Stoneweaver

Stoneweaver - Chapter 13

The shroud of mist remained over the funeral dock as the small procession made its way along. The rearmost stone pier issuing from the city, it had only one use.

Danath's gaze stayed on the clouds of nothingness greeting the morning. His eyes didn't stray towards the smattering of mourners, most of whom he'd recognised, but only a few he could name. They didn't stray towards Andira, a few steps ahead of him. And they certainly didn't linger on the wrapped body being carried ahead.

Elder Durnam spoke, but his words slid through Danath. The old mans face drooped more than normal, and his weight seemed to all be on the bone walking stick he leant on, reputed to have come from a whale. He knew Durnam had known Syssarra, and could hear the loss in man's voice, but his thoughts refused to focus on anything other than recalling her face. It kept slipping to the image of her lying there, and he kept forcing it back to how he wanted to remember her. But he didn't think he really felt anything from her absence, other than numbness. Shouldn't he be feeling...something.

Lowered to the water, the body was released. It drifted a short way, pulled faintly in the city's wake, before gently sliding beneath the waves, and out of sight behind the mist.

Andira turned a moment later, striding back to stand before him, those eyes freezing a hole into his skull, although he didn't meet them. She waited silently as the rest of the mourners made their way back, towards the tavern where the wake would be held. None of them wanted to be near if she exploded. Because they didn't understand her.

She had the reputation of being hot tempered, of exploding in rage at the slightest provocation. But her temper wasn't uncontrolled. She had perfect control over it, and used it as a weapon, to enhance her reputation. But when truly affected by something, she went quiet, cold, keeping a tight rein on herself. He'd only seen her truly lose her temper once, when one of the other orphans had tried to force himself on Syssarra. The boy had been older than them, and nearly twice Andira's size, but by the time she'd finished with him... That had been the beginning of her reputation, and while it hadn't been forgotten, no one spoke of it in her presence.

The last of the footsteps reached the other end of the pier before she spoke, her tone a tight, cold thing. "I blame you for this."

Danath finally forced himself to meet that hard gaze. "I didn't kill her."

"I know that. But you're the reason she's dead."

He offered a questioning glance.

"You must have heard the rumours, that you're behind some uprising, that you're planning to depose Thortus."

"They're rubbish. I've got no interest..."

"I know that. Despite what Syssarra may've believed, you've too little interest in anything but yourself."

"So the rumours..."

She cut him off. "...were probably started by someone else. So maybe someone's trying to set you up."

"So why was she killed then? You think Thortus did it as a warning to me?"

"Unlikely. If he knew you were a threat, he'd eliminate you, not risk you retaliating. From what I heard it had been arranged to look like you did it. So maybe they wanted people to think she'd found out something you wanted kept quiet."

"Or maybe they found out something she wanted kept quiet." This drew a questioning stare, and while he knew he shouldn't continue, the words came out just the same. "Maybe she started the rumours, in hopes of making them true. She was always trying to get me to be that person anyway, so maybe she'd decided to start without me. Maybe she even made contact with some groups, and maybe they found out and that's why she was killed. Because of you."

He may as well have hit her from the look on her face, and he tensed for retaliation, but she remained fixed in place, her glare heating up. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know she idolized you. And she wanted to go with you when you left, but you considered it too dangerous. So you left her here. You never approved of her and me, and maybe if you'd taken her with you, you wouldn't have had that problem. But you didn't. She still wanted to be you, though, and she latched onto your big talk of the rebellion, overthrowing the way things are. I tried talking sense into her, but she never really accepted it. Because you never would."

They stood in a tense silence for a long few moments.

He wished he hadn't said the words. The pain was evident around her eyes now, the tense refusal to show it as open to his familiar eyes as any tears would be. Why had he said it?

"I'll find whoever did this." The tone was harsh, and the words harsher. "And I'll make sure you pay for whatever part you played in it." Barely controlling herself, she stalked past him.

His gaze returning to the water, he had to wonder whether he wasn't already paying for it.