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“Sit down. Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

He looks down at me, and when he answers, it’s quiet.

“This I have to do myself.”

Chapter 26

My legs start shaking again at the inner passage.

I put my right palm against the wall and wait. Hitto. I keep the bad arm in against me, where it hurts less.

Behind me, Kestria’s bare feet scuff the floor. She stops when I stop, close enough that her sleeve brushes my elbow.

“I’m coming with you.”

I haven’t got the legs to argue with her. I push off the wall and go on toward the pool.

The firelight’s gone by the time we reach the water. I take a cup from the ledge and fill it, bracing my hip against the rock. When I straighten, her fingers touch mine around the cup.

“I can carry that much.”

I let her take it. She’s carried everything else today.

Past the pool, I reach back until I touch her free hand. She takes it without lifting her bad arm much, so I shorten my steps through the narrow place.

The shelves begin beyond the bend. I let go of her hand and rest mine against the stone beneath them. The old cloth smells the way it always has, and my father’s shirt sits nearest the bend. I keep my claws under the shelf edge going past.

I go on past where she stood with the fox. Her steps follow until I duck under the low opening at the back.

“There’s another room?”

“Yes. Wait there.” Nobody’s been in here but me.

Air comes down the shaft into my shoulder fur, cold off the river. There’s no moon on the floor under it tonight.

I find my place with my foot and lower one knee, with my right hand taking most of the weight. The other knee comes down harder than I mean it to, and I grunt against the pull in my thigh. She heard that.

Kestria takes a step at the opening, and I turn my head toward her.

She stops, and I sit back on my heels until the shaking eases.

The lamp’s beside my right knee, where I left it. Behind it is a shallow dish of smooth stones. I hook the dish closer with my blunt fingers so the claws don’t scrape it.

She’s still waiting at the doorway with my water. She’d hear every name from out there anyway.

“Come in.”

Her foot slides across the threshold.

“Keep your free hand on the wall. There’s room to sit just inside.”

“What is this? What are you—”

“Not yet. Just listen.”

She moves along the wall until her foot touches mine. I find her hand, and she gives me the cup. I set it by the lamp while she lowers herself beside the wall, cloth dragging over stone.

She shifts her feet for a bit, then settles, close enough that I get the fire smoke off my shirt on her. I put my hands on my thighs.