He hadn’t been sure Ehri and Fal would remember the pact. Hadn’t even been sure if they’d been the ones who tipped off Akkad to the plan. The snakebite had been a suspiciously convenient get-out for both of them. But that was an unworthy thought, and he’d never truly believed it. The Ehri he knew would have been torn with guilt at not being there when it counted, and she would have done anything to make it up. As for Fal, he went where she did, as always.
He watched the others checking their weapons and making ready. They were well-drilled and purposeful. Among them was the Vard that Silo had seen standing at Akkad’s side in his hut. His name was Griffden. The rot in Akkad’s world had gone deep, it seemed.
~ How will you do it? he asked.
Fal lit his own roll-up. His fingers were finally still as he breathed in the smoke. ~ Last time we were betrayed. This time we won’t be. He suspects nothing. He only has four guards on his hut, and two of them are ours.
~ And you? asked Ehri, dropping her roll-up to the ground and grinding it out.
He caught the tension in her tone, and gur te groessed at its cause. She was the driving force behind this uprising. He should have seen it immediately; it could only be her. She might have been glad to have him back, but his unexpected return threatened her. This was her rebellion.
I need a map, he said.
We heard. You’re looking for Gagriisk.
And when you have it? Fal prompted.
Cap’n needs me.
We need you! Fal protested, aghast. ~ You’re a legend in this camp. You’re everything Akkad isn’t. He won’t even let us raid Sammie camps for the medical supplies we need! But you, you’re ruthless.
He’s right, said Ehri, though her voice was tight and her eyes flinty. ~ After we’re done with Akkad, if you were with us, they’d unite behind you. People remember what you tried to do.
I’m no leader, said Silo.
No, said Ehri. ~ But I am. And I would have you on my side in this. They’ll follow you.
Silo sucked on the last of his roll-up, hard enough to make his throat burn, then spat in his hand, docked it out and put it in his pocket. An old habit. Leaving smoking dog-ends around the jungle was a sure way to let an enemy know you were near. ~ They followed me once. I won’t bear that burden again.
Ehri had taken a step away from him. Something was dawning on her face. Something ugly behind her eyes.
You didn’t come back for us, did you?
No, said Silo. He indicated Frey. ~ I came back for him.
A Vard? she sneered.
A friend. An old friend.
Older than us? Fal said in disbelief.
Ehri had turned her face away from Silo. She radiated disappointment. He hadn’t come back to reclaim his place. Hadn’t come to inspire anyone. He’d come for a map, and then he was going to leave. Turn his back on his people for the second time. Turn his back on the cause.
"Why are you looking for Gagriisk? she said, her voice distant and unfriendly in the warm murk of the night.
" To free a prisoner.
"A Murthian?
"A Yort."
Ehri spat on the ground. ~ What happened to you, Silo?
" I tried and failed.
"You tried and gave up, she said venomously. She could scarcely disguise her scorn now.
" Ehri… said Fal, ever the peacemaker. He reached out to touch her, but she shrugged him off angrily.
" You promised Akkad medical supplies and food, she told Silo. ~ Deliver them, and you’ll have your map.
" That’s fair, said Silo.
She crossed her arms. ~ You have transport? For fifty?
" They’ll fit.
" Ehri! said Fal. ~ Gagriisk? You can’t be serious.
" That place has been a byword for the murder of Murthians since we were born, she snapped, rounding on her husband. ~ There are hundreds of our brothers and sisters being worked to death there right now!
Fal was hurt, his delicate features drawing together into hard lines. ~ And you want to attack it?
" Yes! And every free Murthian will hear of it. It’s exactly what we need to get the young men behind us. To show them that things will be different after Akkad.
Fal shook his head. ~ It’s suicide.
She glared at Silo. ~ It’s what Silo would have done.
Silo looked down at the ground and nodded to himself. He deserved all the ire she directed at him.
" We don’t need you, she told him. ~ Take your captain. Go back to your craft. By dawn, this will all be over.
" What about Akkad? he asked. ~ What will you do with him?
" That’s not your concern. You’re no part of this.
Silo turned away. ~ Time is a factor. I hope to be back tomorrow, or the next day at the latest. Be ready.
He walked over to Frey. Behind him, he could hear Ehri organising her people. They would sneak back to the camp, and do what had to be done. Silo’s path led in another direction.
Frey looked up as he approached, then past him, noticing the activity. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked.
It took Silo a moment to switch his brain back to Vardic. ‘Tell you on the way back,’ he said.
‘We’re not going with them?’
‘Nuh,’ he said.
Frey reached out an arm and Silo helped him up. Frey frowned. ‘You alright?’
‘I’m good, Cap’n,’ he said.
Frey let it drop, and Silo was grateful for that. He wondered then if the reason he’d stayed with this man for so long was not because he had nowhere else to go, or because he feared to come home, but because deep down he believed Frey would understand him if his past ever came to light. Maybe Frey was the only man who could.
The day he’d found Frey dying in the crashed Ketty Jay, he’d also found the body of a young Dak boy in the hold, shot dead, with a rifle nearby and a bloody bayonet affixed. Since there were no other crew on board, it didn’t take a genius to work out what had happened.
They’d both failed as leaders, and they both knew it now, even if neither had ever spoken of it. Their reactions to tragedy had been different, though. Silo chose never to lead again, thinking himself unworthy to decide anything for anyone. Frey carried on being a captain, on the condition that he didn’t have to care.
But time had made him care. Time, and the things they’d been through since Retribution Falls. And now the weight of expectation was crushing him. Silo saw how it killed the Cap’n to be dragging them through his problems, making them atone for his mistake. It would shatter him if one of them died for his sake.
He wished he had the words to convince the Cap’n that his crew were behind him. That it didn’t matter whether it was his problem or everyone’s: they were in it together. But he didn’t think he could. He didn’t have the right to give advice about leadership. Not any more.
Nine years passive. Nine years a slave of his own making. And now here he was, full circle, a lesser man than when he started.
That didn’t sit right with him. Didn’t sit right at all.
Pinn was frustrated.
He sat on the dirty metal floor of the quarters he shared with Harkins. His little Samarlan gewgaw lay in front of him, on top of several sheets of paper covered in crude diagrams. The damned thing had broken two days after he bought it, and now the clockwork bird sat motionless in its cage, its cheeping forever quieted. But it was still a thing of beauty, a mysterious masterpiece forged by craftsmen who possessed a skill just short of sorcery. And it was most definitely not, as Malvery had repeatedly claimed, ‘just a knackered old rip-off piece of junk.’
Harkins was asleep in the lower bunk, twitching violently, as if he dreamed of being mauled by something horrible. Pinn was glad of the peace. Harkins hated him working in the room, and he’d complained about everything: about the light being on, about the noise of Pinn’s pen scratching, about Pinn’s loud and noxious farts which caused him to gag and which made his vision go dim. But this was Pinn’s inventing space, so Harkins had been forced to put up with it, until he was finally overpowered by the meaty fumes from Pinn’s arse and slipped into unconsciousness.