put out an all-call to those only freshly left, or at least to the Kahanga Palace. But he might have been overreacting now.
It came down to the fact that they just didn't know what Kit's mentor wanted.
When Kit and Aloth returned, Kit looked wobbly on her feet, so much that Fassina jumped up and herded Kit into sitting, and Konstanten only half-jokingly offered to give her a massage, and Xoti flailed about for a minute, determined to be useful. But Kit only shook her head and sat heavily on the bed, with Fassina and Konstanten on either side of her, and Edér and Xoti across, and Aloth leaning against the bed frame.
"Humaire didn't remember... meeting Dherys," Kit said, stumbling over her mentor's name. "Her memories had been... altered. I didn't even think to check before."
"Most people wouldn't," Edér said.
Kit gave him that look that she always did when he elbowed in front of her nonsense, but she sagged a moment later, dropping her head into her hands. "I don't know what she wants," Kit said, which wasn't exactly reassuring. She rubbed at her forehead like a headache was growing. "But Aloth made a good point. I don't think she's out to get us... to get me. I think she wants something from Galawain, and she's angry that I left, and she just saw an opportunity to... to get back at me."
Her voice was low and hard, but Edér heard the tremble in it, and it made him sick. Sick that he'd been used to target her, that it had left Kit so drained and angry and exhausted. His voice was equally hard when he spoke. "We'll be seeing her in the arena, yeah?"
"Leave her to me," Kit said sternly as she dropped her hands. It would be the smart thing to do, but Edér wasn't feeling particularly inclined towards thinking with his head. Kit had suffered enough at her mentor's hands. Let someone else have a go, Edér thought, but another voice cut into his ruminations.
"Forgive me, casità," Fassina said, her voice softer than usual, "but if that is the woman who raised you, I must assume that she has also chosen the Seeking Face. Which means that we will encounter her very soon."
"Probably," Kit sighed, and she drew herself up, fists tightening in her lap, "but we're going to do what we came here to do, and I'll rip answers out of her if I have to."
Xoti's eyes were large and worried. A question hung in the air, unspoken, and Xoti was the one who mustered up the courage to give it a voice. "Are you gonna kill her?"
It wasn't really silent here in the Temple, with the eternal rumble of contender and guest alike. But for a moment, the silence was total and whole, as Kit's face shuttered into something entirely unreadable. "If I have to," she repeated, flat.
Edér didn't doubt that she could. He didn't doubt that she hated her mentor more and more with each passing day. But he knew how much lay unresolved still, and no matter how much he could still feel flashes of that ethereal anger from Kit, it came down to whether she'd be able to bring herself to. Even in the arena, where it was expected, he wasn't so sure.
"Until then," Kit said, in an iron tone that suggested that any further questions would send her tipping over one edge or another, "no one goes anywhere alone. Aloth," she looked up at him, her worry plain, "when we're in the arena, you won't have us around. So stay close, in range."
Aloth nodded, with a calm sort of confidence that he'd picked up somewhere between Defiance Bay and here. "You need not worry about me, Kit. In fact," Aloth's voice took on a suspiciously pleasant and neutral tone, "your mentor and her friends are clearly not staying in the barracks, so I thought we could look into warding the area, provided that Domenga has no objections. Fassina, Xoti, if you will?"
Xoti hopped to her feet much too fast. "Right you are!" she said, artificially bright.
"Good thinking as always, aimico," Fassina said, only a little more smoothly, and she grasped Konstanten's shirt with one hand and hauled him up.
Konstanten spluttered but offered no resistance. "What?! What do you need me for?"
"I like your company, postenago," Fassina said, clearly exhausted at having to explain such simple facts, and she tugged him out of the room. Xoti followed, grinning widely, and Aloth was the last to step out, shooting a small but sincere smile in Kit's direction.
Edér watched them go and shook his head, long and slow and unimpressed. "Good thing we're not an acting troupe."
Kit got to her feet. "Oh, we could probably find work in Dunnage," she said, and Edér smiled. Kit came to a stop in front of him and cupped either side of his face in her hands. She tilted his head up and fixed him with her sternest look, punctuating every few words deliberately. "Do not. Confront her. In the arena."
Edér sighed. It had a theatrical flair that definitely would have gotten him a job in Dunnage. "You never let me have any fun."
"I mean it," Kit said. No longer did her emotions pour off of her in waves that anyone around her could feel, but Edér knew what lurked beneath the words. He felt it in the tightening of her fingers.
"Alright," Edér said, serious this time. He tried not to let his voice crack around the knowledge of what she feared. That someone who raised her, who should have loved her, would hurt someone she loved. "I won't. Just go ahead and point me at whoever I need to take down. There was, uh," he made a great show of thinking about it, another thing that would have landed him a role over in the Radiant Court, "some aumaua guy. Red, gave me stink eye. Nature godlike lady, taller than me, and that's saying something. And some folk too. One of 'em, I might've thought she was a pale elf if the ears had been right. The other one had dark skin, long hair."
Kit frowned as she considered it. She let go of Edér's face, and he immediately missed the warmth of her hands, but she took a seat next him and leaned against his shoulder, and that was just as good. "The godlike is Ascdala," she said. "She's a cipher too. Ezka is the aumaua. He's a druid. I'm not sure if I know the other two. But..." Kit's voice trailed away, her brows furrowing so much that it was a wonder she didn't give herself a headache with all of that thinking, "when we're in the arena... let me handle things first, okay? I think I know how it's going to go down. And if it doesn't... go for Ezka until I handle Dherys and Ascdala both. Then Ascdala is all yours."
Edér mulled over the words. They'd have to go over a plan in more detail with the others, if things didn't work out like Kit thought they might, but she clearly had a hunch about something. "You think she's not gonna want to fight you?"
"Not to the death," Kit said, more certain than he would have expected. "She's not here to earn Galawain's favor, I can tell you that. She's up to something. And... it's something Aloth said. I think he's right." She grimaced, then, and looked up at Edér, apology written across her face. "He only knew why I wanted to come here because... he guessed, before we even made port. He met her once, not too long before all of this."
Edér arched his eyebrows. "And he came out intact? Remind me to buy him a drink."
Kit's flash of humor was dark and fleeting. "I wasn't going to tell anyone what I was looking for," she said, her face falling, "because I thought she'd be long gone, if she came here at all. I didn't... I didn't want to commit to anything, I just... I wanted a trail to follow. And talking about it..." she took a deep breath, her voice turning wry for a moment, "would have made it real." She leaned more of her weight into his shoulder and looked away. "But I should have told you -- all of you -- from the beginning."
"You don't owe me that," Edér said. He knew what Kit had grown up with. He figured she was entitled to as many secrets as she wanted. "Long as it doesn't affect us, and you didn't know that it would." He fell silent for a moment, waiting, but Kit didn't argue. She really must have been tired. "Think we should send word back to the others?"
"I'll see about getting a message out," Kit said, and he saw more than felt her sudden spike of anxiety. "But I wanted Ydwin there for a reason. The Fulcrum's as safe as it can be from this shit island. And we're..." she faltered, momentary and uncertain, "we're safe. I think."
Speculating on that wasn't good enough, Edér didn't say. The fact that Kit was worried at all, that even now she looked at him and at the rest of them with barely concealed distress... he wouldn't go after Dherys, as much as he wanted to. Kit was right, even if Edér wasn't very happy to admit it to himself. Her mentor could probably kick his ass without breaking a sweat. But Kit shouldn't have had to be afraid of that at all. She shouldn't have had to fear someone who should have cared for her.
Edér took her hand and squeezed it tight, and when Kit squeezed back, her grip was surprisingly steady.