they appeared in Ebon’s Square, years ago, one of them made a motion in the air and the fingers dropped from the hands of all the people within a hundred feet, severed clean and twitching. No one knows why. They left without speaking a word.”
Skin nodded in the dark.
“They have been known to appear at random to kill those who do not support their apparently unfathomable sense of universal balance and aesthetics. The first time I was visited, I was absolutely terrified. I was consulting with a young tinker from The Mechanicus and, to underscore a point they wanted to make to me, the hallowgeons first lopped off the tinker’s head and then began calmly and meticulously to remove his organs and sort them into various piles, using blades unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, speaking casually while they performed the evisceration. It was…well, most horrifying...and one of the defining moments of my life...”
“And you still trust them?”
“Let’s just say, the words they spoke to me that day, the point they were trying to make, is one I will never forget.”
Skin rose to a sitting position and began to dress. “Where is this boy?”
“He is Novan, from the small village of Fallowvane.”
“He’s from Nova? Why would the hallowgeons choose a Novan to be the next chantiac?”
“Good question. One for which I do not have an answer. Get him for me, and we shall see what we discover.”
“I’ll need transportation, and supplies. The journey is far.”
“I have seen to it. In the alcove below your chamber, you will find everything you need. Excluding weapons, that is. Those, I leave up to you.”
Skin stood, pulling her pants up, buckling them about her waist.
Trevor lay on his side, looking up at her. “Once more before you depart?”
“No. I must begin my preparations immediately.”
Trevor smiled crookedly. “I know.”
Fully dressed, Skin turned to leave.
“Wait,” Trevor called after her.
She turned back and saw that her lover now had a very different expression on his face. He sat up and fixed her eyes with his. He looked vulnerable, almost desperate. “Do you love me?” he asked.
Skin thought for a moment. She looked at Trevor’s face, into his almost-pleading eyes, at his sharp features, angular nose, lips soft and large, the hair on his head shaved nearly to his scalp, a blond color even lighter than his pastel skin. She felt something, some stirring of emotion, but it felt remote, like something once felt, now in the past.
“Yes,” she said, but knew it was a lie.
~ SIX ~
NOVA
ASH
“I’m sorry, kid. We’ll be back in a couple of days.”
“But I can help. I’ve been practicing shooting.”
“You’ll be safer here.”
“But I’m a good soldier.”
The soldier looked down at him and smiled. “I’m sure you are. Someone has to stay and guard the camp.”
“I wanna talk to the bearded officer.”
“Who?”
Ash realized he didn’t know the bearded officer’s name. “With the beard and the pistol.”
The soldier smiled again. “There are many men like that here.”
“He knows me. He put me on patrol. He—”
The soldier from his tent stepped away, was whisked into the crowd of grunting and coughing and marching navy, and was gone.
Ash grabbed his rifle, leaning against his cot, and stepped out into the cometshine. He watched the soldiers march by. For a moment, he considered joining them anyway, thrusting himself into the crowd and marching to whatever glorious mission they were attending, but then he thought of the camp empty and unguarded. Someone had to protect the camp.
He sat in the dirt miserably and watched the soldiers march until their numbers thinned and the last stragglers ran to catch up. He watched the dust settle. When the camp was quiet enough he could once more hear the birds chirping and calling out to each other, he stood, and decided to look for something to eat.
The camp was eerily empty, he discovered, as he
Skin nodded in the dark.
“They have been known to appear at random to kill those who do not support their apparently unfathomable sense of universal balance and aesthetics. The first time I was visited, I was absolutely terrified. I was consulting with a young tinker from The Mechanicus and, to underscore a point they wanted to make to me, the hallowgeons first lopped off the tinker’s head and then began calmly and meticulously to remove his organs and sort them into various piles, using blades unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, speaking casually while they performed the evisceration. It was…well, most horrifying...and one of the defining moments of my life...”
“And you still trust them?”
“Let’s just say, the words they spoke to me that day, the point they were trying to make, is one I will never forget.”
Skin rose to a sitting position and began to dress. “Where is this boy?”
“He is Novan, from the small village of Fallowvane.”
“He’s from Nova? Why would the hallowgeons choose a Novan to be the next chantiac?”
“Good question. One for which I do not have an answer. Get him for me, and we shall see what we discover.”
“I’ll need transportation, and supplies. The journey is far.”
“I have seen to it. In the alcove below your chamber, you will find everything you need. Excluding weapons, that is. Those, I leave up to you.”
Skin stood, pulling her pants up, buckling them about her waist.
Trevor lay on his side, looking up at her. “Once more before you depart?”
“No. I must begin my preparations immediately.”
Trevor smiled crookedly. “I know.”
Fully dressed, Skin turned to leave.
“Wait,” Trevor called after her.
She turned back and saw that her lover now had a very different expression on his face. He sat up and fixed her eyes with his. He looked vulnerable, almost desperate. “Do you love me?” he asked.
Skin thought for a moment. She looked at Trevor’s face, into his almost-pleading eyes, at his sharp features, angular nose, lips soft and large, the hair on his head shaved nearly to his scalp, a blond color even lighter than his pastel skin. She felt something, some stirring of emotion, but it felt remote, like something once felt, now in the past.
“Yes,” she said, but knew it was a lie.
~ SIX ~
NOVA
ASH
“I’m sorry, kid. We’ll be back in a couple of days.”
“But I can help. I’ve been practicing shooting.”
“You’ll be safer here.”
“But I’m a good soldier.”
The soldier looked down at him and smiled. “I’m sure you are. Someone has to stay and guard the camp.”
“I wanna talk to the bearded officer.”
“Who?”
Ash realized he didn’t know the bearded officer’s name. “With the beard and the pistol.”
The soldier smiled again. “There are many men like that here.”
“He knows me. He put me on patrol. He—”
The soldier from his tent stepped away, was whisked into the crowd of grunting and coughing and marching navy, and was gone.
Ash grabbed his rifle, leaning against his cot, and stepped out into the cometshine. He watched the soldiers march by. For a moment, he considered joining them anyway, thrusting himself into the crowd and marching to whatever glorious mission they were attending, but then he thought of the camp empty and unguarded. Someone had to protect the camp.
He sat in the dirt miserably and watched the soldiers march until their numbers thinned and the last stragglers ran to catch up. He watched the dust settle. When the camp was quiet enough he could once more hear the birds chirping and calling out to each other, he stood, and decided to look for something to eat.
The camp was eerily empty, he discovered, as he
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