The system’s Gateway is intact, but currently not operational. Due to its orbital position at the edge of the system and a significant distance away from Nephaas, we will be investigating it closely before attempting to leave. That being said, we currently do not have high hopes. At the moment, it is tumbling through space, little more than a large asteroid composed of shinier-than-average metals, crystals, and composites in far orbit from the primary star; it is giving off no more heat or other emissions than we would expect from a rock of its shape and composition. Finding it took significant effort, as it has shifted somewhat from its original orbit, apparently from a gravitational encounter with one of the outer planets.
We can only hope that we will find something there that might help us understand what has happened.
###
Raavi ava Laargan
We continued down the length of the canals, speeding along in the winter night, slowly making our way up the length of the kingdom towards the White Mountains. We were almost out of Fia’s duchy, although, ironically, we’d be reentering it later on further to the west due to the winding paths of the canals. We were starting to get into the foothills of the mountains now, and the terrain was becoming more and more rolling. Forests were becoming more common too, rather than just the tamed orchards and groves of the lower plains. That was both good and bad, as it meant that we had shelter when we stopped, but the trees also blocked the wind, so our speed dropped to ‘only’ about fifteen miles an hour. Which, as Stylio pointed out, was still faster than a horse could sustain even in full summer. And the clear and relatively straight path of the canal also helped channel what wind there was, so that helped too.
Then, up ahead as we cleared a cut through a hillside, I saw light.
Up on the top of a hill in the distance, a fire glowed.
“What’s that?” a few people chorused, and the rustling of paper came from Yufemya as she unfurled the map.
“Uh… it’s the… um…”
There was more rustling of paper and Zoy’s voice came a moment later. “It’s the ‘Starkwaldhuugel Shrine’.”
“Wait, really?” I blurted. “Prepare to pull the brakes!”
“Raavi—” Fia started to say.
“It’s famous, and given, well, everything, I figure asking for some help can’t hurt!”
There was a pause, and Fia, sighing and chuckling, said, “All right. Let’s take a break and Raavi can go give some offerings.”
I tried not to hear that as indulgent, but instead focused on the light ahead as it drew nearer and nearer. In a matter of minutes, we arrived at a small artificial lake jutting off of the canal; numerous docks, sized for the standard canal boats, stood empty and waiting in the night. Stone steps set into the side of the hill were mostly swept clean of snow—by the wind, judging by how the drifts lay in the corners on the leeward side. The steps themselves were not made of the same hardwearing stone that made the stairs down to the caverns in my town, and had visible dips and wear from feet climbing up and down them.
“I guess we’ll make camp and you’re going up the hill?” Fia asked. “Who do you want to come with you?”
“Wait, what do you mean?”
“Raavi, there are roving bands of revenants at large in this kingdom and we’re in the area where they’ve been operating. What happens if you run into a group of them up at the shrine?” Fia responded as she hauled the tent out of the back of the Lynx.
“Oh. Uh… that’s a good point.” I considered. For a moment, I almost said Zoy, but, well…
The Dormelion Empire had tried to destroy or profane my people’s shrines after they’d conquered our lands, and forced us to worship their gods. It felt… wrong to bring one of them up to one of the holiest sites in the entire kingdom.
“Oksyna? Feel like coming with me? If we run into any revenants, you’ll be able to talk with them.”
She grinned. “Sure.”
I smiled back and grabbed a pouch of sandwiches and a flask of beer from the supplies, and stuffed them into my coat pockets. With that, the two of us started up the stairs.
While I was sure that in the summer they were easy and comfortable footpaths, in winter they were more than a bit treacherous, and our progress was slow. Around us, trees rattled and whispered, mixing with the sounds of the chimes and bells hung among the branches. It was beautiful and peaceful, and as we reached the first landing on the stairs, we paused just for a moment to listen.
But the moment passed, and we started up the second flight of stairs. Part of the way up, Oksyna commented, “This place must be gorgeous in the summer, all green and alive.”
“Oh, definitely.” I looked around; the stairs were bordered by carved stone railings, and even though they were obscured by snow, I could see that they were beautiful works of art. It was a little hard to tell, because the stone itself was also a near pure-white, probably from the White Mountains. I knew that they were named for the color of the rock. In the monograph I’d read that had inspired me to build the Lynx, I’d found that there were mountains around the equator of the world that were covered in ice and snow year-round, and the first explorers who had gone there had thought that they were just more of the same geology as the White Mountains here. Finding that they were covered in glaciers was a shock to them.
Reaching the top of the stairs and feeling a bit winded from the climb, I blinked. What I had assumed would be another landing was instead a wide setback that appeared to encircle the entire hill. It was a good twenty yards wide and filled with ornamental trees, and what I guessed were planters of flowers, judging by the hummocks of snow between the trees.
“Pretty,” Oksyna said approvingly. “So what would people be doing here anyway? Or can you not say?”
“Generally? Bringing offerings, praying, giving thanks to the spirits. But I don’t know the specifics; you have to be an inducted member of the local circle to learn that.”
“Amazing. And your people managed to keep it all going, despite the Empire’s best efforts.” She dragged a hand through a pile of snow, revealing the remains of some flowers; I’d been right on that count. “It’s… nice.”
Confused, I gave her a glance as I started towards the next set of stairs. “Nice how? I don’t understand.”
She sighed. “So my homeland is right next to the Empire’s homeland. From what I’ve read, before they came and conquered us, we venerated the Sun, the Moon, and the Night-Light. But that’s all gone now, beyond what some scholars wrote down.”
I nodded. “The only reason we managed to keep our ways is because we hid our wise men and women in the caverns specifically so they could pass down what they knew.” As I put my foot on the first step, I turned and looked at her. “Does… does the situation with the Sacrem in the Empire…”
“Bring me any joy?” she asked, and shook her head. “No. But that’s a talk for another day. Come on. Let’s pay homage to your people’s ways, and not talk more about others.” She started up the stairs, and we again fell silent, trying to avoid slipping. A single handrail in the center of the wide stairs was the only security we had against falling on the omnipresent ice.
Even so, it only took a few minutes to reach the top, although we were both out of breath by the time we got there.
But we were both speechless for a different reason.
I stared.
Eight arches of shining braided metals made an open dome reaching at least a hundred feet in the air, if not more, suspended over a terraced bowl in the center, with a central raised altar at the nadir. At the very top of the dome, suspended hundreds of feet above the altar below, was the bowl of fire that we had seen in the distance.
“Wow…” Oksyna breathed.
Nodding was the only reaction I could make, even as part of my mind tried to determine the stresses and tensile strengths of the arches; I knew that this place was thousands of years old—as old as the King’s Tower, really—and had remained standing for all of that time.
Then my eyes narrowed.
“Look.”
“What?”
“There’s no ice or snow inside the dome.”
She did a double-take of her own, and her eyes widened. “How? It’s open.”
“Let’s go look.”
Together, we went across the open space—the top of the hill, aside from the shrine itself, was flat and paved with stones—and then we reached the edge of the dome. There was a distinct line between inside and out, between snow and bare… stone? Metal? What was that material? I couldn’t tell.
I shared a look with Oksyna and we both took deep breaths together and then stepped over the line.
“Well… that was anticlimactic,” she commented when nothing happened.
“Yeah. I don’t feel any difference in the wind or anything,” I said, and then crouched down. “But there’s no snow on here. You’d think a bowl like this would be full of it…” I shook my head. “The ancients sure knew what they were doing.”
“That’s for sure.”
We went down the terraced steps; looking around, it was fairly obvious that it was intended for thousands of people to be able to sit and see the central altar. At the center, the floor flattened out into a ring around the altar. It was a single piece of crystal, with a bronze bowl mounted on top of it.
Feeling grossly inadequate all of a sudden, I gently placed the bottle of beer and the sandwiches into the bowl before stepping down from the altar and onto the flat ring around it. Going to one knee, I gave thanks.
“Spirits of the land, we thank you for your blessings, your help, and your insights into our journey. While we have little to offer, know that whatever assistance you can muster will be received with gratitude.”
There was no answer, but I still felt better for having made the offering here, in this sacred place.
Oksyna came over to me a moment later. “We should get going. But thank you for sharing this with me.”
I rose and smiled at her. “Of course. Now… I don’t know about you, but I’m tempted to try to slide down the hill rather than risk those stairs.”
She grinned. “Sounds great!”
#
Zoy
The sobbing scream jolted her awake; palming a knife on reflex, Zoy leapt from the waystation’s bed. Landing in a crouch, she scanned the dark room that she was sharing with Yufemya and Oksyna, and quickly pinpointed the source of the sound.
Yufemya was moaning and babbling in her sleep as she thrashed in the blankets; despite the near pitch-blackness of the room, Zoy could see beads of sweat on the other woman’s face as she grimaced and contorted in her sleep.
Summoning up all of the sympathy she could from years of being Stylio’s ward, Zoy went over to Yufemya. “Hey,” she said softly, touching Yufemya’s shoulder with her free hand. “Hey, wake up. You’re having a nightmare!”
Yufemya didn’t rouse, even though her babbling turned more coherent. “No, no… you can’t… it won’t work… everyone’s going to die…”
Zoy grimaced, and set her knife aside before putting her other hand on Yufemya’s other shoulder, as the woman mumbled something about “hubris” and “ambition”, her tone sounding accusatory.
“Is she all right?” Oksyna’s voice came from the side; she sounded sleepy but concerned. A candle hissed to light from nearby, apparently spontaneously, which would have been intimidating if Zoy hadn’t already seen Oksyna perform the same party trick several times now.
“She’s having a nightmare but I can’t get her to wake up,” Zoy said, and secured her hands on Yufemya’s shoulders. “Hey! Hey Yu! Wake up!” she said a little louder, giving Yufemya a small shake.
Yufemya’s eyes bolted open and she gasped before grabbing Zoy in an embrace, flinging her arms around her as if she was drowning and Zoy was a piece of driftwood.
Awkwardly, Zoy patted her on the back even as Yufemya heaved for air. “You all right?”
Wordlessly, Yufemya shook her head, her hair brushing against Zoy’s face.
“Sounds like it was quite the nightmare.”
In a croaking voice, Yufemya replied, “It was.”
“Want to talk about it?”
Again, Yufemya shook her head; the motion made the crystal die hanging from her necklace bounce against Zoy’s chest.
Glancing down at it, Zoy said, “At least it wasn’t a prophetic dream, right?”
“Wha—?”
She motioned to the die. “I haven’t seen you use that in the whole time we’ve been traveling together. So you’re not getting prophetic dreams. So whatever it was that you saw, it’s not going to happen.” Zoy tried to smile reassuringly at Yufemya with this; everyone knew that overuse of forecasting ran the risk of uncontrolled prophetic dreams. Some people looked at that as a positive, and it was certainly an occupational hazard for career seers, but Zoy had seen too many people turn to drink to try to forget what they had seen to think of it that way.
Slowly, Yufemya nodded. “You’re right. Yes.” She swallowed and slowly let Zoy go. “Yes.” She swallowed, the sound harsh and painful, before leaning back onto the bed and tucking her knees up under her chin and putting her arms around them. “Yes. It won’t happen. It was just a dream.”
Giving Yufemya an encouraging smile, Zoy patted her on the knee. “Yeah. Try to go back to sleep. We’ll be getting back onto the Lynx in a few hours.”
Yufemya nodded, the tension in her face and neck starting to fade. “Yes. You’re right.” She took a deep, bracing breath and let it out slowly. “It was just… quite horrible.”
Oksyna spoke up. “If you want to talk about it, we’re willing to listen.”
“It… it was… I saw people dying. So many people dying… because I… because we weren’t fast enough. Because we made some mistake… and they all paid for it.” She swallowed harshly. “The bodies… they filled the streets, rotting… nobody buried them, because there was nobody left alive…”
Zoy grimaced. That was a bad one. Reaching out, she put a supportive hand on Yufemya’s shoulder. “And it won’t happen. You’re just tired and stressed and your brain is playing tricks on you after all of the stuff we’ve seen. I know that I’m feeling uneasy about that seeress from where we picked up Oksyna. The stakes are high, but we’ll get through it.” She put a smile on her face, and even though it felt as fake as anything, Yufemya seemed heartened by it. “Besides, between Stylio and Fia—and Raavi—do you see anything getting in our way?”
“What about me?” Oksyna asked with a chuckle.
“You’re just scary in a different way,” Zoy said honestly; while the younger woman was certainly affable enough, there was no question that if she wanted to, she could cut a swathe of destruction with ease. A lot of the stories Zoy had heard about the old tyrant Nightshade were making a lot more sense now that she’d met an actual necromancer and seen her at work. And, sure, Oksyna said that she didn’t want to kill anyone directly, but the obvious loophole of ‘make their clothes disintegrate and let the elements kill them’ stood out to Zoy. But that honestly made her trust Oksyna more, as she could have easily killed the townies back when they’d first encountered her. The fact that she’d held back from that was a major point in the ‘won’t go crazy and kill us all out of boredom’ column.
Oksyna grinned. “Thank you. Coming from someone with that many knives on them, I’m taking that as a compliment.”
“Wait, you can sense them?”
“With my eyes, yes. Also Raavi told me.”
Yufemya gave a watery snort at that. “It was quite the moment.”
“I bet.”
Zoy coughed and turned the conversation to safer waters. “So… you and Raavi?”
Oksyna gave her a sidelong look. “What about him?”
“You’ve been spending a lot of time together, that’s all,” Zoy said innocently.
With a sigh, Oksyna said, “He’s nice, and I adore how he doesn’t treat me like a walking murder threat. Also giving me some ideas on how to use my abilities with even more panache has been a treat.”
“He’s certainly a clever young man,” Yufemya said softly, and slowly released her knees from where she’d been hugging them. “I don’t think that more sleep is on the table for me, though.” Slowly and shakily, she stood, and stretched.
Zoy considered as well; she was probably past the point where she’d be able to get to sleep easily at this point. “I’m done too. I’ll nap on the Lynx, I think.”
Yufemya glanced at her with an apologetic grimace. “I’m sorry for waking you.”
“It’s all right.” Zoy stretched as well, and, aware that the other two women were watching her, deliberately overstretched, touching the back of her head with her pointed toes as she stood on one foot.
“Show-off,” Oksyna said, and rolled over in her blankets. “I’m going back to sleep. Take the candle with you when you leave.”
Zoy grinned and did so after throwing on a few more clothes. Candle-holder in hand, the two of them went out into the waystation’s common area. A few people were out and about, but the room, which was sized for the crowds of canal-barge crews that would be coming through in the summer, felt mostly empty. The comparatively small waitstaff were mostly dealing with their own local crowd and a few couriers coming through with reports of more raids.
“I’m glad we shifted from making camp to using waystations,” Zoy said, casting about for something to talk about as they sat down at a table.
“Probably saved us time, and definitely saved us resources,” Yufemya said in agreement. “Resources that we’ll need when we cross the White Mountains.”
“Have to agree there,” Zoy said, and leaned in. “So… I’ve been wondering.”
“About?”
For a moment, Zoy considered just flatly asking why Yufemya was here with them, what her motivation was. Zoy’s was easy—Stylio was here, and where her mentor and guardian went, Zoy followed. There was also the whole impending apparent cataclysm issue, and as someone living in the apparent blast radius, Zoy took exception to that happening without trying to stop it.
But why was Yufemya here?
However, rather than ask that, Zoy changed direction. “So you’re an amazing shot with the bow. Like when you nailed that one man’s hand. How long have you been training with it?”
Yufemya relaxed visibly. “Since I was a little girl. How about you and your knives? I saw you deal with the Duke’s men; two trained guardsmen and they didn’t even see you coming.”
Zoy exhaled. “Also since I was a little girl. You know how it is in the Kasmenarta underworld.”
Yufemya winced. “I do. Were you with one of the gangs?”
“I was.”
Silence, awkward, painful silence, before one of the waitstaff blessedly came over, bringing a tray of some waking foods and drinks for the two of them.
As they started to eat, Yufemya asked, “So… how did you get out?”
“Stylio. I followed her out.”
With a nod, Yufemya exhaled softly. “That makes sense. She’s… she’s quite something.”
“She is.” Her head bobbing in a slow nod as memories replayed behind her eyes, Zoy repeated, “She really is.” She spooned up some of the porridge and ate it before pointing the spoon at Yufemya. “Look. Can you promise me that you don’t mean her any harm?”
Yufemya nodded as she took a bite of her own food. “I can promise that. I’m here to help as best I can.”
The two of them sat and ate in companionable silence after that, and then Yufemya nodded towards one of the walls. “Care for a round or two while we wait on everyone else to wake up?”
Zoy turned and saw what Yufemya had gestured towards. Turning back, she nodded with a grin. “You’re on!”
Putting their empty dishes back onto the tray, the two of them headed over to the small alcove where a series of gaming tables and other equipment were waiting for players.
“What to play, what to play…” Zoy mused as she looked around; there were felt-covered tables for cue games, a pockmarked set of wooden targets over by one wall with a rack of small throwing knives, and some more esoteric equipment for other games.
Yufemya went over to the throwing knives and held them up. “Interested?” she asked with a grin.
Smirking, Zoy went over and claimed her set of four knives. “Loser buys the next round?”
“Given that we’re getting all of the food and drink for free based on those royal papers, I don’t know how that would even work,” Yufemya pointed out.
“Hmm. Point. So, Breath or no Breath allowed?” It was a standard question for these sorts of contests of skill. Someone suitably skilled with Breath—like Stylio—could enhance their abilities games of dexterity to absurd heights, but of course it came with a cost of pain. That was taken as a feature for some varieties of games, where it wasn’t just about the skill of the player, but their ability to maintain focus.
“I’d allow it,” Yufemya said. “I’d love to see what you can do.”
Zoy grinned and, stepping back behind the line that was thoughtfully set into the floor, hefted the throwing knives. She had better ones herself, but this set wasn’t bad; the leather of the grips was well-worn with long use, but the balance was decent, and the points were sharp enough to get into the wood of the targets.
Taking a deep breath, she focused her Will and started to hum. A faint and thin stream of blue-white Breath began to stream from her nose and mouth, wreathing her arms in a filmy aurora.
Then, moving quickly, she threw the first knife, quickly followed by the second, third, and fourth, knocking down all four targets in a rapid clatter.
Yufemya clapped as Zoy ended her spell; her body was aching slightly, but she’d had worse from catching that one man back in Raavi’s town.
“Well done! My turn!” Yufemya said, and set the targets back up again; Zoy smugly noted that she’d managed to get nearly dead center on each of them, with the knife blades being a good inch deep into the wood.
Yufemya threw her own knives, and while they all hit their targets, only three of them were hit hard enough to be knocked over, and none of them were as accurate as Zoy’s hits.
Making a face as she picked up the still-standing target, the knife having buried itself in the lower quarter of the wooden block at an angle, Yufemya said, “Well, later we’ll have to have a rematch with hay bales and bows.”
Zoy snickered. “Want another round?”
“Maybe later. Come on, let’s try something that you don’t have such an overwhelming advantage at.” She motioned to the felt-covered tables, with the racks of balls and sticks waiting for someone to play with them.
They set up the balls and wooden pins quickly, and with a smile, Zoy let Yufemya break first.
Yufemya exhaled, and hit the black-and-white ball into the hexagon of white and black balls, sending them scattering. One of the white balls rolled into a side pocket, barely missing the four wooden pins standing guard around it.
“Looks like I have black,” Zoy said with a grin.
Yufemya nodded, her forehead creased with focus, and moved around the table. “I… I think… can I…?” She leaned over, exhaled, and hit the black-and-white cue ball into a cluster of three other balls, two white and one black.
The two white balls rolled off from the impact, one of them going into another pocket with an odd spin that made it curve as it went—clipping a wooden pin on its way in, but not knocking it over—and the other standing in a prime spot to be sunk on a subsequent hit.
Zoy whistled. “Impressive, but you know that you’re supposed to call it!”
“Well, I wasn’t sure if I could do it, and besides, if I’d said that I’d be able to do it, you wouldn’t have believed me!”
With a snort, Zoy said, “True enough. All right, it’s still your ball.”
Yufemya nodded, and sank the ball she’d set up on the previous hit—calling it this time—but her next attempt knocked over two pins and didn’t manage to get the ball into the pocket she’d tried for.
Smiling, Zoy took her turn, and managed to sink four balls before giving Yufemya an unenviable setup with her last hit.
“You’re a sadist, you know that?” Yufemya said, scanning the table.
“Nah, just a pragmatist. I don’t enjoy hurting people; I’ll just do it if I need to.”
Yufemya glanced at her and took a deep breath. “I can understand that,” she said softly. “Black ball four, side pocket,” she announced, to Zoy’s disbelieving scoff, before sending the cue ball scurrying across the table, knocking into the number four black ball, which, to Zoy’s astonishment, bounced off of the side bumper and sailed cleanly into side pocket.
Staring for a moment, Zoy shook her head and said, “If you’re ever back in Kasmenarta, I have some taverns for you to go hustle. We could clean them out.”
“Well, I don’t know if I can keep that up,” Yufemya said with a shy smile.
Zoy motioned with her stick to the table. “Well, it’s still your turn.”
Yufemya grinned, and looked across the table with an analytical glean to her eye. “Black ball seven, corner pocket.”
An hour or so later, with Yufemya having won four out of their six games, Zoy was still struggling with her disbelief. Most of Yufemya’s calls had paid off, but some had clearly been too ambitious for her.
“What’s this?” Stylio’s voice came in from the side, her voice filled with amusement.
“Relaxing before hearing that screee noise for hours on end,” Zoy said, watching Yufemya lean over and prepare to strike.
“White ten in the corner pocket,” she called, and sure enough, despite Zoy’s disbelief, the white ball in question slid into the corner pocket, neatly avoiding the wooden pins.
Stylio whistled, impressed. “Well, finish your current game; we’re making preparations to continue on. The others are awake and eating.”
“Well, I guess I might want to just call it now,” Zoy said. “Even if I won this one,” she motioned to the table, where eight of the ten black balls stood starkly against six—then five—of the white ones, “I would still be a game behind.”
“Consider it a learning experience in humility,” Stylio said.
Before Zoy could respond, a commotion broke out at the front of the room, as a familiar accent boomed across the room. “She should be in here!”
Zoy saw Stylio’s eyes go wide at the sound of a Dormelion man shouting orders. Crouching low, she looked out of the gaming alcove to scan the rest of the room.
“We’ve got… ten… no, twelve men,” she reported in a hushed voice. “Hunter squad, I think. They’re not wearing uniforms, but they’re moving like they’re military. They’re all armed with swords and batons. Fia, Raavi, and Oksyna are at a table near the wall. Fia is watching the men carefully and speaking to Oksyna and Raavi. The waitstaff are angry, but standing back; most of the other people are upset.”
“Can’t blame them,” Yufemya muttered.
“It is rather blatant, given that this is another sovereign kingdom,” Stylio said, “and probably making the Kalltii think of some old history.”
“They’re coming this way. They’re sticking together rather than spreading out,” Zoy said, watching the men sweep the room. They clearly had training; two men were standing by the door with their weapons out as the rest went around in a show of force, checking the patrons one at a time.
She wondered who they were here for. It had been years since the last hunter squad had tried to track down Stylio, but it wasn’t out of the question. They were tenacious and took their high success rate as a point of pride; Stylio having slipped out of their fingers was undoubtedly a personal insult to them.
Well, it probably wasn’t Oksyna. Given how the Dormeli people felt about necromancers, they would have come in much larger numbers and with many more weapons if she was their target. And not Raavi, because of the specified gender.
That left…
Well, Fia, as a former pirate, Stylio, with all her history, Yufemya, who had admitted to killing someone from the upper ranks of Imperial society, or Zoy, as Stylio’s ward.
She caught Fia’s eye, and saw Fia hold up four fingers.
Zoy cocked her head. Four what?
Then Fia curled in a finger.
Ah.
“On the count of three, apparently,” she said. “One… two… three!”
To Zoy’s utter joy, she saw that her earlier guess had been dead on accurate, as the hunters’ clothing all disintegrated, unraveling, rotting, and in a few cases, bursting into sudden brief gouts of flame, even as their weapons corroded in their hands.
There was an abrupt sound of many, many chairs being pushed back as the other patrons rose, fury in their eyes.
Half an hour later, Zoy and her group were back outside by the Lynx. The Dormelion unit had been taken into custody by the city’s mayor, who had been none too happy to find a group of Imperials trying to arrest someone on his doorstep. And even if he had been inclined to accept their arrest warrant, it had crumbled to ash from Oksyna’s spell. Despite getting a beating from the assembled patrons, they had refused to identify their target, but Zoy had seen their eyes follow Yufemya and Stylio, which was good enough for her purposes.
“How did they know where we’d be?” Raavi asked as he checked the Lynx for any damage or surprises that the hunter squad might have left.
“That part is easy,” Zoy said.
He looked up over the side of the ice-boat. “Easy if you know it already. I don’t know these things, remember?”
She shrugged. “Point. Hunter squads like that have a commander-seer; he wouldn’t have followed them in, so he’s somewhere around here, but it’s his or her job to do forecasts to find out where their target will be.”
Raavi grunted as he ducked back under the Lynx. “Well, they won’t be able to catch up now.”
“They won’t need to; they’ll know where to wait for us to pass by,” Stylio said. “Not that it will matter much more. We’ll soon be up by the Gehtun, and I doubt that the hunters will be willing or able to follow us over the mountain passes.”
“And if they’re waiting on the way back, then we’ll deal with them then,” Fia said. “We good to go, Raavi?”
His hand emerged from underneath and he hauled himself up. “I think so. I don’t see any damage.”
“Good, let’s get going, then.”
Getting the Lynx in motion was second nature by this point, and Zoy found herself pondering as they pushed it up to speed.
If they had been here for Yufemya…
Who had she killed?
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