she learned a lesson back there in the flames; any

[Cordis]

Not from me, I hope, he says, and she smiles. He didn’t intend it to be humorous, she knows, and she wonders what his life is like. He seems kind enough, and she envies it. She’s seen too many filthy prisons to be kind. Lost too much. Hollow things are not kind. “From strangers,” she says, a workaround answer. She doesn’t fear this man, not in this moment, but she lives in a generalized, constant state of vigilance. She has learned that lesson, learned it the hard way. (No level of protection would have saved her from the dark god, she tells herself, but it might have saved her from other things.) He asks what brought her here, and she aches. It’s a common question, small talk, asked with a smile and she knows she should smile back, play the game, and she tries for a moment and finds she can’t. Oh well. “I lived here,” she says, “it was one of my first homes.” It was where she first met Spyndle, here – in the meadow, years or decades ago, when she was fresh from His lair, when she couldn’t stop running. It was here they raised their children (and lost one, her daughter kidnapped, ripped from her helpless grasp). Love and loss and on and on. She always ends up back here. “What about you, Leilan?” she asks, “what’s brought you here?” c o r d i s I’ll touch you all and make damn sure that no one touches me