Sword of Dreams (The Reforged Trilogy) (39 page)

"I haven't found anything yet," he told her again.

"But you've found Princess Cavainna before!" Panna said. "You must have some other idea where to find her."

Logan shoved his plate away. The food that Phillip had prepared smelled good, but he was not hungry. "No."

Gripper had also been intent on sitting nearby. The Arboran had not touched his food, either. Instead, he stared across the tent to where Duaal and Xia ate. The two sat very close together and smiled a little too often. Panna looked between Logan and Gripper, then shoved their untouched plates back toward them.

"Eat," she ordered. "Neither of you are doing Maeve any good just sitting here moping."

"I'm not moping," Logan said coldly.

Gripper started and looked down at Panna as though he had forgotten she was there. "What?"

"Eat your dinner, Gripper. Phillip cooked."

"All right." Gripper slowly began spooning stewed kale and carrots into his mouth. "You seem to know a lot about Smoke and Freezer."

"I read about Princess Cavainna after what happened on Stray. Her relationship to Coldhand came up during the trial. That's how I knew who he – you – were… this morning, I guess. Has it really been less than a day?" Panna shook her head in wonder.

"Why do you care?" Logan asked. "You cut off your wings and turned away from your own race."

"You left Prianus," Xen pointed out from further down the table. "That doesn't mean you don't care about it."

The rest of the tent had grown quiet. Duaal whispered something into Xia's ear that Logan could not hear. Tiberius frowned. Logan waited for him to answer Xen, probably calling Coldhand a traitor at least twice before he was done. But Tiberius said nothing. Orphia preened on a nearby perch, ignoring everyone.

"I love my people." Panna's voice was quiet, but was clearly audible through the tent. "Believe it or not, that's actually why I had my wings removed and my ears clipped."

"I don't understand," said Enu-Io. "Please explain."

Panna swallowed hard and looked across the faces all turned her way. "I was born after the fall of the White Kingdom, but that doesn't mean I don't know anything about it. I grew up on stories of the old world."

Logan clenched his cybernetic hand. He could not imagine where Panna might be going with this story that would make any sense. How could anyone volunteer to have a part of themself cut off and thrown away like trash?

"Every story is a sad one," Panna continued. "The beauty and grace of the White Kingdom is being lost every day as the Arcadians give in to their despair. It's like the fall all over again, but slow… so we don't miss a moment of it.

"I wanted to study my own people, so I decided I would go to school to become an anthropologist. But Arcadians can't become Alliance citizens and can't go to CWA colleges. I had to look human. I thought I kept my secret so well."

Panna gave Xen a sheepish smile. "You should have known better, my dear," the Ixthian said.

"I can't believe I never smelled the difference," Gruth said grumpily. "My mother would be ashamed."

Enu-Io shrugged. "I never noticed, either, and the Dailon sense of smell is almost as good as yours. Our assumptions blinded us." He grinned, white teeth flashing behind dark blue lips. "Or whatever the word for blind is when we can't smell things."

Ava and Phillip – who had not paid much attention to the conversation so far – laughed and then returned to stealing bites of each other's fried potatoes. Kemmer sat sullenly to one side, reading a datadex. Xia and Duaal went back to whispering to each other.

What were any of them doing? Eating dinner and trading stories while the Cult of Nihil had Maeve. And they had no more leads, no way to find her…

Logan abruptly stood and stormed from the tent. The spotlights were still on outside, illuminating the wet stone walls of the ravine. Logan could feel the tons of rock pressing in all around him, pinning him helplessly in place.

I don't want to feel this. I don't want to feel.

I can still leave. I should.

There were drifts of snow against the sides of the ravine, but none inside the relatively warm circle of lamps. The Waygate was too high and large to benefit, but the occasional white flakes could find no purchase on the smooth material and slid away. Logan heard footsteps behind him.

"What do you want, Gripper?" he asked.

The Arboran stopped a few feet away, ducking his head sheepishly. "I just had to get out of there."

"Duaal and Xia?"

"Yeah. I've never seen them like that."

"They're tugging tails," said Logan.

Gripper flinched. "I guess so. I didn't want to stay and watch them make kissy faces at each other."

"Fine."

"What are
you
doing out here?" Gripper asked. His shadow was long and loomed up over Logan. "Are you thinking about what how to get Smoke back?"

Logan did not look at him. "You still call her that?"

"I was trying to come up with a new name, just before they took her. She's not like she used to be, Freezer. She actually tries to be happy, I think."

"Tries?"

Gripper stood beside Logan. Neither one looked at the other, eyes fixed instead on the towering Waygate. The great ring of flowing light seemed to stare back at them.

"I don't think she knows how," Gripper said. "She… Maeve isn't trying to die anymore, but she doesn't really know how to live. She's just sort of… drifting."

Logan understood that. It was not unlike his own life, since he had come back to Prianus – pushed by Vorus and by the Cult of Nihil, by Ballad and now by his search for Maeve. Now he was pulled underground, into the shadow of an alien Waygate, while he wondered what to do next.

________

As the night wore on, Kemmer asked Darius to turn off most of the spotlights. No need to waste the power when the archeologists were not working. But the camp remained warmer than the surface and more or less dry – as long as Gruth and Gripper kept the pumps working.

Hoping for a little privacy, Duaal dragged his cot outside the tent and into a secluded rocky alcove. Xen had asked to speak to Xia, but she came looking for Duaal a little while later. He threw back the covers and gave the Ixthian an inviting wink.

"What did the professor want?" he asked.

Xia shrugged out of her clothes and slid into bed beside Duaal. Her silvery skin was smooth against him. "He wanted me to take a look at Panna."

"Is there something wrong with her?" Duaal asked, propping himself up on one elbow.

"Other than being worried about Maeve? No. But Xen cares a lot about that girl. He wanted to know if the surgery she had was done properly."

"Was it?"

"Her surgeon did pretty good work. There are some scars, but they're not bad. And it looks like the operation was done some time ago," Xia said. "That girl's older than she looks. Younger than Maeve, but older than I am."

"You're just old enough to know what you're doing," Duaal told her with a grin. He grabbed Xia around the waist and pulled her close. Her short white hair tickled his cheek.

"Everyone is old to a man as young as you are," she said with a small laugh. "Did you see where Coldhand went?"

"Nope." Duaal shook his head. "Should I have?"

Xia's smile was all shining silver lips and white teeth. "No."

Duaal nuzzled the side of her neck. "I hope we find Maeve tomorrow."

"So do I," Xia said softly.

They laid together in the darkness and did not sleep.

________

"Tomorrow will go hard for you, cousin, unless you give Gavriel what he wants."

Maeve jerked and opened her eyes. Had she been sleeping? The pain returned, racing like fire through her body.

Xartasia stood in the doorway of her makeshift prison. The other princess was dressed as though to attend her father's court, in flowing white and gold that flashed like sunlight, even in the wan radiance of the old lantern.

Maeve searched wildly around, but they were alone. For now… There were indistinct voices in the hallway outside. The rest of the Nihilists were not far away.

"You let me sleep?" Maeve asked. Her mouth was as dry as dust.

"For a short time, my cousin." Xartasia stepped inside and closed the crooked door behind her. Her expression was sad as she took in Maeve's injuries, the dried blood streaking her skin. "I am sorry I could allow you no more, but if you are too well rested, Gavriel will see it."

"I do not understand you!" Maeve said. Whatever sleep Xartasia had allowed her was not nearly enough. Everything was a haze of muffled pain. "You warn me and pity me, but you will not help me! Why?"

"I do not wish to be cruel, but this must happen."

"Why? You hold power in this mad church. Command my freedom and it will be done!"

"No." Xartasia shook her head sadly, making her thick black hair sway. "Please, stop fighting Gavriel. It will only hurt you and will come to nothing. You must give him the memories, the key to the Devourers. Do it for me, if you must. I would not see you suffer."

"Then free me!"

"No. I love you, cousin. I love our people. It is for that love that I stand with Gavriel." Xartasia splayed her fine fingers over the back of the chair where the old Nihilist had sat, watching his Emberguard torture Maeve.

"I am not a good woman." Maeve sagged against the flaking steel post. Her wings screamed in protest. "But even I balk at Gavriel's plan. I will fight him to my final breath."

"He has failed by drawing your blood. I warned him that he would. You are stronger than Gavriel believes anyone can be." Xartasia smiled self-depreciatingly. "Stronger than he believes I am. But tomorrow, he will break through even your memories of Logan Coldhand. Gavriel knows now what made you weak even to your hunter."

"What?" Maeve sat up again, ignoring the searing agony in her ankle and wings. The pain seemed suddenly unimportant.

Xartasia shook her head and leaned against the chair. "I cannot prepare you, Maeve. I beg you this last time to give in. But if you will not relent to Gavriel, I must ensure that he succeeds."

"Cousin!" Maeve shrieked. "What will he do?"

The angelic princess gave her a long, sad look. "Please have faith. This is for the best."

"It is not for the sake of God that we serve life, but for the sake of life that we serve God."

- Reverend Brahmes D'Mairre, The Union of Light (180 PA)

Panna woke early after a night of restless sleep and crept quietly from the Tynerion team's tent. No need to wake anyone else just yet.

Outside, she was surprised to find that she was not the first to rise. The old Prian captain, Tiberius Myles, sat on a slab of granite jutting up from the ravine floor. His hawk flew in lazy circles around the Waygate. Snow drifted and eddied around the softly glimmering ring but did not stick. Tiberius looked up at Panna as she made her way through the camp.

"Good morning," he greeted her.

Tiberius did not look as though he had slept at all. His white beard had gone from unkempt to shaggy. He sighed and looked down at something he held in his lap. As she came closer, Panna could see that it was a glass blade. Not a knife – it had no handle, just a few splinters jutting from the bottom.

"Good morning. Is that a spearhead?" she asked. "An Arcadian one?"

Tiberius nodded without looking up. "It belongs to Maeve. It broke back on Stray, when she was stealing Baliend back from Gavriel."

"May I see?" Panna was hesitant to ask, but she could not help her curiosity. "I've never actually seen Arcadian glass. My parents talked about it, of course, but they didn't bring any with them from the old world."

Tiberius seemed about to refuse and then handed the blade out to Panna. She took it carefully. The glass was heavier than she expected. It was cold and perfectly smooth, much like the Waygate material. The spear was at least a century old – probably more – but the edge remained razor-sharp.

"Why hasn't it been repaired?" Panna asked. "Doesn't Princess Cavainna need it?"

"Maeve hasn't been in a single fight since Stray, if you can believe that." Tiberius laughed shortly. He raised his hand and whistled. Orphia circled back and settled onto her master's shoulder.

"These spears were carried only by the knights of the White Kingdom. It shouldn't just be… ignored." Panna examined the slotted bottom of the blade. There were a couple of colorful fibers stuck to the glass inside. "There would have been tourney ribbons here. Are those gone, too?"

"Yes," Tiberius said. He stroked Orphia's feathers. "You know a lot about Arcadia, dove."

Panna sat down beside Tiberius, balancing the glass blade in her hands. "For most of my people, history is an open wound. But I'm an anthropologist. I don't look at the White Kingdom with the kind of romance that they do."