Just friends—they’d both said that. Why not say more? Might not be important, but then again it might. “Any reason they might not be upfront about it?”
He chuckled. “They are a little squirrelly about it, aren’t they? I think they’re worried about pressure from their households. Bounty doesn’t want Kirk to leave; Sirius couldn’t survive without Miran; and if the two of them start talking about a banner together . . . which household gets the banner, and so on. I thi
nk they’re trying to avoid the fuss and rumor.”
Enid couldn’t blame them; seemed to be a lot of both around here. “Might they try to skip the banner?”
He looked sharply at her. “No. They’d never do that. Being an investigator really does give you a devious mind, doesn’t it?”
“I’ve seen some pretty devious things,” she agreed. “Your imagination would be shocked. What do you think of Philos?”
“He worries a lot. Ariana, too. But that’s why they’re on the committee.”
“It’s a hard job. Lots to worry about. And why is Lee on the committee?”
“Ah, yes. The third seat rotates households every two years. It was his turn. He’s doing the best he can, I think.”
Poor man. Not really suited to decision making or standing up to either of the other two. They probably liked it that way.
“You like it here, then?” she asked him. “Will you take a turn on the committee when your chance comes up?” She had a hard time picturing Dak on any kind of committee. But people changed . . .
“Pasadan’s a nice place, Enid. Not like some we’ve seen. You know the ones.”
Yes, she knew: the villages and households they’d visited without enough resources, in states of disrepair and neglect. No, Pasadan wasn’t like that at all.
“Just perfect here, is it?”
“Well. I’m sure you’ll find cracks if you pry hard enough. Ariana and Philos not getting along, for one.”
“Why is that, you think?”
He studied her, a wry tilt to his lips. Here she was interrogating him, and he was trying to look amused about it. “Town’s due for another banner. It can feed another mouth without stretching resources. And with Sero gone . . . well. That’s yet another mouth, isn’t it?” Not that a death automatically meant a new banner—or murder would be a lot more common, wouldn’t it? The accounting of resources was more complicated than that. “Trouble is, whose household deserves the banner? Ariana’s or Philos’s?”
They were fighting over who got the next banner? That almost seemed too easy. “Draw straws, I say.”
“Spoken by someone who never wanted a baby,” he said.
Enid didn’t mean to, but she thought of Olive and scowled. Would he be surprised to learn that her household had a banner? Looking hard at him, she said, “Are you giving me rumor or data? Do you actually talk to anyone about this sort of thing?”
His tone remained amused—the better to cut her with. “I hardly know this side of you, Enid. So hard, so terrible. You didn’t used to be like this.”
She laughed. She didn’t mean to, but she couldn’t help it. For him to make a pronouncement like that? For him to judge anything? “You never knew me, Dak. Not further than you wanted to see, anyway.”
“Enid—”
“Are you going to tell me we shouldn’t be here? That nothing wrong happened here? Someone died in a terrible accident, and you’re all just innocent as lambs—”
“The town should be able to take care of it—”
“Yes. Yes, they should. But they’re not. You’re not. It’s too hard, isn’t it? And that’s why we’re here. Because it’s too hard.”
He stepped back. Conceded the point with a bow of his head.
“I’ll talk to you later, Enid. Maybe after you’ve wrapped up here.” He strolled off on whatever business he was on.
For now, at least, he’d stopped wandering. He had roots here and couldn’t just take off when he didn’t like the look of a place. Who’d have guessed?
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