Black Halo (Aeons' Gate #2)

Black Halo (Aeons' Gate #2) Page 37

She opened her eyes and he was smiling at her, and caring not if it was for her sake or his own, she returned it.

‘So,’ she said, ‘no more adventure?’

‘No more near-death experiences,’ he grunted.

‘No more sharp pieces of metal aimed at your vitals.’

‘No more fervent pleading to gods.’

‘No more waiting to be eaten in your sleep.’

‘Or stabbed or crushed or otherwise maimed,’ he said, nodding. ‘No more adventure.’

‘No more,’ the words spilled from her mouth unconsciously, ‘companions.’

It was a slow and heavy dawn that rose on their faces, a long and jagged frown that was shared between them. Neither could find any words of the same weight. None were exchanged. They turned away from each other; she fought back both her sigh of relief at the knowledge that passed between them and the urge to turn and look at him.

No, she told herself, don’t look. The solution is easy … Now you don’t even have to worry about anything else. No one has to die. You’re still a shict. He’s still a human. All you need to do is not turn around and stay—

‘So …’ she muttered.

Silent. Damn it.

‘If not adventure, what?’

‘Back to my roots, maybe,’ Lenk replied, rolling his shoulders against the reed wall. ‘Find some land, build a farm, hack dirt, sell dirt. Honourable work.’

‘Alone?’

Damn it, she immediately scolded herself, don’t ask him that! Why do you keep doing that? WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?

She turned to look, couldn’t help it, and saw him staring at her thoughtfully. Whatever she screamed at herself next, she couldn’t hear. Whatever he was about to say next, he didn’t say.

‘Cousin!’

Another sigh of relief was bitten back before they both looked up to see the massive yellow stare above a massive yellow grin set in a massive green head. A three-fingered hand went up, tipping a round black hat upon Bagagame’s scaly crown as he sauntered toward them.

‘Y’farin’ well, guests of Teji?’ He kept one eye upon them, the other circling in its socket to look at the bandage upon Lenk’s leg. ‘Sun feelin’ mighty fine on your meat, no? No cure better.’ He drew in a long breath through his nostrils and twisted his other eye up at the sun. ‘Too bad it never actually makes things stop hurting.’

‘Medicine does,’ Lenk replied, rubbing his leg. He glanced up at the Owauku’s rotating eyes and shuddered. ‘Do … do you always do that?’

‘’S’yeah, cousin,’ he said, bobbing his great head. ‘M’always extendin’ the warmest of welcomes all the damn time.’ He tipped his hat again. ‘King Togu’s always pleased to have humans on Teji, always pleased to share his medicine and hospitality.’ His scaly lips split in a broad, banana-coloured grin. ‘All for the smiling faces.’

‘That wasn’t what I was talking about, but—’

‘Oh.’ If such a thing were possible, the creature’s eyes seemed to grow even larger, threatening to erupt from their sockets with despair. ‘Oh no … you ain’t happy.’ His hands, trembling, reached up to clutch his face. ‘Oh, sweet spirits, I knew ’s’would happen. Was it me?’ He jabbed at his shallow green chest. ‘W’did I ever do to you?’

‘It’s … it’s nothing, it’s just—’

‘You’re hungry.’ His head nearly came toppling off with the force of his nod. ‘That’s it. Sunshine and happy thoughts can’t heal. M’get you a nice gohmn, cousin. A fine, fat one.’

Before anyone could protest, Bagagame had spun on his heel and scampered toward a nearby pool ringed by several rainbow-coloured carapaces. Another Owauku wearing a leather hood and wielding a crooked stick looked up as Bagagame began hooting something in their high-pitched babble. A dozen feathery antennae twitched, a dozen compound eyes looked up from their drinking pools, and even from such a distance, Kataria could see her distaste reflected back at her over a hundred times.

‘Gohmns,’ she muttered disdainfully.

‘You don’t like them?’ Lenk’s lip twisted in a crooked grin.

‘We have a history.’ She tried not to remember, but a sudden itch on her face prevented her from doing so. No matter how many times she washed it, she doubted she’d ever get her face clean again. ‘Stupid insects.’

‘It doesn’t seem a little odd to hold a grudge against an insect?’ he asked.

‘I’m entitled.’ She growled. ‘Anything that sprays anything from its anus I dislike on principle. Anything that sprays anything from its anus on my face I’m obligated to hate.’

‘Really,’ he mused, ‘I would have thought you’d admire them.’

‘For what?’

‘Well, you’re always boasting about how shicts ate every part of their kill, right? I thought you’d appreciate them for versatility alone. The Owauku use them for everything: food, milk …’

‘Clothes,’ she added, scratching her loincloth. ‘It’s one thing for a deer or a bear to fulfil those needs. If it comes off a giant rainbow roach …’ She moved her hand up, scratching an errant itch on her belly. ‘They don’t even taste good. What I need is venison stewed in its own blood … maybe a nice, hairy flank right off a pig. Something made of meat.’

‘Insects are made of meat.’

‘It doesn’t seem a little odd to defend an insect so vehemently?’

‘A little.’ His smile was broad, if no less crooked. ‘Maybe I’m not so averse to the various oddities that surround me anymore.’

His lips twitched, something tremulous scratching his mouth, straining to find a place where it could break out. She recalled how many times she had seen his gaze before, bereft of the softness it bore now. His gaze had been something hard and endlessly blue before, something to be avoided.

Quietly, she longed to see those eyes again. They would at least be easier to turn away from. Instead, she was bound by his stare, forced to look at him as he stared back at her with an expression that was terribly human.

‘Maybe,’ he whispered, ‘I don’t want to leave all of them behind.’

Why do you keep doing this? Her voice was growing ever more faint in her mind, but still returned to gnaw at her heart with sharp teeth. Why do you encourage him like this? Even if you wanted this, even if you wanted to be infected, this can’t last. It can’t even last as long as you think it can.

Lenk didn’t see the fear on her face as he looked up. His smile diminished only slightly as he stared at the three half-naked figures approaching them. His wave was weak, his eyes lost their softness; it only reminded her painfully of how he had just looked at her.

‘Other oddities, I’ll be glad to be rid of.’

‘The same could be said of you,’ Denaos muttered as he slunk forward. ‘At the very least, don’t expect me to leave flowers on your grave.’

‘And don’t expect me not to leave something brown and steaming on yours,’ Lenk replied sharply. ‘But I didn’t call you out here to just insult you.’

‘Just insult me? Were you going to kick me, as well?’

‘Not today.’ Lenk patted his leg. ‘I had something to—’

‘You should kick him.’

Dreadaeleon’s voice was as sullen as his frown was long. His eyes shifted irately toward Denaos, who merely sneered in reply.

‘Some gratitude,’ the rogue muttered. ‘This is the thanks I get from you?’

‘For what?’ Asper asked, cocking a brow.

‘For …’ Whatever it was that flashed across Dreadaeleon’s face, only Denaos seemed to catch it. ‘A secret.’

‘Secrets,’ the priestess repeated quietly. ‘I suppose he knows all about that, doesn’t he?’

This time, something flashed across Denaos’ face. His visage shifted, as though he tried on and discarded a mask in a single breath many times over. When he finally chose one, the blankness on his face was as cool as his tone of voice.

‘Everyone knows something about them.’

His eyes flickered and Kataria’s breath caught in her throat, as though he had hurled that sentence like a dagger and struck her squarely in the heart. Her ears lowered, flattened against her head as a thick and awkward silence smothered the air between them, even if it could do nothing to hide the scowls darting from face to face.

And, like the baffled eye of a half-naked storm of scorn, Lenk turned a single raised brow to his companions.

‘Something wrong?’

‘Not at all.’ Kataria spoke up with a swiftness that made her want to kick herself. ‘Nothing, really. Nerves are … you know, worn, from having sand up our collective rear ends for a while.’

‘Six days,’ Dreadaeleon said, nodding, ‘since we arrived.’

‘Since we were shipwrecked,’ Asper pointed out.

‘Yes, we’ve been over this,’ Lenk snarled, rubbing his brow. ‘And now, it’s over.’

A panoply of furrowed brows and confused looks met him.

‘Did I miss something?’ Denaos asked. ‘We don’t have the tome, don’t have a boat, we certainly aren’t paid and, in fact, seem to be poorer by about three pounds of clothing, give or take, since we started.’

‘Not to mention the fact that Kataria has, in fact, told you that netherlings are on the island,’ Dreadaeleon pointed out.

‘And I think Denaos mentioned something about demons, didn’t he?’ Kataria asked.

‘Yes, but when you found them, they were busy killing each other,’ Lenk replied. ‘And none of them saw you, did they?’

A choral attempt at inconspicuousness assaulted Kataria’s ears: Dreadaeleon cleared his throat and appeared to study the sky overhead, Denaos sniffed and spared a momentary sneer, Asper shuffled her feet briefly before reaching for a holy symbol that wasn’t there and resigning herself to casting her eyes downward. The shict couldn’t afford to furrow her brow at them for long before Lenk turned the same scrutinising, expectant stare upon her.

She blinked, then shook her head briefly.

‘No one,’ she replied. ‘The netherlings were busy with the demons, as you say.’

‘And likely the same can be said of the other fish-things,’ Lenk replied, rolling his shoulders. ‘So what’s the problem?’

‘Well, basically, everything,’ Asper interjected. ‘Between the presence of the longfaces, the demons, the lizardmen and the noted absence of the presences of the tome, our clothes—’

‘The gold,’ Denaos added, ‘our dignity, and so forth …’

‘Point being,’ Asper said after shooting the rogue a silencing glare, ‘things certainly don’t look over.’

‘Because you’re not looking at it with the proper perspective,’ Lenk replied. ‘What you’re seeing is the broth, not the meat.’

‘The what?’

‘I wrote about it earlier.’

‘How does that help any—’

‘As I was saying, you’re only seeing what we don’t have: the tome, the gold. We didn’t have a lot of dignity to begin with, so that’s no great loss.’ He offered a weak smile around the circle. ‘But we do have each other. We have our lives. We should hold on to them.’

Kataria wasn’t quite certain what he expected, be it a raucous chorus of cheering approval or a weary sigh of resignation and agreement, but she could guess by the sudden narrowing of his eyes that he wasn’t expecting the choked snort Denaos forced through a crooked grin.

‘You girl,’ the rogue cackled and held up his hands for peace. ‘No, no, sorry, I meant to say something far less insulting to our female cohorts and far more insulting to you, but … you girl.’

‘Don’t feign bravery now, you roach,’ Lenk snarled at him. ‘You were the most eager to run when we started this.’

‘And I still am. I agree with your philosophy, but not your reasons. Let’s not go acting like you give a damn over everyone’s lives at this point, not after we’ve nearly died … how many times now?’

‘Roughly thirteen since we left the Riptide,’ Dreadaeleon interjected. ‘Those are only the potential deaths by injury, of course. Taking into account factors such as accidents, disease and premeditation sans follow-through, the tally rises considerably.’

‘All of which you remained conspicuously silent through until now,’ Denaos said, scratching his chin. ‘What’s changed?’

Lenk made no reply for the rogue to hear, nor did he offer one to anyone. Still, Kataria saw it in the brief flash of blue as he cast her a sidelong glimpse. It was only the barest sliver of azure, but she could see his answer in the sudden softness of his stare, the quiet thaw of his eyes. Something had changed; what it was, he would not say to her or any of the others.

And so, as he stood silent, she ignored the feeling that she should follow and spoke up.

‘The longest-lived rat doesn’t ask why a crumb comes his way,’ she snarled at the rogue. ‘The fact that this one standing in front of me is suddenly so interested in why he’s not getting stepped on should be more questionable than anything else.’

She had expected anything from the rogue: a sneer, a snide comment, a veiled threat, even the sudden appearance of a dagger he had somehow unnervingly concealed. These she was prepared for; these she had retorts for. Thus, when he angled his eyes away from her stare and said nothing more, she was struck dumb.

‘As always,’ Lenk continued, sighing, ‘I don’t expect anyone to follow me where they don’t want to. If any of you wish to stay here, carve out whatever life you care to amongst the lizards and count the days before something – purple, black or otherwise – rips off your head and eats it, feel free to.’ He sniffed. ‘Anyone else is free to listen to my plan.’