you make your voice go at the end.”
I don’t think she knows how weird it looks when she speaks to him like that. Just like I doubt she notices that she’s stepping in his footprints. I glance back, and Dog and Whisper are doing the same thing. Only mine are out of step.
“Were you serious about there being a cloaked Fade at the boundary tonight?” Marina asks. It takes a minute to realize that one’s aimed at me.
“Who’s asking? You or the ink blot?”
“Tobin . . .”
“At least I insult him to his face,” I say.
“It’s a figure of speech, Rue,” she says, annoyed. “He knows that’s the back of your head.”
A pause, and then: “Because that’s what a figure of speech is. You say one thing, and mean another.”
Another pause, and she’s rubbing the back of her neck and grumbling.
“No, it’s not the same as lying.”
“You should answer her question,” Schuyler says to me, to end their argument. “Without speaking in figures.”
The first half sounds almost entirely human, but the end doesn’t.
“Was something observed on your perimeter tonight?” he asks.
“If there’s something dangerous lurking between here and the Arclight, I’d rather know,” Marina says.
I hadn’t considered that it could be something other than one of Rueful’s hive-mates, but when she says it like that, and with the Fade acting the way they are—
“It stayed hidden,” I say. “But it kicked up dirt when it moved, and it was smart enough to get out of range when I chucked a rock at it. By the time I thought to use my scope for a better look, it had gone.”
“Change course,” Rueful says, shifting us another few degrees to the side.
“Why are we taking the long way?” I ask.
We’re close enough to the short side that we don’t have to deal with the wind spouts that blow through the wider regions. Here, there are rocks and trees to break them, but Rueful’s directional shifts keep slowing us down. The Fade keep stopping, reacting to things beyond my senses.
“Rue says there’s danger,” Marina says.
“Can you hear anything?” I ask her.
“No,” she says, mumbling. Then, “That’s what scares me.”
Her senses are nearly as sharp as theirs. What’s stealthy enough to evade that?
I stop walking and try scanning the area with the light hanging off my wrist, but it’s clear.
“Continue, or return to home,” Rueful prompts.
“You’re going to stretch this out so long, the sun will rise before you have time to get back,” I tell him.
“This way is unobstructed,” he says, nodding the direction he wants us to go. He starts walking again. The other three do the same, in perfect sync, herding me and Marina along with them.
“What’s obstructing the other way?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he says.
“Then why—”
“He doesn’t mean there’s nothing there.” Marina’s face pinches as she deciphers whatever hacked-up hash of an explanation he’s given her. “It’s nothingness. A void.”
“This is the Grey,” I say, sweeping my arms around. “It’s all a void.”
“Not like this,” she says, and shivers. “It’s there; it’s dangerous, but you can’t see it. It’s watching us.”
We stop talking, or at least I do, and if they still are, it’s not out loud. Rueful slows to a halt once we’re a few hundred meters from the Arc. There are trash piles and mounds of dry brush waiting to be used for bonfire fuel, but other than these, all that separates us from a straight shot back into the Arclight is fog.
Dog breaks right, and Whisper left, patrolling the Grey. Schuyler sticks with us.
“They observe the Dark,” Rueful says before anyone can ask.
“Tell them to make a diversion while they’re at it,” I say. “We could use one.” A glance at my wristband says we’re still at Red-Wall.
Getting help to Trey isn’t going to be as simple as visiting the hospital. This is security containment, and I really hope they haven’t finished
I don’t think she knows how weird it looks when she speaks to him like that. Just like I doubt she notices that she’s stepping in his footprints. I glance back, and Dog and Whisper are doing the same thing. Only mine are out of step.
“Were you serious about there being a cloaked Fade at the boundary tonight?” Marina asks. It takes a minute to realize that one’s aimed at me.
“Who’s asking? You or the ink blot?”
“Tobin . . .”
“At least I insult him to his face,” I say.
“It’s a figure of speech, Rue,” she says, annoyed. “He knows that’s the back of your head.”
A pause, and then: “Because that’s what a figure of speech is. You say one thing, and mean another.”
Another pause, and she’s rubbing the back of her neck and grumbling.
“No, it’s not the same as lying.”
“You should answer her question,” Schuyler says to me, to end their argument. “Without speaking in figures.”
The first half sounds almost entirely human, but the end doesn’t.
“Was something observed on your perimeter tonight?” he asks.
“If there’s something dangerous lurking between here and the Arclight, I’d rather know,” Marina says.
I hadn’t considered that it could be something other than one of Rueful’s hive-mates, but when she says it like that, and with the Fade acting the way they are—
“It stayed hidden,” I say. “But it kicked up dirt when it moved, and it was smart enough to get out of range when I chucked a rock at it. By the time I thought to use my scope for a better look, it had gone.”
“Change course,” Rueful says, shifting us another few degrees to the side.
“Why are we taking the long way?” I ask.
We’re close enough to the short side that we don’t have to deal with the wind spouts that blow through the wider regions. Here, there are rocks and trees to break them, but Rueful’s directional shifts keep slowing us down. The Fade keep stopping, reacting to things beyond my senses.
“Rue says there’s danger,” Marina says.
“Can you hear anything?” I ask her.
“No,” she says, mumbling. Then, “That’s what scares me.”
Her senses are nearly as sharp as theirs. What’s stealthy enough to evade that?
I stop walking and try scanning the area with the light hanging off my wrist, but it’s clear.
“Continue, or return to home,” Rueful prompts.
“You’re going to stretch this out so long, the sun will rise before you have time to get back,” I tell him.
“This way is unobstructed,” he says, nodding the direction he wants us to go. He starts walking again. The other three do the same, in perfect sync, herding me and Marina along with them.
“What’s obstructing the other way?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he says.
“Then why—”
“He doesn’t mean there’s nothing there.” Marina’s face pinches as she deciphers whatever hacked-up hash of an explanation he’s given her. “It’s nothingness. A void.”
“This is the Grey,” I say, sweeping my arms around. “It’s all a void.”
“Not like this,” she says, and shivers. “It’s there; it’s dangerous, but you can’t see it. It’s watching us.”
We stop talking, or at least I do, and if they still are, it’s not out loud. Rueful slows to a halt once we’re a few hundred meters from the Arc. There are trash piles and mounds of dry brush waiting to be used for bonfire fuel, but other than these, all that separates us from a straight shot back into the Arclight is fog.
Dog breaks right, and Whisper left, patrolling the Grey. Schuyler sticks with us.
“They observe the Dark,” Rueful says before anyone can ask.
“Tell them to make a diversion while they’re at it,” I say. “We could use one.” A glance at my wristband says we’re still at Red-Wall.
Getting help to Trey isn’t going to be as simple as visiting the hospital. This is security containment, and I really hope they haven’t finished
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