“But why is Myar Mal…” I wasn’t sure how to put my thoughts into words. No, I shouldn’t say anything. It was none of my business. Still, it was hard not to notice that Amma La was perfectly average while Myar Mal was, well…
“Maybe she’s his little protest too,” Tayrel Kan mused.
“Against what?”
“The cult of absolute perfection he follows?”
I frowned. “Does he?”
“That was a joke. I don’t know. And I’m not a connoisseur of female beauty, but even I see she’s not the best he can get. So either he’s really in love… or he has other reasons to be with her.”
“Maybe she has other qualities.”
“Yeah, I bet she sucks like a siplah.”
I frowned. Siplahs were small animals feeding on waste.
“That’s gross.” I wasn’t talking about the creatures. “I meant, maybe she’s clever or caring or something.”
I had very little idea of how romance worked. Marriages in Tarviss were arranged, and the sheer concept of choosing your partner seemed preposterous when our Dahlsian teacher first told us about it. And even living away from other Tarvissi, I had absolutely no inclination to pursue such things.
“What do you want me to say?” asked Tayrel Kan. “I don’t know her, I don’t know what’s in his head. Or hers, for that matter. Most people shield themselves as soon as I approach.”
He paused for a moment. “If anything, I think he feels obliged for dragging her to Mespana and fucking things up with her dad. It’s no secret she’s not happy here. She probably realized she wasn’t escaping, but swapping one man’s dream for another’s. I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole relationship blew up in their faces. But hey, her loss is my gain.”
I frowned, not sure what to say. Tarvissian marriages were unbreakable, and personal feelings didn’t factor. It was different for Dahlsi, who put personal happiness above everything. Those differences aside, I still wasn’t qualified to offer advice. I wanted to say that I wished Tayrel Kan the best of luck, but I couldn’t bring myself to wish for Myar Mal and Amma La to split up—even though I didn’t know or particularly care about either of them.
“Can’t you dream of someone who’s not, you know… in a relationship?” I asked.
“You can’t choose who you dream of, silly. It just happens. You can’t fight it. All you can do is follow the flow.”
“Does he even like guys?”
“I don’t care about him liking guys; I want him to like me.”
I sighed. What could I say to that?
There was still one thing that I felt was unanswered. “So, what does that have to do with me?” Then, remembering how this whole conversation started, I added hastily, “or you?”
“You didn’t get it yet? Laik Var put you as his nami because he knew it would piss off a lot of people. And who would take the heat?”
A sense of betrayal flooded over me, though I wasn’t sure if it was because of Laik Var or Tayrel Kan. “But he said—”
“Yeah, I know. But whatever tear-jerking speech he gave you, the only thing he cared about was rubbing it in on Myar Mal.”
“You think Laik Var was one of the traitors?”
I realized too late that only Myar Mal and I—and perhaps Adyar Lah—were supposed to be aware of the conspiracy. But, knowing Tayrel Kan’s propensity to telepathy, he’d probably already read all about it in my mind.
“Nah, he was too honest for that. But he wouldn’t be terribly saddened if something happened. Even if he knew, I’m not sure he’d do anything to stop it.”
“Myar Mal didn’t suspect him,” I noted, “he had other picks.”
“Well, Laik Var wasn’t here to partake in that little assassination attempt. That probably cleared his name, at least partially. And I’m not surprised Myar Mal doesn’t want to touch that particular can of worms. Say what you want, but he cares about Amma La.”
I took a moment to digest his words. As much as I wanted to remember Laik Var as a good man and great vessár, I knew very little about him outside of work. Tayrel Kan obviously had more information and perhaps… perhaps his version of events was closer to the truth than mine, however I loathed to admit it.
“Look, maybe it’s not all bad,” Tayrel Kan said. He was unusually earnest, and I wondered if he regretted telling me all this. “Maybe Laik Var was casting two spells with one wand. He seemed to genuinely like you.”
“But not enough to refrain from using me,” I replied gloomily. “Or at least tell me about his intentions.”
“To be fair, his family drama is none of your business.”
Silence descended for a few long moments. Finally, he sighed. “You must be so disappointed. We’re the most advanced civilization… but all the magic in the universe cannot shield us from ourselves. We’re still humans. We still feel: love, hate, resentment. We still make mistakes.” He lifted his hand, seemingly inadvertently, to touch his scars. “It’s all terribly petty sometimes.”
“What about these?” I nodded to his face, and he caught himself, quickly lowering his hands. He smiled mysteriously.
“Ah, I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because right now, despite everything, you’re intrigued. If I told you, you’d feel nothing but pity.”
“I won’t pity you. Even if it’s… petty.”
“Then there’s no point talking about it, is there?”
I wanted to press, but then the flap of the tent moved aside. I turned around to face Myar Mal. He
