Chapter 479 - 480: Devastated.

Chapter 479: Chapter 480: Devastated.

"Unfortunately, if you happen to...make a scene then you’ll give him no choice," Bongo admits wryly; no doubt recalling the innumerable times where Khobi had, in fact, caused a scene, "But should you be content to...slip away quietly, as it were, I can make that happen." He gives Khojin and Mozry a reassuring look as he reminds them, "We escorted you in; it should be no trouble to escort you out. It’ll be as if you were never here."

He makes it sound so easy. But neither Mozry nor Khojin look convinced.

"You don’t trust him, do you?" Khobi says, not realising how crestfallen he sounds.

"No, we don’t," Mozry replies for the both of them. But then her expression softens, some of the steel there bending and bowing and twisting as she searches his face. And Khobi wonders what exactly it is she sees there that sways her, just a little. "...But you do, don’t you?"

Once upon a time, Gurdet Horang had felt like a man that absolutely could not be trusted.

For whatever reason, he doesn’t feel like that man anymore. He promised he’d find them, didn’t he? And he found them. He didn’t have to tell him --gods, he could’ve had them killed for all Khobi knew; pretended to keep searching for them even when he knew they were dead. But he came to see him, and told him himself that they were alive; handed him a letter when he could’ve burned it, and promised to send one back. So Khobi clears his throat and looks his aunt right in the eye as he tells her:

"If he says he’ll let us go, then he’ll let us go."

His aunt and uncle exchange a look, and in the moments that follow Khobi dimly becomes aware of the beating of his pulse rising ever louder in his ears. But then Mozry’s fingers tighten on Khojin’s shoulders, infinitesimally, and he gets the sense that a decision has been made.

"...Then we’ll go," Khojin says with finality, giving Bongo a short nod of concession. Air rushes into Khobi’s lungs so fast it makes his head ring, and Khojin sends him an earnest look as he presses, "That is, if that’s all right with you, Khobi?"

If it’s all right with him?

Why wouldn’t it be all right?

How about it, Khobi, he seems to be asking, again. Out loud this time, instead of just as an echo bouncing around inside Khobi’s head. Do you want to go home?

This is what he’s been wanting all along, isn’t it?

"Yeah," Khobi finds himself saying, in a voice that does and doesn’t sound like himself. But despite the pit in his stomach having grown utterly cavernous over these brief moments, he flashes his aunt and uncle a reassuring grin, and a nod; resolute. This is what he wants. "Let’s do it. Let’s go home."

He made his decision years ago and he’s going to see it through.

"...I’ll make the necessary arrangements," Bongo informs Khojin shortly, like it will be no trouble. Like it will be his pleasure. And the following minutes pass as if in slow motion, in which Khobi is only dimly aware that Bongo and Khojin are taking turns talking; running him through said arrangements. Bongo also takes care to warn them that once they’re clear of the city, whichever direction they head in they should do so with utmost haste, because once it’s discovered that Khobi is missing Gurdet will no doubt be forced to make a reasonable show of attempting to bring him back.

After a few days’ grace, of course. By which point, who knows where the wilderness will have taken them.

Silas will still likely suspect he had a hand in his escape --spiders are always looking for other spiders --but there’s something to be said for plausible deniability.

Some of it Khobi hears, but most of it will take a little longer to properly sink in.

Home.

He’s really...

...He’s really going home.

He can hardly believe it.

"Your uncle said that we could rely on you, Trent," Khojin states abruptly, and for some reason it’s Loac’s name that drags Khobi back to his waking senses. Because Loac’s still here --has been the entire time; deathly, uncharacteristically quiet. For whatever reason he’s still standing in the door where he’d left him, frozen in place. Khobi doesn’t remember walking over to the couch, doesn’t remember sinking down into it either but he must’ve because that’s where he finds himself. " –That you would be able to sneak Khobi out of the city and meet with us."

For a second there, the shock in Loac’s expression wavers. But like a gash of lightning splitting the sky, a ripple of anguish flashes across his face. Except that where lightning fades, this look lingers, and stings.

"...He said that, did he?" Loac says, mouth thin and blue eyes suddenly overcast with grey. A grey that spreads as Khojin offers up a nod; not storm clouds rolling in across the horizon, but a blight across a fertile valley. Winter, come harsh and too soon when Khobi wants it to only ever be summer. It suddenly feels so cold in here, and whatever it is that makes him swallow must taste so bitter for him to make a face like that.

"...Tell me where," he adds after a beat, voice coming out hoarse, like the words are sticking in his throat. Like they hurt to say. But he soldiers on regardless, vowing, "...Tell me where and I’ll...I’ll get him there." He looks over in Khobi’s direction then, and there’s something about his smile that looks wrong . Twisted. Like it’s not supposed to be a smile but he’s forcing it to be one anyway. "That’s great, right, Khobi? You’re gonna go home. Just like you wanted."

It is great, isn’t it? That he’s going home. He should feel elated at the prospect of seeing his homeland again; weightless and brimming with excitement to head off beyond the walls and into the wild unknown beyond. And he does feel that, truly he does; the idea of home and Scargga fill him with such restless longing. But the leaving part. That’s a different feeling altogether, and Loac’s words --or perhaps just one in particular --burn open a pit in Khobi’s chest for his heart to plummet straight into.

Khobi, huh.

It hurts more than it ought to.

And he tries to tell himself that it’s fine; that Loac’s always called him that. But the little voice in his head is stubborn and won’t be swayed. Won’t believe him. Not this time. Because it’s Khobi now, isn’t it, and he can see plain as day, that behind the wretched smile Loac looks absolutely devastated.