Page 59 of Alien Burn

“Tivek says you asked about his form.”

“I asked why Ellon hadn't needed the same attestation.”

“Have they answered?”

“They sent me the ritual requirements. The question wasn't whether Tivek needs to meet them. It was why the office had given him an extra one.”

“He knows the difference.”

“I know he does.”

Sheira turned the bread in her fingers.

“He won't ask me whether they're ashamed of him. He asks how long these things usually take, or whether another signature might help. As though he's checking an appointment.”

Dhomhes put down his spoon.

“He hasn't said that to me.”

“He wants you to think he's managing.”

“He is managing.”

“He's still allowed to be hurt.”

He looked toward the jacket on the chair. Yesterday Tivek had been full of jokes at breakfast. Dhomhes had heard the irritation beneath them. He wondered now what else he had allowed the jokes to cover.

“He doesn't want it fixed,” Sheira said. “He wants to have been allowed.”

Dhomhes rubbed a thumb along the edge of his bowl.

“I won't do the ritual for him. I couldn't if he asked.”

“I know.”

“And I won't promise him a result. But if someone has decided to make him prove more than the others, I want that someone to explain it to his face.”

Sheira nodded slowly.

“Tell him what you're asking. Don't let him learn afterward that everyone had conversations about him in rooms he couldn't enter.”

“I will.”

She finally ate the bread.

He went back to his stew. For a little while she told him about a foreman's twins, and a delivery sent to the wrong complex, and the state in which Tivek had left his training clothes. He listened to every word with an attention no Coalition briefing had received all day.

Then she looked at him over her cup.

“There's something else.”

He waited.

“You smiled at your sleeve when you sat down.”

“It's an excellent sleeve.”

“I see.”