“No. You have folk in every town happy to see you. You’re never lonely.”
“You’re the only one who was ever willing to travel with me.”
He still had the charm. The gentle, wheedling, bardic charm. He simply showed up, and people fed him and cheered for him. And all she could think was how much she didn’t miss him. It seemed cruel to say it out loud, however much he likely deserved to hear it. But the silence stretched, and that was answer enough. He heard the words she didn’t say, and ducking his head, he chuckled.
He hadn’t changed, and she didn’t care.
“I’ve got to get home. If you’ll excuse me.” She went inside to pack. Soon now, she would tell all this to Sam.
He wouldn’t laugh.
//////////////////////////////////////////////////
The hoard of grain wouldn’t be wasted. It would be passed along to the regional committee, and from there it would go to households that needed it, places with blight or a bad harvest that had put them behind quota.
As Pasadan had shown it could not care for its people, there’d be no banners. Not for some years at least. Kirk and his household would never get one, not as long as Philos and Kirk were there. And Miran . . . that was a harder question. She had known; she had lied. Did Enid punish her whole household, then? Was the punishment for the rest of the town enough? Maybe it would have to be.
But whatever Kirk had wanted, he’d lost. That seemed a more apt punishment than locking him away in some dark room, like in the prisons the world had built before the Fall.
Kirk could run, but she’d send messages and inside a month there’d be nowhere he could go on the Coast Road where folk wouldn’t hear of who he was and what he’d done. What they’d all done. All the investigators and all the folk of the surrounding towns, households, and markets would know if Pasadan tried to duck out of their shame. They wouldn’t need an enforcer standing over them to keep watch. The wider community would do that themselves. That was the real punishment, the real consequence.
Enid was still angry as she passed judgment. But she was satisfied.
//////////////////////////////////////////////////
A storm was coming up. The clouds on the horizon were slate gray, tinged with green. They gave Enid a sick feeling in her stomach because they reminded her of the ones from a decade ago, of the storm that she and Dak had been caught in, and the one that had destroyed Potter before that. She had to stave off the sense of panic, that she needed to get to shelter right now.
She had time. A day at least. She would get back to Serenity before the storm hit, and all would be well.
At the way station at Tigerlily, she stopped to trade news and to deliver the first of many copies of her report on Pasadan. The place was bustling; they’d also seen the clouds building and thought the storm looked like a big one, so they were preparing. Shoring up structures, covering windows, gathering supplies, taking care of folk caught traveling who needed a place to shelter.
Enid wanted to take the solar car all the way to Haven to speed up her trip. She made sure no one else needed it more, and no one did. Besides, once the clouds moved in and the vehicle’s battery ran low, the thing wouldn’t be much good anyway. It would stay safe, parked in Haven.
She talked about the case to a couple of messengers and the head of the way station. She wasn’t really in the mood for it, but she needed to do it, to start word moving. The responses were either aghast or enthralled. Maybe a little of both.
“So it really was a murder?” the head of the way station asked, more than once.
“I think in the old days, they would have called it manslaughter. Maybe wrongful death,” she said.
“Dead’s still dead, and what a wretched situation,” a messenger from the south muttered, and Enid agreed. Before the Fall, they had the time and energy for semantics and fine gradations of meaning. She passed along a couple of copies of her initial report, which would be copied and passed along in turn, until all the regional committees knew what had happened.
“I’m very sorry about Tomas,” the head of the way station said. “I liked him.”
Enid smiled a thanks and gritted her teeth. She was going to be facing those condolences, and offering them, a lot over the next couple of days. Made the wound hurt more, not less. She wanted to be home.
The drive back to Haven gave her plenty of time to mull over questions. Decide if she’d learned anything, or if the town had learned anything. If anyone had learned anything about what had gone wrong and what they could do better.
Banners were a scarce resource. People fought over scarce resources. But they’d already known that, hadn’t they? Would anything have kept Kirk from thinking Sero was about to steal something from him? Or would he have thought that in any case? If Kirk hadn’t been so possessive of Miran, would he have staked a claim on something else? Sero’s auger, maybe? It was all just . . . exhausting.
Part of her never wanted to arrive back at Haven at all, because then she’d have to tell everyone about Tomas. She didn’t have a satisfying reason or explanation for his death. He just died, as people do. Too soon, too young.
And there, she started crying again.
She had it all planned out. She was going to drive the car straight to Plenty, call as many people as she could get into the common room there, hand over Tomas’s staff and belongings, and lay it all out as quickly and straight as she could. Offer what small comfort she could, then bow herself out and flee to Serenity. Hope Sam was there. If he wasn’t, she would make a cup of strong tea and wait for him.
It was a good plan, a solid plan for which she could brace and shore up her emotional reserves. Be the dispassionate investigator for just a little longer. But before she could get to Plenty, she met Olive, coming up the road with her basket on her arm. Probably back from trading bread for eggs at one of the other houses. She was looking good, color back in her cheeks, energy in her stride. She felt good enough to go out, which she hadn’t a week ago. Already, the world looked better.
“Olive!” Enid called, and parked and spilled out to greet her friend. Olive laughed and gave her a one-armed hug, taking care of the basket.