13. THIRTEEN #2
A grin split his beard, stretching to eyes that betrayed his worry. “And you still have your snark about you.”
She wished she didn’t. She wished she could grieve properly for the lives she had lost instead of speaking in quips. But she had learned from her father’s mistakes: reveal no weakness, not even to her Hands. The ocean did not grieve.
“But do I have my limbs about me?” She looked down at her left leg and tried wiggling her toes. The pain flared, but nothing moved. Her gut turned over.
Drogus nodded towards her bandaged limb. “It’s been restrained and pasted with an anesthetic, so you should stay numb for a while yet. The doctor suspects nerve damage.”
“Is it broken?”
“Very.”
Kretch. “Prognosis?”
“You may not keep it. You may not walk.”
She could depend on Drogus for pragmatism; it was best to be realistic about these things. ‘May’ was damn near hopeful. She wouldn’t dwell on it. “How long have I been here?”
Drogus moved around to her good wrist and felt for her pulse. As if it needed monitoring. “The gig arrived a few hours ago.” He raised eyebrows at her. “When they brought you in, we thought you had bled out.”
Hours ago. That was testament enough to her stability. “Who is aware of my condition?”
“Only the doctor, Mitek, and the three who survived.”
Three? Her veins ran cold. Had it not been for her abilities, that single child would have taken out a full squad.
“Where is Mitek?”
“He left only a moment ago to get some sleep. Sat next to you until the doctor confirmed you would recover. I offered to take a shift.” He said it like she was on a death watch. Preposterous; it was just a knock. A small setback.
Footfalls sounded beyond the wall. “No, I’m here!” Mitek staggered in. His usually perfect hair was plastered to his head. Shadows ringed his eyes. He wore the still-damp clothes from their journey.
“He’s here,” Drogus said flatly, eyes glinting.
Fankalo sat up. The motion was nauseating. Mitek strode to her and pressed her back onto the cot. “Lie down, Brat! You’ve already given me one heart attack today. Exsanguination, the medic said. Rest, the medic said. A ten-day, minimum, before you leave that bed!”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“I sure as hell will if it’s in proper service to you. That’s my job.”
She rolled her eyes. “What happened?”
Mitek gaped. “You mean to say you don’t remember our party being assaulted by a real live honest-to-Creation fucking Ruxian?”
“No. I mean after that.”
“We made it home. Got you into the medical ward. Nothing has happened since.”
“And the others?” The survivors.
“I’ve had them retained here, awaiting your orders.”
She nodded. “Good. Don’t let a word of this encounter escape. They may elect to leave the Ghosts early or receive double stipend in return for their silence.”
Mitek’s face screwed up. “When you decided to leave… did you know that—that kid—was what you were looking for?”
Fankalo tried to cobble together what had happened. The boy must be a Creation conduit. Only Creation and Destruction could cast lures. She hadn’t realized it for what it was because Calver’s had always been so passive. Had the boy done it on a whim, or did he know she was—
Understanding clicked into place. She had not been his target, but Calver. Cul’Mon was trying a new strategy.
“No,” she croaked.
Mitek rubbed at his eyes with his palms. “How the hell did you hit him? Not one of us could land a shot. The fucker was invincible.”
“Luck.”
“Did you kill him?”
If she could, she would have done. Her Luck hadn’t presented the opportunity.
“No.” She stopped herself from putting her face in her hands. “I’d wager he ended pursuit so he could heal himself. It seemed like he could only focus his powers on so much at once.” And he was a child. What would he be capable of a year from now, when they planned an invasion on Tera’thu?
Mitek put a fist to his mouth. “Heal himself? Ruxians can do that?”
“Ruxians can do anything if they’re practiced enough and have a conduit to ignite them!
” she snapped—angrier at her own negligence than Mitek’s question.
“This kid’s conduit was obviously Cul’Mon.
Who has obviously trained him to be another killing machine.
” Her chest tightened. Like Calver. “Except this one is worse, because it was raised in Tera’thu. ”
Drogus clasped his hands behind his neck. Mitek paced around her cot like he might combust if he stayed still. Silence lapped at her nerves like the surf at driftwood.
“Can he find you?” Mitek finally choked out. “Like…?”
The question didn’t need finishing. Like Cul’Mon could find Calver?
“No.” Preservation be blessed, that was specific to Calver being a Destruction conduit.
But Cul’Mon would know she existed now—and outside of the Nelfinden safe zone.
The Ruxian had intended to exterminate her, but given the nature of Cul’Mon’s operation, she was sure he would want to capture her if he could.
Extermination sounded like the better option.
“Drogus,” she started. Among his many talents was an affinity for languages. “He spoke to me—before failing to drown me. What does ‘Do Urdenka’ mean?”
Drogus tapped at his thick-bearded chin with a finger. “It does not translate well. It means something along the lines of ‘another vessel’, or ‘something else that carries’—no—‘something else that transfers’.”
“Another conduit.”
Mitek grasped her concern. “Does that mean Cul’Mon sent him? That he’ll be back to—” His words cut off at Fankalo’s glare.
She threw the crook of her arm over her face.
Things could not possibly be any worse. Calver had officially lost what little mind was left to him.
Seraphindo’s heir was set to take the throne in Nelfindar.
And now, Cul’Mon had a Ruxian of his own.
Just when she’d thought they were about to take the lead in this game of war, they’d been horribly outplayed.
A warm, albeit damp, body sat on the cot beside her.
She rolled to her side, putting her back to Mitek for shame of the burn behind her eyes.
Her father had always said to plan for the possibilities, not the ideals.
What a fool she’d been not to heed him better.
She had known there was a possibility that one of Calver’s bastards, the ones he’d been so insistent on saving, would be used as a weapon against them. She’d just hoped they had more time.
Mitek held a hand to her back as it quivered. She was even more ashamed of how much she appreciated him for it. “I’m just so glad you’re still here,” he said softly.
“Kretch.” She failed to keep her voice from trembling. “We’re in so much trouble. This is over our heads.”
“We always have been, Bratty. This has been a gambit from the start. It’s just, now that there’s another distortionist, you finally feel as small as the rest of us.”
They sat in silence, broken only by the sounds of the night and the sea.
Mitek eventually finished his sentence. “But if there’s one thing I’ve learned… it’s that you’ll find a way out the other end of it.”
The spasms in Fankalo’s chest gradually subsided. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Don’t mention it.”