Children of the Wastes (The Aionach Saga Book 2) (55 page)

“That there’s the Glaive Estate,” said the ruddy-skinned
hired hand, pointing out a group of buildings further down the hill.

Raith thanked him and the Sons went on their way. They
arrived to find stables, a storage barn, and a main house. Though the house
covered a large footprint, the above-ground portion consisted of little more
than a slanted roof and enough frontage for a door.

Raith knocked.

The door didn’t open. Instead, a young feminine voice came
muffled from the other side, asking, “Who is it?”

“My name is Raithur Entradi. I’m looking for the Glaive
family.”

“What for?”

Raith wasn’t sure how to put it simply. He felt awkward
talking to someone he couldn’t see. “It’s a bit of a long story,” he said.
“Perhaps if we could sit down and—”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know you. If you want something,
you’ll have to talk to the village elders, or ask Jerichai up in the pasture.”

“Please, ma’am. We’ve come a very long way to talk—”

“Go away.”

“Let me explain. We come from a place called Decylum. I’ve
been told the Glaive family built it. We’re lost, and we’re looking for a way
home. I was hoping one of the Glaives might be able to help us.”

A pause. “I’ve never heard of that place. My family built a
lot of stuff before the Heat. I don’t know anything about most of it.”

So she is a Glaive
. Raith shot Theodar a glance.

The old man nodded.

“We thought you might have some information somewhere. Maybe
written down?”

There was no pause this time. “Look, I already told you I
can’t help. Now, I understand you’ve come a long way. The elders are always
willing to trade with visitors if you’ve got something they need. You should go
talk to them.”

“I need to speak to a member of the Glaive family. Are you
the only one living here?”

No answer.

Raith realized how sinister his question must’ve sounded
coming from an anonymous stranger outside her door. “Please, ma’am. We’re not
here to hurt anyone.”

Silence.

Raith fought to control his temper. He pounded on the door
and shouted, “Ma’am. This is urgent. We’ve run out of options, and I’d really
appreciate it if you’d just talk with us for a few minutes.”

Behind him, a man cleared his throat. “Pardon me, sir. You
all mind telling me what this is about?”

Raith turned to find a group of townies gathered around them,
dusty ranchers in denim and leather. Some were carrying guns. Others clutched
bush swords, long knives, or bull whips. Raith and the Sons outnumbered them by
a handful, but the men struck him as more protective than combative. “We’re
looking for a member of the Glaive family.”

The man gave him a squinty-eyed stare. “Who are you?”

“My name is Raith Entradi. We’re from an underground facility
in the eastern desert called Decylum. We traveled to Belmond for supplies and
lost both our navigators along the way. We’ve come to Bradsleigh hoping the
Glaives might have information that could lead us back home.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Raith. I’m Arnie Bakker, and these men
are part of Bradsleigh’s citizen militia. Now, I don’t think you want to make
trouble. So tell me true… did Savvy tell you she doesn’t want to talk to you?”

Raith nodded.

“Then I suggest you do as the little lady says and leave her
alone.”

“This is our last chance to—”

“She’s been through a lot lately. She doesn’t need a bunch of
bullies giving her more grief than she’s already dealing with.”

“We don’t intend to bully anyone. We’re simple travelers. All
we’re asking for is a few minutes of her time.”

“You know how many drifters we see around here, come off the
wastes and telling hard-luck stories about death and hunger and misfortune? I
had a hair on my head for every one of them, maybe I wouldn’t be so shiny up
top.”

“We don’t need food or charity. We hired a nomad guide in Sai
Calgoar who’s done an excellent job of making sure we don’t go hungry. We just
need to talk to the Glaives.”

“Isn’t but one Glaive left in this town,” said Arnie. “She
said no.”

Gregar Holdsaard stepped forward, fists clenched. “You have
no clue what kind of bullshit we’ve been through, or how far we’ve come to get
here. This isn’t some coffing joke. A couple minutes of conversation isn’t
going to kill her.”

“Calm down, Gregar. It’s alright,” Raith told him.

“I suggest you all go on about your business,” said Arnie.

“I suggest you mind your own,” said Gregar. “This doesn’t
have to be difficult. We’ve got some questions we want answered. That’s it.
Once we get this sorted out, we’ll be out of your hair.”

“Seems awful suspicious,” said one of Arnie’s minions, a
gap-toothed buckwheater in a flip-brimmed hat. “Bunch of big dways snooping
around the home of a defenseless girl who’s all by herself.”

Another minion spoke up. This one was short and heavy-set for
an above-worlder, with wild, thinning brown hair. “Y’all got any of them where
you’re from?
Girls
?”

“Alright, asshole,” said Gregar, taking another step forward.

Raith halted him with an arm. “We both know how this ends,
Gregar.”

“I say we blow down the door and make the bitch talk.”

“Violence is a tool for those who have no other.”

“You got a better idea?”

“These men are right,” Raith said. “The girl isn’t our
property. It’s her right to refuse us if she doesn’t want to talk.”

“How can you say that? We came all this way—”

“Y’all are going to have to step away from the house now,”
said Arnie. “I’m going to ask you nicely the first time. I gotta ask you again,
I won’t be so friendly about it.”

Raith heard fidgeting behind the door.

It opened.

“Cool it, Arnie,” said the young woman they’d called
Savannah.

Raith nearly fell over when he saw her. It was Myriad—just as
she’d been all those years ago, but now with hair the color of honey. “Myri?”

She gave him a strange look. “Beg your pardon?”

“Myri… is it really you?”

“I don’t know anyone named Myri,” said the girl.

When she spoke, Raith saw his mistake. This wasn’t Myriad.
Her face was familiar, yet she bore signs of a different ancestry. The voice
wasn’t quite right; the features were broader. The discrepancies became clearer
as the girl moved, like some half-visible picture caught in a glare of
daylight. And there was no way Myriad could still be so young… was there?

“My name is Savannah Glaive,” the girl said.

She was like Merrick, back in Belmond. Just like Merrick,
only she looked even
more
like Myri than the young healer did;
stunningly so, in fact. “You’re a Glaive?”

“What? Yes.”

“You’re a member of the Glaive family.”

 “Yes.” She spoke as if to someone not too bright. “Who
are you? Did Lethari send you?”

“Who is your mother, child?”

Across the yard, Arnie piped up. “You don’t have to tell him
anything, darling.”

“I’ve got this, Arnie,” Savannah said. “Victaria Glaive
was
my mother. She left, a few years ago. I haven’t seen her since I was twelve or
thirteen.”

“How old are you?”

“I’ll be eighteen in a few weeks.”

“What’s with all the pointless questions?” asked Ernost
Bilschkin. “Shouldn’t you be asking her about Decylum? About getting home?”

Raith ignored him. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

She shook her head. “I’m an only child.”

Raith studied her closely. Pale milky skin from forehead to
fingertip. And nails. She had fingernails. But she was only seventeen. Raith had
so many questions, but he didn’t want to risk turning her away again.
“Theodar,” he said. “Does this woman look familiar to you?”

The apothecary scratched his chin. “I was gonna say… uh, I
never knew Myriad all that well. But I’d say she looks a lot like her. Sure
does look like that Merrick dway, too.”

A murmur arose among the Sons, who appeared to agree.

“I think so too,” said Raith.
Victaria Glaive
, he
thought, playing the name over and over in his head.
Maybe Merrick Bouchard
wasn’t the healer we needed, after all. Maybe there’s another healer in this
world
.

“It’s hot out here,” said Savannah Glaive. “You all better
come in out of the day. Arnie, would you all mind coming in, too?”

Arnie tipped his hat. “Anything for you, darling.”

Raith caught Savannah’s frown just before she turned and led
them indoors.

It was the sort of house that was bigger on the inside than
it looked from the outside. Raith noticed its structural similarities with
Decylum the moment he walked in, though this was built on a much smaller scale.
Something about the layout—the angling of the walls, the crossbeam pattern on
the tall ceiling. It was a building made to be underground, expertly crafted to
withstand heat and weather. Solid as a bunker, and yet it didn’t feel at all
like the stark, utilitarian complex one might’ve expected. It was sleek and
cozy, with furniture chosen and arranged by someone with an eye for design.

“Make yourselves at home,” Savannah said, gesturing toward
the deep-cushioned living room. She didn’t offer them food or drink, but went
to stand with her back to the kitchen doorway, arms folded, waiting for the
explanation Raith had promised.

The Sons took seats in the armchairs and on the couches,
sighing with the sudden relief of cool repose. Arnie and his minions formed a
loose string of bodies along the walls, as if trying not to be noticed while
they readied themselves for the worst-case scenario. Aside from a few murmurs,
no one spoke. To Raith, it felt like one of those awkward dinner parties where
no one knows each other and the space is too small for the guest list.

“How much do you remember about your mother?” he asked. “The
way she looked. The way she spoke. What she was like.”

Savannah was confused. “What she was
like
? She was my
mom. She had… black hair. A soft voice. She was tall. Taller than my father.
She was kind and loving. Always warm, always nice to be around. But I remember
there was something distant about her. Something not quite… in the present. I
don’t know how to describe it. It’s been almost five years since I’ve seen
her.”

“You look so much like her,” Raith said, despite himself.
Here he was again, at risk of losing the girl’s confidence. At risk of looking
strange; of making her shut the door in his face and refuse to speak to him any
further. He needed her; not just to get the Sons home, but to find Myri… if she
was still out there. He knew he should stop, but he couldn’t. Not if the girl
truly was another one of Myriad’s children.

“How do you know my mom? Do you know where she is?”

“I wish I did… I’ve been wishing I did ever since the day she
left. Did she ever talk about her life before she met your father? About where
she was born, or where she grew up?”

Savannah smiled faintly. “Funny you should ask. I asked her
that lots of times. I was always curious. I wanted to know what kind of family
she had. Who her parents were, who her friends were growing up. She never
really said much. She had this way of… glossing over things. When I was little,
she used to distract me and change the subject. As I got older, that wasn’t so
easy anymore. I mean, it wasn’t like I was interrogating her every day about
it. She would just say something like, ‘It was a long way from here, in another
place,’ or she would joke with me and say she was from a cave in the
below-world. A few times she even came close to promising me she’d tell me when
I got older. I never pressed her about it for very long. Like I said, there was
always something about being around her. It was… comfortable. Intriguing. I
don’t know. Satisfying? Like I didn’t need anyone else, or care about any
thing
else. When I had her all to myself, those times were the best. Until she
started getting sick.” She broke off, turning to look at something that wasn’t
there.

“Sick,” Raith said, feeling a twinge in his gut. “What do you
mean, sick?”

“I don’t know what it was. The town doctor at the time
thought it was mutantism, but dad swore up and down it was something else. She
started getting weak. Achy all over the place. Sores on her skin…” Savannah
shut her eyes tightly. “I hate thinking about it. She was never the same after
she started going.”

“I’m sorry,” Raith said. He stayed quiet for a moment, then
asked, “When she left, what was that like? How did it happen?”

“In the middle of the night,” Savannah said, sounding
annoyed. “We were sleeping. We woke up, and she was gone. Dad rode out into the
scrubs to look for her. He didn’t come back for almost a week. For a little
while, I thought I’d lost him too. It was—” She stopped and bit her lip, tears
welling.

“Shoot, mister. Give the poor girl a break already, will
you?” Arnie leaned his rifle on the floor and slung his arm over Savannah’s
shoulder. The gesture was clumsy, and she swayed away from him until his arm
was hanging between them like a rope bridge. After a few seconds, Arnie let it
fall.

“Raith, let’s get to the real conversation here,” said
Ernost. “The one about finding a way home.”

“I’m not sure what you all are expecting from me,” Savannah
said. “I already told you I don’t know anything about a Recyclin, or whatever.”

“Decylum,” said Theodar. “Doesn’t ring a bell, huh?”

She shook her head.

“Isn’t that one of them secret bases where the Ministry used
to experiment on people?” said one of Arnie’s men.

“It was a research facility,” said Ernost. “And it’s our
home.”

A crude noise came from where Jiren Oliver was seated,
followed by a wet muddy smell. The closest of Arnie’s men wrinkled his nose.
The man next to him smelled it too, and began to laugh disgustedly. “I think
your friend over here just let loose.”