by Becca Mills
“So, what should I do the next time I see him?”
Williams leaned back against the wall, studying the floor. Just when I thought he was going to ignore my question, he spoke.
“I can’t tell you that. Never would’ve suggested what you did tonight, but it worked. You have a rapport with him. Go with it.” He looked up at me. “But stay alert. If the shit hits the fan, try to get to me.”
I nodded while thinking, Like hell. If the shit hit the fan with Negus, no one would be able to help me, and my friends would be better off on their own.
“I think he thinks I’m a power,” I said.
“He can think what he likes. Doesn’t make it true.”
I pondered him in silence.
Lord knows I wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe Cordus had engineered this whole thing to make the other greats think he’d stumbled onto a baby power and was botching it up. Wanted to believe I was a tiny cog in some grand plan that really had nothing to do with me.
Or heck, I’d be fine with Just Plain Wrong.
But Williams was looking at his feet, not me.
Don’t get me wrong — Williams often didn’t bother looking at me. But this didn’t feel like not bothering. It felt like not wanting to.
Chapter 17
I watched as Williams checked the packmules.
Negus had given them to us. Surefooted mules would carry our load better over the rough terrain of the Far Wild.
Williams tossed me a lead rope and mounted up.
Then he took one more look around. I had a feeling he was thinking what I was.
Are we really going to just ride out of here?
We’d been at Negus’s eight days. There’d been parties and hunting trips. There’d been plays and concerts and bawdy puppet shows. There’d been games of tennis and croquet on the lawn. And meals. Countless formal meals, each one sown with terrifying verbal landmines.
The conversations were definitely the worst. Negus had a real knack for opening on some bland, unthreatening topic and then maneuvering you into discussing something you’d really rather not.
He initiated a conversation with Mizzy by asking if she preferred rings set with emeralds or rubies. Within a few minutes, the conversation had prompted her to mention — seemingly spontaneously — that she’d acted in a number of Hollywood films in the 1930s.
After she said it, I could tell from her face she’d said way more about herself than she’d intended to.
The next day, he started a conversation with Ida about the advantages of cooking with fresh herbs. Before long she had disclosed that Bill Gates was bankrolling some kind of ecotech company. Her guilty expression told me it wasn’t something she was supposed to be talking about, but Negus was fascinated and continued to question her long after she had exhausted her knowledge of what the company did.
Not surprisingly, I was his primary target. My tendency to derail conversations with stupid questions got me out of several uncomfortable exchanges, but he nevertheless wormed details out of me here and there — that my mother was dead, that I regretted my lack of education, that I preferred informal dress, that I grew up somewhere with a cold climate, and so forth.
But despite all of this, the four of us were alive and unharmed. And, apparently, about to get under way in better shape than we’d been before running into Negus.
Williams chirruped to his horse and moved out of the stable yard.
We followed a pea-gravel road east, passing behind the great house and its gardens. The road led to a charming manmade pond. We skirted it to the north and continued through the open lawn and scattered trees of the estate’s vast park.
At the edge of the park, we would be able to pick up a path through the forest. The path would, Negus had said, hook up with a road that would take us northeast. “A small matter of two hundred miles,” he’d said. When we reached the coast, we could take a ferry across to the northern island.
Two hundred miles of Far Wild terrain would probably take us more than three weeks.
I could almost see Williams adding up the time in his head as Negus spoke.
Well, at least I had a reliable, comfortable horse to ride. I gave my gelding’s neck a pat.
Beside me, Williams stiffened just a hair.
I straightened and saw a party waiting for us under an ancient spreading oak. Of course, Negus was at the center of the group.
Damn. Knew it was too good to be true.
We began to pull up, but he waved us forward. Williams dropped back, and Negus fell in beside me.
“I regret losing your company so soon, Miss Hanson.”
“That is very kind, my lord. Thank you.” I groped around for something else to say that wouldn’t be an out-and-out lie. “We appreciate your hospitality. Your home offers many pleasures.”
“All too few of which you have explored, my dear.” He studied me briefly, then looked ahead. “But come. I am not here to make you blush, but to warn you. One of your party is plotting against you.”
Totally taken by surprise, I gasped. Then I looked down at my hands so I wouldn’t look at Mizzy. Negus was probably keeping our conversation unheard, but a sudden stare would still give it away.
“What makes you say that?”
“I am not gifted in mind-working, but I have had a long while to study the subject. Grasping stray thoughts as they flit across a person’s mind — this I can do with ease.”
“And this person, what is she thinking?”
Negus tilted his head. “You assume it is one of the women?”
I felt myself turn red.
“Oh, um … no. But there are two women and just one man. Statistically, —”
He chuckled. The disjunction between my words and thoughts was no doubt entertaining.
I didn’t bother trying to laugh along. “So, what thoughts are you gathering from this person?”
“Fear. Guilt. Excuses.”
I thought about my next question carefully.
“What excuses?”
Negus smiled as some small birds fluttered past us and up into the trees. “That Innin will surely be no worse a master than Cordus.”
I thought quickly. Mizzy had identified all of us as serving Bill Gates and, through him, Cordus. Negus might or might not have picked up that Mizzy was actually sworn to me.
If he didn’t know it before, he probably just picked it out of my thoughts.
God, this stuff made my head hurt.
“Mr. Gates does not hold his people formally in fealty,” I said. “If she prefers service to Lady Innin, I believe she is free to undertake it.”
“But Miss Ryder, it is not herself she considers. It is you.”
I glanced over at him, confused.
He tilted his head, reminding me again of Cordus.
“She intends to bring intelligence of your abilities, potential, and whereabouts to the lady, so that you may be seized at her earliest convenience.”
I remembered my first encounter with Innin. Yeah, she’d wanted me. But surely she wouldn’t come all the way to the S-Em to steal me. It just didn’t make sense.
My horse tossed his head, annoyed at the way my hold on the reins had stiffened.
“You do not believe me,” Negus said. “How odd.”
“I am sorry, my lord. I mean no offense. I simply cannot imagine why Lady Innin would go to such lengths to obtain me. I am …”
“You are what, my dear?”
“Well, nearly useless.”
He looked at me incredulously. Then he started laughing again, and this time it wasn’t just a chuckle. He ended up having to pull out a hanky to wipe his eyes.
I looked around. Everyone else was assiduously aiming their eyes elsewhere. Negus might be keeping things quiet, but it must be obvious that I’d just bumbled into some hilariously stupid mistake.
“Why are you so amused?” I said, trying to keep my irritation out of my voice.
Negus gestured helplessly, as though he didn’t kno
w where to start. “That you believe yourself useless. That of all the people to stumble onto a newborn it should be one who is little more than an infant himself, and a fool as well.” He shook his head. “Normally I would not interfere with Innin — such a nasty little creature, so endlessly vindictive. But really, you cannot be permitted to come into the hands of someone competent. The loss of entertainment would be insupportable.”
He raised his voice. “You up there.”
Everyone riding in front of us turned around.
“You,” he said, gesturing at Ida. “You will be staying. See my steward. He will find something for you to do.”
Ida went gray.
“Wait a minute,” I said. “She cannot stay here. She was sent with me by Mr. Gates. Accompanying me is her assignment.”
Negus observed me blandly.
I got mad. “You cannot claim her like a piece of property.”
“Of course I can. I even may — she is an oath-breaker.”
Ida cried out. The pain in that sound was unbearable.
I leaned over and caught Negus’s sleeve. “Please. Please, my lord. She has a child in another stratum.”
He looked down at me. “Children come and go. She can have another here if she wishes.”
“No —”
“Miss Ryder,” he said, lowering his voice, “you seem to want to have Innin for a master, the way you fight for her spy. I thought you wiser than that.”
Finally, I understood.
I looked from him to Ida, doubled over on her horse. Mizzy was leaning over hugging her. Both of them were staring at me, desperate.
My eyes drifted over to Williams. His face was still, but his gaze was intent.
Was he trying to tell me what to do? If so, I couldn’t read it.
Don’t fool yourself. You know what he’d say — good riddance to a traitor.
I turned back to Negus.
“Give her to me,” I said. “As a present.”
His brow furrowed in surprise. Then his eyes narrowed. “Why should I do that? Are not four mules enough of a gift?”
I ran my fingers down his sleeve and onto the back of his hand. His bare skin was warm and smooth.
“My lord, I think you are forgetting a truth I learned from my mother.”
He didn’t speak for several long seconds — just stared down at me, focusing. Checking out my screwed-up capacity, no doubt.
Finally, his focus relaxed. He looked thoughtful, but beyond that I had no inkling what he’d discovered.
“What great truth am I forgetting, Miss Hanson?” he said lightly.
“The best way to destroy your enemies is to make them your friends.”
For a moment, everything went still. Then he laughed. A second later, his entourage joined in.
“Far be it from me to fight the forces of cliché itself. I give this woman to you to dispose of as you will.”
The entourage murmured and applauded politely.
Negus smiled at them, nodding.
Then he leaned in close to me. “See that she does not betray you, child. I wish to see you again. That I cannot do if you are locked away on Cobao.”
He reined his horse away, and all his hangers-on followed.
I watched until they rode out of sight among the trees.
We were a somber little group.
Not seeing much point to hiding what Negus had told me, I repeated it to everyone.
Ida admitted that Innin had agreed to take her and Cata into service if she reported back all she learned about me and left a traceable piece of essence — one of Innin’s own hairs — wherever I ended up.
“Innin must be gifted in tracking,” Mizzy said.
I saw what she meant. How strong a tracker would you have to be to find a single hair across worlds? Power-strong, for sure.
“Give,” Williams said, holding out a hand.
Ida opened up the locket she wore around her neck, pried out the photo of Cata, and extracted the single long, black hair that had been coiled behind it.
Williams tied it around a twig and tossed it into the next stream we passed.
With luck, it would end up far away from Negus’s territory. The man clearly delighted in stirring up trouble. Who knows what he’d tell Innin if her tracking brought her to his doorstep.
“Beth,” Ida said, “from the bottom of my heart, thank you. And I’m so sorry.”
I shrugged, uncomfortable. “It’s okay.”
Williams growled out an objection.
“Not okay exactly,” I said. “I just mean, I’m glad you’re really on my side, now.”
Williams shook his head in disgust.
I looked away, hoping I was right. As for the thanking part, who knows? She might well have been safer with Negus. He might’ve kept her from going home, but death would do a pretty good job of that too.
“How did you get mixed up with Lady Innin, anyway?”
“Cata ran off in September — stowed away in a cart of goods bound for the F-Em, then hitchhiked down to Florida. South of the panhandle, that’s Lady Innin’s territory.”
So much for my assumption that sneaking back through Chasca’s strait would be impossible.
“Lady Innin’s people caught her using her flight to pick oranges in a public park. They were going to kill her. Mr. Gates called in a favor and got her off, but when we went down to pick her up, the lady got me alone and, you know, made me an offer.”
Ida shot Williams a scared look. He said nothing.
“What did she offer?” Mizzy said.
“She said Lord Cordus’s days were numbered, and we were better off cutting our ties to him.”
“And you just believed her?” Mizzy said.
“Yes! Sweet Jesus, don’t you remember what it was like? Everyone saying he was dead, his people disappearing left and right. Maisie Carter in Raleigh, Jacob What’s-His-Name up in Richmond, the whole Atlanta unit — all just gone. I bet Mr. Gates made a deal with her too. Bet that’s how he got Cata off.”
“He would never do that,” Mizzy said. “She was a slaver.”
“They’re all slavers. You saw what happened back there. I was no more than a thing to be taken.”
“Because you’re an oath-breaker! He was trying to protect Beth from you.”
“Enough,” Williams said.
There was a lot in that word. A threat, of course. Anger. Disgust. Maybe a touch of exhaustion.
I could see why. We had months of our journey yet to complete. Two of our party were gone — our second-best fighter and the tracker he’d needed to keep tabs on me. The others weren’t trustworthy. One of the greatest powers of the S-Em had just found out all about me. And whatever was happening at home probably wasn’t good. From Williams’s perspective, this had to be one big clusterfuck.
We rode on in silence.
After a few minutes, Williams turned to me and asked a quiet question.
“What made Innin think this particular woman would be spending time around you?”
I frowned, turning the question over in my head. I came up blank, so I answered it with one of my own.
“How did Helen Sturluson get ahold of my brand new phone number?”
He met my eyes for a long moment but said nothing.
“It couldn’t be Yellin,” I said.
“It could be anyone,” he said. “It can always be anyone.”
Up ahead, Mizzy’s horse stopped with a snort. Ida shouted in fear, and I heard a gunshot. Then Mizzy shouted “Sleep!” and things got fuzzy. As if from a distance, I felt myself hit the ground. Someone grabbed me under the arms and got me back on my feet. Williams. I swayed a little. He gave me a snap-out-of-it shake and headed up the trail, shotgun at the ready.
I followed, too dizzy and spaced out to have any business holding a gun.
I squeezed past several mules and horses that were asleep on their feet. Then I saw a lot of things at once. Four equines sprawled awkwardly where they’d fallen. Ida snoring beside one
of them. Mizzy kneeling beside her. And, thirty feet down the trail, the cause of the commotion: a huge white wolf whose fur floated strangely in the still air.
“Elder beast,” Williams said. “Greetings.”
The wolf ignored him.
“Pup,” he said in his silent way.
I felt myself smiling ear to ear.
“Hi, Ghosteater.”
Chapter 18
“Something for me? Are you sure they meant, you know, me?”
“Yes,” Ghosteater said.
Dragons. “How do they even know about me?”
He didn’t answer.
“She can’t go to Eyry,” Williams said. “It’s impossible.”
The wolf lay down and began licking his foreleg just above the spot where it faded to nothingness.
I shivered and looked away. In my fond memories of him, I’d managed to push the no-feet thing into the background.
“Can you tell me exactly what they said?”
“She.”
“Right. Sorry. Can you tell me what she said?”
Ghosteater raised his head and yawned. His teeth were unbelievable. The molars in the back looked like icebergs.
“She showed, ‘Teated, pup-called, daughter of not, crippled, kindness. Bring, time, must now. Oldest thing, thought, heart, pass. Late. Run teated, run hot-blood.’”
What the hell?
I looked over at Mizzy and Ida, who were well back by the horses.
Ida just stared back at me. She was still groggy from Mizzy’s sleep whammy.
Mizzy shook her head. She was very pale.
Williams said, “Ryder.”
I turned to him and saw an expression that said something like, Get this animal out of here before it eats us.
Not helpful.
“Ghosteater, I don’t understand why you think she was talking about me.”
“You are pup-called. You pack with the oldest thing.”
“Okay, right, you call me ‘pup.’ But —”
“The scent was you.”
“How could she have my scent? I don’t understand.”
“I do not know.”
“Elder beast,” Williams said, “she can’t go to that place. She’s helpless. Prey.”