“Great lights,” Henry said, desperate to break the silence. “You said something about dinner?”
“I did! Right this way.” Andeal motioned down the corridor and took the lead. “My wife will be waiting for us.”
As they followed the string of lights, Andeal explained how solar panels stolen from the rooftops of an abandoned house were hidden on the mountaintop and now powered the rebels’ entire network. Henry tried to follow the details of their setup but the circuit was far too complicated for him. He was too exhausted and hungry to bother anyway.
“How did you learn all that?” he asked to interrupt the lesson. “On a good day I can barely change a light bulb!”
Andeal laughed. “I used to study electrical engineering in Altaer. We’re here.”
Henry went through an arched passage and into a far larger cavern. Enormous stalactites hung from the high ceiling, occasionally connecting to equally big stalagmites. Henry stretched his arms out as they walked past one to compare the width, drawing a chuckle from his guide. The stalagmite’s base was without a doubt larger than the span of his arms.
In the cavern, Andeal’s lamps climbed higher, hanging between the rocky growths and shedding their pale lights on several tables. A handful of men and women sat at these, chatting while they gathered empty plates. Henry’s stomach tightened. Had they missed dinner? He could still smell cooked fish and garlic so it couldn’t have been long ago. Just as he turned to ask, Andeal waved at someone, grabbed Henry’s wrist, and pulled him along.
They headed toward a smaller table, set apart from the others by a somewhat less-imposing stalagmite that created a deep alcove and offered some privacy. A tall woman leaned against the rock formation, her dark eyes following their progress through the dining area. Her natural hair hung loose on her shoulders, thick and frizzy, and she waited with her arms crossed. The sky-blue robes contrasted with her dark skin.
“We’re home, sweetheart,” Andeal said.
“You’re late.”
The corners of her lips curved upward, as though she was trying to suppress a full smile. When Andeal’s shoulders slumped, she laughed, and her deep voice echoed off the walls. Henry found himself smiling, too. There was something reliable and welcoming about her. His house had been ransacked by soldiers, his peaceful life might be gone forever, but her laughter made him feel better. Safer.
“I’ll forgive you this time,” she teased. “You brought back an honored guest, after all.”
“Honored?” Henry didn’t like the sound of that. What could his father have done to deserve this much respect? The man couldn’t even control his grief enough to stay with his son! “I’m here because I didn’t have a choice.”
Her thin eyebrows arched at his answer. “Did my husband capture you? I’m good with rescues from evil monsters, if you’re in need.”
There was an edge to her voice when she said ‘monster’. Henry thought of the blue skin, of how terrified he had been at first. Better not tell her he’d shot Andeal. He lowered his gaze, his cheeks flushing with shame.
“It’s all right, Maniel,” Andeal said. Henry couldn’t help but feel this was also addressed to him. “Union soldiers arrived. We fled before they could spot us.”
There was a tense silence and Henry glanced up, confused by it. Maniel studied her husband with such intensity Henry felt compelled to look away. Yet Andeal held on, his gaze unflinching.
“Are you certain they didn’t see you?” Maniel asked, her voice subdued.
“Yes.”
“And you left no tracks? They can’t—”
“We’re fine.” Andeal put a hand on her arm and squeezed. “We’re safe. They’re not coming for us.”
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, nodded. “That was close.” Her gaze turned to Henry and her smile returned. Her anxiety from a moment ago had vanished. “But I imagine if Andeal hadn’t gone, they would have you now. It’s good to know we could save Lenz’s son. We owed him as much.”
“Did you, by chance, owe him dinner?”
All this talk about horrible danger and owing his father unsettled his stomach. He had been promised a meal and the smell of fish still tickled his nostrils. While his reply confused Maniel, Andeal chuckled.
“We’ve been walking all day and I did say there’d be a meal,” he explained. “To be honest, neither of us had much to eat since morning. There was no time for provisions at Henry’s home.”
“Well, aren’t you lucky I thought to keep some safe? You two sit down while I go get it. You’ve done enough walking for the day.”
They had done enough for a lifetime as far as Henry was concerned, so he collapsed into a chair with a huge sigh of relief. Andeal first caught his wife by the waist, stopping her as she tried to walk away.
“Nuh-uh,” he said with a playful smile.
“Already desperate for more? You’ve barely been gone more than a day.”
Despite her protest, Maniel was smiling and did nothing to escape his grasp.
“Too long.” He pulled her a little closer. Henry felt like an intruder. “Besides,” Andeal added, “I’m doing it for you. If you wait until I eat, I’ll have garlic breath.”
She laughed, but not for long. Andeal linked his hands behind her back while she settled one on his shoulder. Her loose hair slid forward and obscured part of her face as she bent to kiss him. Henry couldn’t help but smile as they remained locked together. In a way, he envied the ease of their relationship and the obvious attraction between the two. It had never been that simple for him, that clear-cut. Tia had told him she was the same, that she’d never experienced sexual desire or attraction, and that seemed a good enough way to describe it to Henry. Andeal and Maniel made him wonder what it was like, though. And they made him glad that whatever would have happened to Andeal if they’d been caught hadn’t come to pass. Maniel pulled away and pushed her hair back.
“You’ll have to wait for more,” she whispered. “I think we’ve made our guest wait long enough for his due.”
Andeal allowed her to go with a reluctant pout. Henry watched her disappear with an excited smile. As heartwarming as their little reunion was, he could not remember being this hungry.
* * *
By the time dinner was over, a dull ache had settled in Henry’s muscles and stiffened them. He’d let Maniel and Andeal hold most of the conversation, chipping in when asked direct questions or when the topic drifted too close to his father. He didn’t want to think about him. Andeal had said Lenz Schmitt talked about him all the time, but that brought no joy to Henry. The man had still left. Henry had needed him more than ever but he’d vanished. Time had patched the grief but whenever the couple mentioned his father with fondness, Henry felt the cover tear away and the hurt return.
He wasn’t ready for the message. He needed time to think, to rest, to let all of this sink in. Henry’s world was unbalanced and he knew better than to take another step without first regaining his footing. Then, perhaps—if he felt like it—he could deal with his father’s last words.
CHAPTER SIX
Henry’s room in the rebels’ headquarters was a small, irregular cave with a thin bed, a single light, and a tiny wooden desk out of a classroom. The mattress was hard, but to his sore legs and back it was paradise. It took most of the first day for him to work up the courage to crawl out of bed. He moved to his pack, in which he had a change of clothes, and sat on the stone floor to rummage through it.
His fingers brushed against the solid frame of his family picture. He hesitated a moment, then took it out of the bag, set it on the desk, and detailed his father’s expression. The man on this picture was free of worries. He smiled, eager to take off for the only flight he’d ever share with his son. That had been the best of their relationship. The only part that seemed to matter to Lenz Schmitt, really. Anger twisted Henry’s stomach and he slammed the frame down, hiding the picture.
He reached into his bag again and this time his hand fell on a rough
hilt. Henry froze as he recognised the string wrapped around it. Seraphin’s skeptar. Perhaps he should make that today’s mission: return the pistol and reward himself with a nice meal. Good plan, except for the walking element.
Henry was on his way within a few minutes, groaning with every step. He had to stop for directions once but as he approached the rebel leader’s quarters, angry shouts guided him to a handcrafted wooden door. He stood engrossed on one side and eavesdropped as Andeal and Seraphin fought. The clash of their voices rattled his bones.
“How many paper trails will you require as proof, Andeal?” Fatigue and anger made Seraphin’s voice taut, like it was about to break. “We’ve gone into every office owned by the Clarin twins we could find. We hid our goals well enough when we sabotaged their newspaper outlet last year, but it won’t last. This chase is ridiculous. We already have what we need.”
“Don’t say it,” warned Andeal.
There was a slight pause. Henry clung to the skeptar. He didn’t know what Seraphin wasn’t supposed to say, but he prayed the rebel leader wouldn’t.
“You’re living proof of what he did—of what he can do. The paper trail is useless, dangerous.”
Andeal’s sharp intake of breath told Henry this was exactly it. He leaned even closer to the door. Bad time to give the pistol back to its owner. Henry imagined himself barging in, their animosity all redirected toward him, the gut-crushing unease. He should leave. He didn’t move.
“I’m not spending my life as the freak show we brandish as proof.”
“Well I’m not spending mine as bait!” Seraphin’s voice had flared but when he spoke again, it was so low Henry had to take another step closer to hear. “He had that barrel pressed to my forehead, Andeal. I thought I was dead.”
In the following silence, Henry tried to convince himself not to eavesdrop any longer. He failed.
“The bait tactics are over anyway.” Was that a hint of resentment in Andeal’s tone? Henry wished he could see his expression! “No one but Captain Hans Vermen had that kind of obsession with you and he’s here to stay.”
“Are you mad at me? I didn’t have a choice.” Henry recalled the click of the gun as Seraphin had demanded rope from him. There had been so little emotion in his voice, it gave Henry shivers even today. “Would you rather I’d shot him?”
“No! I’m glad you brought him instead. It’s just…”
“Look, I know you hate the idea, but we’ve been sitting ducks for too long. Sooner or later they’ll find us, Andeal. We can’t win this game of hide and seek.”
“We’ll have to.” His anger had returned. Andeal had never been this defensive, not even about Henry’s father. “This isn’t a problem you solve by walking up to those responsible and putting a bullet through their brains.”
Henry’s breath caught in his throat. Wasn’t that what the captain accused Seraphin of? He didn’t need to be inside to feel the tension in the room. Andeal could not have picked a worse moment to add Henry’s name to the conversation.
“I think Henry might help us. Lenz always seemed to know more than he told us. His son might have something.”
Him? It took all of Henry’s willpower not to burst through the door and deny all possible involvement in their mess. He knew nothing and he sure as heck didn’t want to. Seraphin scoffed at the idea. At least someone else thought this was ridiculous.
“Schmitt is a soft cry baby. One threatening question from the authorities and he’ll give us all away.”
Henry’s heart thundered and he stepped back, afraid they’d hear it. He didn’t relish the thought of keeping Seraphin’s skeptar, but it would be a thousand times better than to step in now. He turned around, intent on leaving before he heard the entire conversation about him.
“They would’ve had that chance had I not intervened,” Andeal replied as Henry slipped farther away. “Give me one more month, Seraphin. If we have nothing good by then, I’ll play your defaced monster to trap Clarin.”
Andeal’s voice grew louder, then the doorknob turned with a squeak. Henry spun back to face Seraphin’s quarters. He didn’t want them to think he was leaving and had heard everything. Andeal stopped in the entrance, his blue skin growing paler as he caught sight of their visitor. He licked his lips then crossed his arms.
“What are you doing here?”
Henry raised the skeptar and fumbled for words. Sweat made his palms slippery and he feared he’d drop the precious pistol. He shouldn’t have stayed. Andeal understood the message despite Henry’s inability to form a proper sentence and a weak smile drifted onto his face, gone as quickly as it’d come.
“You heard all that, didn’t you?” he asked.
Henry’s shoulders slumped and he lowered his arms. “I’m sorry, I—”
“No need to apologise.” Andeal walked up to him. “Don’t think you’re not welcomed here. You are.”
Henry swallowed hard. Andeal patted his shoulder and continued on his way with false serenity. He imbued every step with forced ease but even Henry could see through the lie. Awkward.
Seraphin cleared his throat from the doorway. Henry whirled around, startled. Had the rebel leader thinned or was it the light? His cheekbones seemed even more prominent now, yet the Regarian had shed all his fragility from first night. The cold gaze studied him, confident and unreadable.
“I’m here to bring your pistol back!”
Henry blurted the words and showed the skeptar. Stress shortened his breath and flushed his cheeks.
“Come in,” Seraphin said as he stepped aside.
Henry rushed into the small bedroom. Inside was a single bed, a stylish glass desk covered in papers, and a scrapped wheeled chair. Rips in the padding were taped and the bed’s sheets had been sewn and patched multiple times. The room’s only luxury was a bright red rug in the middle.
“That’s your room?” He’d expected more from a so-called rebel leader. Even his tiny room had neater furniture.
“It’s all I need.”
Seraphin leaned on his desk, hands on his thighs, a grim look on his face. When Henry drummed his fingers on the pistol’s hilt, the Regarian cleared his throat and gave a pointed look at the firearm, causing his glasses to slide down his thin nose.
“Oh! Sorry.”
Henry stepped forward, extended the skeptar and its holster, and tried to keep his hands steady as Seraphin took them. He tied the holster around his waist then wrapped his slender fingers around the pistol one by one, each whiter than the bone hilt. He lifted the weapon and caressed the red string. His lips curved into a smile and, eyes closed, he whispered a few words. A private conversation with his ancestors. Henry did not catch the words, for which he was thankful—intruding once today had been enough. He took a careful step backward.
“I thought you’d throw it away,” Seraphin said. “Firearms are illegal.”
Henry avoided the Regarian’s gaze. “I did. I hid it in the soldier’s car and pushed them away. Took me all day. A hot, sweaty day.”
Seraphin studied him, serious and solemn. He wanted the rest of the story, which Henry was reluctant to give. No need to worsen the rebel leader’s opinion of him. He shuffled on his feet.
“Why go back, then?” Seraphin asked.
Curse it, how could he evade direct questions? He’d never learned to lie or dodge. “I…I mistook Andeal for an assassin. Someone you’d sent after me. So I crawled back there to get the pistol and defend myself.”
A smile cracked Seraphin’s cold expression. The Regarian struggled to keep his calm.
“Don’t laugh! I’d just heard you were accused of murder and Andeal was clad from head to toe in black! I was terrified, okay?”
Seraphin’s mirth vanished at the mention of accusations against him. Henry cursed his tongue. Why did he always say the wrong thing? He tugged on his pants and readied for the inevitable storm. A dangerous glow lit in Seraphin’s eyes.
“Don’t believe all you hear on the radio.”
; “But it was true, wasn’t it?”
His own aggressiveness surprised Henry. Seraphin’s fingers clenched around the skeptar’s hilt, but Henry refused to withdraw his words. What the announcer had said matched the Union captain’s story. Pushing for the truth behind the little face-off at his house seemed the least of things. Without it, he’d still be living a tranquil life at his house in Ferrea. He’d have spent a peaceful night commemorating his mother’s memory instead of chasing after his elusive father.
Seraphin returned the skeptar to its holster and his expression softened. “Don’t let who I am influence your judgment of the others. They’re good people.”
No denial. No guilt. Henry tried to read something in the tired traits—a hint of regret, or even pride! Nothing. A shiver ran down his spine. How could anyone give murder so little care? It had to be a façade. Henry clasped his hands behind his back and cleared his throat. Perhaps Seraphin shared his unease, because he changed the subject.
“I thank you for my skeptar. Was there anything else you wanted?”
Sure. He wanted to hear the story behind Seraphin and Vermen. He wanted to know why anyone would treat his father like a hero and why he’d vanished. And maybe read that message. He wanted to know more about these hidden tunnels and stop feeling like a lost child. Yet he also wanted to run away before he became more involved, to return to Kinsi and apologise. Most of all he wanted to rewind time and rediscover the sweet tranquility of Ferrea while the town still lived.
His courage faltered before he asked any of this. Instead of the vital questions, he asked:
“Where’s the kitchen?”
It drew a sympathetic smile from Seraphin. The Regarian gestured for Henry to follow. “You’ll get used to the twisting tunnels.”
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