"The lady," I began, and stopped. The words were still too thick in my throat.
"The lady is a reflection of the taint," Shame said. "One that is rippling through the house. I am not surprised."
"And not angry," I said slowly.
He shook his head. "I grieve for you, and for her also. There is... there is so much work to be done, Farren. And we must do it, before it can no longer be attempted at all."
Those words sent a lance of ice through my heart. For Shame not to be able to Correct a fault...
"Gods and ancestors," I whispered, the hair on the yoke of my shoulders standing on end.
"Thirukedi, rather," Shame said. Because only He would remain, if Shame could not. And then shocked me by saying, "He will have to come to this case as it is, for I cannot be the tool of Qenain's Correction."
"But," I said, stunned, "You said... we had work..."
"We do," he said. "To prepare for Him, and to deliver to Him all that He needs to make the proper judgment."
"But why?" I asked, trembling. "Why can't you do it?"
"Because," Kor said, his voice low, "The lord's sin is my sin, and I have no better notion how to Correct it in him than I do in myself."
The silence that followed this admission was so acute I could hear the pulse beating in my ears. But whatever he saw in his face must have satisfied him, for he smiled. If the words had not been admission enough, that smile, so rueful and tired, confessing to all his hidden frailties, would have been.
"Are you hale enough to dry and dress yourself when you are done?" he asked. At my nod, he rose, more slowly than was his wont. "I will leave you to soak. Take as long as you need... we will talk when you're done."
"All right," I said. As he straightened, I said, "Kor..."
He stopped and looked at me. How tired he was! And how worn! Truly he was Thirukedi's broken pot, and yet, despite his brokenness, he could not help but serve... had in fact, served with grace, and saved my spirit. I met his eyes, so that he could see that I knew it.
"Thank you," I said, "for the grace of my Correction."
He grew still; did not even draw in a breath in that moment. Then went to one knee and cupped my face with both hands. When I returned his regard without flinching, he leaned forward and kissed me: my brow, my eyes as they closed for him, my lips. From his mouth I had the scent of that vibrant green that had first pierced my anguish, and the taste of it: a stimulant that made my lips tingle and heat travel my spine.
Kor said, quiet, "You are welcome, shinje."
He left me then to complete my journey. Not just from the liminal space of the spirit where my Correction had been accomplished... but from the stasis in which I had existed before Thirukedi had sent me to succor him. Kor had called me something more than friend, and for the first time in years, my heart was willing to entertain the offer. Shinje... soul-complement. Not an easy relationship to negotiate with Kherishdar's Shame.
But he had chosen me. And I had chosen him, also. Had I not?
It is well for a man advanced in years to have a challenge sufficient to his wisdom, or so we say. Smiling despite the ruin of our situation, I finished my ablutions.
When I exited the bath, I found Shame sitting in one of the chairs by the table where we usually ate. Ajan was with him—kneeling beside his feet, which is not a posture I associated with Guardians, who have to be prepared to act at any moment. It wasn't until I drew closer that I saw the small knives in his lap... so unassuming, those blades, to be so deadly. From this pose the youth smiled at me; how centered he looked, with his temple resting lightly against Shame's knee! We were both glad that his master had risen.
I sat in one of the other chairs and glanced at what was steeping in the kettle on the tray in the center of the table.
"Saret," Kor said.
"Ah?" I took one of the cups and sniffed at it, and there again was the green-scent I had had off his lips. "Ah, the stimulant."
"Guardian-food," Ajan said, his smile irreverent. "You don't see it outside the caste much. It's a body-spur, for when you're depleted but you need to be up anyway."
I lifted my brows.
"I adulterated it," Kor said. "But it helps, after sickness."
"I didn't let him have much of it," Ajan said. "There's tea for you there, Calligrapher, in the covered cup."
"Thank you," I said, and took it up gratefully. After inhaling the fragrance on the steam, I said, "So."
"So," Kor said. "Qenain. We will have to go through the Gate."
I met his eyes.
"There is no other choice," Kor said, quiet.
"We will need a permit, and I have no notion how we are to obtain one," I said.
"I will have one from the lady," Kor said. "She will not say no to me." He smiled, just a corner of his mouth tilting up. "There are times when the... deference my position inspires can be useful."
I frowned, thinking. "You honestly believe she will not deny you?"
"She will not, no," Kor said. "And her only recourse to my request if she believes it is untoward is Correction, and there is an exception there."
I had never thought of who could Correct Shame. I glanced at him and hazarded the guess. "No one may Correct you but Civilization?"
"Just as you say," he said.
