Naeya cursed her aching throat as Savitaire spoke, hating that she could do nothing but listen as he again tried to justify his actions. Unlike his last attempt, these words were venomous and defensive. The apology had died and in its place grew a tirade of excuses. Her frown deepened as she listened to his logic. A small part of her was trying desperately to understand his point of view. Yes - she understood that when he felt threatened, he protected himself. The men had threatened him, and she didn't doubt that they had meant it at the time. It was tempting to nod and consent so that the conflict would end. He had, after all, estimated that they were about an hour's walking distance from the city; this open hostility would make for a very uncomfortable walk home. Still, the injustice gnawed at her. He had said slavers deserve no mercy, and to some extent Naeya agreed with him. People who cruelly took away the freedoms of others should never be shown leniency. But didn't everyone deserve justice? Didn't everyone deserve a fair and honest trial? Who is Savitaire to take this basic right away? Without justice, there would be no such thing as civilized society. Law, order... these were the foundation upon which civilizations flourished. This was the foundation upon which Riverfall flourished. "There is never any honour to be found in murder," Naeya replied coldly. As he came towards her, she willed herself not to step backwards and crossed her arms defensively over her chest. Defiantly raising her eyes to meet his, she realized now, more than ever, just how much he towered over her. And his words! They came out like harsh slaps, stinging her confidence and her pride. The guilt passes... You chose to ignore that... Someone else would be stalked... At that moment, she was glad to have her arms crossed so that he would not see her shaking hands. It was as though he knew every painful point to hit: the guilt over the men's deaths, the disillusionment with her gnosis, and, even more distressingly, the convictions and guiding beliefs that she held so dear. Worse, she didn't feel right reporting Savitaire to the Knights - a point which went against a most basic value of abiding laws. She owed him, and she hated it. A sigh of relief left her as Savitaire stepped back, and she realized that she had been holding in her breath throughout his tirade. The relief, however, was unfounded. He was now targeting her, personally, and her jaw dropped open at his insults. He has the nerve to kill those men, and then make it out so that I am the one who needs to see reason?! Her face reddened in anger as she waited for him to finish, stunned speechless at his audacity. A sore throat still plagued her as she still had not been able to drink, but she could not walk away now. She could not let him think he had won. "How can you even think I would have been happy to know those men were stalking someone else? I do not condone their actions, Savitaire, and I would wish a life of slavery on no one. But neither do I condone your actions! Goddess knows that only Dira should decide when someone ought to die," she croaked out as best she could, dropping her arms at her side. She clenched her fists to keep herself from waving her hands about in wild gesticulations. "And to say I do not savour life! I sob for life. I weep for the loss of those men's lives! Yes, I delight in being alive, but I do not delight in trading lives for the privilege. So don't tell me stories about the blessed sun and air, Savitaire," she snapped. "I appreciate life more than you could possibly understand." Naeya held back the urge to give the Dhani her most scathing glare. "And I am not a rabbit!" she added childishly, too soul-tired and upset to see reason. Pushing past the tree he was leaning against, she headed through several bushes and went straight for the stream. Her mind felt cloudy, as if she were stuck in a hazy nightmare from which she couldn't escape. She could only hope that the water would do her some good. After kneeling cautiously on the side of the river, she began to meticulously clean her hands. At first, furious thoughts filled her mind and, despite her best attempts to ignore Savitaire's presence, she found herself continuing to argue with him silently. The more she scrubbed her palms, however, the less angry she became. It was a meditative motion, and she felt herself beginning to deflate as feelings of emptiness took her rage away. She moved from her palms to her face, scraping away the thinly caked-on blood with cruel nails. Then, after a long gulp of water, back to her palms. Breathe. Just breathe. But even when the blood was gone and her hands were rubbed raw, she continued to scrub. It was as though she was caught in a trance, trying to wash away the memories. The memories, and the vision - that horrible vision of the Dhani ripping those men apart. Five chimes passed before she finally came to a halt. It was time. The Konti slowly made her way over to Savitaire. "Did you-" The words came out in a whisper, and she cleared her throat so that Savitaire could hear her. "Did you deal with - with them?" Them. The bodies. Was that all the dead were reduced to? |