Chapter 119: Accountability

Rook kept his eyes upon the old man.

"Fine. I'll try not to go looking."

Mara had heard him agree to enough things to recognize how little that promised. The old man appeared to recognize it too, but he merely inclined his head and allowed the matter to rest.

"Now, are you going to show us the way out?"

"Follow the passage you entered through," the old man replied. "The doors will open when you approach. Once you have both passed through, they will close behind you."

Rook stepped into the hall.

His coffin stood against the wall, its chains gathered loosely around the base. He crouched beside it and pulled it forward until it rested flat upon the stone. The lid scraped when he opened it.

For the first time since awakening, he had something to occupy his hands.

Mara stood nearby while he examined the contents. He lifted each weapon far enough to inspect the blade, then returned it to its place. Several knives had slipped beneath a coil of rope. One of the longer weapons lay across the compartment holding his thunder charges, its edge caught beneath a fastening strap.

Rook moved it carefully.

"Everything's shifted."

"The coffin was carried across her back," the old man said from the doorway. "was moving quickly over rough ground. Whatever was loose inside would have moved."

Rook held up a blade and turned its edge toward the Beacon's light. A shallow nick interrupted the steel near its tip.

"That wasn't there."

He inspected another, running his thumb beside the edge.

"Neither was that."

"She could carry you and your belongings here quickly. Keeping every weapon undisturbed was beyond the arrangement."

Rook muttered something Mara did not quite catch and set the blade down.

He checked the thunder charges next, turning each in his hands before settling it back into its compartment. The casings had survived. His ropes remained wound together, though the grave-thread had become tangled around one of the buckles. He freed it with careful movements, checked the pouch of powder and pressed its closure between his fingers.

Nothing was missing.

Even so, he went through the smaller compartments before accepting it. Mara watched him straighten the knives and tighten the straps around the heavier weapons. He adjusted the same buckle twice, stopping only when the metal no longer moved beneath his hand.

Finally, he removed the Reaper lantern and closed the lid.

The coffin struck his back with a familiar, heavy sound as he lifted it. He drew the chains over his shoulders, hooked them into place and pulled until the weight settled. One shoulder rolled, then the other. The movement seemed to steady him.

Mara followed as he crossed the hall.

The feline remained stretched beside the passage, leaving enough room for them to pass. Its tail lay across several floor slabs, the tip moving slowly through the dust. As Rook approached, it raised its head.

He stopped beside its foreleg.

For a moment, neither moved. Rook looked into one enormous golden eye, his expression difficult to read.

"How did you tame an Abomination?"

The old man smiled faintly.

"I don't think you would like the answer."

The feline's pupil narrowed. Rook continued watching it for another moment, then glanced toward the old man.

"I probably wouldn't."

He stepped around its paw and entered the passage.

Mara looked back once. The old man had rested one hand against the creature's head. Neither followed them.

The corridor sloped upward between the blue lanterns set into its walls. Their footsteps carried ahead of them, accompanied by the uneven knock of Rook's coffin chains. Mara stayed close enough to see his face whenever they passed beneath a light, but he kept his attention forward.

At the end of the passage, the metal doors began sliding apart.

Cold air entered through the widening gap, stirring dust around their boots. Beyond it lay the dark slope beneath the Skyraisers.

Rook lifted his lantern.

Its blue light spread across the worn stones outside. He waited at the threshold, studying the ground and the broken ridges beyond it before stepping through. Mara followed him onto the slope.

The doors closed behind them with a deep, grinding impact.

She turned at the sound. The last narrow strip of light vanished, leaving the carved figures upon the metal dimly visible beneath Rook's lantern. Yama stood above the procession with her veiled face turned toward the darkness.

Then Rook started east, and Mara hurried after him.

The road was easier to find than she expected. Broad stones emerged through the dirt at uneven intervals, marking a route worn down until it scarcely rose above the surrounding ground. Here and there, roots had forced their way between the slabs. Rook stepped over them without looking down for long.

"How do you feel?" Mara asked.

He raised the lantern toward a cluster of rocks beside the road.

She waited until they had passed it.

"After everything he did, I mean."

Rook continued walking.

The coffin shifted against his shoulders as he climbed over a tilted slab. He caught the chain before it could strike the wood and held it still until he reached level ground.

Mara followed more slowly. Her boot slipped upon loose earth, forcing her to catch herself against the stone.

"Rook."

He did not turn.

Her brow tightened. "Come on. Are you angry with me?"

This time, he stopped.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

The answer left her standing a few paces behind him.

"No one gave you permission to do that," he continued. "I told you I didn't want to know. Repeatedly. You kept asking, and I kept telling you."

"You were dying."

"You had him fix that. Then you had him do the rest."

Mara opened her mouth, but the distinction left her with nothing ready to say.

Rook waited briefly before turning away.

"At least it wasn't what you thought," she said.

He looked back over his shoulder.

"You weren't some psychotic murderer. You weren't going around killing people because you enjoyed it. That sickness did those things. Whatever the Brand says, you didn't choose to kill them."

Rook stared at her.

"You think the alternative was better?"

Mara's lips parted.

She remembered his hands gripping the treatment table as he described the machine. The way his body had recoiled from things that were no longer touching him. She had watched him fight creatures larger than buildings, yet he had barely been able to speak about a room.

Her mouth closed again.

Rook adjusted the chain against his shoulder.

"It still beats not knowing what happened," she said, more quietly.

He released a long breath.

"You just don't get it, do you?"

He resumed walking before she could answer.

Mara remained where she was for a moment, staring at his back. Then the light began moving away, and she followed.

She had imagined this conversation differently.

Even after the screaming, even after he accused her of allowing the old man into his memories, she had thought understanding what happened would eventually help. She had wanted him to discover that he had not been the sort of person his Brand suggested.

Now he knew, and he was looking at her as though she had taken something from him.

That hurt more than she wanted to admit.

She had pulled him out of the Pale Abomination. She had held him while his body came apart and followed a stranger into the dark because nobody else could save him. Surely he could acknowledge some of that. Surely he could at least…

Mara pressed her lips together.

Thank her.

The thought sat badly with her as soon as she recognized it.

She wanted gratitude because she had been frightened. Because she had tried. Because admitting that part of her decision had hurt him would mean accepting that she had been wrong while feeling so certain.

He had needed someone to stop his body from dissolving. After that, she had wanted answers.

The laboratory. The Fourth Rank. His death. His inability to Cull.

She had gathered all those questions into the same decision and called it helping him.

Ahead, Rook slowed beside a fallen stone marker. He lowered the lantern until its light passed beneath the slab, revealing a shallow hollow filled with dirt and pale roots. He examined it from two angles before moving on.

Mara almost spoke.

An explanation came first, which was how she knew she was not ready.

She still wanted to tell him that anyone would have made the same choice. That he could not blame her for failing to predict what the old man would find. That she had only been trying to give him something he had lost.

But he had told her he did not want it.

She could not find a way around that without hearing herself dismiss him again.

The road carried them between the spreading bases of the Skyraisers. Rook kept the lantern low where the ground was uneven, then lifted it whenever the path opened. Blue light travelled over banks of dark grass, cracks beneath exposed roots and the narrow spaces between boulders.

Mara began watching those spaces too.

A loose stone shifted beneath her boot, making her stop until the sound faded. Nothing answered. Far above them, wind moved through some unseen opening in the pillars with a low, uneven whistle.

Rook waited while she crossed a broken section of road, then continued without looking at her.

She could not tell whether that made her feel better.

Gradually, the pillars fell behind them. Their enormous bases disappeared first, obscured by the rising ground. For a while Mara could still make out the higher reaches against the darkness, but each time she looked back, she found less of them.

Eventually, she stopped turning.

Rook walked ahead with the lantern extended beyond the edge of his coat. Whenever the road bent, he paused long enough to study what the light revealed, then moved on toward the chasm.

Mara kept close behind. Between their footsteps, the only sound was the occasional scrape of a chain against his coffin.