He smiled. “Of course.”
One of her eyebrows rose. “You know, I didn’t fail to notice what you did back there, in the mine.”
He blinked at the sudden change of subject. “What?”
“You handed them over to me. You made me their leader when they would have followed you.”
He looked at his feet. “I suppose I did.”
“You’re not comfortable with the prospect of leading them,” she observed.
He nodded. He couldn’t tell her that it was because he needed the rebels to fail, and they would with her in charge because some, stupidly, wouldn’t obey the orders of a woman. He certainly couldn’t explain that being the leader wouldn’t work when he was already a spy.
I wish it wasn’t her, though. I have to hope the rebels are wrong that the allies targeted Ceilon and Ayan. Or that some fool will decide the rebellion will do better with a man in charge.
“You could, you know,” she told him. “And not just because they’d follow. You’re smarter than most of them.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want to.”
“No. You feel responsible for the deaths, don’t you? You were absent when you could have helped. I feel that too.” She sighed. “We both know we aren’t to blame, but I am better able to trust the knowing more than the feeling. I remember how you blamed yourself for the collapse of the tower in your world. You couldn’t have prevented that, or this.” She smiled, but it quickly faded. “We’ve known each other for over five cycles, Tyen. We’ve been closer than friends, but you understand me better than most of my friends and lovers. It’s almost unflattering how readily you accepted my warning that I would remain celibate while with the rebels.” She smiled, then tilted her head to the side. “I suspect… I suspect I remind you of someone–though you’ve never mistaken me for her.”
He blinked in surprise. She’s right. He’d never mentioned Sezee to her but he’d often seen similarities between the two women.
Then he felt a chill. Beneath Yira’s practical manner was a perceptiveness that he ought to fear. Of all the rebels, she is the one most likely to work out I’m a spy. It disturbed him that he had a reason to fear her now.
“But, Tyen,” she said, her tone suddenly hard, “if I am going to be leader and you my adviser then I have to trust you completely. There’s one thing that is preventing me.”
His stomach clenched, and all his muscles went rigid. Had something made her suspect him? He made himself look up and hold her gaze. When she didn’t speak, his guts began to hurt, as if a noose had been looped around his middle and was being slowly tightened.
Then he realised she was waiting for him to speak–perhaps so she could listen for clues of treachery in his voice.
“What is that?” he asked, his voice weaker than he hoped.
She looked at his chest. “I must know what it is that you conceal.”
Relief flooded through him. He looked down at his shirt. “The book?”
“No ordinary book. I want to see it.”
“And if I refuse to show you?”
Her expression did not soften. “Then your place isn’t among the rebels.”
He studied her carefully, not doubting she was serious. Ceilon and Ayan kept me out of meetings because they couldn’t read my mind, never considering that I could be reading theirs. Yira is smarter. Yet she understands the value in not learning more secrets than necessary. She won’t ask to read my mind, but she must test me somehow and the book is something she knows I value.
Except that if she questioned Vella about him, she would learn of his deal with the Raen. Vella could not refuse to answer, or lie.
And yet… there might be ways around this.
“You’re not asking me to let you read my mind,” he observed.
She nodded. “No.”
“This will be akin to it.”
Her eyebrows rose. “How so?”
“The book absorbs all the knowledge of those who touch it.”
Yira’s eyes widened. “So when I touched it, back at Liftre…?”
“From what I recall, you lifted the satchel from around my neck by the strap. You never touched it.”
“I see. So if I touch it now, it will know everything I know.”
“Yes. She will.”
Her eyebrows rose again. “She?”
“Her name is Vella. She was a sorcerer who was transformed into a book over a thousand cycles ago.”
She drew in a quick breath. “How?”
“I don’t know exactly,” he admitted. “The little I know is rather gruesome and it seems a bit rude to press for details.”
She let out a quick bark of a laugh. “That is so typical of you, Tyen.” She sighed and looked at his chest again. “So how does all that knowledge fit on so few pages?”
“Words appear when she speaks to you.”
“And do you write your questions?”
“No. You only have to speak to her in your mind.”
“Can you hold her while I ask questions?”