Page 112 of The BoneKeeper's Daughter

“I’d sing to you to comfort you, friend, but I’m afraid next to that one, my voice would be a dying sheep. Never as bad as you though.”

His teasing is enough to shake a little of the sadness shadowing me. “Go to bed. We’re close to morning, and you said we still have a long way to go?”

He nods, now serious. “Longer than I’d like, in any case. And into areas I haven’t traveled, though I know the land enough to see us safe.” He sighs. “I don’t think sleep is coming for me tonight, though.”

Yesterday had been a blow to Kaden. The path the Traders follow through the mountains to the borders of their lands, straight and solidfrom the Corpse Bridge to his home, runs between two mountainous ranges, a little cut-through providing relief from climbing rough cliffs. The closer we’d gotten to it the more clear relief had been on his face, the strain of the past weeks draining away. But as we approached, there was a strange roaring sound, one I’d never heard before but which Kaden clearly recognized, and his shoulders collapsed, cheerful face folding in near desperation.

“We’re too late.” His words were ominous. Tahrik looked almost numb with terror, and Kaden straightened immediately, shaking off the gloom that had briefly covered him. “It’s alright, Tahrik. I’m being dramatic. The path is flooded now, it’s not safe to travel. Even if it dries, there’s no guarantee that more water won’t pour down from the source, and we’d get caught in mudslides or washed away. We’ll have to go around.”

“Can I see?” Wren replied, curiosity clear in her voice, and Kaden wasted a morning of travel to walk her carefully up to the mouth of the path, where brown, churning water rushed over stones and carried small branches and leaves at quick speeds past the jagged curves of the path. I’d never seen anything like the violence in the water; we are used to land, or mountain, or sky heaving and seething, but the chaos in the water was something foreign and frightening. In rare accord, Tahrik and I had exchanged anxious glances, but Wren, who I thought would be petrified, was wide-eyed and wondering, holding tightly onto a rock with one hand, leaning over the surging river as far as she could, close enough that spray wet her cheeks.

“Careful,” Kaden cautioned quietly, but there was something in his eyes as he looked at her, at the wildness of her expression, that was a pit in my stomach. He wasn’t as surprised as Tahrik and myself at her response, didn’t leap forward as Tahrik did to try and pull her back. He simply watched as though he’d expected the tentative joy blooming on her face, the curling of her lips as the water tumbled past us.

“It’samazing,” she whispered, and he smiled in a strangely satisfied way at her words. “I’m alright, Tahrik. I’m alright.” But she’d accepted his hand, let herself be drawn back from the edge, casting a longinglook over her shoulder as he led her away. Kaden trailed them with his gaze, eyes narrowed, then glanced at me, brow raised in a silent question I studiously ignored.

So here we are, off the path in more ways than one, traveling lands none of the four of us have set foot on, and everything is changing, leaving me struggling to keep up. Kaden is still staring into the fire, a companionable silence growing between us, until he inhales deeply, low and slow.

“Can I ask you a question, Rannoch?”

Something in the way he says it, some reluctant hesitation, causes my hackles to rise, but I keep my voice level. “You’re always free to ask.”

“Though you may not answer?” he replies, clearly rhetorically, but continues anyway. “Her necklace…”

“No.”

“Rann, I?—”

“No.”

“Why don’t I tell you whatIknow, and then you can decide.” He’s tense now, not quite belligerent, but his jaw is tight, muscles flexing against his clenched teeth. “It’s clearly important to her. There’s something about it… It’s obviously very different than her bracelets?—”

Different than her bracelets?I don’t know what I expected him to say, but not that.

“You didn’t know? You can’t tell? She doesn’t talk to them in the same way. She doesn’t really talk to them at all. Though I don’t know what thatmeans.”

It’s impossible to process what he’s saying for so many reasons. “Ta—talk to them?” The stuttered words aren’t a response at all.

He almost laughs, more a tired huff of sound than anything else. “I’m not blind, Councilor. Though you must be if you can’t see the difference between her bracelets and her necklace.”

Nothing seems safe to say, so I don’t reply, but a chill skirts my skin that has nothing to do with the darkness.How carefully does he watch her? How much does he know? What is safe to say? I wish Silas were here.

“Let’s try another way. If I am put in a position where I have to save one and not the other, what do I do? How hard do I try to protect them all if it comes down to it? What choice should I make? Do they serve different purposes? It’s clear the necklace is more important to her, but which is more necessary? If you and Tahrik aren’t there, I should know what is vital to her survival, Rann.”

The question forces a response from me. Eyes narrow now, almost suspicious, I study him. “Where would I be but at her side, Trader.” It’s a statement, and doesn’t invite further queries.

Staring in the fire, not looking my way, he casts his voice low, imbibing it with as much honesty as possible. “Nowhere else, if you had the choice, Rannoch. As I said, I’m not blind. But we’re not always given the option. And if it’s just me and Wren, I’d like to know how best to keep her safe. The chances of fatal steps are higher when you don’t know how to walk the path.”

Silence stretches between us, violent and vibrant like the waters that blocked our way through the mountains, and Kaden finally sighs, nodding. “Alright, Rannoch. Alright.” Getting to his feet slowly, he moves like an old man, bones groaning, exhaustion clear in every line of his body. “There are still a couple of hours until sunrise. The watch is yours.”

The watch is yours. So much trust in that statement, so much faith.

“Rannoch, he’s safe,"she’d said.

And then, “I’ll take the watch now. You have my word.”

“The necklace. Always.” It’s a whisper of sound, barely anything, but I see it hit in the pause of his steps, the single nod of his head in reply.

“The necklace.”

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