"You are safe here," the other said, as if reading his mind. "The light hides us from our enemies."
"Light doesn't usually do that," Logan pointed out. "Is this an old Sinnissippi trick?"
Two Bears shrugged. "An old trick, yes. But not a Sinnissippi trick. The Sinnissippi had no real tricks. Otherwise, they would not have allowed themselves to be wiped out. They would still be here. Eat something."
Logan started to point out the obvious, then glanced down and saw that his plate was filled with food and his cup with drink. He gave Two Bears an appraising look, but the big man was already eating, his eyes on his steak and potatoes.
They ate in silence, Logan so hungry that he finished everything on his plate without slowing. When he had taken the last bite, he said, "That was good."
Two Bears glanced up at him. "Picnics used to be a family tradition in America."
Logan grunted. "Families used to be a tradition in America."
"They still are, even if you and I don't have one." The black eyes looked toward the road. "I see you still drive that rolling piece of armor Michael Poole built for you."
"He built it for himself. I just inherited it." Logan stared at the impenetrable black, seeing nothing. "I think of it as my better half."
"The staff is your better half." The Sinnissippi fixed his gaze on Logan.
"Do you remember when I gave it to you?"
He could hardly forget that. It was several weeks after the Lady had appeared to him and he had agreed to enter into service as a Knight of the Word.
He was waiting to be told what he must do. But she had not reappeared to him, either in the flesh or in his dreams. She had sent no message. He was frozen with indecision for the first time since Michael died.
Then O'olish Amaneh, the last of the Sinnissippi, arrived, a huge imposing man carrying a black staff carved from end to end with strange markings. Without preamble or explanation he asked Logan his name and if he had accepted his service to the Word, then said that the staff belonged to him.
"Do you remember what you said to me when I told you the staff was yours?"
Two Bears pressed.
He nodded. "I asked you what it did, and you said it did exactly what I wanted it to do."
"You knew what I meant."
"That it would destroy demons."
"You could not take it from me fast enough then. You could not wait to put it to use."
He remembered his euphoria at realizing what the staff would enable him to do in his service to the Word. He would do battle on behalf of those who could not. He would save lives that would otherwise be lost. He would destroy the enemies of the human race wherever they threatened. In particular, he would destroy the demons.
He would gain the revenge he so desperately wanted.
It was all he'd wanted then, still so young and naive. It was the natural response to his rage and pain over the losses he had suffered–of home, family, friends, and way of life. The demons and their minions had taken everything from him. He would track them down, dig them out of their warrens, expose their disguises, and burn them all to ash.
He had been adrift in the world and seeking direction. The Lady had shown him the way. Two Bears had given him the means to make the journey.
"Are you still so eager?" the Sinnissippi asked softly.
Logan thought about a moment, then shook his head. "Mostly, I'm just tired now."
"I hear your name spoken often," the other continued. "They say you are a ghost. They say no one sees you coming and no one sees you go. They only know you have come at all by the dead you leave in your wake."
"Demons and their kind."
Two Bears nodded. "They speak of you as they would a legend."
I'm not that." He shook his head for emphasis. "Nothing like it." He straightened and eased back from the table. "How are things in the wider world?
I don't hear much."
"There is little to hear. Things are the same as they have been for many years."
"The compounds still resist?"
"Some do. Fewer now."
"America the Beautiful. But only in the song."
"She will be beautiful again one day, Logan. Cycles come and go. One day the world will be new again."
He spoke with such confidence, with such conviction, that it made Logan's
heart ache with his need to believe. Yet everything he knew from his travels, everything he had witnessed, said otherwise.
He shook his head doubtfully. "What about the world right now? What about other countries? What about Europe and Asia and Africa?"
"It is the same everywhere. The demons hunt the humans. The humans resist.
Some humans become once–men, some slaves. Some stay free. The struggle continues. What matters is that the human spirit remains strong and alive."
"Then we are improving our chances of winning?"
The big man shook his head.
"Then what exactly are we doing?"
"Waiting."
Logan stared at him. "Waiting on what?"
The obsidian eyes pinned him where he was. "That is what we are here to discuss." He rose, his big frame straightening. "Walk with me."
He started to move away from the fire and into the darkness. Logan hesitated, hands tightening on the staff. "Wouldn't it be better if we talked here?"
Two Bears stopped and turned. "Are you afraid, Knight of the Word?"
"I'm cautious."
The big man came back and stood in front of him. "A little caution is a good thing. But I do not think you will need it this night. Come."
He started away again, and this time Logan reluctantly followed. They moved out of the circle of the firelight and into the darkness. At first, Logan could barely see. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized that they were moving toward the river and the woods that bordered it. He could smell the sickness of the water, even here. The Rock River had gone bad on this stretch decades ago, poisoned first by chemicals and then by dead things.
He glanced off through the trees, searching for hidden dangers, but found only skeletal trunks and limbs. Somewhere distant, he heard an owl. It surprised him. He seldom heard birds these days. Save for the carrion birds, he almost never saw them. Like the animals and fish, their populations had been decimated by the wars.
"The Lady didn't tell me why I was to come here," he said, catching up to the other. "I assumed it was to be another demon hunt."
The big man nodded. "Your assumption was wrong. The truth, Logan, is that you can hunt and kill the demons until you are too old to walk, and they will still prevail. There are too many of them and too few of us. The world has been sliding down a steep slope for many years, and the climb back will be long and slow and painful. A new path must be found."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that killing demons will not restore the world. Humankind is fighting a war it cannot win."
They walked on without speaking for a time, their footfalls barely audible in the deep silence. Logan tried to absorb what he had just heard and could not make himself do so. Had he just been told that the human race was finished, that no matter what anyone did–the Knights of the Word included–it was over? He could not accept that, he decided. He could accept almost anything else, but not that.
"Are you saying we should just give up?" he asked finally.
The Sinnissippi glanced over at him. "If I tell you to give up, will you do so?"
"No, not ever."
"Then I will not ask it of you."
They reached the bluffs overlooking the Rock. Below them the river wound through its broad channel, silvery and sleek in the moonlight, its clean look belying the reality of its condition. Stunted clumps of dead trees lined the banks on both sides. On the far side, houses sat dark and empty. Once people lived in those houses, families with pets and neighbors and friends, and on nights like these they would laugh and talk and watch television and then sleep peacefully, knowing that when they woke, their world would not have changed.