A lull, as we regard the massive, sealed obsidian doors and the Overseers in front of them. Something seems to suddenly go out of Netiqret. She sits on the wall nearby. Still watching the temple. “When do you give up, Siamun?”
I frown at her tone. No longer her crisp, brusque self. A real heaviness to the words. “I’m not giving up.”
“No. Not you.” She finally turns to me and her eyes are tired and full of grief. “When do you give up on saving the ones you love?”
My gaze goes from her to Kiya, standing obediently off to the side.
My heart twists with horror and hope all at once. I open my mouth to tell her that it’s time, that she’s gone, that if Kiya can help then we have to take this chance. But the words don’t come. I think of Cari. Trying to breathe life back into her. Knowing she was dead, knowing they were coming for me, and still I tried. Again, and again, andagain. Because leaving her behind felt impossible. Because living with the fear of having given up too soon was worse than death, and it wasn’t even close.
“When we can live with the regret,” I eventually say softly.
She meets my gaze, and I think she sees her pain reflected somewhere in my own because she nods in recognition, just slightly.
“I think some part of me knew I couldn’t bring her all the way back.” Her eyes glisten. “I just wanted her to know I was sorry.”
“And now?”
She smiles tightly. “Now I have to make sure no one else ever has to feel this.”
She turns away before I can offer any effort at comfort. “Kiya,” she calls.
Kiya comes to stand obediently in front of her mother.
Netiqret crouches, so that her face is level with the girl’s. Smooths back the carefully braided hair that loops in front of her face, and locks eyes with her.
“Kiya, I need you to do something.” Her voice shakes. Cracks. “One last thing. But …”
She chokes, turns away before gathering herself.
“But if you’re in there, if any part of you is in there, I want you to know I wish I’d been better. Braver.” There are tears leaking down her cheeks now, streaking the carefully painted blackkohlaround her eyes. “I didn’t … I shouldn’t have let them take you. I should never have let them take you.”
She embraces the girl in a tight, fierce hug.
Kiya, as always, doesn’t react.
“Kiya,” Netiqret murmurs after a few seconds. Still holding her. Stroking her hair. “If you were to connect to the Nomarch and get Siamun access to the temple. Stop it from paying attention to him. How long do you think it would be before it notices you interfering?”
Kiya’s eyes flash dark.
“Nomarch resources are at usage capacity. Perhaps an hour.”
Netiqret glances at me, and I nod. More than I could have hoped for.
“Alright. I want you to connect, and give Siamun here access to the temple. Keep the Nomarch from spotting him for as long as you can.” She kisses her on the forehead, one last time. “Please.”
She steps back. Face pale.
A pause, and then Kiya—her faraway look still firmly in place—moves forward and whispers in her mother’s ear. Netiqret nods. Smiles a tearful smile at her.
Kiya’s eyes roll back into her head, and she crumples.
There’s a little cry from Netiqret, and she catches her daughter before she can hit the ground. Hugs her limp form tight. Head bowed. The crowds in the street, not even feet away, don’t turn. Still transfixed by the wreckage of the bridge to Neter-khertet, and the monsters that now scour its ruin.
“It’s done,” Netiqret whispers, just loud enough for me to hear.
I watch for a moment. Feel like I should say something, but I know there isn’t anything I can, not that will help. I clasp her shoulder briefly, then start to walk away.
“Siamun.”
