“Kass was a very sweet, very spoiled, very clueless boy whose death we’d all like to mean something. You loved him, and I liked him.” Kajja sighed deeply. “I’m a little bit glad you had him while you did. I’m certainly glad he had you, for his sake.”
That…was a fairer assessment of Kass than “useless,” anyhow. But more importantly, “A little bit?”
“Your life would’ve been less fucked up if someone else had been your charge. Someone less into dick.”
Hen barked out a laugh, at that. It was so strange, when Kajja said things like that, even now. And, well. She wasn’t wrong.
“But like calls to like, so I think it’s your fate.” She nodded at Dagan, who was on the other side of the camp talking to Gareth, now. “I’m not saying all boys think with their lower half. Just most of you.”
“How would you know?” he asked with a smile.
“I told you, I made friends with Jak. Some of his clients, men included, just come to him to talk. Did you know that?”
Well, that seemed pointless. But then he thought of Dagan saying he’d been alone in a sea of people, last night, and realized. “I almost said it seems like a waste. It’s not, though.”
“Nope.”
They ate in silence for a moment before Hendrik said, “Kass wasn’t useless. He was good with people. They wanted to listen to him. That’s a gift.” Who knew what it could’ve been if he hadn’t been blooded?
“True,” Kajja said cheerfully. “He’d be useless to us right now, is what I really meant. Dagan is a super-fit, well-trained warrior with a very pointy knife and lightning-fast reflexes. He’ll be fine.”
He shot her a sideways look. “On the other hand, you have none of those qualities, so I’ve got my eye on you. Things get hot, you stay close to me, yes?”
“Will you stop being a dick about it if I agree?”
“Absolutely not. But I will be less of a dick about it.”
“I’ll take it. Agreed.”
Another little pause, and then Hen added, “And thanks. For talking to me and for yelling at Dagan last night. We both needed it.”
“Yep. But you’re welcome. What are sisters for?”
“Glad to finally be finding out.”
Chapter 7: Blue Bird River
The mountain loomed dark gray over them like a jagged thundercloud. The rest of their march through Evergreen Conservancy had been peaceful, almost harmonious. Then, the Blue Bird came within lifecasting distance, and the scouts’ faces turned grave and their voices low. Now, as the company stood looking across the muddied, stinking riverbed, side-by-side and shaking their heads, they fell quiet as a tomb.
Finally, Innan said, “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”
Hen glanced at them and was surprised to see tears rolling down both pink cheeks. Dagan reached out for Innan, and Innan took his hand and was pulled into a one-armed hug.
“It’s hard to understand how much it means to them,” Piret said quietly, for Hen’s ears only. “To all of them. They talk about the river and springs and trees and even the mountain like it’s their family.”
“It is,” Hen agreed. “It’s their family and their life. Their god and their responsibility.”
“It’s kind of beautiful. But sad, right now. Really fucking sad.”
They picked their way across the sucking, sulfurous puddles and up on the other side, clinging to the cover of rocky outcrops. The City walls, patchy gray with granite and faded limewash, rose higher and higher before them, far enough away that the figures patrolling them were barely perceptible hints of movement and nothing more.
The last time Hen had seen this wall, he and Kass had been atop it. Looking out over the riverbed and admiring the blue and green of the dark forest, wishing it could be saved from the evil within it.
What babies they’d been.
Bartolo led the way through a maze of rocks that eclipsed most of the city from view. Eventually he pulled away a twisted, thick curtain of vines to reveal a cave-opening.
“Where in all the hells did that come from?” Hendrik wondered.
“We stayed here on our way to the Heart Wood. Neat, isn’t it?” Kajja slipped past him and followed Bartolo into the cool shade of the cave.
Hen hesitated at the threshold. It was dark and silent inside, and something about it chilled him. Everyone else filed past quickly and quietly.
Except Dagan, who reached out for his hand. “Alright, my darling?”
Hen nodded but eyed the darkness suspiciously.
Dagan, thankfully, decided not to ask any questions. He just stood there holding his hand until Hen decided to take the first step. After that, it was easier. Bartolo and Gareth already had candles lit, the fragrant beeswax ones common in the Heart Wood. Metal sconces sat in carved niches in the walls, and they systematically lit them all. The glow was low and flickering, but, as Hen’s eyes adjusted, it grew comfortable, almost cozy, and his trepidation drained away little by little.
“You two might want to set up your blankets in there.” Bartolo said with a knowing little smile, pointing to a dark alcove. “It goes back a little ways.”
Dagan flashed him a huge grin and pulled Hen into the alcove, which wasn’t an alcove at all but a short tunnel, about four feet wide, that opened up into a small cave-room. Once Dagan lit his candle and started on the sconce in its niche, Hen put his pack down. “How long will we need to wait here, do you think?”
Dagan replied, “Not sure. It could be a few days. It could be almost a moon. Depends on their source inside, this Maya, and when she can come for us.”
That was less-than-optimal, but it was what it was, Hen supposed.
That night, everyone kept their voices down, and supper was cold; no one would risk a larger fire so close to the City, even in a cave. But, once Hendrik grew used to the underground atmosphere, he noticed his companions weren’t tense or frightened. They chatted quietly, laughed, and sparred. Innan and Kajja retreated to another dark alcove, talking about something intensely. Bartolo told stories about old gods and their hunting practices to Gareth, Alonza, Dagan, Piret, and Hen before bed.
