Raider

by Justine Davis

  “What was that about?” Brander asked as soon as they were in his quarters. Kye followed her cousin inside but simply waited, as if she knew he had a reason and she was only waiting to hear it.

  “Bigger fish,” he answered shortly.

  Brander’s expression changed. “How much bigger?”

  “A lot.”

  His friend’s mouth tightened, and then he nodded. “All right. I’ll go see if I can settle the troops.”

  He almost reached to free himself of the helmet before he caught himself. He turned to look at Kye, still just inside the door Brander had closed behind him. She stood with her arms crossed, her face expressionless. Which in itself was a warning.

  “Such is the power of the Raider,” she said, “that his fighters will walk away from invaluable supplies and weapons on his order, without question.”

  He wasn’t sure if she was criticizing his decision, or merely making an observation.

  “It will be worth it,” he said.

  “I don’t doubt that for an instant.”

  Something about her voice, some undertone he’d not heard before, and the way she used that name as if speaking about him, not to him, was unsettling. And he sensed she was wound up about something. He doubted it was the just-aborted mission, for Kye was ever cool on a raid.

  No, he thought something else was working on her. And when she went on, he was sure of it.

  “The Raider is rarely, if ever, wrong.”

  “I am,” he said, looking at her quizzically, “right here.”

  Before she could respond to that, there was a knock on the door. Almost grateful—and surprised at himself for it—he called out permission to enter. The door opened.

  Pryl. The relief at seeing the older man hit him. “No trouble? You’re all right?”

  “Of course,” Pryl scoffed. “As if they’d see me unless I wanted them to.”

  His mouth quirked upward, and he nodded. “As you’ve proven, time and again. They arrived?”

  Pryl nodded. “Less than five minutes after you cleared. Watched for another twenty. No sign at all they knew anyone had already been there. Didn’t even look around outside. Tunnel vision, them skalworms.”

  “Good work. Thank you.”

  The man turned to go, then looked back. “We’ll eventually find out what made you go peculiar, right?”

  “You will.”

  The man nodded and closed the door behind him.

  “So the Raider lets an old man question him.”

  He smothered a sigh. Whatever this was, he was going to have to deal with it. That it was Kye only made it harder. Because only Kye made him regret, made him wish, made him yearn.

  “An old man who knows more about these woods than the Raider ever will.” If she could talk about the legend as if he weren’t before her, then so could he. “An old man who has fought with the Raider from the beginning. An old man who was beside Torstan when he defied the Coalition Council and refused to submit. The Raider would let him do a lot more than merely question.”

  “You speak as if the Raider were someone else.”

  “As did you.”

  She studied him intently for a moment. In an odd way, it reminded him of the new recruits upon seeing him for the first time. It took an effort that surprised him to hold her gaze. Usually he took what small pleasure he allowed himself from watching her, the way she moved, the sound of her voice, the way her rare smiles were as bright as a flasher. He always knew he dared not dwell upon it, or he might quail at doing what he had to do, which sometimes—too often—included ordering her into danger. For she would always go.

  Such is the power of the Raider. . . .

  It was not his power. It was hers. Her courage was endless, her nerve never failed her. And so of them all, save Brander, she was ever in the most peril.

  “Shall I tell you what I think happened out there?”

  “Can I stop you?” he asked wryly.

  “You are the Raider. Your orders are followed.”

  At least she was no longer speaking of him as if he weren’t in the room. He didn’t give that order to stop. And she continued, ticking items off on her fingers.

  “It was a freighter,” she said, “with a regular schedule. Gareth says you went up front, then started snapping orders at them. You saw something. Something that changed your plan, on the fly. You wanted all evidence we were ever there erased. Which says you wanted the Coalition to think the wreck had been undiscovered before they arrived. And that in turn says that whatever you saw, you didn’t want them to know you saw it. And the only reason I can think of for that is that you thought if they knew, they would react. Change something. Do something . . . or not do something.”

  He was thankful for the scars that masked what his expression would likely be without them as she worked her way through the exact process he’d gone through.

  “And so,” she continued, “I’m guessing you saw something. Something even more important, of more value to us. And you didn’t want them changing their plans, now that you knew.”

  For a long moment he said nothing. He would not admit to what she’d deduced, so if the worst happened, she would have the ability to honestly deny she knew. But finally, softly, he gave her the salute she deserved.

  “When I made you third in command, I chose wisely.”

  He saw the faintest bit of color hit her cheeks. She rarely showed such emotion, at least not here, so he had that at least, knowing his words had pleased her. And what a sad, tiny bit of recompense that was, for this woman who, were he able to allow it, could be the center of his life.

  She didn’t thank him, but only nodded, as if the truth of his words was self-evident. As it was, to anyone who had watched her work or been with her under fire. Then she turned away, and walked over to the canvas spread out over the table against the wall. “I have finished the southwest quadrant. What do you wish next?”

  A whole string of wishes piled up behind his lips, none of which had anything to do with maps. He battled the urge, the need, realizing yet again that each time it grew more difficult. And telling himself he had no choice, that there was no way what he was feeling, wanting, could mesh with what he had to do, was getting less effective every time he was alone with her.

  He tugged off his gloves with more force than was necessary as he crossed the room toward the table. He shoved them into a pocket as he leaned over the map that was already nothing less than a work of art. Not in her usual sense, that of the amazing portraits and landscapes she had done before, but in preciseness and efficiency for their purposes.

  He reached out and tapped an opposite corner of the blank section of the canvas.

  “Here. The northwest quadrant.”

  She didn’t speak. She was staring at his hand. Too late, he curled back the finger with the small, telltale bandage.

  And then she straightened, turned to face him.

  “All right,” she said, then added, pointedly, “Drake.”

  Chapter 28

  HE RECOVERED SO quickly that had she not seen that instant when he’d tried to hide the cut from the splinter, Kye might have doubted herself.

  But she had seen it, and she knew that she’d been right.

  “What?” he said, with the perfect puzzled look on his face.

  “You heard me.”

  “I did. But I don’t know what you mean by it.”

  The Drake she’d known had not been such a smooth liar. But the Drake she’d known was indeed gone, but not in the way she’d thought. He hadn’t been replaced by the broken man who had made her wonder at herself because she still cared for him.

  He’d been replaced by a man who’d led an incredible, impossible double life for years. Who had carried it off so well that no one suspected, that everyone beli
eved that somehow Drake Davorin had become the antithesis of his fiery father and bold, enchanting mother, while the Raider had risen out of nowhere, with no one knowing his true origins, to lead the fighters of Ziem with the best traits of them both.

  She stared at him. “You’re really going to hold to it?”

  “I need this map. The biggest operation we’ve ever mounted depends on it.”

  “And if I were to say I won’t do it until you tell me the truth?”

  For a moment he met her gaze. “You will not. This battle means as much to you as it does to me.”

  The accuracy of his words took some of the fire out of her. And now that she stared at his eyes, knowing, it seemed impossible that she hadn’t guessed long before. For while the color, that clear, sky-blue was typical on mist-shrouded Ziem, that dark rim around the iris was rarer. Yet what had seemed merely striking in Drake was overwhelming in the Raider, and she wondered how the same eyes could seem so different. But then she realized it was because the two roles were so different, and the new Drake, the one that made her heart ache, rarely met anyone’s gaze anymore.

  “Which role is the hardest to play?” she asked softly.

  Something flashed in those eyes, again only for an instant. But she knew she’d seen it.

  “The map,” he repeated.

  She drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly. “All right,” she finally said. “For now,” she added, warning him this was far from over.

  “You know how soon I need it.”

  “You will have it.”

  And then I will have my answers.

  DRAKE LOCKED THE door of the taproom after a long day, with another long night to follow. The raid tonight was to be on the supply depot, and he hoped to liberate enough food to keep them going another month, and with luck, enough to spread among the people of Zelos. While one of their great advantages was that they were not tied to supply lines in the way the Coalition was, knowing the territory and hunting, supplementing their stores with liberated Coalition supplies, meant his men were stronger, more fit than they could ever be with the sparse rations.

  And he was focusing on that because it kept him from thinking about Kye. And all the ramifications of her discovery. At least she was safely up in the ruin, working on the map. The streets of Zelos were frothing with Coalition troops, up in arms and still angry over the loss of the rovers, the destruction of the cargo transport, the theft of the rail gun, and the crash of the freighter which they were blaming on the Raider as well, despite absolutely no evidence.

  Most of all, he suspected, they were angry about looking like incompetent fools. Which made them all the more dangerous.

  He was several steps into the room before he realized his sister was already there. Eirlys had a cloth spread out on the bar, and was tending to one of her birds. One of the gentle, cooing graybirds that had always seemed to him too soft for this world as it now was.

  He wasn’t about to complain about the bird on the bar, given what her pet ringtail had helped them accomplish. As he got closer he saw the she was fussing with one of the bird’s legs.

  “Is it hurt?” he asked, stopping where the bird began to get nervous at his approach.

  “She’s fine,” Eirlys said without looking up. “I’m just trying . . . there. Got it.”

  “Got what?” he asked, risking another step as she soothed the bird with those wondrous hands.

  She lifted the bird. He saw something attached to the creature’s leg. A small tube that looked like the pour spouts on the bottles along the back wall, except it was capped at both ends.

  “What is that?”

  She gave him a brief glance. “The solution to a problem, I hope.”

  “What problem?”

  “A Sentinel problem.” She said it briefly, without further explanation. Because of course, it could be of no interest to her cowardly brother.

  “Eirlys—”

  “Don’t get in a stir. I haven’t sought out the Raider to join. It was just something I overheard two troopers saying.”

  He went still. “Overheard?”

  She gave him an exasperated glance. “I’m not skulking about like the twins, spying. I was simply passing as they were speaking of how crucial it was to keep the Sentinels unable to easily communicate.”

  He couldn’t deny that. It was, in fact, one of the biggest problems.

  “So why the bird?”

  “I’ve been training her.”

  His brow furrowed. He looked at the bird, wondering what hidden talent it had that his clever sister was luring to the surface. “To?”

  “Fly a round trip.”

  “I thought you’d given that up.”

  “Only took a break, because I couldn’t figure out how to get her to fly both ways. I could release her on the mountain and she would fly back here, but only the one way.”

  “But now?”

  “Why all the interest?”

  “I’m curious.” And wondering what you’re up to that would help the Sentinels.

  She looked at him then. “Last month I started feeding her at two locations, at regular times. Here, and the old bell tower. The twins waited for her there, and kept a log. I waited here and did the same.”

  “And?”

  A look of triumph flashed in her eyes. “It worked. She went like an arrow, straight and true. Both ways. So now she’s going farther.”

  “How far?”

  “To the old mine headquarters building.”

  He stiffened. Searched her face for any sign she knew what she was saying. He spoke carefully. “You know it’s not safe for you to go up there.”

  “And I haven’t. Brander took her.”

  A memory slammed into his mind.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Feeding the birds.”

  “I can see that. Why?”

  “They make a good early warning system.”

  He’d thought—as he was sure he’d been intended to—that Brander meant having a flock around indeed was a help, startling and taking to wing when anything or anyone approached. Leave it to Brander to tell the truth, but leave out the most crucial part.

  “You will not let me fight in the way I want to, so I must do what I can in other ways,” she said.

  And suddenly the tiny metal tube made sense.

  “Messages,” he said.

  “Yes. She can make the trip in twelve minutes.”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “We clocked it.”

  Now that he thought about it, he believed it. What made the trek so slow for people was that the last third of it was so steep. Which was part of what kept them safe. Without an air rover, it took almost two hours on a good day. And there weren’t a lot of good days on the mountain this time of year.

  The possibilities of such rapid communication, which should have been a joke in a world where once talking to someone thousands of miles distant, even on another planet, had been a matter of merely pushing a few buttons on a screen, tumbled through his head. They could get word to people to stay clear of raids. In turn, get word of useful targets before it was too late to act. They could have known about that last shipment of dryers and heaters in time to hit it. They, or Zelos, couldn’t use them for fear of discovery, but they could keep the Coalition from using them. And the more miserable they were, the better.

  “—seen him?”

  He snapped out of his thoughts. “What?”

  She didn’t roll her eyes at his inattention, but he knew her well enough to know it was an effort. “Have you seen Brander today?”

  “I . . . no. Not today.” Technically it was true. They’d ended their planning session before today, barely. She looked concerned, so he added, “I believe he’ll be in tonight, though.
He said something about seeking another game.”

  “With the new commander?”

  Drake shrugged, not wanting to admit he knew that was exactly Brander’s plan. He stepped behind the bar, where he could both check supplies for the day ahead, and watch his sister.

  “I wish he would not,” Eirlys said with a downward twitch of her mouth. “That man makes me very nervous.”

  He picked up a clean bar rag. “More than others of the Coalition?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” He had his own thoughts about Caze Paledan, but was curious about hers. He had not told her of the twins’ encounter with the man, knowing she would worry more than she already did. It was enough that one of them was a wreck about those two.

  “He’s . . . different. Sorkost is but a glutton, Frall was a bumbling fool, and most of the troops either buffoons or foolishly young. All they needed for this remote outpost where we crumbled at their first incursion.”

  “That is who ends up posted to the likes of Ziem,” he agreed.

  “And yet they send Paledan. He is harder. Tougher.”

  He could not argue with her assessment, in fact was a little surprised it was so accurate.

  “So he seems, yes.”

  “Makes you wonder why, does it not?”

  And there she spiked it, he thought. It did make him wonder why. He picked up a glass that was already clean and began to wipe it down. “Any ideas?” he asked, thinking he’d spent too little time of late tracking the workings of his clever sister’s brain.

  “Only two. Either it is for him, if as rumor has it he was injured or in need of down time, or . . .”

  She hesitated as if she were doubtful of going on. Because she didn’t want to say it, or didn’t want to say it to him?

  “Or?” he prodded.

  She let out a long breath. “Or the Raider has gotten to them, and they’ve sent Paledan to deal with him.”

  It was a concise, and, he feared, accurate assessment. He was beginning to realize his little sister had few illusions left about what their world had become. Perhaps he was doing her no favors, trying to shelter her from the worst of it. And she was too sharp, too determined to keep out of the fight for much longer. But giving in would only cast him deeper into the dilemma Kye had put him in already.