Ephemeral and Fleeting

by Patricia Reding

  He groaned. “How long is that likely to be?”

  “You should be able to make it in a week or so. Then the two of you can simply walk cross the border from there. That way, you’ll get a truly good understanding of how things are working.”

  “And leave Mara and the twins that whole time?”

  “Have you got another suggestion?” she asked. Then, “We need a plan before you do anything!” she snapped.

  “Fine.” He turned to the flits. “Fuggy, you join Dax. Merc can go with me, later.” Then he addressed Effie and Fleet. “We need the flits spread out more. Aliza needs more of them with her to carry messages as they come in. We’re not getting information quickly enough.”

  “Very well,” Effie said. “We’ll prepare some of our best to go.”

  Through the falling snow, Percival jumped ahead to open the door for Lucy, even as the gusting wind slammed into it.

  She stepped inside and then stomped her feet on the rug. Turning his way, she exclaimed, “Oh, Percival! Thank you.”

  “Sure. Don’t mention it.” He moved away as a group of trainees headed his way. Then he caught up with her again. “Where are you off to?”

  “Dixon and I just met with Professor Hadwin. He’s been studying When the Two May Overcome, and wanted to go over some of his findings. Now I’m going to see Dax off.”

  “Any further word from Mara?”

  She scowled. “Yes, she messaged me again, via the compact. She says the conditions are deplorable, and the food, inedible. Unfortunately, she has no information about Zarek’s plans for them all.”

  She pulled him aside as another gathering of trainees headed out, their boots click-clacking on the hardwood floor.

  “I don’t have the heart to tell her that Dixon and Dax are soon headed to Chiran,” she said, shaking her head. “Honestly, I don’t know what those two are thinking.”

  “We’re going to need more help here, you know,” Percival said.

  “Yes—and I’ve just the person in mind.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, I’ve been unable to recruit him as yet.”

  “Well, you’d best get at it.”

  “Yes. Where are you off to, by the way?”

  “The same place you are. Dax said your hands are too full, so he’s handing some of his plans off to me before he leaves. But I hope you manage to recruit this person you mentioned—and quickly—because I won’t have time for following through on any of them. Our ranks of healers are spread too thin as it is.”

  “Come along then, let’s go.”

  They wound their way through the crowds to the conference room. Upon arrival, they found Dixon and Dax.

  Dax had stacked his backpack, extra weapons, and foodstuffs, near the table on which sat Effie and Fleet, Fuggy, and several additional flits. He stood looking out the window. Upon sight of Percival, he motioned for him to approach.

  Lucy greeted the flits. “So, who have we here?” she asked Effie.

  “This is Spectral, Evanescent, and Scintillation,” Effie said as she motioned to each of the first three flits in turn, “but we call them Spec, Evan and Cindy.”

  Fleet then introduced two others. “And this is Prismatic and Ethereal,” he said.

  “Don’t tell me,” Lucy said, “you’re called ‘Prissy,’” she gestured toward Prismatic, “and you’re ‘Ethel,’” she said to Ethereal.

  The flits grinned.

  “That’s right,” Effie said. “And this is Blink,” she added, gesturing toward the last of them.

  Lucy nodded her greeting to them all. “So, you know what you’re to do then?”

  “Yes,” Spec spoke up. “We’ll only head back this way if we have something critical to report.”

  “Very well.”

  Dixon approached. “Dax is ready to go. One of the flits should stay with him at all times. The others can head straight to Marshall’s camp.”

  Lucy turned to Dax. “You know where you’re headed then?” she asked him.

  He met her at her side. “Yes. I’ll check things out at Marshall’s camp, and then, when Dixon arrives, the two of us will hike to Aliza’s station together.”

  Holding his gaze, she sighed. “I wish you wouldn’t go,” she said. Then she turned to Dixon. “And I certainly don’t like the idea of your leaving. Are you sure I can’t change your minds?”

  “Quite,” Dixon said.

  “Very well.” She addressed Dax again. “Percival mentioned to me earlier that you’re leaving the plans you’ve been preparing, with him.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I have a recruit in mind for working with the defense plans and those we’re preparing for circumventing Zarek’s war machine.”

  “Oh? Anyone I know?”

  “As a matter of fact, I understand the two of you studied together. Petrus Feoras.”

  His brow dropped. “I don’t remember a . . . Wait!” he exclaimed. “Yes, I do. A quiet, serious man, as I recall. Is that right?”

  “I suppose that’s right.”

  “I wouldn’t have taken him for a military-operations type. Still, I think he was in the class below me, so I was already gone by the time he earned his credentials.”

  “Oh, he’s quite gifted.”

  “And his powers?”

  She chuckled. “I understand he’s nearly immune to pain. He can withstand far more than you might imagine.”

  “Interesting. How was that discovered?”

  She cocked her head. “You know, I don’t recall. But I do remember some discussion about how he tested his powers. It seems he could take an extraordinary amount before feeling anything.”

  “Hmmm. Well, in any case, the work will require careful attention to detail. Has he a charge?”

  “He did have. He was just a boy when Petrus first swore his oath. That was decades ago—shortly after he completed his training. And his charge is only recently deceased.”

  “I see.” Dax tapped on the stack of reports he was leaving behind. “Well, do as you think best.”

  “I will.”

  Just then came a knock at the door. Dixon opened it.

  Percival jumped to his feet on sight of the visitor. “Kiera, what is it?” he asked.

  She brushed her tightly curled, cocoa colored hair from her face. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said, “but you did ask us to let you know right away, Percival, if we heard anything of Salus.”

  “I’m about through here. You can wait for me outside and I’ll get your report shortly.”

  “No, wait,” Lucy said. “I’d like to hear your news too, Kiera.”

  “Really, Lucy,” Percival said, nodding her way, “I can take care of it.”

  “Thank you, but I’d like to hear what Kiera has to say.” She turned to the young woman. “Go on, then.”

  “Well, an Oathtaker by the name of Willow, one of the arms-trainers, stopped by the healers’ quarters earlier today. It seems she’d left the city for a time due to a family emergency and only just returned. She was looking for Salus. I told her that he hadn’t been seen for some time and that we had no idea where he’d gone off to.”

  Lucy approached. “And?” she asked.

  Kiera’s brow dropped. “Willow was perplexed. She said that she and Salus are planning to be married, given that neither has a living charge. The day she left, Salus was headed out to visit someone in need of assistance with a healing. He was late in returning, but Willow had to be off, so she left a note for him, letting him know that she’d see him upon her return.”

  “And?” Lucy asked again, urging her on with an uplifted hand.

  “And when she returned, she found the note where she’d left it—untouched.”

  “Did she know where he was headed?” Percival asked.

  “Yes. It seems someone had asked him to meet him at a pub called ‘The Swindler’s Cup.’”

  “Ahhh . . .”

  “Did Salus mention to her who the friend was?” Lucy interrupted.

  “Not th
at Willow could recall.”

  “When was this?” Percival asked. “Did she say?”

  “As near as I could tell from my conversation with Willow, it was about the same time as anyone around here recalls having last seen Salus.”

  “Thank you,” Lucy said. “You may go now.”

  After Kiera stepped out, she turned to Percival. “I’ve heard of this place, The Swindler’s Cup. It’s a sleazy little pub frequented by addicts. Let’s the two of us go there, see what we can find out.”

  “I’m sorry, Lucy,” he said, his head hung low and shaking, “but I’m so overextended. You’ll have to take someone else along with you.”

  “It won’t take us long,” she said dismissively.

  “But—”

  “If we leave now, we’ll be back in time for a late dinner,” she said. Then she turned to address Dax. “So then, if you still insist on going away, I guess you’d best be off,” she said.

  Through the gloaming, lamps bordering the roadways guided Lucy and Percival as they trudged through the snow. Fortunately, it was not so deep as to impede their progress.

  “I do hope we can hurry up with this,” Percival said.

  “It won’t take long,” she assured him as they turned a corner. Then she came to a sudden standstill.

  Ahead of them, no streetlamps offered them guidance, the consequence of having been broken.

  “Hoodlums,” she muttered.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “From this point on, the area is replete with gangsters, addicts and—”

  “We should turn back,” he interrupted. “You could return tomorrow in the daylight. It would be much safer.”

  She scowled. “Come on, we’re almost there.”

  At that moment, a man came staggering out of a door at their right, above which hung a sign that read “The Harlot’s Alehouse.” He bumped into Lucy, then grabbed her arm.

  “What ’av we ’ere?” he asked, his words slurred.

  She pulled free and then reached for Vivacitas.

  “I think we should turn back,” Percival said as he, too, armed himself.

  “Be off with you,” Lucy ordered.

  “Jus’ lookin’ for a bit o’ fun,” the man said. “What else’d ya be ’ere fer?”

  She looked him square in the eye. “I said, ‘be off!’”

  He sneered at her, but then seemed to notice for the first time that she was armed. Glancing Percival’s way, swaying unsteadily on his feet, he grunted before moving on.

  “Lucy—” Percival tried once again.

  “It’s right there,” she said, pointing to the next establishment.

  Seconds later, they stepped inside The Swindler’s Cup. They both coughed from the smoke hovering in the air.

  Lucy marched to the bar, behind which stood a man pouring drinks into four glasses set before him, none of which appeared to have been cleansed after their last use.

  He looked up, furrowed his brow, and then continued pouring.

  “We’re looking for someone,” Lucy said.

  He scoffed. “Aren’t we all?”

  “A friend of ours, an Oathtaker and healer by the name of Salus, was headed here some weeks ago. Do you recall having seen him?”

  He turned to a woman who stood at his side. Her hair resembled a rat’s nest. Her shoddy dress was disheveled, leaving one shoulder bared almost to her breast. He instructed her as to which of the tables she should take the drinks and then turned back.

  “I don’t know why you’re asking me.”

  “Because this is the last place we know he was headed,” Percival said.

  The barkeep laughed. Then motioning his way, with the bottle still in hand, he muttered, “You should know, given that you accompanied him.” With that, he filled another glass, and in a single gulp, finished it off.

  Percival stepped back. “What?”

  Lucy turned his way. She stared at him.

  “It’s a little guy you’re looking for, this Salus, right?” the barkeep asked.

  “That’s right,” Lucy said, meeting his eye once again.

  “Well, he’s the only Oathtaker I’ve ever seen around here—except for your partner there who met him here, and then left with him,” he said before consuming another shot.

  “You’re mistaken,” Percival said.

  “Fine. If you say so.”

  Percival leaned in and whispered in Lucy’s ear, “As you can see, he’s as much an addict as his patrons. We’ll get nothing more here.”

  Nodding, she let out a heavy breath. “I suppose you’re right.” Then, leaving a tip on the counter, she addressed the barkeep one last time. “Thank you for your help,” she said.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Snow had fallen for ten days straight, and there were no signs that it was likely to let up soon. Deep piles of it, around which ran slippery walkways, dotted the campground. To add to the residents’ discomfort, their clothing was cold and damp at all times, and the smell of woodsmoke from the various fires they kept burning, day and night, filled the insides of their tents and wagons.

  Marshall and Dax had spent the past days, since Dax’s arrival, going over plans for the camp given the numerous children that Aliza had sent its way. With the assistance of a few civilians who had traveled there from the palace with the Oathtakers, including Nina’s sister, Erin, and Chaya, they kept the children clothed, fed, and warm. They’d even arranged for the resident Oathtaker with healing powers, whom Lucy had sent Marshall’s way a short while back, to see to their medical needs. Even so, Dax was convinced that they needed more troops from the City of Light to assist. Thus, he sent one of the flits to Lucy with a message to that effect. Having just accomplished that, and as he and Marshall rounded the corner of the tent reserved as a cafeteria, they came face-to-face with Chaya.

  She stopped dead in her tracks. Then, “Good morning,” she said.

  “Good morning,” Dax responded while Marshall merely nodded, acknowledging her greeting.

  “A half dozen more young ones arrived just after dawn,” she said.

  “Their ages?” Dax asked.

  “In their teens. All young men, really.” Chaya shuddered. “In truth, they give me the creeps.”

  “Oh? Why is that?”

  Her eyes flickered Marshall’s direction, then back to Dax. “They’re inside now—eating,” she said, gesturing toward the tent. “But earlier, I had to get a couple Oathtakers to stop the infighting amongst them. Unfortunately, these youths will take no direction from Erin or me.”

  “Oh?”

  “We’re ‘just women,’ they tell us.”

  “Hmmm. So, what were they fighting about?” Marshall asked.

  She sighed. “Everything and nothing. They pester each other, take food from one another . . .” She shook her head. “They act just as I’ve seen most Chiranian troops behave—like bullies.”

  “Wasn’t there enough to go around?” Dax asked.

  “Food?” she asked. “Oh, no, there’s plenty—for now, anyway. Another wagonload arrived just this morning. But these . . . boys . . . show no gratitude whatsoever—and they are never satisfied.”

  Marshall rolled his shoulders back. “Let’s have a look then,” he said.

  Chaya led the way inside the tent. There, sat several tables. Around one, a motley group of young men had congregated.

  The clear eldest amongst them stood as the newcomers approached. He put one foot on the bench before him, and then leaned forward.

  “What’s this?” he asked, chewing on a long thin scrap of wood.

  Marshall turned to Chaya. “We’ll take it from here,” he said. He watched as she set off. Then he turned back and addressed the young man. “We’re just stopping in to have a look. When did you arrive?”

  “Earlier today.”

  “I see. Where was your home in Chiran?”

  The youth grabbed a piece of bread from the basket before him and chewed off the end. Once done, laughing, he t
hrew the remainder at one of his lot. Then, rolling his eyes, he asked, “Why do you care?”

  Marshall stepped up. He took a handful of the young man’s tunic and pulled him closer.

  As the others appeared ready to get to their feet, Dax cautioned them to stay put.

  “Why do I care?” Marshall asked. “Perhaps because it’s through my efforts, and those of my people, that you’re sitting here filling your ungrateful bellies.”

  Scoffing, the youth struggled to free himself.

  Marshall shoved him back into his seat, then glared down at him. “You boys will cause no further disturbances. If you do, I’ll deliver you back to Chiran myself. Have you got that?”

  Just then, the tent flap opened, and Dixon stepped in. “Good, I found you,” he said.

  Marshall acknowledged his presence with a nod. Then he turned back to the youths. “I’m ordering extra guards to keep an eye on you. Don’t forget what I said.” With that, he and Dax headed Dixon’s way.

  “You’ve arrived!” Dax greeted him.

  “Yes. Just now.”

  “It’s good to see you, Dixon,” Marshall said.

  “And you.”

  At that moment, Chaya stepped back inside.

  Marshall turned her way. “I’ll have some Oathtakers guard them,” he said to her. “If you have any further problems, just let me know.”

  “Are you leaving now?” she asked, her eyes downcast.

  “Leaving?”

  “With Dixon.”

  “Oh, no. He and Dax are headed out soon. Why do you ask?”

  She just shook her head. Then she retreated.

  “So, Marshall,” Dixon said, “you’ve brought Dax up to date here?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Good. Then you won’t mind my taking him away. We leave immediately.”

  The Oathtakers stepped through crunchy snow, as a cold cedar-scented breeze blew toward them. Seconds later, two squirrels, dancing around an enormous oak, beat their way up the tree. Then all went still.

  The men pulled their blades out as they looked about for any danger.

  “Nothing,” Dixon said.

  “Right,” Dax agreed, “but keep your weapon handy.”