many Talovians, and they took us mostly by surprise.” It was one of the first major Akarii incursions, several years ago. Amontar was one of the outlying border towns near Tamaranth, and it had been completely overrun.
“I was with the Talovians for awhile.” She shakes her head. “Not fighting with them, I don’t mean that.”
“Josik had mentioned something. He didn’t say much.”
She turns her violet eyes toward me in the dark, and then looks away. “It wasn’t pleasant.”
“I get the sense you’ve been through a lot.”
She takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly. She doesn’t answer. And then she shrugs. “It’s war. Lots of people have been through a lot. I don’t think I’m much different.”
“I’m sorry about Josik,” I say.
“It wasn’t your fault, Blackwell. We know the risks. He knew what he was doing.”
“You two were close, weren’t you.”
“He reminded me of my brother, the way he wanted to look out for me?” She smiles to herself.
“He was a great friend, he and Pirrosh both.” I tell her about some of the things we’d been hired to go find. A sage deep in the Warrens of Tamaranth had sent Josik and I into the southern swamps for an old Akarii database, supposedly lost when a podship had been shot down. I’d come back with the data, and a case of creeping mold that had stayed in my fur for weeks. Another had sent us into a series of tunnels near Crom’s Watch, in search of an old aetherbook that had belonged to Crom himself. Instead we’d found a pack of wild dogs that had chased us for miles, and when at last we’d hid up in a tree, we found a body there, the husk of a long-dead Talovian, clutching that very same book.
“He had a lot of respect for you, you know,” she says. “They both did. They would have followed you into anything.”
I frown. “They did. And look what happened.”
She shakes her head. “You’re missing my point. Do you think they would rather have died in the Warrens somewhere? From brownplague or starving or something? The way Josik talked, you gave them something to work for, to dream about.”
I don’t have an answer for that. I nod. “Thanks,” I say. It doesn’t seem like much consolation, though.
The wind picks up, and she leans in against me. I find myself talking about my childhood in Sartosh’s lands, on the steppes of the Ghibral Mountains. I talk about the kiva I’d grown up in, about working in the fields, about my aunt and how she treated me, and about how there were long nights filled with nothing but wind and Sartosh’s books and the knife Sartosh had given me once, a knife that had belonged to Sartosh’s own father, that I kept now in a vault in a bank in Tamaranth for fear I’d pawn it.
As I talk, I can sense her relaxing more, settling into the ride. She asks quiet questions, and I’m surprised to find myself opening up to her.
“My childhood was a bit different,” she says, drowsily. I wait to hear more, but she leans in against me and is silent. I can hear her breathing settle into a deep, quiet rhythm that I sense doesn’t come easy to her. The Assassin’s moon is above the horizon again, and I study her in the moonslight. The patterns to her tattoos seems to shift and flicker.
She’s the last of my team, I think. I owe it to her. “I will get you out of this,” I promise, quietly. "I'll get you home." I can’t tell if she hears me.
• • •
The hills flatten out into a long stretch of warm, temperate lands that gradually slope down to the shore. The Buhr are moving so fast, the motion and my exhaustion take over, and when the Buhr from the bow wakes me, I realize two things—first, I’m a little embarrassed to see I’ve been spooned around Kjat. I extract myself without waking her.
Second, we’re reaching the port just before dawn.
There’s no live network here, since the town is off-lei. Mircada goes in ahead of us and comes back with a map and a bunch of keys. I
“I was with the Talovians for awhile.” She shakes her head. “Not fighting with them, I don’t mean that.”
“Josik had mentioned something. He didn’t say much.”
She turns her violet eyes toward me in the dark, and then looks away. “It wasn’t pleasant.”
“I get the sense you’ve been through a lot.”
She takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly. She doesn’t answer. And then she shrugs. “It’s war. Lots of people have been through a lot. I don’t think I’m much different.”
“I’m sorry about Josik,” I say.
“It wasn’t your fault, Blackwell. We know the risks. He knew what he was doing.”
“You two were close, weren’t you.”
“He reminded me of my brother, the way he wanted to look out for me?” She smiles to herself.
“He was a great friend, he and Pirrosh both.” I tell her about some of the things we’d been hired to go find. A sage deep in the Warrens of Tamaranth had sent Josik and I into the southern swamps for an old Akarii database, supposedly lost when a podship had been shot down. I’d come back with the data, and a case of creeping mold that had stayed in my fur for weeks. Another had sent us into a series of tunnels near Crom’s Watch, in search of an old aetherbook that had belonged to Crom himself. Instead we’d found a pack of wild dogs that had chased us for miles, and when at last we’d hid up in a tree, we found a body there, the husk of a long-dead Talovian, clutching that very same book.
“He had a lot of respect for you, you know,” she says. “They both did. They would have followed you into anything.”
I frown. “They did. And look what happened.”
She shakes her head. “You’re missing my point. Do you think they would rather have died in the Warrens somewhere? From brownplague or starving or something? The way Josik talked, you gave them something to work for, to dream about.”
I don’t have an answer for that. I nod. “Thanks,” I say. It doesn’t seem like much consolation, though.
The wind picks up, and she leans in against me. I find myself talking about my childhood in Sartosh’s lands, on the steppes of the Ghibral Mountains. I talk about the kiva I’d grown up in, about working in the fields, about my aunt and how she treated me, and about how there were long nights filled with nothing but wind and Sartosh’s books and the knife Sartosh had given me once, a knife that had belonged to Sartosh’s own father, that I kept now in a vault in a bank in Tamaranth for fear I’d pawn it.
As I talk, I can sense her relaxing more, settling into the ride. She asks quiet questions, and I’m surprised to find myself opening up to her.
“My childhood was a bit different,” she says, drowsily. I wait to hear more, but she leans in against me and is silent. I can hear her breathing settle into a deep, quiet rhythm that I sense doesn’t come easy to her. The Assassin’s moon is above the horizon again, and I study her in the moonslight. The patterns to her tattoos seems to shift and flicker.
She’s the last of my team, I think. I owe it to her. “I will get you out of this,” I promise, quietly. "I'll get you home." I can’t tell if she hears me.
• • •
The hills flatten out into a long stretch of warm, temperate lands that gradually slope down to the shore. The Buhr are moving so fast, the motion and my exhaustion take over, and when the Buhr from the bow wakes me, I realize two things—first, I’m a little embarrassed to see I’ve been spooned around Kjat. I extract myself without waking her.
Second, we’re reaching the port just before dawn.
There’s no live network here, since the town is off-lei. Mircada goes in ahead of us and comes back with a map and a bunch of keys. I
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