“It’s irrelevant in any case,” she said, still sounding a bit testy. “We can’t find him.”
I did not want to talk about him, either, but I dredged up interest. “Why not?”
“I don’t know. But he’s been missing for several years now. When we seek his presence in the mortal realm, we feel nothing, find nothing. We aren’t worried… yet.”
I considered this but could offer no answer. Even together, the Three were not omniscient, and Yeine and Nahadoth alone were not the Three. If Itempas had found some scrivener to craft an obscuration for him… But why would he do that?
For the same reason he does anything else, I decided. Because he’s an ass.
“I don’t,” Yeine said softly after a while. I frowned in confusion. She sighed and stroked my hair again. “Love him, I mean.”
So many unspokens in her words. Not yet the most obvious among them, and perhaps a bit of not ever, because I am not Enefa, though I did not believe that. She was too drawn to him already. Most relevant was not until you love him, too, which I could live with.
“Right.” I sighed, weary again. “Right. I don’t love him, either.”
We both fell silent at that, for a long while. Eventually she began to touch my hair here and there, causing the excess length to fall away. I closed my eyes, grateful for her attention, and wondered how many more times I would be privileged to experience it before I died.
“Do you remember?” I asked. “The last day of your mortal life. You asked me what would happen when you died.”
Her hands went still for a moment. “You said you didn’t know. Death wasn’t something you’d thought much about.”
I closed my eyes, my throat tightening for no reason I could fathom. “I lied.”
Her voice was too gentle. “I know.”
She finished my hair and gathered the shed length of it in one hand. I felt the flick of her will, and then she put her hand in front of my face to show me what she’d done. My hair had become a thin woven cord short enough to loop about my neck, and threaded onto this cord was a small, yellow-white marble. A different size and substance, but I would recognize its soul anywhere: En.
I sat up, surprised and pleased, lifting the necklace to grin at my old friend. (It did not like being smaller. It missed being a kickball, bouncy and fat. Did it have to be this puny, rigid shape just because I wasn’t a child anymore? Surely adult mortals liked to kick balls sometimes. I stroked it to still its whining.) Then I touched my shorter hair and found that she’d reshaped that, too, giving me a style that suited the older lines of my face.
I looked up at her. “You’ve made me very pretty—thank you. Did you play with dolls as a mortal girl?”
“I was Darre. Dolls were for boys.” She got to her feet, unnecessarily dusting off her clothes, and looked around the now-empty chamber. “I don’t like you being here, Sieh. In Sky.”
I shrugged. “This place is as good as any other.” Nahadoth had been right about that. I couldn’t leave the mortal realm in my condition; too much of the gods’ realm was inimical to flesh. Naha could have kept me safe by taking me into himself, but I would not tolerate that again.
“This place has Arameri.”
Resisting the urge to bat at the marble on its cord, I slipped it over my head and let it settle under my shirt instead. (En liked that, being near my heart.) “I’m not a slave anymore, Yeine. They’re no threat to me now.” She shot me a look of such disgust that I recoiled. “What?”
“Arameri are always a threat.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Really, daughter of Kinneth?”
At this she looked truly annoyed, her eyes turning a yellowy, acid peridot. “They cling to power by a thread, Sieh. Only their scriveners and armies allow them to keep control—mortal magic, mortal strength, both of which can be subverted. What do you think they’ll do, now that they have a god in their power again?”
“I can’t see how a weak, dying god will do them much good. I can’t even take another form safely. I’m pathetic.” She opened her mouth to protest again, and I sighed to interrupt her. “I will be careful. I promise. But truly, Yeine, I have more important concerns right now.”
She sobered. “Yes.” After another moment’s silence, she uttered a heavy sigh and turned away. “See that you are careful, Sieh. A mortal lifetime may seem like nothing to you….” She paused, blinked, and smiled to herself. “To me, too, I suppose. But don’t squander it. I mean to use every moment of yours to try and find a cure.”