had seen in the depths of the water in the back of a shop that was far too small to contain what it did, in fact, contain? She didn’t think so; there had been no evidence of antennae, no evidence of the scabbing and bleeding that would no doubt be the result of their removal. And the child in the water was older.
Severn was standing by the couple when she at last emerged from the water, disengaging very small fingers from her waterlogged pants. It was warm enough that she had chosen to forgo leather for comfort, and she was damn glad of it. It didn’t wear well in water.
They had, indeed, donned clothing, and if they were still wet, their hair plastered to skin and neck, their antennae weaving as if they were drunk, they wore loose robes that must have taken yards of material to make. Not dark colors, in this sun, but pale blues and greens.
“Kaylin,” Severn said, speaking Elantran. “This is Nevaron, and this is Onnay.” He pointed first at the male, and then at the female. “The man that we seek is Grethan, and they have been friends for a long time.”
His words sounded out of place, so few other voices could be heard. But she nodded, attempting to regain her composure. It was easier than she had expected; they were calm and happy and completely free from either guilt or fear. They had not been discovered; no parent would be festering in fury.
They just … were.
And they were, to Kaylin’s eye, almost beautiful because of it, which she hadn’t expected. They were perhaps a year or two younger than her. It was hard to tell. They might easily have been a couple of years older.
But they would never know her life, and instead of resenting them, she felt strangely peaceful. Embarrassment faded, and she let it go, showing it out the figurative door as quickly and cleanly as possible.
“Ybelline sent us here,” Severn said quietly, “so that we might ask you a few questions about Grethan.”
Their stalks moved toward each other, touching slightly; they did not exchange a glance. Then again, they probably didn’t have to. The touch would give them room to say anything they wanted.
“We haven’t seen Grethan for two or three days,” the young woman said. Her words were oddly accented—and Kaylin realized, listening to them, that it wasn’t so much the accent as the enunciation; they pronounced each syllable slowly and carefully, as if speech were both new and foreign. Which, of course, it would be.
“When you last saw him, was he unhappy?”
“Grethan is always unhappy,” Onnay said quietly. “We can touch him,” she added, “and we can feel what he feels, and he allows this—but he cannot do likewise for us. We can speak to him when we touch him, but it is … invasive.” She dared a glance at Kaylin.
Kaylin nodded quietly.
“He did not allow us to touch him,” Nevaron said, after a pause. “Not in the last day or two. There were very few whom he would allow even that contact before then, and we accept this. It has happened before,” he added. “And it will no doubt happen again.”
“He is not in the Tha’alani quarter.”
Onnay’s brows rose. “What do you mean?” she said, each syllable still perfect, still slow.
“He is not at his home. He is not in the market. He is not where we believe he works.”
As they hadn’t actually done any of the legwork to ascertain this, Kaylin guessed that Ybelline had communicated this information to Severn when she had almost caressed his forehead with her antennae.
“We believe,” Kaylin said, speaking almost as slowly as they did, as if they were children, “that he has left the quarter and found a home outside of it.”
“With the deaf?”
“With, as you say, the deaf.”
Onnay shook her head forcefully. “That’s not possible,” she said at last.
“Why?”
“He lived there some time.”
“We are aware of this.”
“And he came back—” She shook her head. “He lived a nightmare there. Here, he could wake and be at peace. He was happy to be home,” she said. “And we were happy to see him return.
“He shared some of his life on the outside with us.” She could not suppress her shudder, and didn’t even bother to try. “And it hurt us,” she whispered. “We did not ask him to share all. I do not think—”
Nevaron shook his head. “It was not easy for him to share, and it was not easy for us. Onnay did not touch him, that day. I did.” He lifted his chin slightly. “I am of the Tha’alanari.”
“You will find work on the outside,” Severn said quietly. It was not a question.
“Even so.”
Severn nodded. “And you kept much of this from the Tha’alaan?”
“They would be—what is the word?—darkened by it.”
Severn nodded again. “In the memories that you touched,” he said softly, “were there no happy ones?”
“None that I would call happy, if I understand the Elantran word correctly.”
“And he met no one, found no one, that he might consider a friend?”
“Friend,” Onnay said, and looked at Nevaron.
“It is an Elantran word,” he replied, carefully and politely. “Ybelline sent them,” he added. “It means people who care.”
“Then we are all his friends.”
Nevaron’s antennae danced away from Onnay’s for a moment and her brows lifted. She smacked his chest. Kaylin laughed. “My apologies,” Nevaron said gravely, “but Onnay doesn’t pay much attention to racial differences.”
“Well, it isn’t as if I will go Outside.” Onnay frowned.
Kaylin laughed again. “Oh, Onnay,” she said, at the girl’s quizzical look, “no one ever really knows what they’ll be doing until they’re in the middle of it.”
“And the Tha’alaan contains very little about Outsiders,” she continued, obviously still annoyed.
“True,” Severn said, before Nevaron could dig himself into a deeper ditch. “But if he has left the quarter, he must have had some destination in mind.”
Nevaron hesitated for a moment longer, and then said, “I can show you where.” And Severn, as if he did this every bloody day, bowed his head and bent his face down so that it was within reach of Nevaron’s antennae.
He stiffened suddenly, but did not withdraw, and Kaylin could see, in the clear lines of Nevaron’s expression, some shock. “You know this place?” he asked, his voice low.
Severn’s brief chuckle was so dark, Kaylin knew instantly what the answer would be.
“Yes,”
