He grimaced.
“Yeah, well, there’s this… investigation. Regarding Sanam Il’s actions.”
My stomach clenched.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured, dropping my gaze back to the table. The inlaid figures seemed to mock me.
“It’s not your fault.” He paused, then added, with audible effort, “turned out that Tarvissi did send a response to our queries earlier. They demanded their citizens be returned to Tarviss unharmed and promised to deliver their own justice. Except that message never got to Myar Mal.”
“Did you know about that?” I asked before I could bite my tongue.
“No!” His eyes widened in shock, and I felt like an asshole. “I knew as much as everyone else; that Tarviss had denounced its citizens and didn’t bother responding. If I knew…” he faltered and fell silent.
What would he do, I wondered? Confront his vessár, risk being killed or involved in treason? Or run straight to Myar Mal, betraying his leader?
“Did you tell them that?” I asked, wanting desperately to fix the impression left by my previous question.
Adyar Lah sighed. “Yes, I did. They said they don’t really suspect me; it’s just a formality. But I needed to come here, show up for questioning, and stay until they let me leave.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah.” He sighed again. “You know, I was thinking… Maybe it’s better Sanam Il died by a Tarvissi’s hand…”
Than live to be tried for treason. I wasn’t sure what relationship Adyar Lah had with his ex-vessár, but it was clear his legacy troubled the young leader. In a way, I understood.
That’s why I didn’t ask if the investigation brought up anything against Laik Var.
“Now Tarviss wants to hold us accountable for the death of its citizens,” he continued grimly. “And it doesn’t look great. It’s not official yet, but I’ve heard that we may have an actual war ahead.”
The only answer that came to my mind was a nondescript hum. I didn’t expect anything less. Still, it was a sad state of things. And if we were to fight again… I wasn’t sure if I could do it.
“It’s not all bad,” he switched unexpectedly and somehow apprehensively. Was he trying to convince me or himself? “Since that rebellion, so many people want to enlist that in one cycle we’ll be able to double the number of Cohorts. That means a lot of advancements.”
“Well, it’s too late for us,” I joked.
He chuckled and raised his bowl. “I’ll drink to that.”
I did the same. We drained our koocha in no time and poured ourselves another round. Neither of us said anything about the holes in existing Cohorts. What was there to say, anyway?
The waitress arrived again bringing appetizers. Chaarites believed that anything freely given would return to you twice, so even ordering at a restaurant it was customary to receive more than was put on the bill. Milkseed, ruby beans cooked with spices and mirrange peel, steamed buns, seaweed, vegetables fresh, fried and pickled, and paper-thin slices of steamed meat and fish were laid out before us. For a moment the lavishness made me feel that everything was all right. I was just back from another mission, killing time before the next.
If only I could believe it…
We got to the food with the enthusiasm of people who hadn’t eaten in ages. I couldn’t help stealing a peek at Adyar Lah every once in a while, half-expecting him to drop into anaphylaxis. He must’ve noticed me staring because his lips twitched in a crooked smile and he asked innocently:
“Have you passed your first aid course yet?”
A pickled plum stuck in my throat.
“Not yet,” I admitted after coughing it out. My face was burning. “I crashed after the battle.”
“Hm. A shame.” Despite the words, he was smirking. “Looks like if something bad happens, I’m on my own.”
A twinge of annoyance broke through my embarrassment. I looked around ostentatiously. “With so many people, there’s bound to be someone who knows how to give an injection.”
“I don’t know, Aldait Han. If they all have your attitude…”
I couldn’t find an answer to that. I clenched my teeth and dropped my head in defeat.
“But don’t worry,” his tone was light, and I finally realized he was messing with me, “I’ll be fine.”
“I guess you wouldn’t come here if you expected something different,” I said, unwittingly making it sound like an accusation.
“When I was a kid, my family lived in a Chaarite colony.” To my surprise, he managed to pronounce the name impeccably. My reaction must have been visible, since he quickly confirmed: “Yes, I can say Chaar… Tirshan.”
It was actually Teärshan, but his version was still better than what most Dahlsi used.
“There was a restaurant,” he continued. “The owners liked me and couldn’t stand the thought of me growing up eating only tubed food. So, they started feeding me.”
“No adverse reaction?” I asked, curiosity sweeping away my annoyance. Adyar Lah seemed like a nice guy; it wasn’t his fault I couldn’t take a joke. “No allergy?”
“Surprisingly, no. At least nothing serious. Don’t ask me why. Maybe there’s something in Chaarite food that makes it easy on the stomach. Or it’s just because I have foreign blood.”
“Do you?”
He wave-shrugged. “Like every other Dahlsi. Our women are crazy for foreigners. There’s a myth that mixed babies are stronger and healthier.”
My thoughts immediately shot to Argan Am. Probably because his half-foreignness was so obvious. He suffered such horrible injuries in Maurir… But by taking him off the final battle, perhaps they saved his life.
I squeezed my eyes shut to banish the image of Saral Tal’s face creeping up.
“Are they?” I asked, desperate for something else to occupy my mind. It sounded weak.
Unaware of my sudden gloom, or just ignoring it out of politeness, Adyar Lah waved his hand. “No, not really. Not when we keep living in sheltered cities and eat processed shit. Still, for a nation known for its rationality, we can be pretty stubborn sometimes.”
“I don’t think much can be done,” I said, remembering Tayrel
