Chapter 13
“WHAT IS THIS?”
Kye grinned. Whatever it was, he thought, she was excited about it. That alone warmed him, even as it made him wary.
Also excited was the boy with her, although he wasn’t grinning quite so widely as he stole sideways glances, as if he expected to be slapped down by the Raider at any moment.
“Dek,” he said, and saw a shift in the young man—barely more than a child, and one of the newest arrivals—as he called him by name, “what have you two come up with?”
Encouraged, as he’d intended, the boy held up a paint-stained shape. “This.”
“Picture it,” Kye said excitedly, “showing up on every still-standing wall in Zelos. Imagine the town waking up after longnight, and seeing this everywhere. Better, imagine the bedamned Coalition waking up to find this image painted on their own walls!”
The Raider stared at what she held, trying to see it as she did. Finally, he shook his head; all he could see was a vague shape cut out of a piece of what had been the thin metal siding of one of the crates they’d liberated in the last raid. He’d doubted the contents would be of any use, but Kye had eagerly seized the supply of paint.
“You have the artist’s eye, not me. You will have to explain.”
Her grin widened. “We’ll do better. We’ll show you.”
She looked around. Nodded at Dek, who gathered up what they’d brought in and walked to the far, back wall.
“A smoother wall would be better, but this will do,” she said.
Dek held up the thin sheet of metal, placing it flat against the wall. Kye grabbed up the other items she had brought in. He recognized one of the cans of paint, and what was apparently a nozzle of some sort. She deftly attached the device to the can, then turned to the wall. In mere seconds she was done and the boy was carefully lifting the metal sheet away.
He stood there for a moment, staring. And more than a little amazed at what she’d done in just a few lines and shapes. For there on the wall was the Raider. In a stylized form, but unmistakable. She’d even managed, by some clever outlining, to give the impression of the helmet and the scars. And with the rippling dark shape of his coat billowing behind him as he strode forward, toward the viewer, even he could see the power in the image.
“Give me three teams of two, and we can blanket the city. If we can spare more, hit the outskirts, and it’ll be on every fence, every cottage wall, even a few trees. You saw how quick it was to do. And how silent. We know how the mist flows through Zelos on longnight; we can follow it, use it. They’ll never know until daylight, when it will be too late; everyone will have seen it.”
He could not argue with one facet of her impassioned plea. And her energy, her drive was contagious. Even Dek was grinning at him now.
“You see, sir? That we do it under their noses is almost as good as what it is.”
“Exactly,” Kye agreed.
For a moment, all he could think about was the risk she would be taking. And that he thought of her risk before he thought of those who would accompany her warned him he’d once more let his guard down too far.
“I see the value,” he began, keeping his gaze on the image, not daring to look at her face when he already knew, despite his efforts, that his voice had softened for her.
“Of course. Think what it will do for the morale of the people of Zelos. If only because they will see the Coalition flummoxed.”
“And angry,” he warned.
“But they will find no one who knows anything, for we won’t be seen.”
“I see the value,” he said again, well aware that the power of the Raider went far beyond the actual man, and building the legend was nearly as important as the raids themselves. “but ordering six people—”
“Eight,” Dek corrected, with a glance at Kye. “I mean, we’re going, right?”
“Absolutely,” she said with a grin. “It was your idea, after all.”
The boy grinned back. Kye turned back to the Raider. “And you won’t have to order anyone.”
He raised a brow at her beneath the helmet.
“We already have double that in volunteers.”
Clearly, he wasn’t the only one who saw the value, even if it was only in blatant defiance. And they would have cover, he thought. On longnight, that protracted night of the Ziem year, the mist grew deeper, thicker, more concealing, until your hand would vanish in front of you before you fully extended your arm. Only those with the vision for the glowmist would be able to stay together, see each other or anything else moving.
“All right,” he finally said, “but with the warning that should something more crucial arise—”
“Of course,” Kye said. “This is merely spirit-lifting. A chance at, say, a cargo of rail guns would take precedence.”
“I don’t underestimate the power of lifting the spirits of Ziem,” he said softly, looking at her at last. The smile she gave him then warmed him far beyond what was wise to allow. She was affecting him too much. He was afraid one day he might hesitate to give a necessary order, because it would put her at risk. Or someone else would die because he was trying to keep her safe. He could not let that happen. This fight was bigger than all of them. But he was having to remind himself of that more and more.
“Let’s get started,” Dek said, excitement clear in his young voice. “We’ve got to make more of these stencils by tomorrow night.”
“With you,” Kye said, sounding nearly as excited—and almost as young—as the boy had.
“The Spirit is with us,” the boy exclaimed as he ran out.
In the doorway, Kye turned back to look at him. “Oh, I forgot. Fair warning. We had to test it a few times until I got it right.”
He drew back slightly. “And?”
“You’re sort of all over the walls out there,” she said gesturing toward the main room.
He didn’t know whether to laugh or groan, and ended up simply closing his eyes and giving a rueful shake of his head. When he looked again, she and the boy were gone.
“IT’S QUITE DELIGHTFUL down in Zelos these days,” Brander observed with a grin. “All those dramatic posters of the Raider painted everywhere.”
The subject of those dramatic silhouettes didn’t turn as he answered. “I’m still not certain it was worth the risk.”
“If you’d seen the Coalition racing around like maddened brollets trying to paint over them all, and then running out of paint because we stole it and used it to make the very things they’re trying to wipe out, you’d think differently, my friend.”
The Raider did turn then. “I never said it wasn’t a good idea.”
“And,” Brander added, “you won’t have any skin left if you keep that up.”
Brander slouched in the makeshift chair in the corner of the Raider’s private quarters, watching him as he stood before the fire, sleeves rolled up and head bare, as he did only in this room. One hand was at his face, worrying at the mass of scar tissue, the part of his disguise Brander knew he disliked most, but also agreed was the most crucial.
“It itches,” the man muttered, but he stopped.
“Better than hurting,” Brander said. “Speaking of which, how’s the wound?”
“Fine. Healed. For the most part. Did I not prove that?”
“You moved well enough on the raid,” Brander agreed. “But do not forget I saw you after, when you could barely stand after the strain. Jakel’s laser pistol is brutal.”
He heard the long breath the man let out. “It was as well I did not have to run in our escape.”
Brander grinned. “Riding is much better,” he agreed.
He got a rare smile in return.
“I’m just thankful that blessed ringtail made it safely home to Eirlys.”
“Your idea worked well.”
Pleased, Brander said, “The flock will be happy with this success for some time. Time enough for you to get some rest.”
“I—”
“I know. You would prefer to hit them again, now, while they’re still reeling and cursing your name.”
“Yes. It would double the blow.”
“And make them doubly angry. Perhaps enough to start purging again.”
That hit home. Brander knew neither of them would ever forget the horror of people being pulled off the streets and out of their homes, to be slaughtered in front of them all. As both warning and demonstration of the Coalition’s intent and ruthlessness, it had been beyond effective. Not many had the steel to resist them after that.
Until the rise of the Raider.
He made a suggestion. “They know we have those air rovers now; they have to be wondering when and how we will use them.”
The Raider studied him for a moment. “You mean it might pay to let them steep in it for a while?”
Brander nodded. “They’ll be strung up, at high alert. And even the Coalition can only maintain that for so long. They’ll get tired, sloppy.”
“It is a good point.”
“You yourself have said you do not wish to force them to call in aid from Legion Command, to crush Ziem totally. “
“Yes.”
He didn’t sound convinced. Brander understood; his blood was up, they’d succeeded on this raid beyond anyone’s hopes, and he wanted to strike a maiming, if not killing blow.
“You have also said unpredictability is a large part of our success.”
“I talk too much,” he muttered, and Brander knew he’d won.
“Rest. You need sleep, and you’ve sure as hades earned it. Time enough to strike again when they have relaxed.”
“The weapons that were in the rovers—”
“There is no way they can find them. They are safely cached, in the places you ordered.” A grin flashed across his face. “Well, except for those,” he added, gesturing toward the table against the far wall, where lay a brand-new blaster that looked as if it had never been fired, a laser pistol even bigger than the one that had caused the injury that had taken the man out of action for so long, and the other two long guns Brander himself had separated out of the haul.
Only three of them knew the prized weapons well enough to use them, and now they would have the chance to hone those skills with new ones rather than the battered relics they’d been using. He had been grinning when he’d grabbed his own. His commander had said nothing about the extra one, which suggested to Brander that he knew what it was intended for. Even now, he was staring at it, his brow furrowed.
“You know she must have it,” Brander said quietly. “She is the best shot of us all.”
“I know.”
How could he not, given she had outshot them all in testing, including that unbelievable dead center hit from the west wall to the bell tower, at an impossible angle and distance. After that, and her reckless but stunning success in sending an entire caravan of Coalition mining carts over the side on the steep road to the mines, no one had questioned her swift rise in the ranks to become the Raider’s number three. They all knew that after the death of her father she had the fire in her blood, and the faith of the Raider, and they accepted her wholeheartedly.
“She would not stand for you curbing her because she is female.”
“Nor would I do it. She is a fighter, and it would kill her spirit to be told she cannot.” His mouth quirked. “And she would not stop even if I ordered it.”
“I think she would do anything for you. Except that.”
Brander didn’t draw back from the sideways look that got him. “You’re the smartest man I know,” he said simply. “You cannot be unaware of her feelings for you. Even if she’s not quite clear on which of you she loves.”
“I lay no claim to any knowledge at all of the female brain. Besides, it matters not. There is no time for such. Not in the midst of this war.”
If he knew nothing else, Brander knew when to cut his losses. “I think the Coalition doesn’t quite consider this a war.”
“Yet.”
It came with a grin, and Brander knew he was still jubilant over the success of the raid. Five brand-new air rovers was a triumph. A good moment to make his proposal.
“I’ve been thinking. If it’s true that the new post commander is a fan of chaser, perhaps I should set up a regular game.”
He watched as the Raider considered his words. The man knew he was the best chaser player in the city and beyond. It wasn’t that he never lost, but more that he could always judge when the other players had an unbeatable hand. In the long run, which was what he played for, he always came out ahead. And he rarely made anyone angry at him, for he took care not to have blatant runs of good luck that might lead to charges of cheating.
“That,” the Raider said after a moment, “sounds like a double problem. You cannot afford to lose too much, but with the Coalition, you cannot afford to win too much, either.”
“It would be a fine line,” he agreed. He pulled a single Romerian withal out of his pocket, held the golden coin up to gleam in the firelight. “But if I play it right, the real payoff would not be in withals.”
The man’s gaze narrowed, pulling the mask of scars tighter. “You mean information.”
Brander nodded. “Who knows what I might pick up? Just as we learned about the changing of the guard.”
“At the risk of putting your face before them enough that the chance of you being recognized in a fight goes up considerably.”
Brander’s gaze flicked to the scarred half of the Raider’s face. He knew it was his protection, that the mass of scars not only made him look more bloodcurdling, but also served as distraction. No one noticed much else about him before they instinctively looked away from the ruin of his face.
But he said nothing of it. Instead, he merely shrugged. “Me, a wastrel gambler, running with the Raider? It would never occur to them.”
“Not just running. His second in command, closest friend, and good right hand.”
The words warmed him, but he kept his own light. “They’re too busy looking for you to worry about me. Besides, I—”
He broke off as a tapping came on the door. In the pauses between the knocks was the same combination of lengths that identified them on the way up the mountain. Kye.
Brander saw a look of resignation coupled with acceptance in the Raider’s eyes. Brander rose, glancing again at the table that held the other two long guns, then at his commander.
“Good luck,” he said with a flashing grin. His answer was a pained grimace Brander had never seen prior to a Coalition battle. He waited until his friend and leader picked up the battered metal helmet and put it on, masking most of his face except the scars. Heard him cough slightly, as if roughening his voice was a physical thing. Then he went to the door and pulled it open. Gave the woman waiting there a wink as he shifted the long gun on its sling over his shoulder. Her sharp gaze followed the movement, and he saw it linger for a moment on the coveted weapon.
“Good luck,” Brander repeated.
“Wish it to him. I don’t need it.”
“Already did. More, because he will need it, my fiery cousin.”
She gave him a disgusted look. He laughed, and edged past her back into the great room.
He would give much to be the proverbial zipbug on the wall for this one.
“SO IT IS TRUE,” Kye said as soon as the door closed behind her cousin and the weapon he’d had in his hands. “There were long guns in the rovers.”
The Raider finished settling the helmet in place on his head, adjusting it to hide the half of his face that he apparently thought even worse, or perhaps just more in need of protection than the visible half. Then he turned.
“A few, yes,” he said.
His voice was its usual raspy, rough thing. She still found it not unpleasing. But then, she admired him so greatly she had to admit that could color her perception.
She focused on his eyes, that classic Ziem blue in contrast to her own turquoise shade. Some said her color was more prized for being rarer, but she thought with the black rim around an iris the color of a sun-season sky, his were much more striking. She was long past being distracted by the scars that twisted across his face. He looked weary, she thought. And yet energized at the same time, as if the vigor of the successful raid on the transportation annex still carried him.
She shoved her worry about him into the barred cage where she made it live, alongside the other feelings she had for him that would, given the slightest encouragement, blossom into something even more foolish. She could not allow that encouragement. There was too much at stake to let her personal feelings interfere.
And in that moment it struck her that this was very like the decision Drake had had to make. His family responsibility outweighed all else, and so he had had to close the door on anything else, including his feelings for her.
For a moment, she wobbled, her stomach knotting, her heart aching with the pain of wanting something so very much, and knowing she could never, never have it.
“Kye.”
The Raider said it quietly, with a new softness in his voice, and the warmth it sent spiraling through her nearly was her undoing. Her gaze shot to his face, his eyes, and for an instant, she saw an echoing warmth, before it vanished from the cool blue of his eyes.
She struggled to regain her composure. “Where are the rest of the long guns?” she asked.
“They are cached, along with the rest of the arms. For now.”
“Yet Brander has one.” She folded her arms across her chest. “And you as well, I presume.”
“Yes,” he said mildly.
She’d expected this battle, and was ready. She had few qualms about facing down this legend among men, but she had meant to stay calm, present her case coolly, irrefutable item by irrefutable item. But that softening of his voice, that flash of heat in his eyes, had thrown her completely. She ruined her plan quickly, words pouring from her like the Racelock at the narrowest part of the gorge.
“That makes no sense. I’m the best shot of all of us. I had the long gun when we only had the one. And I used it well, until it was fried by that rail gun burst.”
“Brander is a fair shot himself,” he said mildly.
“As are you. That’s not the point. The point is that I’m better than both of you.”
“I see you’ve lost none of your confidence.”
“And why would I? I didn’t miss with that old piece of—” She stopped, knowing she was heading the wrong direction. She tried again for calm, but this mattered so much it was difficult. “It is only logical that a long gun be in the hands of the one who can make the best use of it.”
“Indeed.”
Her brows lowered. “So?”
When he spoke it was gently, and she could have sworn she saw a flicker of . . . something in those vivid blue eyes. Laughter? Teasing? From the Raider? On top of that bit of heat she had seen in his eyes?
“Had you looked before you launched, you would have seen there are yet two on the table there. Mine . . . and yours.”
Her head snapped around. She stared at the two weapons. Felt color stealing her neck and into her cheeks. It took some nerve, but she turned back to face the man she admired above all others.
“I am sorry. I was prepared for a battle when there was none.”
“I would have you save that fervor for the enemy. But do not mistake me, Kye. Would I rather that you stayed safe at home, or at least here in camp? Of course.”
“I could not!”
“Being a carrier of the long gun means dangerous, solitary missions. Often on your own, apart from any backing or aid.”
“Haven’t I done that for months? I cannot sit safely back while others fight.”
“I know that to do so would suffocate you.”
“Would that others would be so clear-sighted,” she muttered, but she gave him a smile that held everything of her regard, and her thankfulness that he did not coddle her.
For the first time, he looked sad. “You are an artist, Kye. I would give anything for you to be able to become what you were born to become. It pains me to see your artist’s eye turned to such work.”
“There is no place for art in this world the Coalition has created.”
“I know.”
She thought she had never heard more pain and sorrow than in those two words.
But it was the Raider, the warrior, who spoke then. “It is a wise commander who knows the skills of his troops and uses them. No matter what I would prefer, I would be a fool not to use your sharp eye and steady hand.”
He could not have said anything that pleased her more. Except, perhaps, that he wanted her safe because he loved her. But he was the Raider, and those words would never come.
And she would be the fool if she thought otherwise.