Varina ci’Pallo
KARL WAS SITTING IN THE DARK on the rear stoop of
Serafina’s house in Oldtown, staring across the small garden
planted there toward the rear of the houses a street over. His gaze
seemed to be penetrating all the way to South Bank, far away. Above
him, the moon was snagged in a lacework of thin, silver clouds
through which the stars peered. A cup of tea steamed forgotten at
his left side.
He was rubbing a
small, flat, and pale stone between his forefinger and
thumb.
Varina came up and
sat beside him on the right—not quite close enough to touch, not
far enough away that she couldn’t feel the warmth of his body in
the night chill. Neither of them said anything. He rubbed the
stone. She could hear faint, muffled music from the tavern down the
street.
When the silence
between them had stretched for more breaths than she wanted to
count, she started to rise again, feeling angry with herself for
having come out here, and angry with him for not acknowledging her.
But Karl reached out and touched her knee. “Stay,” he said.
“Please?”
She sat again. “Why?”
she asked.
“We haven’t . . .
Lately . . . Well, you know.”
“No, I don’t know,”
she said to him. “Tell me.”
“You’re trying to
make this hard for me?” He flipped the stone over in his
fingers.
“No,” she told him.
“I’m trying to make it easier for me. Karl, being with you or being
without you—those are both situations I can deal with, one way or
another. What I can’t handle is not knowing which it’s supposed to
be.” She waited. He said nothing. “So which is it?” she
asked.
“It’s not that
simple.”
“Actually, it is.”
She hugged herself as she sat, leaning slightly away from him. “I
thought when I finally took you to my bed that I might have
everything I’d wanted for years. But I discovered I still only had
a part of you. I want all of you, Karl, or I don’t want anything.
Maybe I’m asking too much of you, or maybe I’m too possessive, or
maybe you think I’m pushing you into something you don’t want.”
Tears were threatening, and she sniffed them away angrily. “Maybe
it’s my fault that this won’t work, and if that’s the case, then
fine. I just need to know.”
“It’s not
you.”
She wanted to believe
that. Varina bit her lower lip, forcing back the tears, her breath
shaking in her throat. “Then what is it?” she asked. “You go after
this Uly on your own and nearly get yourself killed, you meet with
Kenne without telling me, you’re even making plans with Talis. But
you’re not talking to me.”
“I don’t want you to
worry.”
She wanted to scoff
at that. “I worry more because I don’t
know the situation. I don’t know what you’re planning, don’t know
what you’re trying to do, don’t know what the real dangers might
be.” She stopped. Took a breath. “I won’t be your mistress, to be
there whenever you want that kind of comfort but conveniently
forgotten otherwise. If that’s all you want from me, then I made a
mistake. I’m also not Ana, only wanting you as a friend. Again, if
that’s all you want from me, well, you can’t have that either. Not
anymore. So if that’s the case, then tell me and as soon as this is
over, one way or the other, I’ll go my own way. I’ve wanted you to
open the door between us for a long time, Karl. Now you have, but
you can’t stand there with one foot in and one outside. I need to
either close that door and lock it forever, or you need to enter
all the way in.”
“How do I do that?”
His voice sounded plaintive in the darkness. He pressed the stone
between his fingers. How can you not
know? she wanted to rail at him. Can’t
you see it as plainly as I do?
“Talk to me,” she said. “Share what you’re thinking.
Let me accept the dangers you’re willing to accept. Let me be
with you.”
She thought that he
wasn’t going to answer—which would have been answer enough. He sat
there, still toying with the stone and staring outward. She started
to rise again, and this time he took her hand. She could feel the
stone as he pressed it into her palm.
“Wait,” he said. “Let
me tell you what I’m thinking . . .”
And he began to
talk.