"Peace, Eb."

"Trading work for protection is the predictable option. Flight would be naval, long, and probably futile. Someone less noble-soft might prefer farming. But what would you do, with these marvels? Equip armies? Buy the favor of Archons? Become famous yourself?"

Verse is antsy, and can tell this isn't going to be quick. She strips a vertical strip of bark off a tree and leans against it, her eyes closed.

"...Funny to be called noble-soft. I was a fucking orphan. Bristol is just... Rich, in comparison. I want to be safe. I want to help people. I want to make the world richer. Though I think I should learn more about 'the standards of what can and cannot be known'."

He tilts his head. "That must be wealthy indeed, if an orphan without a patron still spends their days indoors, far away from toil. And if you can make spears of pure iron, let alone ones full of lightning."

"I like you. I try to help people, too, though Kyros and those who prefer death to his service do not make it easy. And I think the rich world you could make is a sight worth seeing."

Eb snorts derisively.

"You, like Eb, are free to doubt me on that."

She nods solemnly. "I doubt the practical reality of it more than anything else. And that the - incentives - that make the world brutal, can be overcome... But I would still like to try, whether that's sincere or just words. I'm glad."

"Incentives do matter, but they can be defied. ...I think this will be a long conversation. Best had at a table, maybe in the town back the way you came."

"Yes, that makes sense. Though I haven't come from a town - shall I follow you all, or go somewhere to wait if you're in some sort of errand-?"

"Verse doesn't care about many people. But one of the few, her killer used to live near here." He doesn't look too happy about it; the calm smile fades to a faint frown.

"We'll see what her sister says. She took my sister."

It's Essa, isn't it. She was trying not to call down trouble for Essa.

Well, technically, they were coming this way anyway.

"-Ah. Hmm."

"You got a problem with that, tiny?"

"I'm not going to get in your way. You were headed for her anyway so it's not like I led you there." 

This is really not a very good battle to pick even if she were much more sure Essa didn't deserve it than she actually is.

"I promised Verse this," he says, levelly, "and I won't renege simply because she was kind to someone useful."

"And I'm not asking you to."

It just hurts anyway. So many people gone, and more every day.

"We understand each other," he says with a nod. "Verse, lead the way."

She stands back up and onto the road, then resumes stalking along the path toward Essa's door.

"Come on," she says to Walta, "better along than alone."

"Or I could close my eyes and hope it goes away," she mutters, before shaking her head and following along.

Eb pats her on the shoulder. "I doubt it will go better if the ones who might care about her stay away," she says quietly.

"I'm not a soldier. Feels different than the great frost doing it. More personal."

Or the wasting disease. Different than that, too. Her mother. That, she could not do anything but pray about.

"The good thing about personal, is there's a personality you can argue with. Most people you can even change their mind sometimes."

She is quiet the rest of the way there.

They turn at the path to Essa's. Their steps are heavy, their voices silent.