by Tam Linsey
He let out a puff of air. “That they’re vulnerable to Flame Runna attacks if they’re discovered.”
Eily’s heart flip-flopped. She was now doubly glad she’d left the beacon behind. “I suppose. But that won’t be a concern once the Protectorate knows the One Tree isn’t a threat. If they’re farming, they aren’t hunting. They can negotiate a Peace like we have at the Holdout. Maybe the reversions can be safe there!”
Chest heaving with excitement, she rose to her feet. This new information gave her such hope, she wanted to resume travel now, in the dead of night. But that would be silly. She took a few paces toward the road and lifted her face to the sliver of moon. The way it hung in the sky reminded her of a sideways smile, and she smiled back.
Behind her, Jubal’s beads clicked together as he rose. “Peace is a lot to hope for.”
Jubal sat up from his nap and glanced out past the amarantox canopy. The faint odor of burned amarantox had reached him, but he saw no sign of smoke from this vantage. No one else seemed to notice the scent. Sweat tickled its way down his spine. The heat pressed against the earth like a suffocating shroud, so he’d given in to the group’s request for a brief rest at the edge of the pavement where the amarantox provided better shade.
He glanced around. Rann sprawled in the dirt, mouth slightly open in sleep. Eily talked softly to the other Flame Runnas. They’d travelled the first half of the day in near silence, the Flame Runnas having taken his advice about their chatter seriously. Now he heard the words peace and farming as Eily waved her delicate hands excitedly. She reminded him of a bird approaching a snare. His gut ached. He rose and turned away. Let her talk to them of peace—all the easier to get them there, rescue Pops, and leave all this behind.
Walking cautiously upwind, he butted his staff on the ground with each step, making the ornaments clank. About a hundred paces ahead, the road curved right. At the turn, wilted leaves drooped from the amarantox stalks: bright green, as though they’d been cooked. Farther off the road, the stalks turned black and flattened into a huge, ashy clearing. Three charred corpses lay curled amid the cinders. He sucked in a breath. His gaze flicked skyward and he took a step back. He collided with someone and spun. Gid stood close on his heels.
“Jubal. What is?” The Holdout man pinched his nose shut and looked over Jubal’s head at the clearing, brows furrowed.
“Nothing. Go back. We must keep moving.” He pushed at Gid’s chest with the edge of his staff, as if herding goats.
The man teetered and grabbed Jubal’s shoulder for support. Jubal braced himself until Gid stabilized. The big man’s blue eyes widened and he pointed to the clearing. “Was ist das?”
Jubal didn’t look. He’d hoped to bypass the burned area without alerting his party. He didn’t want to chance them turning back in fear. And there was a lot to fear, from both Flame Runnas and any remaining tribesmen. “Go back. This has nothing to do with us.”
Gid ignored him and hobbled past Jubal to enter the clearing without a single glance at the sky. He dropped to a knee beside one of the corpses. His hands fluttered above the body as if unsure what to do.
Horrified, Jubal could only watch. Was the man an idiot? Survivors would be back to recover the bodies. And if they found his group in the area—a party of Flame Runnas—they’d be certain to exact justice, trader’s staff or not. Gid moved to the next body, still oblivious. You wanted to be rid of the man. Let him stay.
Flaring his nostrils against the stink of burned hair and flesh, Jubal spun and raced back to his group. “We move. Now.”
Rann groaned. “It’s too hot.”
“Rann!” Jubal barked in his best imitation of Pops.
His brother scrunched up his face and gathered his legs beneath him to rise. He lifted his pack partway, and it bumped the front of his thighs. “By the Knife!” He let the load sag back to the ground.
The others languidly stretched, searching for water bottles and other items. Wint opened his pack and began to dig for something. Eily brushed off her skirt and looked around. “Where’s Gid?”
Jubal’s heart raced, but he kept his voice low and firm. “We must move quickly. Flame Runnas have been here.”
Rann jerked his head up to look at his brother, taking only an eyeblink before heaving his pack to his back. As he settled the straps in place, he scanned the sky above the road. “Ready.”
Eily stood immobile, mouth hanging open. “Ijon told me they’d hold Burn Ops back until we were out of the area.”
The others had donned their gear. Jubal hoisted his pack into place. “Flame Runna lie. We must leave the area.”
Eily lifted her bag and began calling for Gid. Jubal’s throat tightened. He grabbed her arm. “Hush. Do you want to tell the whole Tox where we are?”
“But we have to find Gid.”
“We have to get moving. Now.” He pushed her toward Rann, who took her arm. She winced and struggled to free herself. Jubal glowered at her. “I’ll get him.”
Eily’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank God. There he is.”
Gid limped their way. A small white scrap of cloth fluttered from one upraised fist. Jubal turned to his brother and pointed into the amarantox. “Start moving north, off trail. Watch for hunters. They’d love to take revenge on a Flame Runna right now.”
Rann nodded and ducked into the foliage, Lisius and his friends at his heels. Eily stubbornly remained behind.
Gid reached them, out of breath. He said something. Eily turned to Jubal, eyes wide. “Why didn’t you say there were casualties?”
“Their tribe will come back for them. No wasting. Now let’s go!”
Eily shook her head. “He says there’s a survivor. A child.”
He held aside a broad leaf for her to follow Rann and the others. “The tribe will find him.”
“But what if they don’t? We have to save him.” She turned and pelted down the road, the folds of her skirt ballooning behind her. Gid followed, holding the white cloth in the air and limping.
Jubal shot a glance at the trail Rann had taken. He could leave Eily and Gid here, to the mercy of the tribe. He had three Flame Runnas. Plenty to buy Pops. He should go.
Instead, he dashed after Eily, his heavy pack cutting into his shoulders with every jarring step.
At the burned area, Eily crouched with her head nearly touching the ground, peering beneath a small stone outcrop. “Come out. Here, that’s it.”
She eased a naked, battered body from the depression. A girl, no more than three, her blistered eyes sealed shut. Oozing skin covered where the little one’s hair should have been. One shoulder glinted white bone at the upper curve.
The child whimpered as breath whistled rapidly in and out of her open mouth. She wheezed and began coughing wet, shuddering spasms. Eily eased the little one to the ground.
Jubal clenched his jaw. “She breathed the fire. There’s no hope for her.”
Eily looked up, her eyes shiny with tears. “We can’t leave her here.”
Gid babbled something and thrust his cloth into Eily’s hands before limping back the way they’d come. Eily lurched upright to stare after him open-mouthed. The usually healthy cast in her green cheeks had drained away.
Jubal swallowed, pulled his shoulders back and yanked his knife from his belt. Gid was right. They had to go. “May the Mother guide my Knife.”
Before he could think about it more, he sliced the blade deep into the child’s throat until blood pulsed from the wound. At least her death would be swift.
Eily screamed and fell to her knees, pressing her apron to the gaping wound. “No! No, no no!”
“Her tribe will be back, and they’d be glad to have a Flame Runna pay for their loss. It was mercy to end her suffering.” Jubal shuddered but didn’t pause for regret. Eyes could be on them even now. On Eily. He grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet.
Chapter Thirteen
Eily stumbled along in Jubal’s grasp, a silent scream still ringing through her head. He w
as right; with lungs burned beyond even Protectorate technology, the child was as good as dead. But Eily had forgotten how cruel cannibal mercy could be. Would it have been better to allow the child to suffer while waiting for God to take her? It was a question she didn’t want to answer.
At the bend in the road they met Gid coming back. In his hand he carried a small, black box. The beacon. He’d brought the damned beacon. She winced, awash in guilt and dismay. Had the Protectorate been tracking them and sent a duster ahead to clear the way? Gid had no idea what he’d done. She wasn’t positive, either, but her mind reeled with probabilities. Was the child’s death on their hands?
Jubal pushed past the larger man, still tugging Eily beside him.
Gid looked at her bloody hands and apron, his scars drawn tight. “The child?”
She shook her head, not trusting her voice.
“We should bury them,” he said to her retreating back.
“Hunters are coming,” was all she could manage past a throat tight with emotions. After a moment, Gid’s footsteps sounded behind her.
They paused only long enough to pick up her pack. Jubal pulled her into the amarantox on the north side of the road, following a trail only he could see. Gid kept pace behind them, his footsteps heavy and uneven with his limp. When Jubal finally released his hold on her, she bent to scoop up a handful of dirt and abrade the blood from her palms as she walked.
The light beneath the canopy grew dim as the sun approached the end of its arc. Jubal checked over his shoulder to be sure she still followed, but he didn’t slow. A pecker bird tat-tat-tatted against the canes in the distance. Eily flinched at the sudden noise. By the time they reached Lisius and the others at a gangly stand of tamarisk, the horizon glowed orange with sunset. Jubal planted his staff upright and dropped his pack. “Everyone stays close tonight.”
She took out her blanket and spread it, unwilling to look up and face either Gid or Jubal. The blood on her apron made her stomach roil. She removed it and tossed it to the edge of camp. Today’s events had brought back emotions she’d thought never to encounter again. Jubal had done something no one at the Holdout would have had the courage to do. Gid would be beside himself if he knew. Yet she understood the strength in Jubal’s mercy. More than that, she appreciated it. The realization scared her.
Gid slumped to the ground opposite her. “Here.” He held out the small black box. “You left it in your dresser.”
She batted the beacon out of his hand, sending it skittering into the debris of twigs and dry leaves beneath the tamarisk. “They killed those people!”
“Everything happens by Gotte’s Wille.” His placid blue eyes seemed foreign.
She scowled. “How can you say that—excuse what they do so easily?”
“I’m not excusing them. But Ijon sent the beacon to aid us.”
“They have no interest in helping a dying cannibal child.” Eily fought the weakness of tears, but her voice betrayed her with a sob. “There was no helping her. This is the Tox. Better she die quickly.”
“We did what we could to save her.”
Eily bunched her fists in her skirt, tears running hot and free. “I left that beacon behind for a reason.”
“You promised you’d bring it.” His voice remained calm, but his gaze was full of censure.
Heat crept over her face and she twisted her head away. She’d hoped they’d never have cause to use the beacon. That he’d never know she’d left it. Now she couldn’t even claim to have lost it. “You don’t understand.”
“No, I don’t. At home, you work for the Protectorate. You further their interests with not only the reversions you counsel but also the Order, in spite of our Elders’ misgivings. Now you claim the Blattvolk are not to be trusted. Which is it?”
She hung her head and wrapped her arms around herself. In the cooling night air, heat radiated upwards from the sunbaked earth. “It depends on who you are.”
Gid stretched out his legs and lay back, tipping his hat down over his eyes to sleep. “Let me know when you figure that out.”
Her skin tingled, as if every chloroplast was trying to jump out. She was whoever she needed to be to survive. Protectorate citizen, member of the Order... child of cannibals. Playing so many sides had become exhausting.
Gid only wanted to keep her safe. How’s he going to do that without fighting back? At least he’d kept quiet when she’d lied to Jubal about Gid’s scars. Her empty stomach ached. She was the one protecting him. Trembling, she realized for the first time how alone she was out here.
She closed her eyes and let the tears fall. Had she ever truly belonged anywhere? Only with Ana. She missed her sister like a lost limb. If Jubal was right and the dead child’s tribe attacked them, the beacon might save their lives. And to reach Ana, she had to stay alive. Taking a breath, she opened her eyes again and stared into the gray tamarisk branches that twined about each other. She couldn’t tell where one tree started and another began. Together, she and Ana would be whole. They’d be on each other’s side. They would settle in at the Holdout. Ana would have her baby, and Eily would marry Gid and become a proper wife. Maybe they could even find a husband for Ana. Life would be fine and peaceful.
She rose and dusted off her skirt. Walking to the spot where the beacon had landed, she crouched and dug through the debris. The box was thankfully undamaged. She opened it to be sure, then snapped the lid shut and slid the box into her skirt pocket. The cannibals wouldn’t hesitate to use it if the roles were reversed.
“What’s that?” Jubal spoke from over her left shoulder.
She turned and looked him in the eye with a tight smile. “Something to trade. If I need to.”
Haldanian Protectorate
Rael walked toward the back of the duster hangar, careful to avoid the techs scurrying among the assorted parts and tools. They were too busy to notice an old man, even a councilman. There was no privacy screening on the hangar walls, and the surrounding buildings reflected the city back at them. Beyond the duster pad on the eastern side stretched the red, barren sweep of the Burn.
“Councilman Rael!” Panone, the Burn Ops Supervisor, darted through the hangar to shake his hand. He had a smudge of grime under one eye and wore a single nuvoplast neck torque that wouldn’t get in the way of his mechanical work. “What can we do for you? Need a ride somewhere?”
“Let’s go to your office.” Rael didn’t smile but kept his voice civil in spite of the seething frustration he felt.
Panone’s eyes narrowed. “Of course. This way.”
They walked together through the teeming activity, techs clearing the way at Panone’s nod. The hangar grew quieter as they passed. Rael followed the supervisor into a small room with a desk and three chairs. Panone said, “Privacy.” The walls from the inside didn’t change, but they could no longer be seen by the crews in the hangar. The supervisor indicated a chair and walked around the desk to take his own.
Rael put a hand on the back of the offered seat but remained standing. “You were told to keep your teams away from our tracking signal.”
Panone raised his brows. “And we have.”
“A flashing took place less than half a kilometer from the signal late yesterday.”
“We were within distance specifications.”
Rael pressed his lips together. Eily’s beacon signal had moved to nearly on top of the location of the flashing within an hour of the occurrence. If she and her reversions encountered a bunch of angry, fleeing cannibals... He needed those reversions to reach the Fosselites alive. “Then we need to extend the specifications.”
Panone leaned back in his chair and folded his hands across his belly. “Your team was in no danger of being flashed. My men are under control.”
Rael lowered himself into the chair. Offending the head of Burn Operations would get him nowhere. Panone hadn’t been informed about the details of the operation; no one knew except for those techs directly involved, and the Board. They couldn’t afford to have
a stampede of reversions asking for freedom. “I know you have full control of your men,” Rael said. “But you don’t have control of the cannibals they flash. The ones who escape will be out for blood.”
“Cannibals are always out for blood.”
“True, but vengeance makes a man reckless, less cautious about his own survival. That could mean casualties on our end. Understand? Pull back from the area. Give the signal a wider berth. A kilometer at least. More, if you can.”
“Your team is walking a well-known trail, one we keep an eye on. I have quotas to fill.” Panone tucked his chin, nostrils flaring.
“If this is a matter of quotas, I’ll have them relaxed for the duration of our operation.”
The supervisor raised his brows and sat forward. “Can I get that in writing?”
Rael stood and held out a hand to shake. “I’ll have it to you within the hour.”
The Tox
Jubal organized a watch, assigning Rann and Wint first. He hoped to rest a little before taking the second shift. Instead of sleeping, however, he lay listening to the sighing of the wind, the quiet step of the watchmen as they moved about, and the creak of tamarisk branches. He couldn’t stop thinking about the burned girl. As the moon’s scythe cleared the trees, he gave up on sleep and rose.
Lisius joined him, stretching. “Second watch is the worst.” He spoke around a yawn and ambled toward the opposite end of camp.
Jubal took a drink from his water skin and began a walk of the perimeter, stepping carefully to be sure of his footing. When he reached his staff, a scuff against the earth caught his ear. Probably a party member, but to be sure he said, “Keep the Peace.”
Eily’s voice floated back, “Keep the Peace.”
He relaxed, making out the movement of her white hat. “You should get some rest.”
“I don’t want to close my eyes.”
A strange sensation spread through his chest and down his arms, making his fingers tingle. He wanted to protect her. And not just because she was the surest way to gain Pops’s freedom. When he thought of the other tribe catching them and hurting her, his insides trembled. Why do you care? She’s a Flame Runna. He hardened his voice and said, “Don’t expect us to slow for you tomorrow.”