When I went inside, I noticed a light from the crack under the sitting-room door. I pushed the door open, smiled as Locke's head tipped back over the settee to see who'd come in. "Waiting up for me?" I asked.
"I meant to head back to my rooms after dinner. I just got wrapped up in this," he said. As I came closer I could see he had the diary open on his lap, my notes spread out over the pages. "I don't think I got anything out of order," he said.
"It's okay if you did. I'm used to it. Nine kids, remember?"
"True enough," he said, smiling up at me. "Have a seat," he added, shifting some papers onto his lap to make room. I settled next to him, managed to catch the notes before they could cascade to the floor.
"How far did you get?" I asked him, squaring the pages off against my knees.
"Through most of your transcriptions, comparing them against the manuscript," he said. "How was the meeting?"
"Not bad. I don't think we got much accomplished, but things like this always seem to brew over time. We really need to work on governing like a real government."
"Who's to say you don't?" he asked.
I smiled at that. "There was some headway on the constitutional convention, though. Interest in it, I mean."
"That's good, right?"
"Good. Yeah. A lot of work when we get to them, but it's important that we do this right, you know?" I squared the notes off against my knees, flipped through the pages. "I think these are better organized than I left them."
"Could be. They're going to teach me scientific rigor if it kills us all," he said. "Organizing my notes actually took."
"Maybe they could give me lessons."
"Oh, you're doing all right. The notes are good, they were just out of chronological order."
"I need to do more. Outlines of what she mentions where, not just lists of words I don't know and things I couldn't quite make out." I turned to him. "What'd you think of the diary itself?" I asked. "Do you think any of your people would be interested?"
"Definitely. Daily life, politics – if you come at it with an idea what's going on at the time, it's fascinating. If you want I could get you some of Hamley's manuscripts or his published papers, just so you'll have an idea what she's on about. He's the historian. Gibson's the archeologist."
"That'd help," I said. "I'm not even sure I'm getting names right. She doesn't spell them the same way every time."
"I'll send some once I'm back at the dig," he said, turning a page. "Gibson would have conniptions over some of the details, too. Would you send any of the notes?"
"I'll try to write out good copies," I said. "I don't see how these versions could help anybody."
"Compared to reading inscriptions in old Kalmadrian or inspecting ruins for signs of baths? I'd think anything would be a help." He repositioned the bookmark – he'd gotten to the last page I'd worked on. "Why are you doing it, Terra?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
"Esper history. Love between an Esper and a human, more to the point." I nodded, and he squeezed my shoulder lightly. "I knew why you kept it, why you read it," he said. "I meant the transcription. Why bother with that and the notes? You know what you're after."
"I don't want to miss anything," I said. "Toward the end, it was all... obvious. She was in love with him, she knew it, he knew it, they just had to deal with it. But does that— where did it start? Did she just decide one day, or does it — how did it happen? That's what I want to know."
"Do you think you'll find that in there?" he asked. "From what I've read, she keeps herself to herself. Can you even tell what she thinks of her husband?"
"Not to speak of, no... I keep hoping, if I read between the lines, maybe I'll catch something." I sighed, sat back, letting the papers drop in my lap. "It's hopeless. Even if there are nuances, I'll never catch them. Even if not for the dialect problems, I mean— I'm just so clueless."
"About what?"
"People. Love. All of it. Martin proposed to me."
"He what?"
"He proposed to me."
"Marriage?" he sputtered.
"No, he proposed living in sin."
He just looked at me for a moment, then started laughing. "You are—" He apparently couldn't decide what I was. "Marriage. Did he think you were in love with him?"
"I don't know." He'd seemed calm enough about it, and I'd been happy enough to accept that he'd proposing a marriage half of convenience, but I was having second thoughts now. He might have just been pretending, shielding his pride, avoiding a scene. Or maybe I was really vain, thinking that he must have had deeper feelings.
"You aren't in love with him, are you?"
"No. I don't think he was in love with me. Lots of people get married for reasons other than that," I said. "Just not me."
He was smiling at me, a bit musingly. "If I thought I had anything to do with how you turned out, I'd be proud of you," he said.
"Because I'm not marrying a man I don't love? It's not much of an accomplishment."
"Not just that," he said. "It's... never mind. How'd we get onto this, though?"
"I was saying I didn't understand people."
"Still don't think I follow."
"I mean— Martin. I had some idea he was interested, but I didn't— I had no idea what to say, how to deal with it, anything. He's a good friend and he's probably mad at me now."
"Mad at himself, maybe. There's not much you can do about it, Terra. Don't worry. He's bound to know you didn't set out to break his heart."
"I hope. I just wish— I hate it. I just want everyone to be happy, I want things to work out, go smoothly, and I seem to cause the exact opposite with everyone I know."
"You know that's not true. Anyone can see those kids upstairs are happy, and there's one person we can blame for that," he said. I smiled a little. "And if it's any comfort, Terra, you've hardly been a source of misery and strife for me either."
"I haven't?"
"Of course not!"
"Not even back when—"
"During the fighting? None of that was your fault. You haven't exactly contributed to my peace of mind lately, I'll grant you, but I wouldn't give up knowing you for anything." I turned, surprised and grateful, to smile at him. He smiled back, squeezed my knee. I opened my mouth to speak, but he added, "It's about time I went to disturb my landlords."
"I guess it is late," I said, covering his hand with mine unthinkingly.
"That's not the way to make me leave," he said softly, taking my hand and holding it for a moment.
"Maybe I don't want you to," I said, without thinking, just as quietly and too serious to sound flirtatious. He didn't reply for a moment, long enough that I thought about what I'd said. "I meant..." Our eyes met, and I looked down, saying all in a rush, "I mean, I guess it's late, and you're tired, and I need to sleep too, and all that."
There was a moment's silence. "Yeah," he sighed, squeezed my hand and stood without letting go of it. "I must anon, my lady," he added, cheerfully, and kissed my hand.
"Anon?"
"It sounded good."
"You need Edgar lessons," I said as I stood. "You're getting rusty."
"Rusty at being Edgar?" He didn't really turn loose of my hand even as we walked out into the hall.
"Very."
"I should practice, then," he said. "It's always important to be Edgar."
"Maybe not that important," I said. "His pickup lines are pretty... cheesy." He laughed at that, stifling himself after a moment. "You'll wake the whole house!" I chided in a whisper, grinning.
"And it's all your fault!" he whispered back, as he slipped out the door. I popped out the door after him, ready to argue, but he was already down the porch steps. He waved as he left, and I waved back, leaning against the doorjamb and wondering what would have come next if he'd spoken sooner after I almost asked him to stay the night. If he'd spoken sooner and said he didn't want to leave.
That morning he showed up at the store just as I was opening for business. I was getting deliveries that day, so I put him to work in the stockroom while I sorted the mail and balanced the ledger. After that, things got quiet. We had two people in to shop and one land claim, but other than that, we might as well have been in my parlor. I sat on the counter, doing some sewing, and we talked about the War of the Magi, archeology, Figaroan politics and my own half-formed plans for Mobliz. Around midday Kat brought over my lunch and left Charles and Rosie with us, and I put aside my sewing to join them all on the floor.
The day had flown past; it took me by surprise when Margie, Annie and Henry banged into the store, chattering about some horrible thing Matthew Stewart had done. I got up, dusting myself off, to hear about their days, retrieve Cassie, walk with them back to the house, and check if Kat needed help with dinner. She didn't, so I went back to the store, keeping an eye out for the rest of the kids. I managed to spot Byram and Theo – loitering by the school grounds, and were those girls they were talking to? – and Isabella, who was heading home now.
They'd all gone outside, the older kids claiming they were going to study, they youngest making no pretense of it. I'd give them a while before I checked in to see if any studying was taking place. "Like a whirlwind," he said, as I came in.
"It is, isn't it? You're a natural with them, though."
"Well, good," he said. "My lifelong immaturity finally stands me in good stead."
"If that's how you want to look at it..." I said, and he laughed, and I hauled a chair out of the storeroom so I wouldn't have to sit on the counter. We stayed there until Annie came to call us to dinner, and it was only then that I realized I'd done nothing to make anyone study.
Things like that got to be a habit over the next few days. We spent almost all our time together, talking about everything and nothing much. I finally got around to asking him something I'd always wondered, about the unusual color of his hair. I'd been close enough to him often enough to see that it was a mixture of dark and very light, but I'd never known before that it wasn't the way he was born, so that meant I got to tease him about going prematurely gray. He gave me a crash course in the history of the War of the Magi – all I'd learned had been in snatches I'd picked up from the Espers or talks with Strago – so that gave me some helpful background for work on the diary, though he still said his colleagues would be better sources. We went through the Queen's diary together, though I was beginning to lose hope that the woman would ever fall in love. Looking at it with him, though, even the trivial information about supplies, holidays and clothes turned out to be interesting or relevant somehow, and things I couldn't make sense of fell into place.
Despite all the time we were spending together, he didn't make another move, and neither did I. We were perfectly natural, perfectly friendly, and we were never more physically affectionate than a quick shoulder-rub or leaning companionably against each other as we read. I was comfortable with it, though it occurred to me more than once to wonder about it as well. And I always shut myself down when I got that line of thought. I was being selfish – I knew how he'd felt about me once, and if I wasn't going to tell him how I felt I could hardly get upset if his feelings changed. I was being selfish, but I couldn't seem to help it.
I needed to tell him. I wanted to tell him. Celes knew, everyone knew, there was no more damage left to be done. I had no reason not to tell him I loved him, but I kept waiting for the right moment, and that never seemed to happen. We were back to being friends, and at the moment I wasn't sure we could be anything else.
"Please," Katarin said to me, over the dishes, when I told her about it. We'd had a bird from Setzer, saying he was on his way, so this was Locke's last night in Mobliz. We'd prepared a going-away feast, and he'd gone back to the inn to pack. I was probably moping; I felt like he was already gone. "You can't just wait. Just... blurt it out. It gets to be the right moment once you've said a thing like that."
"It does?"
"Mm-hmm."
"How'd it go with you and Duane?" I asked.
"That was..." She looked around for any lurking children – Duane was putting them to bed – and finding none, she grinned impishly at me. "Sure you want to hear?"
"What did you two do?" I asked.
She laughed. "You are so easy. Nothing really. We'd known each other for ages, you know, small town, one school. Even back then Mobliz was small. Went through the usual childhood things, cooties, teasing, all of that. When we were about twelve, one of his friends told one of my friends he liked me, and I didn't believe it, because I liked him, and it got back to him that I didn't believe it and that I liked him. And it was all very dramatic until one time we were stuck at the store – the old armory, it used to be out south – it was raining so we couldn't leave. He asked me if I hated him, and I said no, I didn't hate him at all, and we ended up kissing."
"It must be easier when you're young."
"Yes, with your rheumatism, kissing must be near impossible," she said. "You aged bat. Honestly. What part of that sounded like it wasn't needless drama? If you build it up like that, it's just as embarrassing and difficult and scary no matter what age you are. You just need to decide he's worth it." I looked at the dishwater. "And you need to be ready, too, I suppose," she said.
"Do you think I could just miss my chance entirely?" I asked, softly. "I know he's worth it, but..."
"You could. But I don't think it's likely. If it weren't for the fact that I know how you've been about this, I'd think you two were already an item, the way you act sometimes."
"Really?"
She nodded. "But that doesn't change the fact you're not. I mean it, Terra, you need to just tell him."
"I know," I said, much more calmly than I felt it. I knew. I went to bed thinking about it, and I woke up thinking about it, and when I heard the airship coming in, my heart sped up as I thought I have to tell him, it's my last chance. I kept thinking it as he said his goodbyes to everyone else, as we walked back into the store – allegedly so he could make some last-minute purchases, really so we could talk, because the airship had drawn a crowd as usual.
"Write to me, okay?" he said.
"I will, I promise."
"And don't let those kids run you ragged."
"Can you come back to visit?"
"That's not even up for debate," he said. "You need to come see me, too."
"Locke, I—" I felt like I was choking on the words. "I— I'll miss you." He enfolded me in a hug then, and I held on for dear life. "I'll miss you so much," I said.
"I know," he said. "You know I'll miss you too."
"Are we ready?" Setzer asked then, and I loosened my hold, grudgingly. Locke's arms lingered around me for a moment. He smiled, not unkindly, and turned back towards the door, his silk finery looking out of place in my dusty little store.
"I—" I swallowed hard, started over. I really didn't feel up for this, but I wouldn't get another chance. "Setzer, I need to talk to you about airships." Locke squeezed my arm, and when I looked up into his face I saw he was grinning.
"We can do that later," Setzer said.
"Oh no you don't!"
"Yes, we can, because I'll be back to pick you up so you can visit our treasure hunter here."
"You will?"
"You have one request to be granted at any time."
I felt like a cloud was lifting off of me. "Setzer, thank you!" Locke was still smiling, broader than ever. "Did you do this?" I asked.
"Didn't want to leave you an out," he said. "Or drag you away from home too long. But see, you have to do it, now."
"I will, it's not that I've been trying to avoid it, I—"
"Leave her be," Setzer said, smiling as well. "We need to move on, it's not good to leave it idling too long."
"Yes, captain..." he said drearily, hoisting his bag over his shoulder and starting up the ramp.
"For you, Terra," Setzer said, handing me an envelope. "Send word to Narshe or Jidoor if you need me, and I should get it within a week."
"Within a week at either place?" He nodded, and I took the envelope, barely glancing at it. I wrapped my arms around myself, watching their shapes moving around on deck. I smiled sadly and waved when I saw Locke's face over the railing, stood in the square until the Falcon was out of sight. I was being obvious. I was making a spectacle of myself, more than likely. I'm not sure when I'd given up caring.