Madlands

14. One of Us

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Okay, we're here, explain.

Grey had put off Mando's enquiries into her cryptic, mid-conversation exchange with Kayliff until they were settled in at the lodge. She'd used the guise of not being overheard in the street, but really she'd wanted time to process and to figure out what she did and didn't want Mando to know.

She'd spent her entire adult life concealing, compartmentalizing, and curating information, and she was struck by how awful it was making her feel to do so now, with Mando. Sure, she'd kept the whole nature of her life's mission from him, but not sharing was one thing, and lying or misleading was another completely.

Kayliff seemed to be testing me on the conversational courtesies of this part of the system. I guess he wanted to know if we'd done our homework into how to respect the people here before we barged in, looking for answers. I mentioned that their traditional way of speaking is indirect, and they're reclusive, but extremely generous and honest if you can break through. And it seems like we passed; they did everything they could for us.

Her stomach twisted. There it was, a credible deception, and she was only going to do worse yet. As much as it made the twist tighten, she knew that she would accept Kayliff's clandestine invitation to return that evening, alone. She had to go; she might have just found an active member of the Icarian Rangers, who seemed to know more about the strange situation on Cereda, a situation that was giving off shades of other lost worlds, of Trell.

The search to understand her loss was all she had, and it was who she was. Everything else she did was, even if somewhat tangentially, in service of that. If she could know enough about the Madlands, about interstellar phenomenon, about geology, biology, and climatology, about history and the economy, about people, about how whole atmospheres or habitable biospheres could be ripped away from a planet without warning or ceremony, then maybe she could understand why she'd had to lose everything.

Hmm.

It seemed that Mando couldn't decide if he was fully satisfied with her answer, but it didn't matter, he would get nothing more. Leaning against the wall near the entrance, he thankfully changed the topic.

Bigger lodgings that I'd expected for a village of this size.

It wasn't extravagant, but he was right. The lodge had only three units, but each one had a second small room with a daybed off the main area, in addition to the 'fresher. The construction of the building was a rarity in the village, as well—timber-framed with clay infill for the walls. The furnishings were simple but well made, and the bed was almost twice as big as the one at the inn on Galir; maybe they'd have an easier time giving each other space.

Grey leaned back on her hands as she sat on the edge of the bed.

I know. I'm admittedly a bit glad it's not a tent. Spoiled.

I see no reason to wait until tomorrow to look through Torin's things, but I wouldn't mind some time before we head out.

She understood his intent immediately—it was Grey-begone-armour-off-time. She sprung up from the bed as she spoke.

Oh, of course, there's a tavern right next door. I need dinner anyway. I'll bring you back something. Half an hour?

That'll do.

Her mind was already out the door, but as she moved to sweep past Mando, he lifted off the wall and narrowed the exit. She came to a stop just short of bumping into him, and his visor stared into her wide eyes.