hurry to rush into another?'
'But House Jorasco-'
'Loves to be underestimated,' Cart said. 'They took Senya in when she was injured, nursed her back to health, and then summoned the Sentinel Marshals as soon as she was well enough to travel. And that was in Vathirond. I think it's wise to assume that House Jorasco in Fairhaven will be at least as well-informed.'
'Damn, you're right,' Aunn said. 'What do we do, then? If not House Jorasco, who can heal him?'
'I have an idea,' Cart said. 'A sergeant I knew once had some unusual interests, and a friend of hers here in the city took her once to meet someone she said… hrm. It's a bit hard to explain.' Cart shrugged. 'What if I just find him and bring him to the cathedral?'
'Can I come with you?' Ashara asked.
'If you like.'
'The cathedral?' Aunn said.
'Kelas was using the old cathedral as a meeting place,' Ashara explained.
The old cathedral of the Silver Flame. It struck Aunn as an odd choice of a meeting place for Kelas's conspiracy. Kelas had never shown anything but contempt for the Church of the Silver Flame, and of all Aundair's neighbors he hated Thrane the most, with its theocratic government, the Keeper of the Flame at its head. Perhaps, in Kelas's mind, meeting at the cathedral symbolized Aundair's victory over Thrane. The idea made Aunn's stomach turn.
'No,' he said, 'meet me at Kelas's real office, in the Tower of Eyes. It faces the west side of Crown Hall.'
Crown Hall was the queen's palace. It made Aunn nervous to get so close to the heart of the whole affair, but he needed a secure place to take Gaven, and few places were safer than the stronghold of Aundair's Royal Eyes.
'I know where it is,' Cart said. 'I went there with Haldren once. But how will we get in?'
Aunn pulled some paper and a small writing set from one of Kelas's pouches. Using Cart's back as a desk, he scrawled a hasty note and signed it in a perfect imitation of Kelas's hand. He touched a ring he'd pulled from Kelas's dead fingers to the paper, felt with his mind for the tiny knot of magic contained in the ring, and tripped it. A pattern of faintly glowing lines appeared on the paper beneath the signature, and Aunn smiled in satisfaction.
'Show this to the guards at the door and tell them you have an appointment to see me. Tell them to summon me if they give you any trouble. I'll take Gaven there now and wait for you.'
Cart took the paper, scanned the words and nodded.
'Be careful,' Aunn added.
'Always.' Cart held Gaven's arm out for Aunn to take, then Ashara took his arm and they strolled off together toward the eastern side of town.
Aunn looked at Gaven and smiled. 'All right, Gaven, we're going this way. Can you walk with me?'
Slowly Gaven shuffled along beside him as Aunn made his way to the Tower of Eyes.
Walking beside Ashara was the opposite of marching in a unit of soldiers, Cart thought. His stride was long and even, like the steady cadence of a drum keeping soldiers in step. Her shorter legs made her steps quicker, and she had trouble keeping up with him, so she'd occasionally take a flurry of little, half-running steps, her boots pattering like hail on the cobblestones. There was a pleasing music to it, somehow-her melody playing against his constant drone.
Aunn and Gaven were long out of sight, and the busier streets of Fairhaven's downtown soon fell away behind them, replaced by quiet rows of homes and apartments. Cart was lost in the rhythm of their steps.
'What's wrong, Cart?' Ashara asked, breaking the silence.
Cart took a few more steps before he answered. 'You don't really think I'm yours, do you?'
'What?'
'Back there. I said I didn't have papers and you said, 'He's mine.' Like it was nothing.'
'Oh, Cart, no. I just wanted to make sure they didn't give you any trouble, that's all. Sometimes House Cannith can still be very possessive about warforged.'
'But those were warforged we were talking to.'
'Warforged who might as well still be slaves owned by the House,' Ashara said. 'They're not legally slaves, but they don't get paid what human guards do.'
It came to Cart like a dawning realization, full of wonder. 'Nobody owns me,' he said.
Ashara clutched his arm. 'Of course not.'
Cart walked in silence again. They approached a group of young men, who stopped their boisterous conversation and stared as they walked past, arm in arm. Ashara shifted her grip and Cart thought for a moment that she might release his arm in embarrassment, but she held on. Her hands were warm where they touched the cords and sinews between his armored plates.
'I think,' Cart said, 'that I would like to get identification papers. Would you help me?'
'You've never had papers?'
'I had military identification, but that was before the Treaty of Thronehold. Those papers showed me to be the property of Aundair. I belonged to Haldren. Right up until I killed him.'
'So now you're free.'
'I suppose I am,' Cart said. 'I'm not sure what to do now.'
'What did you do while Haldren was in Dreadhold?'
'I waited.'
'That's all? Just waited?'
'I did odd things here and there to pass the time. I worked in Passage for a while, carrying crates. Senya dragged me into an old Dhakaani ruin once with some half-elf wizard who promised her a fortune. Mostly I waited.'
'So what do you want to do with your freedom?'
Cart looked down at her, into her warm, brown eyes. He eased his arm free of her hands and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her close to his side. She put one arm around his waist and laid the other hand on his chest, and her head rested beside her hand. It was confusing to him-he hated the thought of being owned: her dismissive words to the Cannith warforged had cut him like daggers. But the urge to hold her close, keep her beside him, protect her-it was a fiercely possessive urge.
'Freedom is a strange thing,' he said. With her body so close to his, he slowed his step and she matched it, so they found a slower rhythm together. 'Nobody owns me, but Gaven and Aunn and you seem to have a hold on me anyway. What I want to do is to be with you.'
'Freedom is the ability to choose your commitments,' Ashara said, 'to choose what owns your loyalty.'
'Then perhaps I am yours after all.'
Her smile spread all across her face, touching every one of the tiny muscles beneath the skin-such an intricate construction, he thought, like the work of a divine artisan.
'And I'm yours,' she said.
Aunn stood at the door to Kelas's study. Out of habit, he cast his mind over his body, from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet, making sure every detail was in place for Kelas's inevitable scrutiny. Only this time the details were those of Kelas's own appearance, and no one would be in the study to inspect him. He glanced at Gaven, motionless at his side, then pulled a ring of keys from one of Kelas's pouches and found the right one. Taking a deep breath, he turned the key in the hole and pushed open the door.
Nothing had changed. He knew the room at least as well as his own suite, which he hadn't seen in months. The large oak desk gave the room its color and character, dark and solid. For an absurd moment, Aunn wasn't sure where to sit. A wooden chair between the desk and the door was Aunn's accustomed place; the one behind the desk, upholstered in leather, was where Kelas would sit. He shook his head to clear it, then led Gaven to the wooden chair and walked around the desk to Kelas's chair.
'Well, Gaven,' he said, 'perhaps you're wondering why I've brought you here.'
He ran his hands over the chair's leather, worn but well cared for. He sat gingerly, then settled back against the cushions. It was a comfortable seat-it fit Kelas's body perfectly.
