Page 127 of Cast in Conflict

“But?”

“I don’t give you anything.”

“This is not true, but I understand the concern. You feel it often: you have taken so much, you have been given so much, and you have given so little in return.”

“It’s true.”

“You fail to understand what it is you can give; you think of giving as work, as something that takes effort and will. You think of it as transactional, but only in relation to yourself. You can tell me, clearly, what Teela has given you. You can tell me, just as clearly, what I have given you. But you feel on some level you have done nothing to deserve it. You believe that you belong with the Hawks in the Halls of Law—and you can point to the many things you’ve done because on some level, those are worthy work.

“I like your openness. Teela could not give it. Bellusdeo could not give it. Severn?”

He shook his head.

“No. You are not a child, Kaylin—but you are not yet fully adult. You retain some of the impulsiveness of youth, some of the joy—and the despair and the anger, because nothing is unalloyed. When you are tired, when you are trying your hardest, we feel that we can give something of value to you. Perhaps what you give us is intangible: you appreciate us.

“You love us.”

“But...”

“Love means different things to different people, yes. But even Sedarias understands why you are my tenant, and why she could not be. What she needs is so complex I cannot give it to her. She is not jealous of this. She understood, and understands, why Annarion and Mandoran are fond of you. It is Bellusdeo’s interaction with Mandoran she finds difficult.”

“Because our association will pass in a few decades.”

“Yes, dear. She can be patient. She knows how to wait. Bellusdeo, however, is a Dragon, and if Sedarias accepts this—and she does—it goes against the brief childhood she spent in the real world.” Helen exhaled; breeze came. Dishes vanished.

“She is angry because Mandoran and Annarion, in her view, have thrown away the entirety of their life experience in order to befriend her. Even Terrano has grown to like her—but he is similar in many ways to Mandoran. She is afraid. It is a fear you understand. Do you think Karriamis would accept her?”

“I don’t know.”

“No?”

“He accepted Candallar.”

“Yes.”

“Would you?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I could not ever give Candallar the home he wanted. I would always be a resting place while he looked toward and yearned for his real home. But you are not, I think, wrong in that one regard. He had nothing when he arrived in Karriamis. Candallar was made outcaste—and you must be aware of what that means to Dragonkind. You cannot imagine what Candallar was, when he first arrived.”

“Why can you?”

“I have had experience with many, many people during the entirety of my existence. You think you are Kaylin, and you are. And you will remain Kaylin—but experience, for better or worse, will change you. Things that you feared once, you no longer fear. You do not fear starvation; you do not fear the Ferals. You know what you’ve done in a desperate, terrified attempt to survive. You know the moment you decided that survival was not worth the cost you had paid.

“You are not, now, the child you were seven or eight years ago. You will not be the person you are now in a decade. Some parts of you will remain, and perhaps you will think you have not changed much—but I will know. I will know this Kaylin, and I will know the Kaylin you will become. And perhaps what you will become in the future will not be the person who wanted what I have to give.”

“That’s never going to happen.”

Helen smiled. “I will not discuss all the details, but will say it has happened before. What I offered was not, in the end, what the person I sheltered grew into wanting. Ah, no, perhaps needing is a better word.”

“They left you?”

Helen nodded. “With my blessing,” she added. “Sometimes a person needs a nest, but they may not remain wingless; as they gain strength and confidence, they need to fly.”

“But...but...what about you?”

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