how small and quiet things had been in the forest villages, but the point was driven home quite forcefully for him now.
They reached Flim's office, and she closed the heavy door, palm pressed to the wood, her back to him for a moment. Squaring her shoulders, she turned to face him, her expression cautious.
"Why am I here?" he asked, deciding to get straight to the heart of the matter.
Flashing a wry smile, she moved behind her ponderous desk—the same one Meara had used, Kila noted—and gestured that he should take a seat.
"Your leaving wasn't my choice, you know," she said, studying him with care.
"I deduced as much," he said in a mild tone.
Sighing, she ran a hand over her tightly coiled ebony hair. Six years his senior, she was still a young woman, but the strain of the years had left visible marks upon her. Furrows marred her brow, and fine lines radiated out from her eyes and mouth.
"I'm taking a risk here," she said. Picking up a quill, she twirled it between her fingers. She was jittery with nerves, and Kila was taken aback. Flim had been good at concealing her feelings in the past. It was what had kept her in a place of prominence in Enforcement, and probably what had enabled her to become chief. Most everything was a game in Cearova, and she excelled at playing. "And yet I'll be blunt: I need allies. I need people in my corner that I know I can trust."
Leaning forward, Kila met her eyes. "The Houses?"
Dropping the quill, she twisted her mouth in disgust. "Hasn't it always boiled down to them in the end?"
She'd never shown any particular loyalty to them in the past, but she had been good at appeasing them. He hadn't thought her a sycophant like the former chief, but he was surprised to realize he had thought her a sympathizer, at the very least.
Something about his expression must have given him away, because she graced him with a cynical smile. "Surprised you, did I, old partner?"
"Yes, you did," he said, seeing no reason to dissemble.
Flim exhaled in a huff and leaned back against her chair. "The problem with you was you never knew when to keep your mouth shut."
He opened it to protest, realized what he was doing, and snapped it shut again, making her smile and shake her head.
"See what I mean?" she asked. "That mouth got you into trouble the last time around, and it will again if you're not careful. Difference is, this time I'll also take the heat for it."
"So why did you risk bringing me back?" he asked, perplexed.
"As I said, I need people in my corner, and I'm sure it comes as no surprise to you that I'm hard-pressed to find them here."
With a rather rueful shake of her head, she paused. Lifting her lips in a grim smile, she said, "Damn, but this all makes me sound mercenary. By Vyram's flame, I swear I never once forgot you all those years, Kila. I would have saved you if I could have."
"You don't owe me an explanation," he said, unable to stop himself from biting off the words. He hadn't blamed her, not really, but it had stung that she hadn't stood up for him. True, they hadn't been partners for long, but they had been partners.
"I think I do," she said. "I'm not proud of it, Kila, the way I let the bodies pile up. But the fact of the matter is that I knew Cearova needed someone looking out for the city as a whole, rather than just looking out for the Houses. I've lived here all my life. Cearova is my home."
"I remember."
"Then hopefully you understand why I had to do what I did. I had to keep playing the game to ensure the safety of the city's unconnected citizens. Trust me, it was bitter medicine to swallow. And if you think I've had it easy these past nine years, you're mistaken. I'm exhausted." Her face collapsed as she spoke, and she looked every bit as exhausted as she claimed she was.
"I do understand."
He did, as much as he could. He had never had much of a home, moving from place to place with his parents as a child, and then with the upheaval that had resulted as a
They reached Flim's office, and she closed the heavy door, palm pressed to the wood, her back to him for a moment. Squaring her shoulders, she turned to face him, her expression cautious.
"Why am I here?" he asked, deciding to get straight to the heart of the matter.
Flashing a wry smile, she moved behind her ponderous desk—the same one Meara had used, Kila noted—and gestured that he should take a seat.
"Your leaving wasn't my choice, you know," she said, studying him with care.
"I deduced as much," he said in a mild tone.
Sighing, she ran a hand over her tightly coiled ebony hair. Six years his senior, she was still a young woman, but the strain of the years had left visible marks upon her. Furrows marred her brow, and fine lines radiated out from her eyes and mouth.
"I'm taking a risk here," she said. Picking up a quill, she twirled it between her fingers. She was jittery with nerves, and Kila was taken aback. Flim had been good at concealing her feelings in the past. It was what had kept her in a place of prominence in Enforcement, and probably what had enabled her to become chief. Most everything was a game in Cearova, and she excelled at playing. "And yet I'll be blunt: I need allies. I need people in my corner that I know I can trust."
Leaning forward, Kila met her eyes. "The Houses?"
Dropping the quill, she twisted her mouth in disgust. "Hasn't it always boiled down to them in the end?"
She'd never shown any particular loyalty to them in the past, but she had been good at appeasing them. He hadn't thought her a sycophant like the former chief, but he was surprised to realize he had thought her a sympathizer, at the very least.
Something about his expression must have given him away, because she graced him with a cynical smile. "Surprised you, did I, old partner?"
"Yes, you did," he said, seeing no reason to dissemble.
Flim exhaled in a huff and leaned back against her chair. "The problem with you was you never knew when to keep your mouth shut."
He opened it to protest, realized what he was doing, and snapped it shut again, making her smile and shake her head.
"See what I mean?" she asked. "That mouth got you into trouble the last time around, and it will again if you're not careful. Difference is, this time I'll also take the heat for it."
"So why did you risk bringing me back?" he asked, perplexed.
"As I said, I need people in my corner, and I'm sure it comes as no surprise to you that I'm hard-pressed to find them here."
With a rather rueful shake of her head, she paused. Lifting her lips in a grim smile, she said, "Damn, but this all makes me sound mercenary. By Vyram's flame, I swear I never once forgot you all those years, Kila. I would have saved you if I could have."
"You don't owe me an explanation," he said, unable to stop himself from biting off the words. He hadn't blamed her, not really, but it had stung that she hadn't stood up for him. True, they hadn't been partners for long, but they had been partners.
"I think I do," she said. "I'm not proud of it, Kila, the way I let the bodies pile up. But the fact of the matter is that I knew Cearova needed someone looking out for the city as a whole, rather than just looking out for the Houses. I've lived here all my life. Cearova is my home."
"I remember."
"Then hopefully you understand why I had to do what I did. I had to keep playing the game to ensure the safety of the city's unconnected citizens. Trust me, it was bitter medicine to swallow. And if you think I've had it easy these past nine years, you're mistaken. I'm exhausted." Her face collapsed as she spoke, and she looked every bit as exhausted as she claimed she was.
"I do understand."
He did, as much as he could. He had never had much of a home, moving from place to place with his parents as a child, and then with the upheaval that had resulted as a
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