A Plague of Giants (Seven Kennings #1) - Kevin Hearne Page 0,259

our loved ones.

I told Sarena that at least we knew who killed her now but I hoped she would forgive me if I left any vengeance to the Wraith.

“That’s not the way my river flows,” I said. “I suppose I’m not well suited to being a man of action anymore despite my occasional wishes to be. I’m too old, and my knee literally won’t stand for it. I know there are those who say if you are not strong, then you are merely a victim in waiting, but I think that’s the violent man’s way of justifying the evil he does. And it is profoundly simplistic, the sort of thing we heard from the fish heads who used to beat me and Rölly when we were young and living on the streets. I never wanted to believe in that or be the sort of person they were, and I don’t think Rölly did either. I think—and it is something I have thought about for a while—that there is a measure of heroism in providing safe harbor. Not actively saving anyone so much as providing the space for them to save themselves. It takes a lot of effort and patience and kindness and a resignation that while you may be thanked, you will never be celebrated for it. Though you did notice every so often. You used to tell me that our home centered you after your missions; it was dependable like the sunrise, the one true and solid thing in your life. For me, that was better than any medal I could have won in a war. Well, I can’t be your safe harbor anymore, but I’m trying to be one for another family now. It’s the only sort of heroism that suits me in my middle age. And it’ll do more good than seeking revenge.”

I scattered the rose petals onto the soft churning blue of the ocean, where they bobbed like curling white flags snapping in a distant sky. “I’m still here,” I said, “though I’ll join you soon enough, my love.”

During the row back into shore I determined to record what happened that morning and see if it survived the attentions of the Wraith. He no doubt had keys to my place and perused my manuscript regularly. Perhaps he would see, after tensions were not so high, that keeping the secret was moot. Clodagh had had my wife killed, and we had the proof. Let the Raelechs make a stink like a fishmonger if they wished. Sure, we stole their stuff. But the Earth Shapers could hardly point fingers at us and claim they stood on holy ground. Not anymore.

—

Fintan seemed especially cheerful when I met him for lunch and work, and I asked him why. “Numa’s here,” he said. So it was just as the Wraith had predicted: a courier would arrive to inform the Raelech diplomats that some valuable intelligence had been stolen.

“Oh? News from home?”

He shrugged. “I assume so. She’s at the embassy now and will meet with the pelenaut later, no doubt. I’ll get to see her tonight after the performance.”

“That’s excellent,” I said, and prepared myself for probing questions or statements about the contents of the journal tomorrow. I doubted Fintan was a party to Sarena’s murder or even knew that Clodagh was responsible. But he was oath-bound to support the person who murdered her and not, therefore, someone I could trust.

—

Fintan brought a full complement of musicians with him to the wall for the day’s song, which was largely instrumental and an old favorite at Brynt dances. It had only one verse, sung between long breaks of foot-stomping, furious music with a famous flute melody skirling above the rhythm, and the rule was that every time it was sung, the band had to play faster afterward and the dancers had to keep up. People would boast for years about any time they made it beyond six verses without collapsing from exhaustion, and musicians likewise bragged if they could play beyond eight. The words weren’t anything special, but by long-standing tradition, whoever sang it had to begin calmly and get progressively angrier with each repetition:

Well, the sun and the sea and stars up above

You can always take for given,

But you never know what will happen next

With the mariner men and women!

The Raelech bard’s band made it to nine repetitions along with two young dancing couples of extraordinary endurance, and then everybody needed a break before he began the day’s tales. He started with