The Shattered Land_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [110]
Pierce let the matter drop, and for a time they walked in silence. In some ways, he found her company to be more comforting when they weren’t talking. It was simple to match his movements to hers, to give himself to the hunt—to allow his instincts to take over, search for the silent step, the trace of their quarry, any sound or threatening motion. Even as he watched the surroundings, he found his thoughts drawn to battle—imagining what a fight with Indigo might be like. He remembered the brief struggle in Sharn, when he’d locked his flail around her neck—but she claimed that she had let him seize her. He’d seen her speed when the displacer beasts attacked, when she shot the monkey. Perhaps he could trip her, pull her down to the ground …
There was a glitter against the soil: glass or metal, and again, just ahead, a broad panel, hidden under a blanket of vines and roots.
He tapped Indigo’s shoulder and gestured. She followed the motion, signing back. Stand. Cover. I close.
Slinging her bow, Indigo allowed her adamantine blades to slide from their sheaths. She approached the reflective patch, silent and swift. There was no other sign of movement, no roar of magical energy. Slowly, she cut away the vines and weeds, revealing a wide circle of black volcanic glass almost twelve feet across. It seemed out of place in the otherwise lush jungle, but there was little to be done with it—it was just a patch of dark glass. Though now as he looked again, he saw a small symbol carved in the very center of the circle.
He took a step forward, and Indigo raised her hand. “Do not touch it. This is what we have sought.”
“I thought that we were searching for a door,” Pierce said. He saw no outlines of an opening, no indication of moving parts.
“We have found one.” Indigo studied the glass for a moment, then there was a blur of motion as a tiny object flew from her chest. It was the messenger drone Pierce had seen in Sharn—a tiny metal dragonfly. “It will find Hydra,” she explained, “and he can lead Harmattan to our location. Now we wait.”
“Certainly. We cannot risk making a decision without Harmattan to guide us.”
Indigo glanced at him. “The mystical charge stored in the glass would destroy either one of us. Only Harmattan understands the true nature of the portal.”
“So. He cannot trust you with his secrets either?”
Her eyes flashed. “I do not need to know the answer to every question.”
Strange words for the champion of freedom, Pierce thought, but he did not speak. He didn’t want to fight with Indigo—not this way. Was he so different, in his loyalty to his friends? Would he have expected an explanation from Lei, if she had asked him to perform such a task?
Lei.
There had been blood on her cheek when he’d last seen her, sprayed from the corpse of a displacer beast. Perhaps she hadn’t felt it; perhaps the blood was on her cloak and only seemed to be marring her skin. Her expression was full of confusion—and anger.
Was that such a surprise?
Why did it matter? He had protected Lei for years. He was protecting her now: It was Daine who had abandoned them both, and only Pierce’s actions saved Lei from Harmattan. He would see that she was set free when they reached a point of safety. He had served her well, and now … now he wasn’t a servant.
Why did it feel so wrong?
Indigo was watching the treeline. Her bow was back in her hand, an arrow nocked. She was like a crossbow—a deadly mechanism, primed and ready to kill. Her task was all that occupied her thoughts, and he envied that inner peace.
“Do you remember your first kill?” he said.
“Of course,” she replied, tracking the motion of a bird at the far range of sight. “I remember all of my victims, but the first—that was sweet.”
It was not a word Pierce would have used to describe his victories. “How?”
“Tannic d’Cannith, the artificer who first woke me from my sleep. He worked with me in the early days, as I was imprinted with the skills of my trade. Of course, all of my opponents were