A silence fell after Tats spoke, a silence that was bigger than the three of them. The fire crackled. Mosquitoes hummed in the darkness around them. The river rushed by as it always did, and somewhere off in the distance, a creature hooted shrilly and then was still. Thymara glanced around the circle and realized that most of the dragon keepers had focused on their conversation. She suddenly felt uncomfortable and trapped sitting between Greft and Tats, as if she represented territory to be won to one side or the other. She shifted her weight slightly away from Tats and felt cooler air touch her where his body had been against hers.
Greft took a breath as if about to reply angrily. Then he sighed it slowly out. His voice was even, low, and pleasant as he said, “I was right. You don’t understand what I’m saying, because you haven’t been where I’ve been. Where we’ve all been.” His voice rose on those last words, including all of them in on what he was trying to say to Tats. He paused and smiled at him before adding, “You’re just not like us. So I don’t think you can really understand why we’re here. Any more than I can understand why you’re here.” He dropped his voice a notch, but his words still carried. “The Council was looking for Rain Wilders like us. The ones they’d like to be rid of. But I heard they also offered amnesty to certain others. Criminals, for example. I heard some people were offered a chance to leave Trehaug rather than face the consequences of what they had done.”
Greft let his words hang in the night like the drifting smoke from the fire. When Tats said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” his words sounded unconvincing. “I just heard the money was good. And that they wanted people with no strong ties to Trehaug, people who could leave the city without leaving obligations behind. And that described me.”
“Did it?” Greft asked politely.
It was Tats’s turn to look around at the others watching him. Some were merely following the conversation, but several of them were now regarding him with a curiosity bordering on suspicion. “It did,” Tats said harshly. He stood suddenly. “It does. I’ve got no ties to bind me anywhere. And the money is good. I’ve as much a right to be here as any of you.” He turned away from them. “Gotta piss,” he muttered and stalked off into the surrounding darkness.
Thymara sat still, feeling the empty space where he had sat. Something had just happened, something bigger than the verbal sparring between the two young men. She tried to put a name to it and couldn’t. He’s shifted the balance, she thought as she glanced over at Greft. He had leaned forward and was pushing the ends of the firewood into the flames. He’s made Tats an outsider. And spoken for all of us as if he had the right to do so. Abruptly, he seemed a bit less charming than he had a few moments ago.