I smiled, and wondered if it looked as forced as it felt. “A brief if irrational emotional outburst won’t stop me doing my job, Trey.”
“It’s hardly irrational.” He picked up the Irkallan’s head and swung into step beside me as I walked across to the speeder. “In fact, it’s a rather nice confirmation that you are capable of such depth. I was beginning to wonder if the Nightwatch training had beaten it all out of you.”
“If anything was capable of doing that, it wouldn’t be our training, but rather the fact of being born stained.” My voice once again held an edge of… maybe not bitterness, but certainly resentment. “I hope your daughter appreciates the gift you gave her, Trey, because she wouldn’t be the woman she is now if she’d been raised with the restrictions that come from being stained in Winterborne.”
“And yet you appear to have risen above them.”
“Because I was lucky enough to have Sifft blood, and was raised to become Nightwatch.” I met his gaze squarely. “Those born both unlit and stained may no longer be killed at birth, but we remain an underclass who have few opportunities and little say in what becomes of us. That needs to change, Trey. If the stained are declared unlit because we’re immune to magic, why couldn’t the same be true of the many who are unstained and unlit? Winterborne could in the future find itself under attack from within, from the very class of people they depend on for daily survival.”
“All that is true,” he said. “But such a change will never happen with any great speed. Remember, I was ostracized for my choice.”
“Yes, but any change made for the better always starts with one small step. Perhaps, in this case, it should be the recognition—and protection—of those stained who possess magic.”
“Such a ruling would have to come from the Forum—the very people who rely on those whose station you’re trying to raise.”
“I’m hardly trying to raise their station,” I snapped back. “All I’m suggesting is that we be given a voice—a choice—in what happens to us.”
“Even that will not be so easily achieved.”
I jumped into the speeder and reclaimed the driver seat. “It will never be achieved if it isn’t even considered.”
“Right now, we have greater concerns than the fate of the stained and unlit in Winterborne.” Trey climbed in behind me and shut the door. “Which isn’t to say that I don’t agree with you. But I’m hardly likely to be a harbinger of reform. I gave up my right to speak at the Forum. I’m Blacklake’s prime, a position that has no standing in there.”
I punched in Winterborne’s coordinates and then hit the accelerator. “Yet you’re the one Kiro called when he needed help with this investigation. And I certainly didn’t see much antagonism aimed your way during the masque.”
“You’re well aware of the reason Kiro called on me. And the house of Stone is one of the most powerful in the Upper Reaches—even a son who’s been ostracized is given a certain amount of respect. But that respect doesn’t mean they’ll listen when it comes to changing centuries of tradition.”
I sighed. I knew the sense of what he was saying. Knew change probably wouldn’t happen in my lifetime, if ever, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating—and it certainly didn’t make tradition any less wrong.
But perhaps what was even more frustrating was the fact that it was only when I’d been taken out of that environment and shown a completely different way of life that I’d seen my life in a different light. Life as a Nightwatch was pretty damn good as far as things went for the unlit and the stained, but there were still many restrictions on what I could do and where I could go. My life wasn’t my own. I would always be ruled by the color of my skin and by what I’d been deemed to be when I was born, even if the title of unlit no longer applied.
I might have chaffed under some of the restrictions of my life beforehand, but it had never really held much sway in my thoughts. Now though… now I had to wonder just how easy it would be to step back into the shadows of my old life. To keep going as if nothing had ever changed—as if I hadn’t changed. But I guess the reality was, there was no other choice, and certainly nothing else I could do. No matter how strong my magic might prove to be, few would consider me partner material because of the staining and all the connotations that came with it—even if many of them were now untrue. And I certainly didn’t want to become a breeder in some Upper Reaches household.
Which, when I thought about it, was little better than what the Irkallan were apparently doing.
And if Trey heard that particular thought, he didn’t say anything. No surprise there.
As we got closer to Winterborne, I pressed the earwig and said, “Nightwatch eight-three inbound from Blacklake, approaching Winterborne with Commander Stone on board.”
“Got you, eight-three. Be careful coming in—we’ve repaired the gates but haven’t yet cleared all the debris.”
“Will do, Control.” I broke contact then glanced around at Trey. “Are we heading straight back to the Upper Reaches?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Because I’d like to go visit April and see for myself how he is.”
He hesitated. “Will ten minutes do? Kiro wants us back at five to allow for situational updates and time is already tight.”
“Ten is fine.”
“Good. I’ll use that time to check for dead spots immediately outside the walls.”
“Surely the Winterborne earth witches would have noticed the lack of life in the soil if the Irkallan had gotten that close? Wouldn’t the fact that the earth’s voices had become muted or reluctant given them a warning that something was off?”
“It took those of us in the outposts years to notice, and we live in Tenterra. Most of the witches within Winterborne concentrate their efforts on either ensuring defenses remain pristine, or keeping a close watch on farm practices and the soil within Gallion so it might continue to sustain us in coming years.”
“Ten minutes isn’t going to give you much time to check, then. The wall is two miles long.”
“I don’t need to inspect its entire length to find the lifeless patches. The earth will tell me if they exist.”
“One of the benefits of being trained, I guess.”
“Yes.”
I returned my attention to driving, but I could feel his gaze on me. Could feel the uncertainty in him—about what I had no idea. And if the growing silence was any indication, it once again appeared he wasn’t about to enlighten me.
I contacted base again once we were close enough to see the wall, which meant the gate was open by the time we arrived. I eased the speeder onto the lift that would take it to the underground garage, and then shut everything down. Trey opened the door and climbed out, the rewrapped Irkallan head gripped in one hand.
“Captain November,” he said, as he climbed out. “Could you please order the gate to remain open—I need to inspect the ground beyond the walls.”
Mak immediately relayed the information to the gate staff, and then said, “Anything we should be concerned about?”
“That’s something I won’t know until I do the inspection.”
Mak grunted and glanced at me. His gaze, as ever, held a slight hint of disapproval. “Your secondment to the commander’s division has been approved, March. Your personal items have been placed in storage, and your bunk reassigned until either your return or you request them sent elsewhere.”
I frowned. “I hardly think that was necessary, Captain, given the secondment is only temporary.”
“It’s procedure, March.” Mak glanced at Trey. “Lord Kiro has requested you join him as soon as possible.”
“Inform him we’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Trey glanced at me. “Meet me at the internal gates in ten.”
I nodded and, as he walked away, glanced back at the captain. “Do you know what ward Nightwatch April is in?”