Legacy of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [86]
We might all turn into Teddies, I thought.
Scylla shut off the engine to the air car. It settled down upon the road and we sat in darkness and in silence, watching the gate.
Nothing, no one appeared.
“They are waiting for us to show ourselves,” Mosiah said, his voice harsh and overloud in the stillness. “Let’s get this over with.”
He drew his hood up over his head and put his hand on the door. Scylla reached out, clasped hold of his arm, halting him.
“You should not go. The Technomancers have no reason to harm any of the three of us. But you . . .” She leaned near him, said softly, “We are close to the Borderland. Stay hidden in the car. When the Technomancers are gone, return to the base. Go back to Earth and prepare King Garald and General Boris. They have to face the fact that the Technomancers will soon be in possession of the Darksword. They need to be forewarned, to make what plans they can.”
He regarded her in silence for long moments, such profound silence that I could hear his breath come and go. I could hear Scylla’s breathing, hear Eliza’s, hear my own. I could hear my own heart beating.
“I wish I knew,” Mosiah said at last, “whether you were just trying to get rid of me or whether you truly cared about”— pausing, he then said, somewhat lamely—”about King Garald and the Darksword.”
Scylla grinned. I could see her face in the lambent light of stars and moon and the setting sun. Her eyes flashed with laughter and that cheered me, too, as had the moonglow.
“I care,” she said, and her grasp on his arm tightened.
“About the people of Earth, I meant,” he said gruffly.
“Them, too,” Scylla responded, her grin widening.
He regarded her in frowning perplexity, for he thought she was teasing him and this was certainly no time for kidding around.
“All right, Mosiah, so I was wrong about you at the beginning,” Scylla said, shrugging. “You’re not your typical Enforcer, probably because you weren’t born to it. And, as I said, you’re much better-looking than your file photos. Return to Earth. There’s nothing you can do here and you’ll only put yourself in danger and maybe us along with you.”
“Very well,” he agreed, after another moment’s thought. “I will remain inside the car. But leave the Darksword here with me, at least until you have proof that the hostages are alive. If the Technomancers try to seize it, they will find me guarding it; something they might not expect.”
“A fine guard,” Scylla scoffed. “You with no Life and no other weapon.”
Mosiah smiled, for the first time since I’d met him. “The Technomancers don’t know that.”
Scylla looked startled, then she chuckled. “You have a point, Mosiah. If your plan is okay with Eliza, it’s okay with me.”
Eliza did not answer. I wasn’t certain she had even heard, but then she nodded, once, slowly.
“The Almin go with you,” Mosiah said.
“And with you,” said Scylla, and she clapped him in bois^er-ous good humor on the shoulder. “Ready?” We might have been going to a carnival, for her ebullient spirits.
Eliza’s face glimmered pale in the darkness. It seemed as if I were sitting beside a ghost. She stretched out her hand, to touch either Scylla or Mosiah, but she hesitated, then rested her hand on the back of the front seat.
“Did my father do the right thing?” she asked, and my heart ached for the agony in her voice. “All those people dying ... I never realized ... I need to know.”
Mosiah turned his face away. He stared out the front of the car window, toward the city that had become a tomb.
Scylla’s grin vanished. Her expression somber, she rested her hand on Eliza’s, and the touch that had been so brash was now gentle.
“How can we ever know, Eliza? Toss a pebble in the lake. The ripples spread out far beyond the entry point, continue long after the pebble sinks to the bottom. Each and every action we take, from the smallest to the largest, has ramifications that we will never