Free Ariah by B.R. Sanders

who’d been married to Prynn, who’d died a violent and pointless death, and who had a place in satyrs’ songs. Sorcha spoke in an unbroken monologue, and at most a quarter of what he said made any kind of sense to me. I didn’t try very hard to make sense of it. I didn’t even listen very closely. This happens sometimes, even now, even after years of marshaling my gifts. There are times when someone speaks to me at length and I listen to the tenor of their voice, the cadence of their words rather than the content. It gives a window into their frame of mind, but it has also given me a reputation for a wandering attention.
    Back at the squat house, Sorcha handed me a plum and asked me if I was properly awake yet. I said I wasn’t. He grinned. “Yeah, me either. I’m gonna crash for an hour or two. You’re lucky I’m a heavy sleeper. You’re lucky I don’t kick you out of my room for the snoring.”
    It took me a second to realize it was an invitation. An invitation to what, I was not completely sure, but the way he watched me, measuring my reaction, made it clear that he was waiting for me to respond. I had no idea what the proper response was, so I didn’t respond at all. Sorcha plucked the plum out of my hand, took a bite, and gave it back. He left me in the kitchen. I listened to him walk the stairs as I idly ate the rest of the plum. When I was done with it, when there was nothing else to do, I went up the stairs myself. Sorcha was already asleep. He was curled up on the inside, facing the wall, still clothed. I lay down next to him and was asleep myself soon after.
    It was Dirva who woke me next. He shook me gently by the shoulder, whispering my name. He loomed over me when I opened my eyes.
    “ Dirva. Good morning.” I was relieved to see him. He was a fixed point of familiarity, a remnant of the Empire. I noticed he was still dressed in Semadran clothes even if I wasn’t.
    Dirva held a hand to his lips. He pointed at the door. I nodded and pulled myself up. Dirva was already at the door, his left hand on the knob. It was already half-turned. And then Sorcha rolled over. “What time is it?” he murmured. “Where you off to?”
    “ Oh, I…Dirva’s come to get me.”
    Two things happened at exactly the same instant. Dirva opened the door, his back still turned, and Sorcha shot across the room and grabbed Dirva by the back of the shirt. “No you don’t, you bastard,” Sorcha said. “You’re not sneaking out of my room without even a word to me.”
    Slowly, deliberately, Dirva turned around. The way he looked at Sorcha was so strange. His face was tender and suspicious at the same time. He slowly rested his hands on Sorcha’s shoulders. Carefully, he smiled. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
    The harshness in Sorcha’s face evaporated, just like that. He wrapped his arms around Dirva and buried his face in Dirva’s chest. “Holy shit, Lor, you’re really here.”
    “ You’re grown,” Dirva said.
    Sorcha laughed. “You’re old.”
    “ I am,” Dirva said. “I am at that. I need to speak to Ariah.”
    Sorcha pulled away. He crossed his arms against his chest. “You been speaking to him for four years. I’ve not seen you in twenty-five.”
    “ I need to speak to Ariah,” he said again. He said it simply, easily, and I watched as he pointedly ignored the hurt it caused in his brother. He caught my eye and nodded to the door. Guilt gnawed at me as I edged past Sorcha and left the room with Dirva. We did not speak until we were out in the Main Square. “What happened to your face?”
    I rubbed a hand against my jaw. “Your brother made me shave in the dark.”
    Dirva raised an eyebrow just the slightest bit. “He made you?”
    “ He insisted. It seemed polite to acquiesce. He insisted on the clothes, too.”
    “ Ma told me he lived with Falynn for a few years. The vanity must have rubbed off on him. Have you eaten?” I told him I’d had exactly one plum since I’d seen him last.