Heirot

She clearly needed a bath. It was almost impossible to determine the difference between smudged grit or bruising, and the bottoms of her feet were as black as the smoke billowing out of the volcano.

But Lee bit her lip and didn’t answer him. Her mind churned behind her one eye, processing the question, trying to determine what the right answer would be, weighing her options if she chose wrong. Then, time passed, and it seemed she decided the best answer was no answer at all—for Havitharon to reveal his cards first.

Lee had come to learn that there was an agenda behind every question, a lie behind every statement, and punishment behind every poor choice.

Havi frowned at the child's reaction. Something about her response reminded him of Tenara's when she had come to him in the middle of the night on his world, desperate to be clean and afraid to face what had happened to her. What if....

Ice crept into his gaze. "Did that male attack you?" he asked.

Lee shook her head. Of course, she didn’t understand, not really. She served. She obeyed. If she was bad, if she didn’t do what was asked of her, then she would get the whip. But she hadn’t gotten the whip in a very long time because she had done exactly as she was told. She didn’t cry. She didn’t speak. She was good. She would have to be good now too.

Lee hesitated before she slipped off the sofa. She admired Havitharon a moment longer before she risked turning her back on him and going calmly through the adjoined bedroom to the bathroom beyond. A second later, the sound of running water came rolling into the room.

Havi crossed his arms, not quite sure what she was thinking. If she said she hadn't been attacked, then he should believe her. He listened to the water running, deep in thought. Laurius had said to draw her a bath, but she seemed fine by herself. Or was he supposed to help, and she was just too afraid of him to ask?

He walked next to the door frame without looking inside. "Do you have all that you need?" he asked.

Lee peeked over the edge of the tub. “Yes,” she said, soft and short, like the squeak of a mouse. She was not used to talking so much. Oberin didn’t ask her questions, and if he did, she was not meant to answer them. He liked the sound of his own voice.

After a bit, the sound of running water silenced. There was no splashing. No giggling. No babbling or make believe. None of the sounds one might expect from a child in a tub of water.

A few minutes later, Laurius burst back into the room carrying a black bag and a leather sheath for Havitharon’s sword. He was sweating and looked as if he had run through the market and back.

He sank onto the couch and covered his face with his arm. “Gods be damned, I hate this place….” He murmured before sighing and calling out, “I trust we’re getting along?”

Havi sat against the wall outside the bathroom, as if guarding the young child inside. His half-dozing eyes flashed up when Laurius entered. He took in the man's state and was instantly on his feet, looking for the threat. "What happened?"

Laurius slouched back on the sofa, running a hand over his new hair. “Nothing bad—nothing too bad. It’s just, being here reminds me why I became an illegal resident of Ighten, that’s all.”

He had forgotten how truly awful the Citadel was. He had known it was bad, but time had dulled the grotesque parts of it. Now the fog had blown away and he didn’t want to be here any longer than necessary.

“We just need to keep our heads down, and our eyes open. The sooner we get out of here the better. Though, I suppose our time here is predicated on the Black Sisters showing up…” Laurius began to sweat again. He mopped his brow and decided to busy himself before he fixated on all the ways they were going to become part of the market down below, or strung up as an offering to a god that had been killed twenty-five years ago.

He snatched the black bag and dumped the contents on the bed near the bathroom their new ward occupied. A dress that was likely too big for her but would be better than a flour sack, socks, and a pair of slipper shoes.

“When you’re done in there, come out and get dressed. We’ll be waiting in the sitting area.”

Laurius beckoned Havitharon into the sitting area and closed the door between rooms. “We should consider offloading her on someone. Having her around is a risk to what we came here for, isn’t it? We’re already not exactly inconspicuous…”

Havi sat across from Laurius and crossed his arms. "You literally just told me how awful this place is. Who could be trusted to care for her?" It wasn't as though he intended to raise the child. He didn't even have the first idea how.

Laurius pursed his lips, slumping once more into the cushion. “Well, no one,” he admitted, not even wanting to consider what he was going to have to do just to buy her. What little money they had he’d spent on a dress and a sheath, and kept the rest for if they needed to travel to Arroes, should the Black Sisters not come to the Citadel. He frowned. “You don’t suppose children are like cats, do you? We could put her in a safe place with some food and water and be on our way. Maybe release her into the wild like a bird. I’m sure she’s got plenty of survival instincts after living with Oberin…” He didn’t even mention his main idea—giving her back. He remembered how feral Havitharon seemed at the sight of her, and decided the being might very well tear his head off should he suggest it.

But mentioning Oberin reminded him that he had a dinner to go to, a payment to make. His stomach soured, and he turned green.

Havi leaned back in his chair and studied Laurius like he was a counterfeit painting. Abandoning a child was obviously not an option. Havi had not gotten through his life thus far by compromising on his values, and his stubbornness applied here as well.

But the look on Laurius's face bothered him. There had to be a reason the man was suggesting it. Something Havi had overlooked. "Who is that man to you? What does he want with you?"

Laurius didn’t meet Havitharon’s eyes. He stared at a corner of the room, near the floor, like he hadn’t heard him. Then, he said softly, “He’s just an old professor…”

Laurius righted himself, clearing his throat. He knew that wasn’t a detailed enough answer. “He is difficult and elitist. I was here because I passed an exam and earned an endowment, not because of my blood or political affiliations. Oberin didn’t think I was deserving of the opportunity to learn here, and took great interest in trying to make me fail. But, I was smart—I am smart—and he found the task more difficult than he expected. ” Laurius frowned. “He threatened to fail me anyway, to fudge my grades in the wrong direction, unless I…” Laurius met Havitharon’s gaze a moment and feigned a smirk. “Unless I played a game with him. Obviously, I won. I graduated.” He hopped off the couch, turning to look for something to drink. “I just have no desire to play another game.”