CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO - UNDYING SILENCE

Tanner had done quite a few interrogations at this point. Beldol had been a simmering well of tension, eager to confess the moment the opportunity presented itself - not because she knew some great secret, but because she had no idea what was happening and was desperate to confide. A student confessing her ignorance so a teacher could correct her. A duty Tanner had failed at. Dyen had been... well, a thug. Overly aggressive, matching suspicion with anger, trying anything to cover up the fact that he knew too much. Drawing the truth out of him had been a matter of simple patience, allowing himself to grow more tongue-tied, to run out of stories to tell, and then... well. If he'd not escaped, he'd have talked. His was a confession produced by the desire to talk, to fill the silence, to say something... and the incapability of making up a story on the spot. Tal-Sar had needed to confess, just to expel the secrets which brewed in him. For him, confession was medicinal. By sharing it, his burden declined, there was someone else who could choose to talk about Rekida. He wasn't the sole keeper of its history. Tom-Tom had been better at storytelling than Dyen. Mostly. She confessed when she was backed into a corner and saw no way out, she confessed the moment she thought the interrogator knew everything... but once that illusion broke, once she saw the vague shadows of ignorance, she raced to fill it with more lies.

Like the plan with Tyer and Lam - when given an opportunity, she filled everything empty space with complexity, even when it was unnecessary. Couldn't just play along with everyone else, had to... change her name, pretend to be Rekidan in an almost comical fashion, take responsibilities she wasn't ready for. Lie when the truth would work, exaggerate when realism was recommended, include too many moving parts when a single would've done just fine. If she'd spent time studying in the inner temple, she'd learn to clamp down on such extravagances. Even now, she was talking to people in inns, trying to get them to evacuate the colony, like that had any chance of working. Couldn't sit back and feel ashamed for the damage she'd caused, had to keep trying. Might be to impress her father. Might be to live up to some too-high standard, set by her sisters, by her parents, by the entire cartel. Might just be born of complete and total ignorance.

Regardless.

Then... had she 'interrogated' Lyur and Vyuli? No, no, they'd had complete control over the flow of information. Vyuli had 'confessed' because... what, she deserved it? Because he didn't expect her to live long enough to do anything with it? Maybe that was the point - like Tal-Sar, expelling information to someone else, lightning the burden... but while Tal-Sar had let her go, Vyuli would've killed her. Scapegoat for his own deeds, privileged to see the full scope of his achievements... and then killed to stop her from talking. And Lyur had done the same.

All of them, confessions. But all of them for different reasons. A desire to not be alone in knowing the truth, a desire to be appreciated, a desire to fill the silence with noise...

She wondered how Mr. Canima would confess. Because he did have something to confess.

What store of knowledge lurked in that narrow head of his? What secrets was holding onto, jealously guarding from the people that most needed to know them? She advanced up the ladder, the mutant clambering behind her with smooth ease, eyes cold and empty, body absolutely harmonious. Tanner, once more, felt a tiny spark of jealousy for the... simple grace of the mutant form. Not all mutants - the wolf-thing had been a shambolic creature. But this one. Lantha, too. Any that was given time to properly stabilise. They never had a foot out of place, never seemed... misaligned or malformed, they made every little feature work in tandem. No clumsiness, no unnecessary movements. Didn't even use the ladder, really - just splayed her palms against the wall and hauled herself up, powerful fingers finding any possible handhold. Clambering like a spider, really. The mutant had to be bribed to keep following, and her eyes never left Tanner's ash-covered glove.

Tanner gritted her teeth.

It'd be illegal to keep the mutant around for intimidation. And it wouldn't even work, Canima would know that a mutant like her would be disinterested in an unmutated human. But... at the same time, if... well, if he wouldn't be intimidated, then she wasn't using the mutant in the interrogation, was she? If, say, she was interrogating a person who was terrified of the colour blue, and she insisted on wearing a bright blue dress, and conducting the interview in a bright blue room, on a bright blue table, with a huge window opening to a cloudless sky, then she'd be guilty of applying undue duress, compromising the quality of the confession, and exerting unnecessary cruelty upon someone who was, legally speaking, considered innocent until proven guilty. Even though he was clearly guilty of obstructing justice. So very clearly guilty. Anyway. But the aforementioned case didn't make wearing blue in any other interrogation illegal, now did it? So, if she knew the mutant wouldn't intimidate Canima, then she wouldn't be exerting undue duress during an interrogation, so it wasn't illegal, and-

It was a mutant. Mutants were automatically dangerous, what if she started... releasing spores, or something suitably awful? Could contaminate people. Reason she was wearing a damn gas mask right now, for crying out loud... and stop manipulating the law. Even in the gutter, practise the law as it ought to be practised. If you 're only capable of maintaining your standards, your dignity in situations devoid of pressure, then you never really had those standards to begin with. Brother Olgi had drilled that into them on numerous occasions, come on Tanner, you slobbering toad.

...still.

She reached the top of the ladder, moving quickly to get out of the mutant's way, already reaching for more ash. The governor's office was completely trashed, splinters everywhere, the floor destroyed... she felt like a complete vandal, and... she ought to feel more guilty. She really should. Pinched the soft flesh around her wrist, pinched harder, a kind of sharp reprimand for how... brutish she'd been. But all she could feel was the tight-coiled muscle in her arm, sharpened up and retuned by using a sledgehammer so often, stripped of fat by days of sparse eating... no, stop feeling proud. Not... not appropriate. She gritted her teeth and moved towards the window, wrestling with the latch, resisting the urge to just smash the thing open with the sledgehammer - she'd broken stone and wood alike, she'd wrenched metal out of her way and hauled bookcases like they were nothing, she could destroy this window with all the ease of brushing aside a cobweb, and- brute. Brute. Absolute brute, and a shameful excuse for a judge.

The latch clicked.

The cold rushed in, flakes accompanying the wind like glittering white mosquitoes. The mutant didn't react - didn't feel the cold, not like Tanner did. It stared at her, at her ash-covered hand... waiting until she handed over more contamination to feast on. If she didn't, then the mutant would need to take steps. If she continued to refuse, then the question would be raised of her continuing survival. That being said, for all the inhumanity in the creature, it was still... holding back for now. Didn't immediately switch to violence, understood enough to be patient. For now. For now. If the patience wasn't rewarded...

Tanner hesitated...

Raised the urn. Throw it outside, that was the plan. Throw it away, let the mutant follow. The mutant would consume it contentedly, then go back to the city, if it wasn't killed along the way. If it hadn't gone out into the colony yet, then there was probably nothing for it here. The creature reared to its haunches, staring.

Tanner hurled the metal urn, end over end, lid keeping the poisonous matter contained.

An explosion of motion.

The mutant leapt through the window, vanishing into the snow-blasted darkness immediately. The force of the bound made the floorboards groan in protest, and Tanner wondered what would happen if the mutant decided to attack her, how those legs could crash into her, all that force brought to bear against her stomach, her face, her every vulnerability. No hesitation, no doubt, just... gone. Didn't even look back.

A creature in a blue silk dress, red hair flowing behind her like a comet trail.

Gone.

Tanner let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Closed the window with a click. And carefully, removed her gloves, her gas mask... the whole kit and caboodle of mutant-wrangling. No need for weapons, really, but she kept her truncheon close. Just in case. Now... now Canima. No point beating around the bush. The waiting room was empty, the hallway beyond deserted, but she could vaguely hear soldiers moving around downstairs. Curious at the racket, but still obeying their orders to stay off this floor. Canima... no sign of him. Tanner wouldn't be surprised if he'd already seen what she was doing, moving through his own secret passages, revolving bookcases, all the pointless bits of machinery used to exert control. Maybe he'd run away, using the same route taken by the governor's corpse. Imagined the dark shape of that thin, thin man flickering through the night, footprints swallowed by snowfall, the cold slowly killing him. Almost wanted him to run. Not so she could chase, just... just to confirm everything, without the need for an interrogation. The innocent didn't run. Come to think of it, maybe he would choose death rather than betrayal of closely-guarded information. Taking it all with him. Even that would be strangely validating, in a morbid sort of way - not only was she right, but Canima thought she would extract information from him sooner or later, that none of his techniques would preserve his secrets, and he chose to go out on his own terms.

Awful thought, really. But here she was.

She ascended the stairs one at a time, even as her legs itched to bound upwards like the mutant did. Her hands were clasped in front of her dress, her back hunching a little as if she was deep in thought, her breathing slowly brought to a state of placid control.

And when she knocked quietly on his door, there was no response.

Once more, it opened when struck. No lock. No latch.

And Mr. Canima was inside, sat close to a stove. He was hunched, just a little. There was a shrivelled quality to him - a quality that reminded her of the patchy, glittering snow that lingered in the morning, slowly melting under the gaze of a pale sun. Glittering ever-more brightly as it glistened with dew, with snow-blood. Thin, crunching underfoot... a cobweb of crystals across ludicrously green grass. That was how she felt when she looked at Canima, with his thin frame, his tight tweed suit, his gleaming cufflinks, the little knob of bone at the front of his skull... the entire air of tightness and thinness. His eyes were mostly closed, the flickering of the stove's fire turning them into hollow black pits. For a second, she thought he was asleep... but, no. No, his frame was too taut, and she saw his head moving ever-so-slightly, tracing her movements. Tanner remained in the door, staring in at the strange little room. For a second, she wanted him to snap at her, to rise up like a colossal insect and march towards her, teeth bared, eyes flashing...

But he just sat there.

His hands were on his knees. There was no gun. None she could see. But somehow she had no doubt he was armed, in some way. He seemed... pickled, almost. Like something had been worked into his skin, and now wormed into every single crack in his skin, every wrinkle, every contour that sheltered from the wind. Curing salt, pink and glittering. Vinegar, staining his skin darker and darker. Herbs, clinging like mould and lichen. He was a person pickled in secrets, in knowledge, in memories. For the first time, looking upon him, Tanner felt as though she was seeing a great chain of people, each one locked inside the other like a nesting doll, the past eaten by the present, while the future advanced hungrily to devour in its turn. Secrets locked deep. Memories locked deeper. Somewhere inside all that shrivelled, thinning matter, there was a young man. There was a boy. There was an infant. Buried so deep, and crushed so completely, they might as well be oil or coal, a black seam in the inner layers of his soul.

Mr. Canima was a cobweb of melting snow, a being pickled in secrets, a geological structure formed of countless layers, all of them bound tighter than a ship's hull.

Confession would be an act of excavation.

She spoke.

"Mr. Canima. I apologise for the late hour. But I must ask a few questions of you, relating to the governor's murder."

She closed the door quietly. Mr. Canima did nothing... but she felt watched.

With a tiny, imperceptible gulp, she kept going.

"I found the governor's secret office. I'm aware of the tunnels. My belief is that... you discovered his body. Of all the people here, you're the one most likely to have access to that secret office, to know how to enter and leave without being noticed. You found the body, and you... didn't want it being discovered in the mansion, wanted attention to be elsewhere. The questions the body's discovery here would raise were too inconvenient. So, you dressed him in the clothes he'd wear if he was going outdoors, then hauled the body through the tunnels to the colony proper. You made one mistake there - you picked the wrong scarf, his formal one was in a box at the back of the wardrobe. He'd have known where it was. But you might not."

A pause. No reply.

"I think you did this because you wanted no attention on the mansion. On the tunnels. On the secret office. You clearly regard the colony's secrets as... your highest priority, more or less. And you were willing to impede an investigation, tamper with evidence, simply to avoid these secrets being dug out."

She walked forwards slightly, her heart beating a little faster. Resisted the urge to knead her skirt.

"And there's more, there's... something out there, related to the snow fields. Something which demanded a large number of resources, which were siphoned away from the colony."

Quietly, she reached into a pouch, removing the small, hourglass-shaped object she'd found in the governor's safe. Still warm to the touch, still smooth and organic in its design, still inscrutable in its purpose.

"I believe it's related to this."

Mr. Canima moved very slightly.

And spoke.

"You appear aware of a great deal, Ms. Magg. I doubt my input is necessary."

"...it really is, sir. I still don't know who killed the governor, but... I can't draw any conclusions when I lack complete information. I mean, until the cartel made itself known, I was... ignorant of an entire player here, learning about them redefined everything else. I can't... solve anything if I lack knowledge of something which was clearly deeply, deeply important to both yourself and the governor."

Canima took a few seconds to reply, and his voice had a dull tone, flat and uninspiring, a bureaucrat's drawl as they announced something they'd announced a thousand times, and would likely announce a thousand more.

"I assure you. The secret you're looking for - which may or may not exist - has no connection."

"How do you know, though? Sir."

He stared at her. Silence reigned. Damn. Of course he wouldn't talk, why would he? Why...

"Sir, I truly believe this is involved. And even if it isn't, then... surely it would be vital to consider, given the current situation of the colony. I've seen the ledgers, sir, I've seen the amount of resources being taken by this... whatever it is, surely that has some relevance at the moment."

"We're hardly devoid of resources at present."

"But-"

Mr. Canima let out a long, rattling sigh, and raised a handkerchief to his lips for a moment, pressing it close as his brows furrowed in concentration. When his voice next emerged, it was hollow. Completely hollow.

"I cannot tell you. Not a matter of willingness. A matter of practicality. If I told you what you want to know, there would be consequences. Unpleasant consequences. You have a mother and a father, I believe. They might not be at risk - but I believe you can... understand how it would feel to have them threatened, yes? Even faintly threatened, even the possibility of a threat. Even a small chance of something happening is... rendered titanic when that 'something' is so utterly awful. I've seen brave men confess every secret when their families are brought into the interrogation room. And I've seen soldiers unmade upon receiving news of a dead relative. During the war, we had a room filled with letters sealed in metal cases - they were the letters announcing the death of a spouse, a child, a parent, a sibling. We had to schedule their release - couldn't afford the drop in morale, the potential loss of motivation. We had ledgers of the dead, and when their loved ones could learn of them. Every night, you could hear the scratching of pencils as we went down the lists. Someone might be in a squadron that couldn't be undermined, not at present. Someone might be about to launch into a high-stakes operation, and cannot be distracted. Someone might simply be in an infirmary, and such grief may compromise their recovery. And, of course... someone learning of their brother's death in the war might not feel inclined to join the war, to risk their own life. We'd forge death dates, to make it seem like we'd only just learned."

A pause, and his mouth clicked shut, a flash of anger in his eyes as he realised he'd been rambling. He seemed to do that more and more lately, sitting around and telling long stories of the war... no wonder he was remembering it now, with the mutants on the way, but... it was the loss of self-control that frightened her. The feeling that even Mr. Canima was breaking down - like the governor had said about Herxiel. Sin was the result of mechanical entropy, a machine developing more and more flaws, accumulating waste, clogging up the gears and the valves. She could see that mechanical entropy taking its toll on Canima.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

And she desperately hoped his sin wouldn't be a terrible one, when that entropy worsened enough.

...did he have family? Seemed impossible for a man like him, but... did he? And if he did, were they threatened? By who? How could... why would a senior agent in the Erlize be in this sort of position, why not move your family somewhere else, pay for their passage to another city, work to protect them? How could someone with power have a vulnerable family? The shadow of the secret expanded in her mind - the safety of the colony, the family of Canima, all of it linking together. And what could... possibly stand to link them together was beyond her, at least for now. She had suspicions, certainly, but the cartel had come, in some ways, out of nowhere. Could have all the information in the world, but if she lacked the ability to make a few crucial leaps of logic, then she could only do so much.

Her voice was small, when it managed to emerge.

"Was he your friend?"

Canima was silent for a few long seconds. The tone of his speech was... just as small as Tanner's.

"He was."

"Was it... the war, did you-"

"We worked together. The Erlize were forced into uniforms and sent out. Morale enforcement among the troops, but once you were far enough into the wilderness, it was more a matter of... being the most easily hated person. You executed the wounded, you shot the deserters. When the bad announcements came, you gave the news. When the good announcements came, someone else did. You were a scapegoat. Rotated frequently to stop the men from killing you, stabbing you in the back when no-one was looking. The two of us met during one of these rotations, he was an Aga, back then. Had an air of immediate command, seemed natural for him to be an officer. Became rather friendly. Poetry, mostly. We both enjoyed it, memorised as much as possible. Made for a good team, never needed another rotation after we started collaborating. Courted my sister, if briefly."

Collaborating... even back then, manipulating social organisation for the greater good. Canima the scapegoat, easily hated and easily feared. And she could easily imagine an unscarred governor as an... avuncular figure, a confessor, a father, a person to whom anything could be entrusted. But never your friend, always authoritatively distant. Never compromising his authority by becoming over-familiar.

"...and do you... know how killed him?"

"I do not."

"...but if the... secret, if it exists, if the secret had a bearing on his death, wouldn't you be curious?"

She hated doing this. Hated it. And yet... well, it was like picking off a scab. Once she'd begun, the only thing to do was finish. Canima leaned forward a little, his eyes catching the light, shadows retreating. They looked tired. Deeply tired. And profoundly uncertain, never staying in one place for long.

"I invite you to investigate. If you find something, you find something. But I cannot offer anything."

A pause. His lips thinned a little.

"...the colony feels like a kettle, doesn't it? Coming closer to the boil. And all we can do is watch the steam."

Tanner blinked.

...oh. Oh. Oh.

She nodded quietly, turned on her heel, and left.

Follow the steam. The ice fields, this came back to the ice fields. To the steam emerging from fissures, steam the governor had wanted to keep secret. Obviously she'd wanted to investigate them, obviously. But mounting an expedition into a snowy wasteland on a hunch that there might be something out there was... profoundly foolish, and deeply irresponsible. Going out there would isolate her from the colony, the cartel, everything. She'd be dead to the world so long as she was wandering. Alone, she'd likely find nothing. And monopolising the colony's forces to scour the landscape was extremely impractical. It was a move she couldn't make unless she was certain.

Something was out there. Something under the snow, under the earth, producing steam. Something secret.

...she could piece together elements already, as she walked down the corridor back to her rooms. Resources were siphoned, including those used for construction. The cartel had no use for these things, not beyond small quantities. They had the tunnels already available, the only work was clearing them out. So, something had been built. This produced steam, implying... industry, perhaps. Boilers. The snow fields being full of frozen rivers was used as cover to keep people away, so they wouldn't see the steam rising. What was underneath the fields? And how did she get down there? Canima had already said too much, anything more and... the consequences he feared would come raining down on him. Tanner paused suddenly.

Something was out there, and it could go after Canima's family. It could ruin his career. It was powerful. Her own family... she lacked connections, lacked power. If she... truly, truly made a mistake, uncovered something she shouldn't, would they... no, no, she was isolated up here, there was nothing she could've told her family or friends, nothing at all. They could just kill her, and that would be it. Information cauterised. So... so she needed... a defence, maybe? Some way of ensuring her protection, so she could get back to the colony, spread the word. Blackmail? Maybe a dead drop of some kind, a full assemblage of all her findings, hidden in a certain location. If she died, then this cache could be found and opened. If she lived, she'd destroy these findings, or alter them, or... no, no, she had no idea who or what she was dealing with, she couldn't predict the unknown.

There was something under the snow. And... if she went to find it, she might die. Others, too. Her family, even. It all depended on... on pettiness, on viciousness. Was she dealing with people like Lyur, who'd punish indiscriminately? Or was it a Vyuli situation, someone who was cruel and heartless, but had a core of detached pragmatism which allowed for some degree of predictability?

She didn't even know who she was going to find.

How could she possibly predict their movements? Might as well try and... and put together how an animal moved by examining nothing but a few broken teeth. No, not even that - from teeth, you could at least tell how an animal would eat, if it was carnivorous, herbivorous. Might as well try and tell if an unknown species had been covered in fur or feathers, then, based on nothing but a handful of anonymous, carbonised bones. Was she... hold on. Hold on. Solution, solution. The colony was isolated, currently. Nothing came in, nothing went out. Either they endured to see the spring, or they didn't. The only things that could survive out there were mutants. So, this was... possibly the only circumstance where this sort of thing could happen, where she could investigate terrible secrets without fear of immediate reprisal. There were soldiers here, numerous soldiers, and if Canima had to be more or less threatened into compliance, into a state of secrecy, then... then what? If...

Gods, she just didn't know.

It felt like this situation was the only one where she could investigate. And yet, there were enough complications to make her hesitate.

She bit her lip.

Started to mentally map out preparations. She'd need... no, no, if she brought anyone, she'd be dragging them down with her. But if she went alone then she'd be vulnerable, and they... whoever they were might just go after everyone else out of principle, so did it actually matter... and getting below, just that, would be difficult enough, damn difficult, she... hm.

Damn it all.

Knew what she had to do, at least. She marched back to the office, where folders were being brought up in bundles by a deeply drowsy-looking Marana, who hauled them up with a long rope that Yan-Lam, down below, would tie around the papers. Good system. A little clumsy, but workable. Tanner wasn't even sure how much use she'd have for the files, but... no, no, this alone had just given her a heap of information. She could go after Mr. Gulyai back in Fidelizh - well, she could arrange for him to be gone after, more likely. Anyway, this gave her leverage over the cartel, a solid paper trail proving the issues in their migration, a full list of them. Well, not all, but certainly most. Could go through all of these, if she liked. Figure out who was who, look for discrepancies, suspicious points, areas where corruption had clearly smoothed away a storied past... she could probably count out the cartel members, and people susceptible to bribery by the cartel. Would take days, of course. Days she was fairly certain she lacked. Marana looked up as she approached, and called down for Yan-Lam to stop loading things for a moment.

"So, any luck?"

Tanner paused... and sat down heavily in the governor's chair, wincing at how loudly it creaked, and the splinters sprayed over the leather that now dug into her arms, back and rear. Well, felt like just desserts for a vandal.

"I... don't know. He's still not saying anything."

"He's not? We have him dead to rights, couldn't you... arrest him, or something?"

Tanner sighed.

"I can't do that. I have no authority beyond what I'm granted. He's acting governor, he's above the ability to arrest."

"Sod that, mutants are coming, we're all going to die, lock up the dingy bastard in the tightest cell you can find, interrogate him after a few days. Throw rats at him, I don't know."

Marana's voice had an outraged stillness to it. A genuine, frustrated fury that... well, Tanner could sympathise. She really could.

"I'm prosecuting a breach of the law, I can hardly... prosecute it by continually breaking the law."

"Brought a mutant up here, though."

"...I'm aware. But I can't arrest Mr. Canima, that would be a step too far. He's... I know he's frustrating, but the colony is in a poor state, even if I could arrest him, which I can't, it would just... make the cartel more powerful, destabilise everything. The last thing we need is everyone fighting each other more than they already are."

Marana stared at her.

"...stop making sense. It's very inconsiderate of you."

"Sorry."

"So... what exactly is next on the docket? Who needs interrogating, who could possibly be left?"

"I need to go back out to the ice fields. Poke around there. Need supplies, equipment... and I need to talk to a few people. Not interrogations, just information. You can... keep getting the files out, keep a close eye on them."

Marana smiled faintly, but there was an undeniable tension to it all.

"Do you need us for anything, Tanner dearest?"

Tanner blinked.

Sighed again.

"I don't... think so. No. Anything after this..."

"You don't want anyone else dying if you do, and there's nothing more that we can actually offer beyond a shoulder to cry on, I completely understand. At this stage, you probably know more about the colony's situation than any one of us. Can do more, too. Don't get me wrong, I weep internally at the thought, but... you're probably better off alone. I completely understand."

Tanner didn't want to be alone.

But Tanner knew she needed to be. She was a judge, judges didn't... form posses, they didn't drag their... friends along because they just needed the company. That was unprofessional. And it might get everyone involved killed. She was already resigned to dying in this place, didn't want to drag the others with her. She truly couldn't see how Marana or Yan-Lam could help her any further. Marana's expertise on colonial politics had... well, the politics here were hardly ordinary. And in light of the mutant attack, it all felt so small. Yan-Lam was an actual child, and one with an unhealthy interest in bloody revenge. Tanner's... gods, the one companion she had who truly felt useful was Bayai. Not how this was meant to work. She ought to... they ought to be useful, right up until the end. Not just... detaching away due to obsolescence. Yan-Lam was a good secretary and assistant researcher, Marana was a good actress and understood colonial affairs, but neither were terribly important roles at this stage. The research was largely done, now was the time for action. No need for deception when so much was out in the open, no need for colonial politics when extinction seemed increasingly probable.

All that was needed was a judge. Some muscle to back her up. That was it.

Once she was done, once the governor's murder was solved, justice delivered, everything wrapped up... then she'd come back to these two, huddle in a bunker together, and wait for the world to end. If she wasn't dead by then. That was it. That was her plan.

Tanner Magg didn't want to be alone.

Had to be alone. Only reasonable choice.

Her stomach was twisting.

And she nodded quietly.

"You're right."

Marana came closer, reaching up to pat Tanner's cheek. Even sat in her chair, she still towered over the woman.

"We are here, if you'd like to... well, express your thoughts, get something off your chest. We're always around, darling dearest. But you don't need to haul us along if you don't need to."

She was giving her permission. Like when she'd told Tanner it was alright to sleep, and that had just... sent her out like a light. She needed permission to leave them behind, because she was too weak to just... do it. Judge, who couldn't make the right judgement in a situation, couldn't follow through on what she knew needed to be done. And when she thought about it... she let out a small sigh.

"I don't really know you."

Marana blinked.

"Hm?"

"I don't... I don't know what your childhood was like, or your adolescence, or what you got up to between now and... Krodaw. I don't know your parents, I don't... talk with you, not very much, I... there's so much I've never told you about myself, and... I think I don't know you."

"...I see."

Tanner's eyes widened slightly.

"I'd like to know you. And I'm sorry I haven't... tried enough."

Marana hummed.

"What... exactly would you want to change?"

Tanner leaned forward in her chair, back tensing up - doing her best to both stand up and sit down, the position of the latter and the muscle contraction of the former. None of the benefits, all of the discomfort.

"I... had a friend. I've told you about her."

Marana nodded, a strange look crossing her face.

"Eygi. You talked about rather a bit, when we were running from that wolf creature."

Tanner flushed around her neck, just a little. Embarrassed at being too open.

"...yes. Her. And... I saw how she was around her friends. She talked constantly, she seemed to know every detail, seemed to move in harmony with all of them. She was never dining alone, always knew who would be available and when. She never got tangled up in logistics, and was close with everyone. I spoke with her a lot, others did too, and it never felt like someone was being short-changed. She had everyone's name, everyone's face, and could talk fluidly with each and every one of us. I saw her talking with someone with hours. I... find it difficult to go for that long."

"...alright. Please, continue."

"I just think that's... I knew-know Eygi, and I feel as though I've never... matched that with you. Despite all the help you've given me, you and Yan-Lam both. Bayai, too. I don't know any one of you, I can't... see myself talking for hours and hours and hours, I just... when I interacted with Eygi, I could do it forever. When I interact with any of you three, no matter how much I personally like you, I feel as though I can only go for a handful of minutes before I want to be silent again. So I don't know you, we don't talk enough to know each other, and I think that's because I'm..."

A standoffish, antisocial, crude, curt, surly, sour-faced, whey-fleshed, brutish, shambolic, groaning, complaining giant who's about to die and can only think about how she wants to stick her hands in a bucket of eels, a failure of a woman who couldn't solve a single damn thing if she had the solution spelled out in front of her, an awkward, rambling, shambling mess of a creature who's let down her parents, her lodge, her profession, who needs to be chained in place by gods and expectations to stop her from hurting everyone around her. A wasp in amber. Most attractive when immobile, silent, and compliant.

A brute in a cage of her own making, and if she stopped maintaining it, she'd hurt everyone around her and destroy her life. She didn't survive, she just got through another day without ruining everything. What every other person did automatically, for her was a conscious effort of catastrophe prevention.

She stopped thinking.

"...I'm a bit..."

"You're quiet. It's hardly unusual."

"...well, yes. I suppose."

Didn't quite cover the whole tapestry of dysfunction, but it was a start. Tanner Magg was a bit quiet. Functioned.

"Tanner, I think that you're trying to say that... just because you're a bit quiet, and you don't tend to talk for long periods, you're somehow less of a companion. I certainly consider you a friend, if a slightly peculiar one. No doubt Yan-Lam sees you as something between a friend and a role model. Emulates you more and more, wouldn't be surprised if she invested in stilts, soon enough."

Tanner flushed again, more openly this time.

"...well..."

"Eygi, as you describe her, is a social butterfly of unparalleled grace and sophistication, a gregarious creature that can make friends with everyone she meets. You don't need to compare yourself to someone like that. Tanner Magg's friendships are different to Eygi's friendships."

Marana's smile was gentle. Almost maternal. Almost. Tanner felt something churn in her gut.

"...but she could tease out people's best qualities. Get people like me talking for hours and hours without stopping. That's... not unattainable, that's standard. If you don't tease out someone's best qualities by talking with them, if you don't have deep, memorable conversations, then by definition you're engaging with only an aspect of a person, and not the most flattering one, and you're having shallow, forgettable conversations. By definition, your friendship is weaker."

"That's... really not how this works."

Tanner spoke faster, her voice growing stronger.

"No, it is. A friend you know, a friend you really, really know can... you know when a friend is available, you can integrate a friend into your life whenever you need to, you can have deep conversations or shallow conversations, you can engage over the biggest issues without growing acrimonious, you can spend days and weeks together without thinking about the time, you can be around one another without habits or foibles becoming annoying, you can keep a friendship going for years and years, you don't need to make plans with friends, the two of you together is a plan enough, and-"

Marana laughed. Sharply. Tanner froze. Oh gods...

"You're describing a lover, Tanner. I think what you're describing here is a lover, not a friend. And I'm not interested in you in that regard."

Tanner felt a hint of anger rise up.

"No, no, that's not how it works, I know it's not. You don't need to bring that sort of thing in, that just makes it... physical, a friendship is almost entirely cognitive, you don't need romance, adding romance might taint it. Why would you need to bring something like that into the conversation, why does everything need to come back to that?"

"You want a state of complete openness with someone else, complete and total harmony, and you're just describing a friend."

Tanner sniffed.

"Yes. Exactly."

"And not a lover."

"If you think that only lovers can be that way, you haven't had enough friends."

Marana blinked languidly, and Tanner almost jumped out of the window from sheer shame. Gods, what had she just said...

"Tanner, you don't know about my childhood, or any of the ten million petty details that make me up. But you do know me, as I know you. We know each other like normal people know one another when they spend enough time interacting. That's enough to be friends. We don't need to be communing telepathically every hour of every day in order to be friends. You interacted with one person who was a social butterfly, that doesn't mean you need to act like her, or that every friendship should be graded against those she formed."

Tanner disagreed. She simply disagreed. When you'd seen closed-off people laughing and chatting with Eygi, or saw her gathering people around herself like a flower with bees, you just... knew that this was what friendships were meant to look like. Tanner's friendships were worse. Shallower. Easier to snap and replace. People didn't attach to her, they just slid away. They forgot her. They neglected to invite her to things, and she didn't do enough things to invite people to. They didn't invite her to their weddings, for example, and- shut up, shut up. Eygi had been her first real friend, and she'd set the standard. Why shouldn't she?

Tanner was talking to Marana, but Eygi would've already become her best friend, and would've learned everything worth knowing. She'd be interacting with her daily, she'd never forget her, never retreat into a little world where all that existed was work, she'd... the point was, Tanner could see how Eygi would do it. And when Tanner failed to do it, or neglected to do it, then all she could see was the discrepancy.

And that discrepancy meant she didn't know Marana. Yan-Lam. Bayai.

She'd seen people being truly open. And that meant she was keenly aware of how closed they likely were around her, how many guards were up.

She sighed.

"Anyway. I need to... get back to work."

"When did you last eat?"

Couldn't remember, really. Might've had a snack...

"Tanner, with all due politeness - you have permission to get something to eat, something solid, and then to sleep. Wait until tomorrow morning to get back to work. Alright?"

"We need-"

"You're no good if you're exhausted."

Yan-Lam poked her head up through the hole, dust-caked and red-eyed. She glanced at the two, and Marana gestured vaguely in her direction.

"Yan-Lam, help me tell this giant oaf to sleep."

Yan-Lam blinked.

Her eyes flashed. And her voice, while quiet, was firm.

"I think she can sleep if she wants to sleep."

"Oh, you wretch-"

"I think if... the honoured judge wants to stay up to work, I will be happy to provide coffee if desired. Miss."

She looked on the verge of passing out, she was so tired.

Tanner blinked.

Pinched the bridge of her nose.

If Yan-Lam was getting to the point where she was willing to ruin her sleep schedule to imitate Tanner, then, yes, maybe it was time to take a nap.

Just a quick one.

...maybe a pie, too.

And in the morning, she'd do what she needed.

And she'd talk to Tom-Tom on the matter of tunnels.