“Surprisingly little. She muttered something about young idiots running off when they should know better, but I think she knows I can’t stay with her forever.” Sarah glanced back at the wagon trundling along behind them. “What about your friend? She seems shy.”
“She’s had a rough time,” Gyre said. “We’re going to have to take it slowly.”
“Fair enough.” Sarah looked out at the mountains for a while. “So are you going to let me in on the big secret?”
“It’ll be easier if I can show you,” Gyre said. “We don’t have far to go.”
Sarah pursed her lips but accepted that, and they passed an hour or so in idle chat. Gyre could only imagine what Sarah was feeling, having uprooted her whole life on the strength of a few minutes’ conversation and his promise that he might be able to help her. They’d never been close, back in the old days, but she’d always gotten along with anyone. It was a talent Gyre had come to appreciate.
Eventually they came to a fork in the road. The main path turned to the left, swinging south to join up with the Republic Road. That highway ran through the Splinter Kingdom towns of Meltrock and Drail before reaching the great border city of Obstadt. Most trade with the Republic ran that way, legal and illegal. It would be the most direct route to his destination, a long, long road from Deepfire to Khirkhaz in the far south, but a well-trodden one. A Republic courier swapping out swiftbirds at post stations might hope to cover the distance in less than a week. Unfortunately, the odds of successfully crossing half the Republic with this cargo were small. Even the border check at Obstadt would be impossible.
Straight ahead, meanwhile, a smaller road continued down through the mountains to the west. As far as Gyre knew, it didn’t have a name other than the west road. It led into the valley of the river Seta and the plains of the western coast. That was a region of scattered towns, farmsteads, and fortresses, not so much Splinter Kingdoms as no kingdoms at all. It would take longer—Gyre would count it lucky if they got to Khirkhaz in less than a month—but they’d trade the dangers of Republic patrols for wandering plaguespawn and local warlords.
Since we can certainly defend ourselves, it seems like a better bet. He tugged the rope, and with a groan and a rattle, the wagons moved off the rutted dirt path of the main road and onto the less-used track.
Sarah raised an eyebrow at their choice of route, and raised it further when Gyre pulled them off the road entirely, swinging into a narrow valley. There wasn’t even a track here, just a bit of flat ground leading up to a rocky cliff.
“I don’t mean to tell you your business,” Sarah said as the cliff approached, “but are we supposed to be going somewhere?”
“We’re just meeting up with the rest of our cargo,” Gyre said. He tugged the rope to halt the wagon, then slid down and cupped his hands. “Kit? You there?”
“Kit?” Sarah said. “You mean Doomseeker? She’s here?”
“After a fashion,” came Kit’s voice. “You took your sweet time.”
There was a low rumble, and part of the rock face slid open, revealing a smooth ghoul-built tunnel beyond. In the entrance were a dozen of Kit’s spider-constructs in all three sizes. They scuttled out into the open, the big ones pulling neat gray boxes behind them. My supplies. Let’s hope Tyraves kept her word.
“It’s all right,” Gyre said, looking back at a sudden clatter. “They’re— Are you okay?”
Sarah had slipped off at the sight of the constructs and managed to tangle a leg in the ropes. Now she hung upside down from the hardshell’s back, her arm dangling.
“Is this some kind of newfangled exercise routine?” Kit said, her chuckle coming from the closest construct.
“Right,” Sarah said, grabbing hold of the net to right herself. “Gyre Silvereye, you have got a lot of explaining to do.”
Chapter 4
Jaedia lay still, eyes closed, breathing soft and unhurried. Maya tried to convince herself that her mentor looked better, that there was more color in her cheeks, but the truth was that nothing had changed. There was no reason to think she’d suddenly wake up now, or tomorrow.
Or ever. Maya shook her head, rejecting that thought out of hand. She will wake up. And if it was tomorrow, or the day after, Maya wouldn’t be here with her when she did.
“I’m sorry,” she said, taking Jaedia’s hand between her own as she always did. “I have to go. Basel needs my help. I know you’d understand.” She would understand. Jaedia had always been willing to put the needs of the Order before her own. “But I’ll be back, don’t worry. And maybe…”
Maya swallowed, finding the rest hard to say out loud. Maybe we’ll find something. Maybe whatever this arcana is will be related to the black spiders, or the Archive will have more information, or something. Anything that will bring you back to yourself.
She sat there, holding Jaedia’s hand, for a long time.
Behind her, the curtain rustled and she heard a cough. Maya put her mentor’s hand down and slipped out of the curtained enclosure into the empty vastness of the hospital floor. She was surprised to find that it was Tanax waiting by the door, arms crossed, looking awkward.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can wait, if—”
“It’s all right.” Maya let out a breath, trying to push away thoughts of Jaedia. Focus on the mission. The rest can come later.
“I wanted to be sure I saw you before you left.” He frowned. “I’m sorry I can’t accompany you. The Council has asked me to see to Senate business in Skyreach.”
“That sounds important.”
“I suppose it is.” His frown turned to a grimace, and he glanced over his shoulder. “Just between us, it’s mostly operating sunstones and flitters for a bunch of old men who look at you like you’re part of the furniture.”
Maya chuckled. “Careful. I might have to include that in my report to the Council.”
It was how he’d threatened her, on that first mission. Tanax winced, then grinned.
“I wanted to lend you something.” He dug in his pocket and came up with a small glass-and-unmetal sphere.
“Your watch charm?” Maya raised an eyebrow. It was a rare bit of arcana. “Are you sure?”
“It was a gift from Nicomidi,” Tanax said, lips tightening. “I think you will get more use out of it than I will.”
“Thank you, then.” Maya tucked the little thing away.
“I just want you to know…” Tanax shifted awkwardly. “Things have been… unsettled. The Council is in an uproar, and I don’t know how matters will fall out between the Dogmatics and the Pragmatics. But… if you need help, you can rely on me. Whatever happens.”
“Thank you for that, too,” Maya said, trying not to smile at his obvious discomfiture. Tanax had had some inflexible notions about the dignity befitting a centarch drilled into him at an early age, but he was trying his best.
“Well.” He cleared his throat. “Best of luck. Come and see me when you return, if your schedule permits.”
“I will.”