But it was nothing like she had imagined. Instead of a flood of joy, relief, release, she felt only an awful weariness, a sour negation of possibilities. Now she knew beyond doubt that he wanted her, she came up against all the barriers that she had carefully constructed in her heart over the years, shoring them up each time she had been wounded. She found that she had built them so well that they would not come down easily.
'Tsata, I am sorry,' she said. 'You deserve a better response than this.'
He looked down at his hands again. She straightened, brushed her hair back behind her ear and turned to him, taking one hand and clasping it in both of hers. She tried to find words that would not be mawkish or hurtful, but she had never been good at expressing herself in this way.
'I want you also, Tsata,' she said. 'I do. That is small comfort to you now, I think, but I want you to know it. Do not doubt that, whatever else.' She was lost again for a moment, before beginning on a new tack. 'Since the beginning, everything I thought good and stable has collapsed. My family, my friends, my… relationships. The Sisterhood has failed me, too. Perhaps even the Libera Dramach cannot be trusted now; I cannot let myself be sure.' She gripped his hand harder, willing him to understand. 'I was beginning to feel love for Tane when he was taken from me; I was betrayed by Saran – by Asara – just as I had allowed myself to believe that there could be something between us. There were men in between, whom I did not love so fiercely, but they, too, ended in betrayal or disappointment.'
He had raised his head now, and was looking at her.
'Each time I let something or someone close to my heart I am left with a new scar,' she said, a pleading note in her tone, seeking to make him forgive her. 'I want to be alone, to need nobody; and yet I see Asara, and what that has made of her, and I know that is no way to go either. But I cannot bear another wound, Tsata. I cannot bear to let myself love you, and then have you killed in the conflict to come, or to return to your homeland and leave me, or to find another woman. Your people do not believe in exclusive pair-bonding.'
'No,' he murmured. 'But you do. And for me, that would be enough.'
She frowned. 'What do you mean by that?'
'It is hardly unheard of,' Tsata said. 'My people have lived near Saramyr settlements for a thousand years. Tkiurathi have paired monogamously with Saramyr before. Some have even married. It is a matter of personal choice, of redefining the pash.'
'And you would do that for me?'
'I would,' he said. He stared out across the lake. 'I had been… unsure for a long time. I would have spoken of these feelings then, even when I did not know if I wished to do anything about them. But that is our way, and it is not yours. I knew it would cause you confusion and in all probability would have driven you away, so I stayed silent. I did not know if we could ever be together; I thought our cultures too fundamentally different. But then, in the forest, when I saw you defend us against the soldier, when you refused to leave Peithre fallen…' he trailed away, and then turned and looked back at her. 'That was when I knew.'
And now she felt it, like a physical pressure spreading outward from her chest, a warm swell that filled her. It struck her so suddenly that she had to exhale, a short huff of air that turned into an involuntary smile. But it lasted only a moment, for she forced it down again, knowing what it meant, knowing what it would lead to.
But do I have a choice? she thought. If I turn this man away, this man whom I know I can trust more than anyone not to deceive me, how will the rest of my life be?
She bit the inside of her lip gently and closed her eyes. Could she live that way, ever guarded, secure and numb? Or was that the beginning of a downward slope from which there was no return? If she came through this war she faced a long, long span of years. Not even the Sisters knew how long. Maybe forever.
And if you let this man into your heart, could you stand to watch him age when you do not?
She would not face that question now. It had occurred to her before in a more general sense, but it was too vast to deal with. What was the alternative? Again, there could be only one: to shut herself off, to be alone forever, barriered against the world. Cloistered, with the Red Order the only safe company, who would be similarly ageless. That was no option, either. All ways led to pain in the end; it was only a question of time.
'Time,' she murmured softly, so quietly that Tsata barely heard it. Puzzlement showed on his face. 'Give me time… to think about this.'
He was about to speak again, but he thought better of it. Instead, he withdrew his hand and got to his feet, and she rose with him. They stood together, caught in an instant of prolonged parting and neither wanting to leave it that way; then Kaiku kissed him swiftly on the lips and withdrew into the forest, leaving him behind. She did not look back. She did not want him to see the tears gathering in her eyes. The Tkiurathi travelled fast and light. By evening they had stripped their village of everything they needed for their journey to Lalyara. Cailin had arranged for the ships at their destination to be stocked with the provisions necessary for what would come afterward. In less than a day, the village was hollow and empty, the fires doused and the repka tied closed, awaiting their return. They were gathering in a valley north of the temple complex, ready to depart at dusk. Dozens of Sisters would be travelling with them, including Cailin herself. Kaiku was going too.
After seeing Tsata she spent the rest of the day hurrying around her house, finishing last-minute preparations and ensuring all was in order. She did not know whether Mishani would return soon or not, so she had to prepare the place for a possible period of vacancy. She cleaned and tidied, packed and repacked, prayed briefly at the house shrine, prepared food and ate it in quick, nervous bites. In truth, she needed to be doing something to stop her thinking. Her course was chosen now. She would not turn from it. She was heading to Adderach, the birthplace of the Weavers. Her oath to Ocha, taken long ago, demanded that she do so. Everything else – everything – could wait. Her business was with the Weavers, and if there was any chance of ruining them, of breaking their power, then she had to take that. Her family's spirits would not forgive her otherwise.
In a fit of bitterness, she debated whether or not to take the dress of the Red Order with her or just burn it there and then. But when it came to the choice, she was reluctant to destroy it. Though it represented an allegiance she no longer felt, she could not deny the sense of authority and power it conferred on her, and she would need all the courage she could get in Adderach. In the whole length of the war, she had never been into battle without it.
Very well, then, she thought. I will wear it again. Until the Weavers are gone.
The last thing to take was the Mask from the chest where it lay. She snatched it up in one swift, disgusted motion and stuffed it in her backpack. Then she shut the pack and secured it.
She was about to depart when she heard a chime outside, and went to open the door. It was Lucia, with two Sisters behind her as guards.
'May I come inside?' Lucia asked. Kaiku invited her, waited to see if the Sisters intended on coming also, and when they did not, she slid the door shut. The room was all but bare, the minimal furniture having been put away. Lucia crossed the floor, stood with her back to Kaiku for a moment, and then turned around decisively.
'You are leaving?' she asked. 'Now?'
'I was about to,' Kaiku said.
'I only heard about it a short while ago,' Lucia said.
'You were at the meeting,' Kaiku said. 'You knew the Tkiurathi were going.'