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“Balance,” she said again. “Not vengeance as spectacle. Not ruin. Equilibrium.”
Maren hesitated, then added something like an afterthought: “If you need a way in, ask the servant Yori. He owes me a debt.”
Inside, the warmth was sticky and honest. Drinking songs swelled. Kyou took a corner seat and listened until the music wore itself thin. He ordered broth and a piece of bread. The barkeep — a woman with an eye like a chipped coin — watched him when she placed the food down, not with curiosity but with arithmetic. He told her his name as one tells a number; she nodded, then asked what his trade was.
“Why keep them?” Yori breathed.
“You’re Kyou, yes?” she asked.
“Balance,” she said again. “Not vengeance as spectacle. Not ruin. Equilibrium.”
Maren hesitated, then added something like an afterthought: “If you need a way in, ask the servant Yori. He owes me a debt.”
Inside, the warmth was sticky and honest. Drinking songs swelled. Kyou took a corner seat and listened until the music wore itself thin. He ordered broth and a piece of bread. The barkeep — a woman with an eye like a chipped coin — watched him when she placed the food down, not with curiosity but with arithmetic. He told her his name as one tells a number; she nodded, then asked what his trade was.
“Why keep them?” Yori breathed.
“You’re Kyou, yes?” she asked.