Hort struggled, but lost his brief bout with silence-
“As I recall, Hakiem, there was chaos and death in Sanctuary long before the Stepsons put in their appearance. I don’t see where they’ve been any worse than Jubal’s hawkmasks used to be … or your pet fish- eyed friends for that matter- It’s wrong to try to blame the Stepsons for all our problems . . . and dangerous to think things will return to nor- mal when they’ve left. I don’t think I even know what normal is any- more.”
Hakiem turned away, his eyes avoiding both Hort and the departing Stepsons.
“You’re right, of course,” he admitted. “Though the Beysib have been far gentler with our town than the Stepsons, who were supposed to be guarding it. Water does not flow upstream, nor does time run backward. Sanctuary will never be what it was. Hawkmasks, Stepsons, Beysib – . . they’ve all had their impact on the town, and their presence will never be completely removed. Even the new laborers who are here to work on the walls will change our lives, though in what ways we have yet to find out. All we can do is what we’ve always done: watch. Watch and hope.”
“Speaking of the new laborers,” Hort said with an almost forced casu- ainess, “have you heard anything of people disappearing?”
“I assume you mean dropping out of sight without turning up dead later,” Hakiem retorted drily.
“That’s right.” The youth nodded. “Able-bodied men you’d think would be able to take care of themselves. I’ve heard of three so far.”
“It’s news to me. Still, I’ll keep my ears open.”