Shadow Scale: A Companion to Seraphina(93)

I fought down the lump in my throat. “I did indeed. And then I met this prince who seemed able to see through me, to the truth behind the lies. He was terrifying and fascinating, but to my amazement, it was an immeasurable relief to be seen.”

Kiggs’s dark eyes softened. “What you’d hidden was not so awful. What I’ve hidden will hurt Selda, whom I love like my own sister.”

There was a wall between Kiggs and me, too, built of propriety and promises. I could not reach out to him, could not kiss his sorrowing brow. Holding back was misery, but he’d surely use any lapse as a stick to beat himself with later.

I said, “Yes, it will hurt her. But—” I hesitated; the idea was forming, looking for words to clothe itself in. “Letting her bear her own pain can be a gesture of respect.”

He sat down again, his eyes locked on my face. “What?”

“I mean,” I said, still struggling for the right way to say it, “you’re carrying all the weight of it yourself to protect her. You’ve decided she’s too fragile to bear the truth, but is she? What if you let her be strong on her own behalf? It would honor her, in a way.”

He snorted, but I could tell he was thinking now. That was what I loved most of all: Kiggs thinking. His eyes lit up. I clasped my hands between my knees again.

“That is the most convoluted piece of sophistry I’ve ever heard,” he said, wagging a finger at me. “Shall I slap her across the face, if pain is such an honor?”

“Who’s a sophist?” I said. “You know that’s a specious argument.”


He smiled mournfully. “I’m going to refute you, because you’re wrong, but I don’t have it in me now.” He rubbed his eyes. “Tomorrow will be a long day of negotiations.” He yawned.

I took the hint, although I didn’t like to. “I should let you get some sleep,” I said.

I rose to go, but Kiggs reached for my hand. In that moment the entire world bent toward that focal point; all we felt or understood, all matter and emptiness, compressed between two hands, one warm, one cold. I didn’t know which was which.

He took a shaky breath and let me go. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. “And I will refute you.”

I bowed. “Good night, Prince,” I said, fully believing he would hear the words behind my words, the things I couldn’t say.





I was not invited to Comonot’s meeting with the heads of the Agogoi, nor did I expect to be. Surely Kiggs and I would be leaving Porphyry soon—how long could negotiations possibly take?—and I’d already decided not to spend my last few days trying to persuade the ityasaari to come south with me. They were happy here; let them remain so. I would return and see them in more peaceful times.

Instead, I spent the next morning with Abdo and his family. Abdo had been less feverish and more tranquil the last two days, but he slept all the time. I hoped this might mean Jannoula was relenting and that Naia could take him back to Paulos Pende whenever he opened his eyes. Around midday I wandered to the harbor market and played flute in the sunshine. Children skipped circles around me. I’d hoped Brasidas would find me, but he wasn’t around.

When I returned to Naia’s in the late afternoon, a note had arrived from Ardmagar Comonot: Meet the prince and me at the Metasaari public garden at sunset. That was it; no hint of how his meeting had gone.

I went early and ate at the little caupona where I’d met Saar Lalo. I’d come to love octopus balls in gravy; I would miss Porphyrian food in Goredd. I loitered at a table, nursing my mint tea and watching the sun go down.

Kiggs and Comonot appeared at last, two lengthening shadows in the descending dusk; I met them by the public fountain where water spewed from a mer-dog’s snout. “This way,” said the Ardmagar, in lieu of a greeting, and we set off toward a long, low colonnaded house on the north side of the square.

“How did the negotiations go?” I whispered to Kiggs.

The prince shook his head. “We’re sworn to secrecy. These may not be my gods, but I don’t relish meeting Dread Necessity down a dark alley,” he said. “However, I believe I may hint obliquely that the jewel of our purpose is to be ransomed at a high price, and that the Ardmagar is a miserly villain.”

“I can hear you,” said Comonot over his shoulder as he knocked on the door.

I pinched my lips shut around a laugh, but found Kiggs’s hint perplexing. Comonot was prepared to pay to end his war. What price had Porphyry demanded?

A middle-aged woman with short hair and a serious expression opened the door. “Ardmagar,” she said, saluting the sky and revealing herself to be a saarantras.

“Lucian, Seraphina,” said Comonot, “I introduce Ikat, civic leader of the dragons in exile and—I’m given to understand—an excellent physician.”

Ikat, in good saar fashion, didn’t acknowledge the introduction, but she did hold the door for us. She was dressed in a plain tunic and trousers of undyed cotton, no ornaments, her brown feet bare. She led us silently through her atrium toward a central square garden. Chairs and benches had been set in a circle, and ten saarantrai sat under globular lanterns. I assumed they were all saarantrai; I recognized Lalo. Ikat snapped thrice and a slender serving girl fetched another wooden bench for Kiggs and me. We sat, and Comonot went around the circle, introducing himself to everyone.