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I nod.By sun, earth, and shadow, and as Regret forms on my lips, I am of trollis and am bound by its words.
“It’s old folklore, really.” Her voice lowers. “It isn’t anything we believe or practice, but tradition ...” She swipes a hand through the air between us. “The gods made the sun, and then they made the earth. But the earth blocked out the light and created shadow. And from the shadow came the trollis.” With a half-hearted shrug, she adds, “I suppose it’s not too inaccurate, given where we live.”
“You’ve always lived in Cagmar?”
She nods.
Her honesty warms me. “Thank you. For that, and for helping me with my shifts.”
She leans away from me, uncomfortable with my gratitude. Without another word, she turns back for the corridor and shuts the door behind her.
I rest as long as I can before my mind grows antsy. I reread the almanac, studying the star charts, wishing I could compare them to tonight’s sky. I’ve nothing else to read, and no one to converse with. I am grateful for the rest, but this blessed space begins to close in on me. I miss sunlight, starlight. Carefully peeling my aching body from the bed, I stumble toward the door. I am stiff and sore, but not wholly incapable. I wait at the lift a long time, allowing troll after troll to pass by. I pull my hair around to the swollen side of my face to hide it. I know how these people view weakness.
When the lift is finally free, I step inside and, setting my jaw, pull the rope to lift me to Unach’s level. My shoulder strains with the effort,but my few belongings remain in her apartment, as does the medicine Ritha left me.
Masking my limp as well as I can, I approach the door and raise my hand to knock, but Unach’s angry voice causes me to hesitate.
“—no surprise there.”
I hear Azmar respond softly, but it’s too quiet for me to understand.
Unach snorts. “It’s far within my rights. He can writhe and scream all he wants. One less human is nothing to complain about.”
A chill courses down my spine. After trying the handle and finding it unlocked, I push the heavy door open and nearly fall to my knees as a stabbing sensation in my leg causes me to lose my balance. Only my grip on the door handle keeps me upright.
Unach’s gaze burns like hot embers on my face. She stands near the table, her thick arms folded across her wide chest. Azmar sits on a chair, hunched over, his elbows on his knees.
Righting myself, I push the door closed. “Who are you talking about?”
Unach’s brow tightens. “I told you to rest.”
“I am much rested and obliged to make your dinner,” I protest, noticing that there are no dishes, or even a fire, to suggest they’ve had their supper.
Unach shifts her weight onto one foot. “His name is Colson. I had an investigation done, and Perg validated. He’s to be cast to the darkness.”
My joints freeze. “Cast to the darkness?”
“Over the edge,” Azmar murmurs, “into the depths of the canyon.”
Mouth agape, I would slide to the floor if I trusted my legs to push me up again. I lean against the wall instead. “Please don’t have him killed.”
Unach stares at me, incredulous. Surprise warps Azmar’s features.
I push off the wall and cross to Unach, knowing I overstep my bounds. I try not to limp, to show as much warrior prowess as I canmuster. I square my shoulders and put on a brave face, despite the bruises that mottle it. “I beg you to spare him. It was a misunderstanding.”
Unach’s fury is palpable. “He would have killedyou.”
No, he wouldn’t have.Even without my ability, even without Perg, I do not think he would have. Though I might be in far worse shape than I am now.
All I ever wanted was a place where I could be accepted and not feared. I do not want Colson to die. I do not want the few others of my kind in this dark city to despise me, like so many others have.
“It’s me he hurt,” I try, mentally scrolling through every persuasive tactic my father taught me, even if it was unknowingly, “and I forgive him.”
Unach barks a mirthless laugh. “He has committed a crime, and he will pay the price.”
“Please, Unach.” I raise my clasped hands and stumble, unable to hide my wincing. “If he were a troll, would you not consider—”
“That,” she interrupts, her voice dark as cinders, “is too far.”
