I gaped in astonishment at Niven's gooey remains. "What the fuck did you do that for?"
She shook her head dismissively. “I was done with him,” she said reproachfully. I seriously expected her to spit on him.
“I wasn’t!” I shrilled. “What if he had more information to give us?”
“He didn’t,” she assured me. “Besides, that fucker killed you. Not once, but twice. It was time to get rid of him.”
“That wasn’t your call to make,” I told her.
She shrugged indifferently. “This is taking too long. The more time we waste interrogating people who aren’t going to help and being nice to people who don’t deserve our forgiveness, the more likely it is that when we find Torvin…it’ll be too late.” Suddenly she didn’t appear quite so indifferent.
I wasn’t sure whether I felt sorry for her because of her missing lover or whether I was pissed at her for killing Niven. Or, more accurately, for killing Niven without my permission. At least he got what was coming to him, but considering that I was the one Niven had assassinated, I felt that it was my prerogative to dispatch him. And there was also the fact that I was supposed to be in charge and it stood to reason that decisions as weighty as executions should fall to the highest authority.
But this was Jaelin, my trusty sidekick, in a state of emotional distress. How could I discipline her?
“Well just…don’t do that,” I spluttered. “I don’t want you killing people all…willy-nilly or whatever.”
“Yeah, sorry,” she said curtly before sweeping out of the room. It was continually surprising to me how seriously Jaelin was taking this situation and what a high value she placed on ensuring Torvin’s wellbeing.
Sylnie cocked an eyebrow at me. “Willy-nilly?”
“Shut up,” I replied irritably, following Jaelin out into the hall. “I…assume you’ll take us to the Department of Historicity, then?” I asked her quietly.
She answered by reaching out to touch us and transporting us to yet another little alcove of Hell.