We spread our blankets beside a fire pit overflowing with the remains of previous fires, but there was no wood in sight, and my captor didn’t seem inclined to fetch any. My offer to do it would be refused and perhaps tip my hand, so I ate more salted, dried meat and finished another jar of water as the sun sank beyond the desert.
If it had not been under the circumstances I found myself in, the combination of stars and lantern lights dancing off the calm water would have been enjoyable. The air seemed to pick up moisture from the lake and held it in the air, making it comfortable instead of the dry heat that sucked the sweat from my skin.
My eyes found a rock lining the fire pit the size of my fist. It was near the top edge where I could reach it in the dark. One swing at his head would either knock him out or kill him—I didn’t care which.
The problem was, then what?
I glanced at the obvious answer. The horses. The packs held more water, but the lake also provided more than enough when we needed to refill our bottles. I’d noticed the heavy weight of his purse. That would also leave with me. The shards of broken pottery where I’d placed my blanket had already allowed me to slip three in easy reach, each with a sharp side that would easily cut the ropes.
My biggest fear was not in doing what I must, but of falling asleep while pretending to do so. If that happened, I’d be on that ferry in the morning, and then in Dagger facing whoever paid my captor to take me there. That was a fate I refused to accept.
I breathed deeply, pretending sleep while listening to the man a few steps away. He sat and watched the lake at first, walked around the camp, and later joined a pair of other arrivals with their tales and joined in the laughter. I almost nodded off once and berated myself, but eventually, he returned and checked my bindings before settling in.
In what seemed only an instant, he was snoring, so fast I doubted he was really asleep. I waited. The other men at the next fire pit had quieted, and I assumed they were also asleep. I waited some more.
Finally, I used the edge of a shard and scraped it against the ropes on my wrists awkwardly. I couldn’t make a full cut because of the way the ropes were tied, but my tiny rubs cut a few strands each time, and my hands finally came free.
The ropes on my ankles cut easier. Despite his intentions for me, the next part stalled me. In the starlight, he had placed himself with his head nearest me, a mistake that might cost him his life. Once my hand had the rock in it, a single swing would free me, and I didn’t have to adjust my position to do it. He probably chose to sleep with his head closest to me, so he could hear any of my movements in the dark.
Reaching for the rock was physically not hard. Mentally, it was nearly impossible. It would have been easy to talk myself out of it. My feet were near my captor’s head, so if I made it to my knees and my hand to the rock that I’d memorized its position, my attack should be successful. Killing a sleeping man with a rock in my fist was not easy. If he came at me with his sword, and I held mine, there would be no hesitation in me, but this was different.
He started it, I told myself. And I offered him a reward to let me go.
A slight scuff of warning sound prevented me from moving or reaching for the rock. It had come from behind me, in the darkness, not from my captor. I froze, thankful I had yet to move. The shard was clutched in my fingers as a tiny knife might be, as I heard another wisp of sound like the rubbing of material as a person moved slowly.
Someone was sneaking up on us.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Damon
The story Anna told me was almost impossible to believe—but I did. I realized my mouth was hanging open and slowly shut it. Emma was not her sister. Emma was not even a real person. It couldn’t be true a sane person would think. For me, I’d have noticed. I fought the idea, and it must have shown.
*Look into my mind, Damon. Deep inside. See for yourself.* Anna’s voice was inside my head again, strong. Pleading. Tears streamed down her face, but I ignored them.
I answered, *I’m not skilled enough to do that, but the offer to look makes me believe that you are telling what you think is the truth. I’m certain you are mistaken.*
*No, not good enough. Look! My mind is open to you, and there is no memory of Emma at all before the storm. I’d never seen her. I did not have a sister.*
I said out loud, “Even if I knew how to do what you ask, I wouldn’t. Your most private thoughts would be exposed to me. I wouldn’t allow anyone to do it to me, and I won’t do it to a child.”
“If Emma was never with us at home before the trip, where did she come from and why is she acting like she is my sister?”
A stray thought entered my consciousness. “Do you like Emma?”
“I thought I should. I tried. Sisters should love each other. She convinced me I was confused and traumatized from all that happened, but no, I don’t like her. A few days ago, I caught her snooping inside my head while she thought I was asleep.”
That concerned me. Had Emma been in my mind while I slept? It seemed likely, and I cringed at the invasion of my privacy. “Could you tell what she was searching for?”
“Doubt. She was suspicious I knew about her. She wanted to know anything that said I was on to her, but I closed my mind.”
“Well, the next time she looks, she’ll know for sure,” I said in an attempt to both warn and console her. Making wild accusations could harm us all. Being correct could do the same.
Anna crossed her arms over her chest and said, “I don’t think so. When she was snooping in my head, I found out how to shut her out. I built a wall she cannot get past, and that’s why she has watched me so closely for the last few days. She is unsure if I have discovered her secret or not, and she does not want me to be alone with you or Kendra in case I know who she is—or is not.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that after this little venture of ours is done, she is going to go directly for you,” she said. “If she can’t get the information from me, you’re next.”
I was stunned. If all that Anna had told me was correct, and I fully believed her as impossible as her story seemed at first, she was right. If Emma couldn’t get into Anna’s mind, she would try me. And then Kendra.
She continued, “Only the two of us know about her. You can’t even tell your sister, yet. Not until we figure out what to do about this. Emma is watching and listening. I don’t know what she will do when she finds out we’re on to her.”
“She will see it in my mind. That I know about her, I mean,” I told her. “If she is skilled at this mind-speak, she can see what she wants in me.”
Anna said, as if speaking to a five-year-old, “That’s why I can tell you and not Kendra. You and I talk with our minds. I can show you how to block her, to build a mental wall. Kendra cannot.”
The idea of anyone, even Anna entering my mind gave me chills. I didn’t think I could allow it, not even Anna.
She said, “No, I don’t have to do it to you. Just go into my mind and see what happens when I build my wall.”
I did. Inside, it was not what I expected to find, which was the sharp, crisp thinking of Anna, but a vast expanse of soft, oozing grayness. Like the inside of a cloud at night. My thinking slowed. It reminded me of walking in soft desert sand up a steep hill. I moved but didn’t advance.