A faint squeal in Abbee’s dream turned into a louder squeal when she woke up. She was in the chair, and momentum pushed her against one side. The train’s brakes. They were slowing down. Abbee realized they’d left Akken and she hadn’t even noticed.
The train came to a stop. Abbee stood up and looked out the window. The golden afternoon sun lit a small collection of buildings. The escarpment was close and reared up overhead. Abbee knew where they were. The escarpment tunnels. She and Ipsu had run up and down the tunnels several times during their travels. She remembered the last time, when she’d wagered they could ascend faster than a train. Ipsu hadn’t been a betting man, which was good, because he’d have lost.
Abbee cracked the window and heard the clank of tools, shouts, and, somewhere in the distance, birds calling. It was good to hear the environment. She lost situational awareness in this sound cocoon. Maybe what she needed was some peace and quiet. Rest and reflection. Shut out the world, hermit in this cabin for six days, and arrive in Kiva fully rested. It had been a long time since Abbee had been able to shut the world out for more than a day.
She was about to close the window when she heard a knock on the cart. On the outside. Abbee peered through the window but couldn’t see the front of the passenger cart from her angle. She’d have to open it and poke her head out, and the whole point of this journey was to escape notice.
A moment later, the sound of a door opening. Havren’s voice. “What? We don’t take … oh. Right. Sorry, of course. My apologies. I didn’t … Yes, we have room. What? Ah, yes … yes, there’s someone like that on the train. Got on right before we left.”
Abbee swore and opened the window. She got her head out in time to see someone climb up onto the cart. She saw their backside. Dark cloak. Abbee went to the door and listened. The outside noise masked sounds inside. She darted to the window, closed it, and returned to the door. Heard Havren’s muffled voice somewhere on her right. A door closed. More footsteps heading aft.
The train jerked beneath her feet. They were underway again. Abbee wished she’d gotten a good look at whoever had boarded the train. They might not be here for her. Could be here for someone else. Abbee doubted it. No coincidences. Suspicion kept her alive.
Well, her gift kept her alive. Suspicion kept her from agonizing injuries.
***
Abbee stayed in her cabin when the train halted for the night. She listened at the door for footsteps in the cart. Heard a couple of sets. She cracked her door open but didn’t see anyone. Maybe she should get off the train. Now was her chance. There was also a good chance of being followed. She didn’t know who’d boarded, didn’t know their capabilities. Could be a mover.
A knock at the door. Abbee looked around the cabin for a weapon. “Who is it?”
“Me, madam,” Havren said. “I’ve brought you supper.”
Abbee cracked the door. Havren stood outside with a big tray of food. Wonderful smells of meat and bread reached Abbee’s nose, and her stomach almost took over her decision-making. “Just you?”
Havren frowned. “Yes.”
Abbee opened the door wider and poked her head out into the corridor. Empty save for Havren. “Come in.”
“Is madam always this jumpy?” Havren asked as he entered with the tray.
“Who did we pick up at the escarpment tunnels?”
Havren deposited the tray on the sofa table and straightened to look at her. “Uh …”
Abbee held up a silver coin. “Who did we pick up?”
Havren looked at the coin. Abbee saw him see it. He walked past her to the door. Half turned and asked on his way out, “Will there be anything else, madam?”
“Yes.” Abbee tried to get a gold coin from her pouch and accidentally pulled out a ruby instead. She held it up anyway. “Havren, who did we pick up?”
Havren saw the ruby. Blinked. Shook his head. “I’m sorry. I … I can’t.” He closed the door behind him with a sharp snap.
Abbee swore. Havren was afraid of whoever had boarded. Very afraid. If he’d been thinking more clearly, he’d have taken the ruby knowing that Abbee wouldn’t have been in a position to demand it back. I should get off this train.
She sat down and ate instead. She’d need the energy. Whatever she didn’t eat she wrapped up in a napkin for later. The napkin was made of finer cloth than all her clothes. She found herself wishing for some frosty bread. No, crispy bread. Abbee didn’t know why she’d thought that. She didn’t like crispy bread. For a long, strange moment, she wondered why not, and perhaps she should give crispy bread another chance. Abbee frowned and told herself to stop thinking about it. Crispy bread was disgusting.
She stood up to leave. Sat back down. She wasn’t running from a mover through the woods in the dark. Staying in this cabin didn’t make her feel better, behind a flimsy door with a flimsy lock, and a latch instead of a doorknob. No way to wedge something under the door to keep it from opening. Her dinner had come with silverware, and she considered keeping the knife. She’d need one in the woods. It was a butter knife with a dull edge, but it was better than nothing. Abbee left it on the tray. A mover could use it against her.
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She felt trapped by her options. She could go on the offensive and confront whoever had boarded the train. No. There might be more than one. Maybe they’d marshal the train’s drovers to help them. She’d be walking into certain capture or death. Abbee went into the sleeping compartment. The inner door slid too. It had no lock. She went back out and sat on the sofa. Watched the door. Positioned her left arm so her bolt thrower pointed at the doorway.
She watched all night.
***
Abbee awoke with a start. The train was moving again. She’d fallen asleep. Abbee couldn’t believe she’d fallen asleep. She admonished herself for sleeping on watch.
A knock at the door. “It’s me, madam.” Havren. “I have your breakfast.”
Abbee stood up and unlocked the door. For a brief moment, she thought she should let Havren open it, but opening the door herself seemed like a good idea. A flicker in the back of her head screamed at her. What was she doing? The flicker vanished. She opened the door.
A dark shape lunged through. Abbee caught a glimpse of bright red blade. She felt a sharp pain in her belly. She cried out and stumbled back. The shape became a hooded cloak with a blond beard shot through with silver. A man. He followed her in.
Abbee tried to remember her weapons. She had a weapon. She knew she had a weapon, but she couldn’t think of using it. She couldn’t think straight. She couldn’t think.
The red blade flashed again. Abbee felt another deep wound in her stomach. She wanted to raise her arms to defend herself, but her arms didn’t move. It was a good idea to keep them down. Her stomach and chest hurt, and she was bleeding.
Mote exploded from her wrists. Her mind cleared. Slowly. Like someone was pushing gauze down into her brain, smothering her fear, smothering her thoughts. But she fought it. As her gift worked to close her wounds and heal her, it burned away whatever had clouded her mind.
A telepath. This man was a telepath.
Abbee saw dark armor plating on his legs beneath his cloak. Saw the bottom of a blue sash. Red blades in both hands. Knives. No bolt thrower on his arm.
Wait. I have a bolt thrower.
The man jumped back as Abbee raised her left arm. He dove out into the corridor.
Clack-clack-clack. Bolts thudded into the wall across the corridor. Abbee stumbled forward. She had to get him while her gift worked, while it kept him out of her head. She’d been cut by a red blade before. Her gift could heal that, but it took longer to start, took longer to finish. She might pass out while her gift worked. Had to get him before she passed out.
Abbee staggered into the hallway and slumped into the wall for support. Pain ripped through her stomach as she moved, doing more damage. She’d lost track of how many times she’d been stabbed. Mote fell in a steady stream as her gift worked overtime to heal red blade damage. Moving hurt. Everything hurt. Abbee’s head felt fuzzy again.
Havren was in the corridor. A dark arm across his throat, red blades shining. The hooded man was using Havren as a shield. Abbee should shoot him, but she didn’t know if the bolt thrower was smart enough to avoid hitting Havren. Don’t shoot Havren. She didn’t know if that was her thought or the telepath thinking for her. Havren inched forward. Abbee thought about backing up. She should back up. Backing up seemed like a good idea. She backed up to the cart door. Abbee wondered where all these good ideas where coming from, that maybe they weren’t her good ideas, but they seemed reasonable. Opening the cart door was a good idea. She opened it.
Wind roared in from outside. No railings. The ground whipped by at a nauseating speed. The train moved so fast she couldn’t make out individual rocks or trees close to the road. It was all a brown-and-green blur. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all. None of them were. The telepath was still in her head.
The hooded man pushed Havren aside and lunged forward, red blades raised. Abbee thought maybe she should defend herself. She stood there like an idiot instead. She did nothing. The man buried the blades up to their hilts in her chest. She felt them crunch through her ribs like they weren’t there and pierce her lungs and heart. Felt her heart quiver and jerk.
The man yanked out his knives. Blood spurted out of Abbee. Her legs wobbled. The hooded man gave her shoulder a light push with the hilt of his knife. She collapsed backward off the train. The wind grabbed her as the man’s cloak fell open, and his blue sash fluttered. The world spun. Bleeding and dying, Abbee hit the ground. Bounced, arms and legs flailing, and hit a tree. Bones snapped. She crashed into something else. Pain chased everything away into darkness, and she knew no more.
***
Abbee opened her eyes and sucked in a breath and held it. Her throat felt full, and she coughed. A wet, choking cough. Something sticky and warm spattered her lips, chin, and cheeks. She rolled over on her side and hacked up bloody phlegm onto the dirt until all her muscles screamed in pain. She coughed some more. Mote sifted from encrusted wrists. Somewhere in the midst of her agony, Abbee realized her hands itched. It was insult to injury, to itch while in pain.
She was in a ditch. All the trees around where Abbee lay were dead. The grass, bushes, everything wilted and brown. Several dead birds littered the ground beneath trees that had shed their leaves early. Abbee crawled up through dead underbrush and who knew what kind of ivy to the top. The train was gone.
A telepath. She’d fought a telepath armed with red blades and lived. Barely. And her gift had done all the work. She’d stood there and waited while a man had sliced her open with knives. No wonder she’d waited so long in her cabin. Waited to die. The telepath had probably been doing her thinking for her ever since he’d boarded the train. That meant a Class Four. A Three could send thoughts to her, like a speaker, but it took a Four to make it seem like the thoughts were hers. Abbee still felt stupid. The crispy bread thing should have alerted her. Abbee hated crispy bread.
The telepath had pushed her off a moving continental train. If she was lucky, the telepath thought she was dead from both the fall and her wounds. If she was unlucky, he knew about her gift and suspected she’d survive. Abbee decided the telepath didn’t know. If he did, he’d have made the train stop. It took a long time to turn a continental train around, but if he thought she’d lived, he’d be back here, poking through the bushes. He probably thought the same thing as the House soldiers watching her bouts. Somebody was helping her, healing her. Maybe her healer friend, Whimsy. Red blades to the heart. Nobody survived that.
Abbee touched her chest with tentative fingers. Lots of holes in her jerkin. Three, no, five slices. She looked down and saw new pink skin where gaping wounds should have been. She wished hard right then that she’d taken Ipsu’s sewing kit from his satchel. I won’t need it, she’d thought. Fool.
Her jobs case had somehow held while bouncing off a tree. But she had no knife. No flint and steel. Just a bunch of gems and a repeating bolt thrower in the middle of nowhere. Akken was to the west, a few days’ hike from wherever this was. Abbee headed east. When the road bent north, she kept going straight and disappeared into the woods.