“It'll just be you and I,” he said. “Find the warmest clothes you can.”
“How long should I pack for? Should I bring meds?”
“Always,” he said. “Prepare for two nights, a standard pack, and we'll…work from there. If you want to bring rations, I'll have room in my rut sack”
“A snow-covered planet cannot grow anything,” she said. “It is likely that they eat rations, as well.”
Desmond held her gaze.
“Do you want to take that risk?” he asked, evenly. “Weigh your choices.”
She paused.
“The sacks will be lighter and easier to defend with if they do not have rations,” she said, at last. “Do you think we are in danger?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“And the likelihood that we will return before nightfall?” she was asking all the right questions, and he was proud of her for that, at least.
“High,” he replied. “There's an outpost not far from here, from what I can tell.”
“Then…” She weighed the odds in her head. “I'll pack lightly.”
“Good girl,” he said. “Do you need help?”
“Bound,” she replied, holding up her arm. “I only got through about half the IV bag, though. I can bring pills, of course.”
“Uh…” He could wait for her to finish the bag, but they needed to go, for all their sakes. “That's fine. As soon as you can”
“Ten minutes, Maestro,” she replied, and he headed to get his own things.
It felt oddly final, packing for this outing. He tried to shake the feeling several times, but the magic was warning him of something foreboding that he couldn't ignore.
Nathaniel met them by the back doors, which he had managed to power enough to unseal.
“I'll have the heat on in ten minutes,” he said. “And after the doors, basic power supplies will return as soon as the battery recharges. We'll be all right for about forty-eight to seventy-two hours.”
“Understood,” Desmond said, hoping that it wouldn't be that long. “Keep them safe, Nathaniel.”
“I will,” Nathaniel said as he reached out for Sienna, giving her a one arm hugged. “Be careful. Call me if you need anything, all right?”
“Yes, Maestro,” she said, a bit confused by his sudden display of affection. Nathaniel was affectionate, but usually not when there was business involved. “We'll be fine.”
“Just come back in one piece,” Nathaniel said, glancing to Desmond. His former Maestro knew he was referring to more than just their bodily safety, and he adverted his eyes.
“We'll come back,” he said, and Nathaniel tried not to wince.
Please. Please come back.
Chapter 7
The snow was blowing as they got the door open. They were bundled, layer upon layer but Sienna felt the cold right away. She winced, pulling her backpack tighter as she ducked her head.
Desmond put a hand on her shoulder, pointing ahead to what looked like a frozen wasteland.
“Two miles,” he shouted over the wind and she nodded. They obviously wouldn't be talking much as they walked. Sienna was quite sure her mouth was going to freeze solid in the next few moments anyways.
She stepped off the ramp and shrieked as her leg went right into a snow drift nearly taller than her.
It was soft and fluffy, freshly fallen. She couldn't imagine how much snow had fallen in the past twenty-four hours, let alone what was underneath her, but it must be miles high.
“Not a good way to start,” Desmond's voice came as he yanked her out. She agreed with him, testing the ground around her until she found a patch that was more solid ice than snow.
“Are we there yet?” she asked and he tilted his head, giving her a look as they began to walk. She wanted to turn around to see if Nathaniel was by the door, but the wind was too strong.
The wind was picking up as they walked, and she wondered whether this was a full-blown storm or just a normal day on the planet. Despite the fact that it was living greenery and other plant material that often made her sick, she couldn't imagine living on a planet so devoid of life.
She gripped Desmond's arm as they walked across the ice, neither of them talking as they navigated the tricky terrain. Her time in training had taught her to be light on her feet, to move with grace, but it didn't always work when she couldn't see what was underneath the snow. They didn’t speak much, their mouths had frozen, and they were both relieved to see the outskirts of the town at last.
“Be on your guard,” Desmond said, as they approached. “The type of people here…they come to get away. They will be wary of outsiders, especially witches.”
“We could...not tell them?” Sienna suggested, and he shook his head.
“No, it's our duty to tell the who we are, if they ask. We should never be ashamed of our identity.”
“I wasn't suggesting that,” she replied. “I just thought we might have an easier time if we didn't outright reveal it.”
“Only if they ask,” Desmond replied, drawing his cape tighter around them. Now that they were closer to the buildings, the wind lessened, and she could see that the town was well planned. The people here accepted that winter was a permanent state, and they lived accordingly.
Sienna longed for the artificial heat of the ship more with every moment.
“All right.” Now that Desmond could feel his fingers, out of the wind, he pulled out the tablet that Nathaniel had sent them with. She stood up on her tiptoes to see it, arching over his arm. She was tall, but her older Maestro had always towered over her and everyone else. He cut an imposing figure, and he always made her feel safe. “This is the list he gave us. I think some of these are luxury items, though. Nathaniel always like to have the ship running at top speed.”
“No,” she said, scanning over the list. “He needs every single one of them.”
“Sienna…” Desmond said, scrolling through. “I'm not a pessimistic sort, but we will be here for days sorting through piles for this kind of list.”
“Days or forever,” she countered. “Because I think we don't fly if we can't find them.”
He sighed.
“The language here is non-universal,” he said. “So, I'd like you to take the lead. It's more likely that you'll be able to pick up on a root language than I will.”
“Me?” she said in shock. “But you…”
“No,” he said. “You are perfectly capable, Sienna, and this is a task that is done without magic. You will do it and I will be here to assist if needed.”
Her eyes went wide, and he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“What worries you, little one?” he asked, meeting her eyes. “You are capable of doing this.”
“I…”
“When Nathaniel took you with him to find the amulet,” Desmond referred to a quest about 6 months ago. “Did you not take the lead?”
“No,” she said. “He did. He usually does. I watch him do it, negotiate, translate but…I don't.”
Desmond raised an eyebrow at the news. They were usually together, but when they were apart, he did expect Nathaniel to be training her and challenging her.
“Well, you are with me now, and it won't be that way.”
“What if I make a mistake?”
“Then you will find a way to fix it,” he replied. “One day, I will not be at your back, Sienna, and you will learn.”
“Where are you going?” she asked again and he shook his head.
“Come, we don't have time to waste,” he said, and headed toward the market stalls. She didn't have time to be nervous. Desmond put the list in her hands, and she marched up to the stall owner.
Everyone in the market was a raggedy bunch. From Sienna's eye, it looked like they had seen much war and sorrow. Their faces were scarred, their shoulders were heavy, their eyes held a lifetimes worth of stories.
In language classes, they trained her to speak first in her mother tongue, and then try to pick up the accent or language
of the person she was speaking to. Years of training as a witch had brought Sienna almost fluency in Basic, but when she was working in translation, she switched to Jeffroian. She knew that Desmond usually didn't approve of her trying to work in a language that wasn't universal, but today, he didn't say a word when she started the conversation.
“I'm looking for coils, part number 324343,” she said, to the shop keeper, who turned to glare at her. She had clearly interrupted his meal. How he could eat in this snowstorm was beyond her, but as a transparent alien creature, with large eyes and long fingers, she wondered if the cold just went right through him.
“What?”
She recognized his root language quickly, and switched to Herian, a language she had learned a few years ago.
“Coils,” she said, taking the tablet from Desmond. “Do you have them?”
“Do you have money?”
“Yes,” she said, although Desmond had not made her aware of what amount of money they had. Witches often operated without currency, used to trading their services for peace.
“What's a pretty girl like you want such advanced ship parts for?”
“Uh…” she wasn't prepared to answer that question, but luckily, the shop keeper didn't expect her to. He went to the back of his pile of stuff, and started digging through it.
“Does he have them?” Desmond asked, in basic, and she jumped.
“Don't know,” she said. “But he thought I was pretty.”
“Did he now?” Desmond's gaze shifted to the alien like a protective father. “Don't let him talk to you as any less than you are.”
“I'm hardly in danger of falling in love,” she replied, as the alien turned back.
“What else you need?”
“Do you have them?” she repeated.
“Parts like that are hard to find. Try somewhere else. What else you need?”
It seemed to be the theme of the day. Every stall they went to, shivering in the cold, they would find the same story. Everyone would ask them, look interested, look for the parts, try to drag them in with a discount on other parts, and then not have the essential items.
By the time they reached the end of the market line up, Sienna felt like she was going to drop from the cold. She was shivering uncontrollably, and feeling disappointed by the lack of progress.
“I don't know that we are going to find it,” she said to Desmond. “Either that or they don't trust us enough to sell their parts to us.”
“Do you think that's the case?” he said, and she thought hard about the expressions she had seen.
“Some, maybe. Others truly don't have the product, which means we could be stuck here until they gain our trust.”
“And?” he asked, causing her to try and recall basically every lesson she had learned. “How do you gain the trust of locals?”
“Aside from moving in and living like a local for months?” she asked. “We could…we would need to gain the trust of one, who hopefully can influence the others.”
She shivered then, as a particularly cold wind blew up her back, and arched her shoulders. Desmond sympathized with her in that moment, his face softening She was trying as hard as she could, but she wasn't used to the kind of exertion a quest like this required. They both had pampered her, and only now could he see the damage it had done.
An alarm went off, on top the buildings, and crackling through the radios on in the stalls. Sienna jumped, her head whipping around.
There was a flurry of activity, as the shop keepers struggled to cover their items. They began to pull down the thick metal sheet walls that each stall had, trying items to the ground
“Desmond?” When Sienna had magic, she could read minds at a faster rate than almost any witch. An alarm like that would provide her information through hundreds of panicked thoughts before anyone was even aware they were thinking them. Now, she relied on Desmond, who searched the minds of those around them.
“It's a storm alarm,” he said. “It means it will be unbearable to be outside shortly. We need to take shelter.”
“Can we get back to the ship?”
“I doubt we have time,” he said. “Most of them are thinking that this is going to be a long one, and how glad they are to make a profit before it came. So I suspect that wherever we find shelter will trap us for the night.”
“But…” she started and he turned to her, his ever-calming gaze present.
“Sienna, it will be fine,” he assured her. Nathaniel was usually her main contact at night, should anything arise. It had been so long since she reached out for Desmond's help when she couldn't breathe, or when the sickness overtook her. “But we need to find shelter. Did you see any place on our way in?”
“There's an inn,” she said. “A few feet from where we entered town. It looked pretty run down…but do you think we will be here the night?”
“I think so,” he said. “Can you make it back?”
“I'm so cold,” she admitted and he took off his cape, wrapping it around her.
“Maestro—”
“The magic will keep me warm, Sienna,” he said, making sure it was chained under her chin. He didn't need to point out the fact that she didn't have magic to do so herself. “Come, before we end up permanent snow statues”
She drew his cloak closer, fighting against the wind that was picking up.
Could this be her life, leading the negotiations, learning how to work around the problems that arose, without an ounce of magic?
Aside from the fact that she was worried about hypothermia, it wouldn't be so bad. She had a euphoric feeling from figuring out a possible solution and she was eager to get warm so that they could go over the situation again. She had been hesitant to come on this trip, but now she saw it might be a blessing in disguise
Chapter 8
“I have one room,” the innkeeper said when they finally broke into the door. The wind was picking up and Sienna was starting to wonder whether she would be blown away before they made it in. “I'm afraid it's going to be a bit loud, but beggars can't be choosers in the storm.”
“Loud?” Sienna asked, leaning against the counter, confused. She was tired, and she didn't care whether they provided her a blanket in the hallway. They had slept in worse conditions.
“The workhouse got blown in earlier. A few of the workers are being put up here.”
“That's kind of you,” Desmond said, as he counted out the coins they needed for the room.
“Kind?” the innkeeper arched an eyebrow. “They are paying me.”
“Of course,” Desmond replied, only calm. “Keeping in touch with the community is still something to be desired.”
“They're children,” the innkeeper shoved a key across the desk. “Don't bring trouble here.”
“Just a couple of beds,” Desmond assured her. “We are only here on business.”
“Business?” the innkeeper looked between the two of them, confused. She clearly saw the age gap and thought the worst, but decided it wasn't worth losing the business. “Just keep it down.”
“You wouldn't know…” Sienna remembered Desmond's lesson. “Where we could get some parts? For a ship? We tried the market.”
“Guess they don't have them,” she said and went into the backroom, leaving them standing there. Sienna turned to Desmond.
“I tried,” she said.
“You did,” he agreed as he navigated the dark flickering hallway. The storm lights were already on, and the wind howled outside. Witches were trained to survive almost any climate, and forge on, no matter what. But a storm like this meant even Desmond gave up for the night. “But we'll find another way, if we are meant to.”
“How long do they think the storm is going to last?” Sienna asked. Desmond found their room, inserting the key and after twisting it for a moment, heard a click.
“A day or two,” he said. “Hopefully, Nathaniel has figured out how to get the basics of the ship working. We can check in with him in a moment.”
&n
bsp; “We—” Sienna wrinkled her nose as they stepped into the room. There were two single beds that looked like they hadn't seen the light of day in weeks. They were dingy and the corners were untucked. The bathroom had dirt on the tiles, and the light was flickering. The window was cracked, and it was cold, even with most of the glass intact. “Ew.”
Desmond chuckled at that, shaking his head.
“We've had so much worse,” he said. “Do you remember, in Largo? Sleeping in the alleyway?”
“I do,” she said. “I also remember five-star accommodation when we worked on royal negotiation missions, and Eliza's palace.”
“If that is what you desire,” he replied, “hopefully, you will have the rest of your life in them.”
“That's an odd thing to say,” she said, as she sank onto one of the beds. He was about to rectify it when a knock came at the door. Puzzled, he signaled for her to be on her guard, just in case.
It was simply the innkeeper. The scowling woman certainly didn't belong on this planet humanoid in, but Sienna had a feeling no one really belonged here. They just ended up here.
“We serve food,” she said, looking from Desmond to Sienna. “Downstairs. Thirty minutes.”
“Thank you,” Desmond said. “But we're—”
“You have to feed her,” the woman said. “You can't starve her, not on my watch.”
Desmond was about to protest again, knowing that whatever they served wouldn't be suitable for her. But Sienna stood up in one graceful movement, remembering his lesson on getting the locals to trust them.
“Thank you,” she said. “We'll be down then.”
“Good.” The woman turned and left, the door slamming behind her.
Desmond watched Sienna as she dug into her rut sack, pulling out the com link to reach back to the ship. There was a time when she would shed tears over the fear of food she couldn't have, of not being included. But now she seemed calm, at peace with it.
“I'm going to scan the perimeter,” he said. “Something about this building feels odd. Stay here and give Nathaniel a full update.”
“Of course,” she said, leaning against the wall.
The Vampire Touch 1: The Forsaken Page 55