1035

Thanks for bearing with me. These are tonight's words, but it's after 3 am now and I'd better go to bed.

"Will do," Serian said, nodding his thanks. "How do you just know all this crap?"

"Eight and a half summers of slogging through it." Lars shrugged and took a sip of tea.

"I don't know how you did it. I'm only helping out and this damn job already makes me feel like a pegging idiot, all the notes and bullshit. Hells, I got puked on twice last night, and some crazy drunk bitch tried to stab me."

Serian sagged. "I have enough trouble with drunks and lost goats, I can't imagine dealing with murderers and kiddy perverts. I'm worthless, Gilby's crippled up and Dien's lungs are shot. What's Dubric gonna do when you go?"

Lars set aside his tea. The guilt tainting his mouth made it taste bitter. "I don't know."

"What are we gonna do when you go?" Serian whispered.

Lars looked over, his belly tightening. "I don't know, but I can't stay. I just can't."

"I know," Serian sighed. "But, shit, Lars. We're pegged without you." He shook his head and lumbered off.

I can't stay, Lars thought, watching his friend leave. I've promised Jess, I've sworn to her, that she'll go to University.

He swallowed the acrid taste in his mouth and sighed as Serian disappeared out the door. I've hated the job as long as I can remember, and I just... I just can't face another murder investigation or rape. Not and keep my sanity, my soul. I want a life, dammit, my own normal life. With Jess. With our own family. Not blood and death and violence day after Goddess damned day.

I just can't do it any more.

He reached for the folded letter and tried not to flinch at the freshening stink of infant sachet wafting from the page. He'd received the first letter from his mother days after arriving in Faldorrah. All were addressed to Dubric, and all requested that Dubric read the message to him. Dubric had read one. The rest Lars had faced alone.

As always, Jhandra babbled on in her mushy baby-speak about how she missed him and wished her sweet baby Larsy could come home. She spoke of cuddles and the hope that he might soon be weaned, soon be able to walk.

Lars read each word, as he always had, despite the embarrassment, the shame, the guilt over her madness and sorrow. He had left Haenpar and come to Faldorrah little more than an infant at nine summers of age, never allowed to run or speak or even feed himself. But under Dubric's employ - and Dien's fatherly guidance - he'd rapidly matured, and finally flourished.

His mother, however, had remained lost in his babyhood. She'd sent babbling letters every moon or so for the first few summers, and, twice, packages of toys and ointments on his birthing day. The packages had long since stopped, and the letters had trickled to random arrivals, finally fading to welcome silence.

He'd received nothing from her since the spring he turned fifteen, almost two and a half summers ago. Since after his first visit home after leaving to page for Dubric. Since she'd gone completely mad.

He read on, the same near-gibberish as always, until,

Oh, Larsy love, mama met the sweetest young couple the other day. They'd come to visit and mama wishes you'da been here. Such a pretty little girl named Jessie. She's off to university next moon. A girl going to university! Can you imagine? Mama's sure that someday you'll be off to university too, you're so smart, Larsy, mama's sweet, sweet boy.

But her young man is who mama really wishes you'da met, Larsy. I never caught his name, and he didn't talk much, but he reminded me so, so much of you, made me imagine how you'll be, all grown up someday. There was fire in him, Larsy, but kindness too. I couldn't stop looking at him, wishing he was you.

"Oh, Goddess," Lara mumbled, blinking the sting from his eyes as he read. The letter meandered on to reflections on lambs and blankies.

"You okay?" Otlee asked, slipping into the chair Serian had recently vacated.

Lars wiped at his eyes with the back of his thumb and stuffed the letter back into the box. Can't I have ten damned minutes alone? "Yeah. Fine. Just waiting for Jess."

"Yeah, I heard," Otlee said, leaning forward. "I didn't know literature students needed to take the combined sciences exam."

Lars shrugged. Jess's parents knew of the change in her university plans. No one else needed to.

Otlee leaned back, skinny arms crossing over his chest. "No girl's ever passed that test. It's a waste of time."

Lars shrugged again and sipped his tea. "Her time to waste."

"Seems to me you're the one wasting time. We both know you can do a lot better than her."

Not this again, Lars thought, staring out to the great hall. Time for a change of subject. He forced a smile and dragged his gaze back to Otlee. "So. How's that case coming? That fire at the tanner's? Dubric have any likely suspects?"

"I don't know," Otlee sighed, tracing his ink-smudged fingertips on the tabletop. "He doesn't let me do anything anymore."

"Sure he does. You're still--"

"No he doesn't," Otlee snapped. "I haven't been part of a real investigation since..." He shook his head.

"Otlee, c'mon," Lars said. "You know you're a vital part of the team. All of the research, all of the note--"

Otlee flinched and looked away. "Just stop, okay? I don't need this, not from you." He took a breath and let it out. "Anyone but you."

"You know Dubric needs you."

"No he doesn't. He doesn't trust me anymore. Not since the Reach. Not since..." Otlee blinked, eyes shiny, and looked away.

"That's not true," Lars said, offering a consoling smile. "He just knows you were hurt. He just wants to keep you safe."

"No. He thinks I'm a monster, knows I'm one, after what happened to me."

"Otlee. Dammit, that's not true."

Otlee stared him in the eye and snapped, "Everyone who looks at me, everyone but you, knows I'm just like he was. Child molester. Monster."