Treysind blinked away tears. "I's gonna say a cons'ience. I knows ya gots a soul. Ever'one's gots a soul."
"I don't," Calistin said. "The gods say I don't. And if I don't have a soul, how can I be expected to think of anyone but myself?"
Treysind stared. The tears he had been fighting to keep back jarred loose, rolling down his cheeks. " 'Cause doin' what's nice and what's right don't gots nothin' ta do wit' havin' a soul. It's choosin' ta be a good person. An' havin' a cons'ience. That ain't something ya's borned wit' or the gods gived ta ya. Tha's somethin' ya decides ta have fo' yaself."
That put the onus back on Calistin, and he did not like it. "But I wasn't raised to-"
"I wasn't raised atall," Treysind interrupted. "But I still knows it ain't good ta hurt people what ain't hurtin' ya."
Calistin sighed. He found all the talk about morality irritating, and he always vented his strongest emotions on battlegrounds and practice fields. He had skimmed into a deep part of his psyche he had never tapped before, and it seemed dark, terrifying, and completely unnecessary. "Treysind, you can't catch a rabbit with a sword. Believe me, I've tried. I haven't got any money either. So, if you leave, I'll have no choice but to kill other travelers for their food."
Treysind wiped away his tears swiftly, and none followed. "So's, if I stays wit' ya, ya ain't gonna kill no ones?"
Calistin could not promise that. "Treysind, I'm challenging these warriors for a reason. I'm preparing to face my mother's killer. When I find him, I'll have practiced in real battles with many different ganim and will have built a reputation."
"Does that repoo… repyute…" Treysind started again. "Does ya gots ta be knowed fo' bein' a rut'less killer?"
"It helps."
"Rilly?"
"Yes."
Treysind sighed and tried again. "Can't ya be a rut'less killer a… a rut'less killers insteada nice folks?"
"That," Calistin had to admit, "would be even better. But-"
"Ya'd git knowed fo' bein' a killer, but pee'ple could still like yas. Ya could be ever'one's hero."
Once again, Calistin forced himself not to laugh at an idea that Treysind clearly found important. "It's not that simple, Treysind. The best fighters in town aren't always going to be demons. Even if they are, finding them would take time I don't have."
Treysind finally smiled. "Tha bestest villains often is tha bestest fighters 'cause no one kin catch 'em ta punish 'em wit'out gettin' kilt. If I kin finds 'em for ya, will ya practice on 'ems 'stead a guards an' good men?"
It seemed the perfect compromise, though Calistin worried that he might tie himself to something irritatingly hampering. "So long as you can locate these men quickly, and they give me at least a good challenge."
"I kin," Treysind promised.
"And, when I'm fighting, you stay out of it. Completely.You can't be diving in to 'protect' me."
Treysind's lip quivered, and he stood in silence several moments before finally forcing out, "All righ'."
"Then I will," Calistin agreed. "And now, will you please handle the meal?"
Treysind rushed to his pack for his bow.
CHAPTER 32
Success never happens by luck; it is a matter of careful planning that, sometimes, closely resembles happenstance.
Matrinka reposed on the tall, canopied bed in the center of her bedroom, the curtains drawn back to reveal the bureaus, wardrobes, and the shelves that lined her room. Back propped against the headboard and knees drawn up to support the large, silver tabby in her lap, she petted Imorelda with the wistfulness that seemed to assail her whenever she found herself alone with her thoughts.
Three weeks had passed since Rantire had smashed Tae's nose. Gradually, the blue-black bruises had faded from around his eyes; and a bump had formed in the center where the bones knitted together without her ministrations. He looked more gaunt and haggard at every meeting, and he imparted less and less useful information. Meanwhile, the pirate attacks grew more frequent, more deadly, and the news coming from the front more harsh and horrible. She guessed it was worse even than she knew; Griff tended to protect her from the worst of it.
"I'm worried about him," Matrinka told the cat as she ran her hands over fur slick from her repetitive stroking. Few hairs came free, most already swirling through the air of her room. "Your master is courageous, but he's also a fool."
Imorelda purred heartily. Matrinka suspected she agreed. The queen could almost hear the cat's response in her head, as she had heard Mior for so many years. It seemed petty and self-indulgent to pine over an animal when so many humans were dying for her kingdom. Yet Mior had been so much more than just a cat: a confi dante, a physician, a sister, and her closest friend. "I hope he knows how lucky he is to have you." Matrinka smiled as she spoke. She knew how precious their bond was and took pleasure in the realization that Tae had such an extraordinary relationship that no one but Matrinka knew about or understood. "You're a beautiful cat and a special friend."
Imorelda rolled over, still purring.
Matrinka rubbed her belly with appropriate gentleness. Few cats enjoyed the enthusiastic scratches that dogs preferred in this area. As she worked over the cat's favorite places, she studied her room. Once, the shelves had held an assortment of wooden and ceramic knickknacks, most of which closely resembled Mior. Now, they lay empty. The myriad cats that filled the castle had shattered enough for Matrinka to pack the rest away. *Can anyone hear me?* Matrinka sent her plaintive call into the emptiness. She used to test every newborn kitten, every cat she passed; but months had gone by without even a single attempt.*If you can, please answer, even if only to say you don't wish to talk.* *I can hear you.* The response touched Matrinka so faintly, she thought she had imagined it.
Matrinka froze, her hands stilling on the cat.
Imorelda caught Matrinka's hand, clawing lightly. *Did… did someone… answer?* Matrinka held her breath, scarcely daring to believe. Failing the Pica test had driven her cousins and siblings mad, those not slaughtered by elves before the truce. She, too, had failed. Perhaps she had finally succumbed to insanity as well. *I answered.* The voice came to Matrinka's head, louder now, more sure.
Matrinka's heart pounded. Still afraid to trust what she had heard, she hesitated before asking,*Where are you?* *I'm right here.* Imorelda grabbed Matrinka's stilled hands.*Right here in your lap.*
Matrinka looked down to find Imorelda staring at her through intent green eyes.*You, Imorelda?* *Yes.*
It should not have wholly surprised Matrinka. Mior had eventually managed to communicate with Tae as well as her. Yet she and Imorelda had never managed to directly converse before.*How?*
Imorelda righted herself and shook out the remaining dislodged hairs.*I don't know. I was listening to you talk about how stupid my stupid master is and agreeing with every word. Then, I realized I could coordinate your words with your thoughts. Finally, I found your voice. It's different than Tae's, like on a different… pitch. Like how meows vary in deepness from cat to cat.*
Matrinka suspected it translated better as the range of human voices, but she veered from the technical. It did not matter.*So…* She scarcely dared to hope.*Can we talk now? Or is it a temporary thing?* *I've locked on your pitch,* Imorelda reassured.*We should be able to talk same as me and Tae.*
Matrinka sat up and released a whoop of joy.
Imorelda rolled out of her lap onto the bedspread with an angry hiss.*Unless you insist on throwing me. Then, I just won't talk to you at all.*
Matrinka gathered the cat and hugged her.*I'm sorry, Imorelda. I'm just so happy.* It did not matter that she and Tae lived so far away. At least, when he visited, she would have the opportunity she had awaited for so long. *Me, too.* Imorelda began to purr again.*Now I can tell you all the best places to pet.*