Peculiar Soul

Chapter 81: Radiodrome

Chapter 81: Radiodrome

The white wolf and the black hound were speaking one day, when the raven came to greet them. He wished them a good morning, and asked what they spoke of.

The hound replied that they spoke of hunting, which was dear to them both.

The raven said that he did not see the sport in such a thing, for it was trivial to track prey from his perch in the sky. There were none, he said, that could hide from him.

The hound and the wolf smiled and laughed, and told the raven that he had missed the point. Tracking prey was not hunting, they said. Sight was not pursuit. To hunt was to inhabit the mind of the prey, to know its turnings before fear provoked them. In turn, the prey must know the mind of the hunter to have any hope of escape.

The raven agreed that this sounded more interesting than a simple chase, but still did not see the purpose of such a contest.

The two hunters licked their lips and offered to show him.

- Pre-Gharic Ardan manuscript, vellum, c. 500 PE

The road was almost deserted as they pressed further west towards the border, the flow of emigrants dwindling to the occasional knot of weary travelers on the side of the road. In this stretch of the highlands there were few turnoffs and fewer things worth stopping for; this land was more to be endured than inhabited.

Still, Sobriquet was not idle. She sat quietly in her seat, her attention far from the truck in whatever hardscrabble pockets of humanity existed between the hills. Little resulted from her investigations, though she did twice tell Zabala to beware of hazards ahead on the path - once, a herd of sheep roaming free, the smoldering ruins of a shepherds hut beyond a rise. They were unafraid of the truck, even after Zabala laid on its horn; they only consented to move when Michael gently urged them back towards their pasture.

He imagined that it must have looked rather odd to the men. Michael had stood quietly in front of the grazing beasts, listening to the dull echoes of feeling that rippled out from them like raindrops on a pond. They were oddly-resistant to his influence, every attempt to sway them muted by the comforting presence of the greater herd. It was only after a few failed pushes that he hit upon the strategy of drawing the group away by its edges, using the movement of the first few sheep to incite those beside it to follow.

Before long the road was clear. That marked the most eventful pause of the morning - the second obstacle was a mere fallen tree, which Michael simply tossed aside like so much cordwood.

The soldiers regained some of their hesitancy afterwards - oddly, more from the demonstration of his potens strength than his subtle use of Spark. The latter should have been more alarming, but Michael supposed there was a special sort of anxiety reserved for demonstrations of great physical strength; it was visceral, kinetic, and especially ominous when pressed into close quarters.

These small flares of fear and doubt faded quickly, however. Lars and Charles proved excellent distractions, trading jibes and repartee with obnoxious enthusiasm. Michael largely ignored them, preferring to leave his sight floating high above the hills or tracing along hidden streams parallel to their course. Daressa was a beautiful country, scenic and vast; the recent reminder that Michael would not travel so freely in the future had given him a melancholy sort of mania for the grandeur around them, like a dying man savoring every bite of his dinner with deliberate joy.

Would you notice if we threw you out of the truck, I wonder? Sobriquets voice came to him, buzzing with amusement; Michael chuckled.

Im not so lost in the scenery that Id miss that, he murmured. She had been masking their conversations, when they happened, but Michael still felt somewhat self-conscious talking in such close proximity to the others; he kept his voice low, the movements of his lips subdued. Did you find something new, or are you merely bored?

Im not quite sure what Im looking at, she said. I was hoping you could take a look. Its near enough, and your sight should afford more detail than mine. Down the road, to the south - a small cottage hidden behind a rise, amid a stand of tall pines.

Michael let his sight drift ahead, scanning the terrain. At the limit of his vision he saw the cottage, only a rude hut of bare timber and thatch crouched between trees. It was unassuming, and no trail of smoke came from its chimney; without Sobriquets guidance, Michael might not have noticed anything there. He looked closer, guiding his vision inside the thin walls.

There was a man sitting in a chair, reading a book. The remainder of the cabin was spare and clean, with a sleeping mat on the floor and a single table. There was a wireless set up on the table, hooked to a large block Michael recognized as a battery. Under the table was a large stack of packaged food - Mendiko field rations.

Michael sat up straight, leaning forward; it did nothing to impact his vision, but it felt proper - and perhaps lent a bit of focus that it was harder to summon while slouched back. A Mendiko, he said. One man, alone, listening to a wireless.

There was a rustle of movement; Michael pulled his vision back and saw the men in the truck looking at him; Sobriquet had evidently let her veil drop. Unais gaze was piercing, his expression intent.

A listening post, perhaps, he said. The Zuzendaritza should have some scattered around the border region, dating back to well before the current conflict. We should divert to speak with him.

Michael frowned. Isnt he likely to be one of Lekubarris men? I dont imagine theyd be keen on helping us.

The older man gave a thin smile. Well gain some information regardless, he said. Let me speak with him first, and well see what hes about.

It took some time before they reached the nearest point on the road to the cottage, which was still far removed from the hidden building. They parked the truck and gave the men their ease while Michael, Unai, Sobriquet and Zabala prepared to climb the long and sloping hill that led upward to the listening post.

At Unais insistence, Sobriquet had been keeping them well-hidden. There was a change in the old mans manner as they drew closer; his eyes roved ceaselessly across the ground, his footsteps smooth and soundless. Michael felt no tension from him, though. There was only a quiet, excited pulse of feeling.

Hold, he murmured, pausing some distance away from the cottages stand of pines. His hand came up to point at a patch of ground strewn with dried, dead leaves. Walk carefully, he said. Step only where you see grass growing. Zabala, egon prest.

Zabalas eyes narrowed, and Michael felt the fortimens extend his soul out to Unai and Sobriquet. Prest nago. Mines?

Its what I would do, Unai murmured. Has our man noticed us yet?

Michael briefly shifted his sight up to the cabin; the man inside was still reading his book. Doesnt look that way, he said. Still reading.

Unai smiled. Sloppy, he said. Okay. In my footsteps, and if we trip any sort of alarm or trap- He turned to Sobriquet. Knock him out gently, young mistress; hes one of ours.

He turned and began to advance up the slope. If there had been a change before, now it was glaring; Unai reminded Michael of a cat that had sighted prey, low and slinking in his movements. Despite his warning, or perhaps because of it, they made it to the cabin without incident.

Michael checked to find the man still in his chair, absorbed in the book. At Unais direction, he moved to stand square with the door - and then kicked it in.

The man was already standing as the door crashed to the ground. There was a pistol in his hand, somehow; Michael had not seen any trace of it before. It fired, and Michael felt two light taps in the center of his chest. A third caromed off the side of his forehead, burying itself in the doorframe.

What about back to Esrou? Bidarte asked. The briefing noted that he was Esroun.

Michael shook his head. He has no ties to Esrou, he said. His home was Braun Island, and theres nothing left for him there either. They cleared the island- He paused, a horrible thought taking root in his mind. Lucs hand outstretched, naming Saleh a murderer; his mournful face on a day far before that, reaching within his shirt to reveal a handful of bloodstained wooden tokens. These were my friends-

Saleh isnt the only one who killed those dear to Luc, Michael said. Only the most recent. Luc has plenty of reasons to hate Ardalt, and Sever in particular. His mouth twisted. The Institute. Me, for that matter.

Unais eyes narrowed. Do you think thats likely?

I think its possible, Michael said. If were listing possibilities.

There was a long moment of silence as the four of them considered.

Michael clenched his fists as an overwhelming tension began to make itself felt, speeding his heart, tightening his muscles. There had been the hope of finding Luc if he was right ahead of them, traveling overland through Saf. Now, though, the winter seemed far shorter, the looming deadline of spring rushing forward with unseemly haste. And if he had truly decided to cross the ocean-

Sobriquet walked up to lay a hand on his shoulder. I dont know how much Ill be able to see, considering the way that Luc twists my sight, she offered, but if he did pass through Rouns I imagine there will be some traces left. Illness, death, someone who spoke to him.

And if he didnt? Michael asked.

She shrugged. Then there wont be. We can always turn aside to Saf from there, if we choose. She let her fingers trace down to Michaels hand. Well find him.

It would be stranger if we had followed unerringly in his path, Unai sighed. He turned back to Bidarte. You should break your silence and report our suspicions to Central.

Bidarte blinked. I was going to anyway, he said. But I must admit Im surprised at the request, considering you just outlined the importance of your man finding the Star first.

Lekubarri is ultimately our ally, despite my misgivings, Unai said. He gave Bidarte a thin smile. And I am notionally the liaison to the Zuzendaritza. Lets phrase this as me cooperating in good faith; I imagine that will keep him up late wondering at our motivations.

You havent changed much, Bidarte snorted, extending a hand. He grinned as Unai shook it. Its good to see you again, old man.

And you, Txiki, Unai said. I hope this doesnt cause you too much trouble down the line - but if you find yourself without a situation, let me know. He returned the smile. I can put in a kind word with the next Star.

Both men looked at Michael, who gave a helpless shrug. I seem to need all the help I can get, he sighed. Off to Rouns, then?

Apparently, Unai agreed. Lets let the others know.

Despite the change in plans, they did not reverse course; there was a more-direct road south to Rouns if they continued onward, and none of them much felt like passing near Rouissat again. Michael did not want to stay in any towns, if they could help it. Whether through agreement or happenstance, they found themselves pulling aside for the night in an isolated clearing amid craggy ridges of rock, the evening air quickly growing chill.

A damp mist had swept in as the light dwindled, masking the sunset and swathing the landscape in bruised murk. Michael thought it rather appropriate, a match for his current feelings on their course. He took his food in the evening and ate mechanically, barely noting the taste.

Youre alarming the men, Sobriquet noted. Hunched over here, eating like you expect the sky to fall on us at any moment. Its only a setback. We dont even know if its a major one yet; we could find Luc on the way to Rouns for all you know.

Michael looked up at her, letting his spoon rest in the half-full bowl of stew. Im sorry, he sighed. I dont mean to sulk. Its - well. He ran his fingers through his hair, looking off into the mist. I suppose its many things. I had hoped to find Luc quickly, before he went to Saf; now Im considering that he may not go there at all. Im not sure what Ill do if he turns up in Ardalt.

She sat beside him, inching close against the chill. Is it that you dont want to return? she asked.

More that I had planned not to, Michael sighed. The last time I considered it was in a rowboat, right after I escaped from Sparks island. I turned the other way because there was nothing for me there, only reopening old wounds - and death at the Institutes hands, obviously. Now that I could probably handle the Institute-

He broke off, a bitter chuckle slipping out as he realized what he had said. I suppose thats part of it. The Institute was always powerful, present everywhere. They found me even when I was hiding with Jeorg, even when we had escaped Ardalt itself. Now theyre - more men. Everything that used to tower over me is just an inconvenience, one that you or I could address easily.

It may be that we wont have to, Sobriquet said. We dont know that Luc will travel to Ardalt. I doubt even he knows what hes doing next. She shook her head. You know him. Hes as scared as ever, running from one place to the next.

Michael pursed his lips. Im not so sure, he admitted. He attacked Saleh, and that felt like vengeance - but thats not what he spoke of the last time I saw him. He only talked about what he could offer the world. Michael looked at Sobriquet. To save it from me.

That only reinforces my point, Sobriquet retorted. Spouting lofty ideals and justifications at you one moment, but as soon as hes out on his own he lacks any better idea than lashing out at those who hurt him? And even though he managed to shake Salehs confidence, it was scarcely a successful attempt.

I know, Michael said. It just makes me nervous. I hadnt thought him capable of murder, or of violence at all. I wouldnt have said he would dare confront Saf, nor Ardalt. Why should I discount anything that he might do, wrong as Ive been in the past?

Sobriquet gave him an annoyed look. You have a habit of overthinking things, she said. Luc only acts from fear. He hid his souls from fear, took Leires soul because of some invented calamity that he feared you would cause - the same reason he attacked Saleh, to prevent confrontation with you and the Mendiko. If hes run to Ardalt, my guess is that its because the thing he fears most is you - and Ardalt is a place he knows you wont follow.

Perhaps, Michael frowned, considering. Remembering the look in Lucs eyes as he named Saleh a murderer. I think theres more to it than base fear, but - I cant say that youre wrong, either.

Nor should you. Her eyes glittered as she kissed him lightly on the cheek. Whether he is in Saf, Ardalt or some far-flung southern land, it doesnt matter. Well find him, and finally put an end to it.

Michael mustered a smile, despite the automatic correction that his mind supplied. To kill him. I know, he said. He gave her hand another squeeze before standing to return his bowl. The cook - Richter, his mind supplied after a moments fumbling - jumped up to take it from him.

Good stew, Michael said, nodding his thanks. He felt the attention of the men on him, questions circulating unsaid. They werent idiots, despite Zabalas opinion on the subject; the rendezvous with Bidarte and subsequent change of course had sparked some uncertainty among them.

He turned away before any of them could muster the courage to ask their questions. They could wait until he had found his answers.