The silence of their passage weighed heavily on Anilitak. She wanted to encourage Wind somehow, but even had she the opportunity, she had nothing to say.

He had killed a man. To protect her, he had killed a man. Wind's broken voice, when he had said “I killed him,” became Anilitak's eyes to the murder. In the confused minutes of the attack, she had barely realized what was happening. Now the enormity of the act filled her; she needed to say something, to confess her own guilt in the murder, to ask forgiveness, to reassure Wind that he had done no wrong--

Had he done no wrong?

Acid rose in her throat. It burned as she swallowed it, pushing it down. The reaction had come suddenly, a revulsion at the dead man they had left behind. Even in her imaginings he had no face, but she could see his body limp upon the floor. Lady Lilian had been taken from her sight and the Tongue had hardly been human, but when she considered how this ghost, this shadow of a man, had died, she wanted to weep to relieve the terrible emotions in her soul.

Wind paused, and Anilitak waited anxiously behind him. She could hear voices ahead performing the travel signals that aided them in passing one another. Wind let out a deep, trembling breath, squeezed her hand painfully, and continued forward. He moved at a steady pace, but it was strangely slow for Wind. Anilitak walked to his outside, away from the rope, to avoid accidently bumping into others.

The ropes were more crowded than before, and though she moved as silently as possible, Anilitak felt certain that anyone who listened could hear her. They could see her if only they looked in her direction. How could she remain invisible after what she had witnessed?

She remembered how Shrill had asked the crowd at Rodion's Knot how many of them had desired to kill their neighbor and how many of the faceless crowd had agreed. Did murders regularly occur in these hallways? Did they go unnoticed—a person disappearing, his voice fading away, whether he became a ghost or a corpse left unknown? Wind and Noon and the rest might beat every sword into a useless lump of metal, but what would it solve? It hadn't stopped Wind.

In her mind, she heard the Box's screams as she sawed him open. And what was she capable of?

A growing rumble of noise pulled her from dark thoughts. The gathering seemed larger even than the one at Rodion's Knot, though perhaps it was just less controlled, more rowdy. Gripping her firmly, Wind led her into the chamber. She heard arguments and discussions and even some laughter. Clicks, whistles, and a constant calling out of names filled the room. In her ear came the barely whispered words: “Meal Room. Stay close.” Quickly, Wind forced her to walk behind him, her hands wrapped around his waist. He was slender. Step by step he led her, and they became one body for the purpose of anyone who might jostle them. Anilitak shut her eyes against the noise and the random collisions. No one stopped them, and Wind found an alcove, where the din seemed to lessen. He pushed her into its corner. “In a bit, I must find Silencia.”

Anilitak did not respond. Silence was her muzzle.

“You'll be fine,” Wind whispered. “I promise.”