Zavala set his hand on Ikora's knee and swallowed a knot in his throat. Completely, maddeningly, heartrendingly inert. 'Respect is mutual,' Zavala said, 'but I agree.' He took a deep breath, looking up at the belly of the Traveler: present but inert. We need to be people they want to follow, not people they mistrust and want to fight.' 'Yes…' he agreed, then added gently, 'But they owe us more than they're giving, too.' She's mine to manage, and… She's not a child. He raised his hand to brush it away, keeping his gaze fixed steadily on the City. Ikora nodded, then leaned back to look up at the rain as it fell. She embedded the rest in your manifests.' 'Aunor leaked about a dozen documents today,' Ikora said.ĭespite himself, Zavala smiled. Zavala and Ikora sat together on a wooden trellis, legs dangling, soaked to the bone, looking out at the City lights below. It was quiet: The civilians had taken shelter hours ago when the rain was coming down in earnest, and most Guardians still awake had congregated in the Courtyard. Scarves of mist gusted through the Tower bazaar.
