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SIARI
Whispers in the Dark
Sanctuary
"Oh. You're back," Babette said to Siari without much enthusiasm when she let the stone door fall into place.
Siari gave her a raised eyebrow. Why the jaded greeting?
"Oh, it's not because of you." She rolled her eyes. "Astrid and Cicero have been acting snippy towards each other the last few days. Ever since you left in fact."
She called him Cicero, not 'the jester' or something of the like. Siari frowned. Now why would they be at odds? Weren't they Brother and Sister?
"Don't look at me, I don't know."
Sure she did.
"Alright, I do know," she admitted, apparently slightly eager to share. "It's this whole Night Mother thing. Astrid still won't accept that she doesn't run the place anymore. Cicero looks and acts like a fool, but he is the Night Mother's Keeper, and until she selects a Listener, Cicero's pretty much entitled to free run of the place. And she doesn't like it."
Siari cocked her head.
"Well, because she thinks he's undermining her authority. He's been talking to people. Telling them about the Night Mother, and that she, as the representative of Sithis, is the only one Brotherhood members should take orders from, not some," she quickly looked around and then quietly said, "bossy homemaker, as he calls her."
Siari had to chuckle at the term. Still, it wasn't good news. She'd found a family now and she didn't want tensions or arguments.
"Yeah. I know," Babette said. "I don't like it much either."
"Hey. Mutton chop," Arnbjorn interrupted them. "See you've made it back without losing an eye. Go see Astrid, she wants to talk to you."
Siari nodded at the rude, bare-footed muscleman, then turned back to Babette.
"Now, cutlet."
Babette sighed and rolled her eyes, "Arnbjorn, must you really address everyone as food? The novelty's worn off, you know."
"I don't remember asking your opinion, quail roast. Didn't you have a job to do?"
Another angry sigh. "Alright, alright. Sheesh, I don't care if the Night Mother finds a Listener or just rolls out of here, but this arguing better be over soon." With that, she stomped to the exit, probably to fulfil her contract.
"Astrid. Now."
Siari gave him an annoyed face. Damn brute should get off her back already. He'd never been the most pleasant guy around, but it seemed that while she'd been gone, his disposition had become that much worse.
She walked past him while he gave her what he doubtless thought was a withering, cross-armed stare.
Festus Krex attempted to make his greeting cheerful when she passed him, but he only succeeded in an obviously fake-cheery, "Welcome back, dear. Good to see you're alright."
She gave him a smile in return. Had to give him one for trying.
"Hello Siari," Astrid said when she came in. She sat behind a desk, looking up when the door opened. She had dark rings around her eyes and the braid in her hair wasn't as orderly as it always was. "Contract went off without a hitch?"
Siari stood in the doorway, crossed her arms and glared.
"What?"
She took a quill from the desk and wrote on a blank piece of parchment, "WEREWOLF."
Astrid read the paper with a bored face. "Yes. I know. That's why I gave you that silver knife. Enchanted against shapeshifters." She made an attempt at a joke, "Don't tell Arnbjorn."
"NEXT TIME TELL ME," she wrote on the parchment.
"You're right," Astrid said, spreading her hands in apology. "I should have told you. I just didn't think it was important."
She didn't think Siari'd find out, more like.
"Hey, don't give me that look. You made it back in one piece, so that meant you were clearly good for the job. But you're right, I'll be more forthcoming with information next time."
It seemed to Siari that the Astrid of a few days ago would never have apologized and promised to do better in the future.
"Anyway, I have something for you to do. Close the door."
Siari did as she was told, then sat down at the desk, opposite her.
"First," Astrid said with a weary smile, "you're going to get something to eat, and catch some sleep. You must be dead tired."
Siari gave a lopsided shrug. It wasn't that bad.
"Well, you're still resting and that's an order." She still smiled as she said it, but hadn't she said before that she didn't give orders? That she wasn't The Boss?
"After that, I need you to investigate a little something for me."
Investigate? That wasn't really her specialty.
"Don't worry, it's nothing brain-racking." She leaned forward, and said quietly, "This Cicero character..." Siari should have known it'd be about that, "... he worries me. I have a feeling he's turning people against me. More than that, I think he's planning to... I don't know what, but definitely something that would be very bad for this chapter. That demented fool is up to something."
Now why did she have that idea?
"Well, because I see him talking to people in this chapter, and the conversation always falls silent when I enter. And even more alarming, sometimes, when he claims he's taking care of the Night Mother, I hear him talking. And the last time I heard it, I was certain all of us were either out on jobs, or having dinner."
That was strange. Maybe the madcap simply talked to himself? Siari gave Astrid a questioning look while pointing at herself and then her ear.
"Yes, that's exactly what I want you to do. Cicero's been talking to everyone here except you, so you're the only one I can count on to give me truthful information. Well, except Arnbjorn but I don't see him pulling off anything subtle. So it's just you."
Paranoia wasn't healthy for a family.
Astrid picked up on her expression and defended herself, "Hey look, being suspicious is what keeps you alive in this life. We're all a tight-knit family, but it wouldn't be the first time an entire chapter was wiped out by an outsider. Just look at what happened in Cheydinhal."
Siari didn't like all this one bit. And the shrine was off-limits. The jester had been clear about that. If he caught anyone there, bad things would happen.
"Siari," Astrid said, laying her hand on top of Siari's. "I need you to trust me for now. I need to know you're with me in this. Our family's at stake."
Fine, fine. If there was a danger of losing her family, she'd do as Astrid said. It felt as if it could lead to a cartload of trouble, but Astrid asked for her trust, so giving it to her would be best in the long run.
"Thank you for doing this for me, Siari," Astrid said, sounding immensely weary. This must be taking a toll on her. "Our family will get through this and come out the stronger for it. As soon as Cicero's certain the Listener isn't here, he'll just move on and we can get back to the day-to-day."
Siari supposed she was right. She wrote on the parchment, "TIME?"
"It's always around evening. During dinner. He doesn't know you're here, so he won't suspect. Veezara's cooking tonight. When he makes the dinner call, you stay out of sight and get to the Night Mother's chamber. Hide somewhere and wait for him. Just listen to what he says, don't interfere or show yourself." She smiled. "Don't worry, we'll save you a plate."
Siari nodded. Dinner was still a few hours away, so still plenty of time to get some sleep. Siari had a love-hate relationship with sleep. It made her feel refreshed, but there were often the nightmares. They were often about the orphanage. Seemed killing that old harpy hadn't done anything to diminish them. And when they weren't about the orphanage, they were from before that.
Avoiding the other people in the chapter, she trudged into the room she shared with Babette and Gabrielle. Both were out on a job, so she had the place to herself.
She stripped, let herself drop into bed and pulled the blankets over her. As she closed her eyes, she drowned out the world and concentrated on the feeling she'd had when she'd taken those three lives, especially the two young ones, reliving the moment. People always said they felt sorry for doing bad things.
"Sorry". It was a word she heard often, but she didn't really grasp the meaning of it. She'd tried to understand, but it was a strange concept. It was a kind of feeling people had, or said they had, when they'd done something bad. When they'd hurt someone or made a mistake that had in some way caused someone else pain. Was it fear of retribution? Fear of the law? Of punishment? Because she knew that feeling, she understood that. She understood procedures, understood rules and regulations. She didn't understand 'sorry'. She'd been sorry all her life, that was what her mother had told her, but what was it, being sorry? She understood the literal meaning of the word, but the actual feeling? No. She wished she did, but Siari didn't really know what 'sorry' meant.
"Siari. Dinner time."
It was Veezara's voice that woke her.
"Astrid said I should wake you up, hope you don't mind?"
Siari lifted her weary head off her pillow and shook it feebly. Of course she minded, but better not to tell him that.
She felt groggy and bleary, like the world spun slowly and her eyelids had swollen to twice their size and weight. She slept too long. Half an hour was the most she could sleep during the day. Any more and she'd wake up feeling miserable, like now. She must have been more tired than she thought. The ribs at her back ached from the cupboard she'd crashed into and her tailbone throbbed in pain too. Right, from the painful landing.
"Shall I set a plate for you?"
She flapped her hand, and put the other on the blanket over her belly.
"Oh. Can I brew you some powdered mudcrab chitin tea?"
The good old cure for tummy aches. Siari shook her head and motioned for him to go away, and that she was fine.
"I'll save some dinner for you in case you're feeling better later."
She gave him her sickest-yet-most-thankful smile, then pulled the blankets over her head, letting out a theatrical groan in the process.
She heard Veezara chuckle. "First time I hear your voice. I keep assuming you don't have one but... well, you obviously do."
She obviously did, though she couldn't use it for anything else than inarticulate noises, and even those sounded awful without a tongue. She'd only used it a few times since she'd lost her tongue, and it had always been for groans like these, or the occasional "Wah!" to get someone's attention.
When she was certain Veezara had left, she hauled herself out of bed and got dressed, back into the smelly leathers. She needed to give them a wash tomorrow, and maybe some wax treatment too.
But for now, she had a secret meeting to eavesdrop on.
Keeping to the shadows, she waited in the hallway until she'd heard everyone go to dinner. Everyone except Cicero and Astrid. She heard them bicker again. "Cicero only does the Night Mother's bidding, lady Astrid." The sarcasm when he used her title was unashamedly obvious.
"How can you do her bidding if you don't know what she says?" Astrid retorted. "Until a Listener has been found, I'll decide how this family is run."
"Oh, but lady Astrid," Cicero sing-songed in his nasal voice. "Surely you know that a chapter cannot be run in an autocratic fashion, by a mere mortal? We all serve the Night Mother and we are all equal under her eyes."
"We are all equal in this family," Astrid snapped back, a little too quickly. "I just coordinate and organize. I don't order anyone around or force them to do things they don't want." Siari wasn't entirely in agreement, she was, after all, caring but authoritative, but she also knew Astrid probably honestly believed she was handling things the right way.
"... she said," Cicero mocked, "Right after telling Cicero that she would decide how the family must be run."
"That's not what I meant and you know it," Astrid half-shouted back, losing her temper. "I'm getting tired of you painting me like some tyrant."
"Cicero paints nothing but his own face," the jester laughed. "Now, to the smelly pit Cicero must go, for a need that is all too human, but too tasteless to speak of before dinner."
"I trust you'll be joining us after that?" Astrid said.
"Oh, in a moment... Cicero must first sit on the wooden plank and imagine it to be his throne. Then Cicero will take a brief moment to tend to our sweet Mother," he quickly clarified: "after washing his hands of course. Then he will find himself charmed and humbled by your company at the dinner table."
"Please," Astrid said sourly. "Spare me the details."
Well, seemed like the jester would be taking a moment to drop a decidedly unjesterly log. Good. If there was ever the time to sneak in, this was it.
When Astrid had left for the dining hall and Cicero had gone in the direction of the shit pit, Siari crossed the atrium, under the red light of the stained-glass hand, and darted up the steps to the Night Mother's chamber. Her mouth went dry and her heart beat harder. If this really was the Night Mother, then she would be in the presence of a terrifying and awesome power.
She quietly pushed open the door and closed it behind her. The room was entirely empty apart from the sarcophagus. It would be difficult to find a place to hide here. Her eyes briefly strayed to the ceiling and the air shaft made in it, but she doubted she'd fit, and she probably wouldn't even be able to reach it either. Babette, maybe, since her attire was enchanted to give her more jumping power (and Siari presumed pouncing strength as well), but three metres was too high to reach. Even then, she didn't know how long she'd have to be in there, and the shaft looked narrow enough to induce some serious panic if one had to stay squeezed in there for a few minutes.
She looked around the room but saw nothing, really nothing to hide behind. This was a tricky one. Maybe she'd better leave now and come back when Astrid had found an excuse to keep a box or screen there. Because for now –
"Forgive me, sweet Mother," Cicero's voice came singing off-key up the stairs. "Cicero had to take care of a need which he thought was substantial, but which later turned out to be nothing but hot air."
Ah, damn it! He was coming up already! And there was only one entrance into this room. He'd find her, and at the very least, be very suspicious of what she was doing, and she didn't think an excuse of 'I just wanted to say 'hi' to the Night Mother' would work. They had all been expressly forbidden from entering the shrine. This was going to end up all wrong. Cicero would accuse her of defiling the Night Mother, and with such overwhelming evidence, Astrid would have no choice but to agree with her, and she'd be cast out, or even worse, put to death.
Damn, damn, damn! What to do, what to do!
"Cicero will be with you soon, sweet Mother, to sing his praises for you." He was right behind the door! No, no, this wasn't supposed to happen! Siari frantically looked around for a place to hide, but the room hadn't changed.
click
Siari whipped her head around and saw that the double doors of the sarcophagus were ajar, though slightly. The lock had just clicked open.
She didn't have the time to contemplate whether this was a sign or just some dumb coincidence, and she certainly didn't stop to wonder if what she was about to do would only make things much worse for her if she was caught, she simply whirled around, pulled the sarcophagus open, and looking away at the horror she could only barely perceive in the low light, she slipped inside, closing the doors and hoping Cicero wouldn't open them. She felt sweat break out on her skin and her stomach cramped painfully. She could use Veezara's tea right now. She grimaced in the dark at the stupidity of that thought.
"Are we alone, sweet Mother?" she heard the jester's voice outside the coffin. She tried not to think about what it was she was sharing the small space with, though the smell of embalming fluid and ichor reminded her constantly. She shuddered, realizing she was in there with a mummified corpse.
"Yes, we are," Cicero went on. "Solitude at last. Everything is going as it should. I've spoken to most of them. And they are coming around, I know it. The poisoner, the old wizard, the Argonian... I think the un-child too." Un-child? What a strange way to call Babette. "The Redguard proves to be more obtuse, but he will change his mind yet, Cicero is certain. Your loyal servant needs only to speak to the mute, but Cicero believes she too will understand your glory."
'The mute'. Figured he'd talk about her that way, the little creep. So there were no meetings. Only this madman and his rambling, his babbling to a desiccated corpse.
"The icy one and her dog, however... Cicero fears they are lost in their misguidance. They believe they are doing your will, but they are blind to your true nature. Oh, sweet Mother, will you not show them the way and bring them back to us?"
A silence fell.
"But you will not talk to them, will you, beautiful Mother? Of course not. I do the talking, the stalking, the seeing and the saying. And what do you do? Nothing." In hasty reverence, he quickly added, "Not, not that Cicero complains, however! He knows you will speak when the time is right. Ohh, sweet Mother," he implored, his voice sounding positively pained with longing, "Will you not speak to me?"
Silence fell again, and then the jester quickly apologized, "Forgive me, Mother, I meant that I long for the day when you speak to one of us, the one worthy of your glory, the one worthy of being the Listener. But I have faith. I know you will speak, and I know you will reveal your Listener when it is time, as only you can know. Forgive your devoted servant for being so flawed, glorious Mother."
Poor Cicero, a calm, delicate voice spoke gently in Siari's head. It startled her so much she almost knocked the sarcophagus doors open. Dear Cicero. He is such a devoted servant. But he will never hear my voice. For he is not the Listener.
What in Oblivion had just happened? Siari was completely paralyzed even as her mind told her it was probably her imagination.
There is no cause for unrest, child. I know it's you, the one who shares my iron tomb and warms my ancient bones. You are the one I have been waiting for.
Siari had to hold her breath to keep her nervous panting from being audible outside the coffin.
"Ohh, but how can I defend you?" the jester outside lamented in heartbroken desperation. "How can I exert your will? If you will not speak, to anyone?"
Cicero does not know that I have already spoken. To you, for you are the one. My Listener. All of them speak to me, incessantly, and they are unfit because of it. Because who better to Listen than the one who never speaks?
Cicero wailed on, sounding almost in tears. "Oh sweet Mother, Cicero has failed you. He has failed to find a Listener, for even here, in this last chapter, you have still not spoken!"
Poor Cicero. Do not worry for him, we will soon turn his grief to joy.
Siari didn't worry for him at all.
It is time to reveal you as my Listener, but first, I will give you a task, one you must complete yourself. Do not let your warden stop or impede you. Her desire for control makes her blind to my will.
Siari decided to try something. Concentrating her thought, she tried to think, She merely does what she thinks is best for the Brotherhood as loud as she could. Maybe she was able to send thoughts back?
But when the voice went on, unperturbed, she knew it wasn't so. She really had been chosen as the Listener because all she could do was listen. You must travel to Volunruud, and meet with a man called Amaund Motierre. He will tell you more, and you must accept his task and complete it.
Siari knew it was a bad idea to go against the Night Mother's wishes. And even though she'd been chosen because she was unable to speak, she still felt immensely proud to be the Listener, that revered and honoured figure through whom – and only through whom – the Night Mother spoke.
Now, tell Cicero that the time has come. He will know you are the Listener when you tell him, 'darkness rises when the silence dies'.
Tell him? Tell him how? The lunatic might just kill her on the spot before she had a chance to write anything down.
Be wary of Astrid, the voice said, to conclude. I grieve for the jealousy that burns inside her, and she may try to hinder or stop you. I do not wish to see her harmed, for she is my child, as you all are, but along with a deep love for you all, I also sense much envy in her, and it may drive her to desperate acts.
Siari couldn't imagine Astrid ever hurting her, even if she burned up with jealousy. Then again, her being the Listener would seriously shift the balance of power in the Brotherhood, because even though Siari didn't want to be in charge, being the Listener would put her in a position of responsibility, and with that would come status. Astrid would not like that.
Now, my child. Step forward, for the Listener has been chosen.
The doors abruptly swung wide open, and Siari found herself staring straight at Cicero's painted, furious face.
"Desecrator!" he shrieked, pointing a finger at her. Again, he cried to an imaginary audience, "This debaser, this defiler has violated the sanctity of the Night Mother's repose."
He drew a dagger and held it to Siari's chin. She didn't resist, only raised her hands to show she wouldn't hurt him. "Explain yourself, you vile apostate!"
Siari, as calmly as she could with a dagger in her face, gestured to the Night Mother's bones, and then to her ear.
Cicero's eyes went wide in pure fury. "Lies!" he screeched, spit flying from his lips. "You are a liar! Trickery and deceit! The Night Mother speaks only to the Listener!"
"What's going on here?" Astrid's commanding voice interrupted the shouting. "Siari? What have you... were you inside the..."
"Astrid!" Cicero cried. "This... this defiler desecrated our glorious Night Mother's remains! I demand she be put to death!"
"Easy now," Astrid said, obviously uncomfortable with the situation and her position in it. "Siari's one of us, I won't have her killed just like that. Perhaps she can explain herself?"
"With more lies?" Cicero howled. "I will not hear her poison. She must be quartered!"
Siari furiously gesticulated to Astrid to bring her some damn paper and something to write, damn it!
"Cicero," Astrid said nervously, "Siari's part of our family. I will not have her killed without allowing her to defend herself. Her inability to speak should not be the death of her. If she is guilty, no amount of lying will change that, correct?"
Cicero stood panting at Siari, the knife still in her face. "Very well," he growled. "Spill your lies, they won't save you."
Everyone was here now, looking on with wide eyes. Veezara still wore his chef's hat, which would have been comical if not for the circumstances.
With a livid face, Siari held out a hand hooked into a claw for Astrid to put the piece of charcoal in. When Astrid did so, Siari saw the pleading in her eyes. Oh please Astrid, stop caring about yourself all the time, I'm really not going to rat you out.
Still keeping her face in its indignant, angry mask, Siari marched to the wall next to the sarcophagus, and wrote, in letters half as tall as herself,
DARKNESS RISES WHEN SILENCE DIES
Then she turned around and looked at everyone with a furious glare, her hands in her sides, probably looking immensely childish as she did so.
"What... this is your explanation? A line of gibberish?" Astrid asked. "Siari... you violated the Night Mother's resting place. The penalty for this is death. You... surely you have a way to explain so we won't have to – "
Cicero let out an awed peep, his eyes wet with star-stricken adulation. When all eyes went to him, he breathed, "It's true... ohh, Cicero can scarcely believe it."
"Can someone tell me what in Oblivion is going on here?" Astrid snapped.
"Joy, lady Astrid," Cicero whined in pure bliss. "Joy a thousand fold!"
Before Siari realized what happened, the jester dropped his knife and grabbed both Siari's hands, dancing in circles around her like a child so she spun along with him. "The Night Mother has spoken!" he sang in rapture, "The silence has been broken!" He kept dancing and dancing, on a merry-go-round around Siari, while Festus Krex brought his index finger to his temple and made a twirling motion. "The Listener has been chosen!"
Siari let him dance, absently amused at his antics, the realization still not sinking in entirely. Festus Krex' finger had abruptly stopped moving.
"What?" Astrid asked. "Did you say...?"
"The Night Mother has spoken," Cicero sang again. "The Listener has been chosen."
"Wait," Arnbjorn asked, finally speaking. "You mean to tell me that this scrawny little rack of rib is the Listener?"
Cicero let go of Siari's hand, though he remained in ecstatic motion, skipping and hopping through the room. "I tell you nothing," he sang. "The Night Mother tells you. This little beauty is the Listener!"
As suddenly as he had grabbed her hands, Cicero fell to one knee before her. "Dear, glorious Listener, forgive Cicero's trespasses. Cicero wrongly believed you were a defiler of the Night Mother's repose, when you were in fact her chosen. Beautiful Listener, luminous Night Mother, your humble servant only acted to serve. Forgive – "
Siari put her hand on his shoulder to shut him up, and gave him an awkward, embarrassed face. His grovelling and kneeling was a bit uncomfortable. More than a bit. Meanwhile, Krex and Veezara were busy talking amongst themselves incredulously.
"Beautiful Listener, Cicero is at your disposal," he pledged without getting up. "The Night Mother's will, through you, I will – "
Siari was done being so embarrassed by this buffoon. She simply grabbed Cicero by the shoulders of his tunic and pulled. She was nowhere near strong enough to pull him up, but it was enough for him to feel it, and he immediately stood up straight. She placed her index finger on her lips to shut him up, and he did. Then she pointed at herself and slowly lowered the palms of her hands. She had to let it all sink in and she needed everyone to just calm down. Everyone just calm down. Siari herself, especially, had to just calm down, and she couldn't do that with everyone all excited.
"Siari," Astrid asked hoarsely, "Can I see you for a moment?"
Siari sighed. Right, this would get awkward. Still, Astrid had brought her into the family, and it would be seen as extremely ungrateful not to make time for her now.
"Everyone else," Astrid said, "please, just... go back to dinner. Give me a moment to have a word with Siari, is that alright?"
It was a good sign that she wasn't ordering people about but actually asking, Siari supposed.
"You coming?" Astrid asked. She looked like she'd just heard the worst news she could hear. Which, for her, might actually be true. Siari nodded and followed Astrid.
With a sigh, the mother figure of her little family sat down, and rubbed her eyes. "I... suppose congratulations are in order?"
With a lopsided shrug, Siari tried to tell her it was nothing special. Bruising her ego at this point might have dramatic consequences.
Astrid wouldn't have it. "No, no. You are the Listener. That's... quite an honour. The Night Mother, she... speaks through you now." She paused, then looked at Siari intently. "Just... don't go walking with your head in the clouds now, alright? I don't want us to get at odds because our interests conflict." She laid her hand on top of Siari's, as she'd done a few hours before. "I care about you too much for that."
Care too much, care too much... Siari didn't doubt she did, but that was a veiled threat if ever there was one. 'Don't get in my way, or else'. Still, if it made Astrid happy if she played the good, obedient daughter, then fine, she would. She'd failed at it a long time ago, but she'd learned since then. And the means by which she'd failed were gone now anyway.
She nodded at Astrid, pointed at herself, and then her surrogate mother. Siari knew Astrid had to hear she cared about her too.
The relief was clearly visible on her face. "That's good to hear. I'd hate for our relationship to go sour." Another veiled warning.
Siari shook her head, promising her that wouldn't happen.
"Good. Now, I'm sure the Night Mother gave instructions? What did she tell us to do?"
Siari briefly thought of not telling her, but she realized this would only make her more mistrustful. So she took the piece of parchment from before, turned it over and wrote,
GO TO VOLUNRUUD
MEET WITH SOMEONE CALLED ARMAND MOTIAYR
"Hm," Astrid said, studying the parchment. "I have no idea who this... Armand Motiayr is, but I do know where Volunruud is." She took the map behind her, making it glide through the air, and laid it on the table. She pointed at a spot with her finger, the south face of a mountain ridge, far to the north. "There you are. And who should go?"
Siari pointed at herself.
"Of course," Astrid sighed. "Figures."
Damn it Astrid, it wasn't her fault this happened. She shot her an angry glare, but Astrid refused to be in any way impressed. "Keep me informed, alright?"
Siari nodded, even though she felt like telling Astrid to stick her self-importance up her asshole. She'd defied her mother once and it had led to disaster. Not this time. At least not until she really had to.
"Then I suppose you should go have dinner and do what the Night Mother tells you."
Yes, Astrid, Siari supposed the same thing.
Looking at her map, Astrid said without much interest, "Don't die."
When she heard how different Astrid had become towards her, Siari was so disappointed she had to keep herself from slamming the door.