The artificial current did more to steer the watercraft than we did. Kiiraskes held loosely to the oar with one hand.

I held the drone carefully, mindful of the occasional splash of water from the restless river. It chimed cheerfully in my hands, perhaps sensing I wanted soothing.

"I had a son. Ah…" Kiiraskes scraped a claw along one mandible, to strike the words from her mouth. "I have a son. Not much older than you."

I looked up at her, surprised. Her gaze was on the water.
"He found a place with the Gentle Weavers. He wanted very much to… belong. I hope he will weave great things. Or else… do whatever it is he wishes to do." She looked at me, and it was my turn to feign interest in the river.

I heard her sigh. "We Slayers were never lords. We had no Kells. We came together to defend our people. We were Barons of Riis and the Great Machine, not… this House or that."

She touched the scar on her stomach, and I stilled in concern.

"The wars destroyed us. Nobody believes that there is anything worse to fight out there than ourselves."

I thought, without wanting to, of Haaksis. The mind-sickness that had gripped him… or else, the voice of something powerful and ancient.

"Chelchis sees it. Feels it deep in her mills. Something is coming. All those strange reports that she takes back to Kings and Judgment. But she thinks it will come from within, from… disorder."

"But… I saw the monster," I said. "I'll tell everyone what happened."

Kiiraskes looked up at me. Even with her helmet removed, I could not tell what she was thinking.

"You did well, Irrha," she said.
The rest of the journey, we passed in silence.

I knew Baron Kiiraskes was still in pain because she did not shrug off Chelchis's assistance in stepping out of the watercraft.

Kiiraskes reached out to take the Shank from my hands. "I will speak to House Judgment and report on our findings." She hesitated. "Chelchiskel can keep an eye out for you until I return."

We both watched Baron Kiiraskes pull her cloak tightly around herself and limp away toward the palace doors. Chelchis stared at me, and I worried she would ask me for an explanation. But instead, Chelchis grunted, as if something had been decided, and leaned against a nearby pillar.

I felt the weight of the past couple of days settle onto me. I was tired, but my body was not convinced it was safe to rest. I felt alert and exhausted all at once. I hugged my arms to myself and waited.

Some time into the silence, Chelchis began to sing quietly. It was not a tune I recognized, but beautiful in its lilting sweetness.

I thought of voices raised together in song in shared rooms. I thought of long nights playing find-sneak with friends, long before any of us had to worry about our purpose. In my chest, I felt a hollow ache like grief.

"What is it?" Chelchis asked.

I startled and looked up at her. What could I possibly say to a Kell that wouldn't just be wasting her time? "Oh, no, it's just… your song is sad."

Had she taken offense, she could have pulled my arms from their sockets. Instead, Chelchis touched my shoulder gently, and drew me close.

"Not sad," Chelchis said. "A song for star-sailors headed out into the dark between worlds."

"And wherever we walk, there is Light, little brother."

[Goodbye, Irrha. –Eido, Scribe of House Light]