“Why are you still awake?” Sirona spoke softly. She still faced away from him, their bodies pressed together and their legs intertwined.
“I’m with you.” Orson gave her a squeeze. She took his hand and put her fingers through his. “I don’t want to waste that time sleeping.” She laughed. “Why are you awake?”
“Same reason,” she said. “I never gave you your gifts. I have new coats for you. They’re so much better, with an interior that can hold your armor and an outer layer that can billow in a very heroic way. They’re perfect for the adult adventurer who doesn’t have to worry about his Tinker Bell boot setting the coat on fire. Oh, and these coats have a new weave, with better climate control. And they’re more flame retardant. I also finally finished the new disruptor I wanted to make for your sword, years ago. There’s a smaller chance of it exploding.”
“How much smaller?” He rested his chin on her bare shoulder. Strands of her hair fell across his face. He’d forgotten the unique smell that meant Sirona, the scent that had clung to their bed and the clothes she’d left behind. For months, he’d held onto that scent, until it faded and he forced it from his mind, one more painful memory.
“A lot smaller,” she said. “It’s the difference between, ‘this will eventually explode if you keep using it’, and ‘there’s a chance this could explode, but there’s also a good chance it won’t’.” She turned her cheek against his face. He breathed deeply and squeezed her again. “You’re sniffing me?”
“I missed you,” he said.
“I missed you,” she said, but she sighed. “I must smell different now too. I bought up as much of my old perfume as I could, but it’s going on six years. I just can’t find it anymore.”
“I’m not smelling your perfume.” He leaned forward to kiss her. She reached up and held his cheek. “It’s you.”
She fell back against him. “I forgot how charming you can be, in your own Orson way. I made myself forget a lot of things.”
“I did too.”
“It’s too bad.” She turned her face away from him and leaned her head back toward his. “Now if you want to sniff me, you get a face full of hair. I’m used to it, but that’s not how I wore it with you before.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “It fits your whole master magic-woman thing.”
“I wondered what you’d think. After everything, I wanted to make a lot of changes. It seemed like the time to do it. And I always said if I grew my hair out, it would only be when I’m not actively on the road anymore.”
“It is different,” he said. “I kinda did miss the short-haircut, adventurer Sirona used to wear, but that’s not what you’re doing anymore. You’re the powerful, wise, magic woman. You need the flowing locks for that.”
“I wasn’t already the powerful, wise, magic woman before?” He didn’t need to see her in the darkness to know she raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t use my words against me.” He rested his face on top of hers. “You know what I mean. You’re the leader now. Your look fits your gig. And you couldn’t write threatening stuff in your braids if your hair isn’t long enough to braid.”
“How do you know about that?” she asked. “You’ve been brushing up on your arcane lore?”
“Melanthymos told me,” he explained. “Back with you phone booth illusion. Something about you cooking people or whatever.”
“She can read story knots?” Sirona slid her head from beneath his and looked up at him. “It’s good she didn’t see me when I first got here. I put a special hello to you in my hair.”
“You did some witchy thing to your hair, to magic me?” He leaned away in mock outrage. “What did it say?”
“It was an invitation,” she said formally. “An invitation to resume our old agreement.”
“Our adventuring agreement?” He lay down again, pressed himself to her, the soft warmth of her skin. “Or the agreement where I selflessly donate my body heat when you train too much and get the chills?”
“Well, what do you—” she began.
“I accept.” He kissed her again. “Thank you for the gifts,” he said. “I’ll take them along. I have a feeling I’ll break them in pretty soon. I, uh, I always try to use your gifts well. I was really sparing with the lantern. I didn’t want to interrupt your life or intrude, with me using it all the time. Well, you already know that.”
“I know what?” she asked. “What do you mean?”
“You know,” he said. “How you’re bound or whatever to the flame of your making. And the lantern is all you. So I was really careful. I was carrying a piece of you, but we weren’t together then. I needed to be cautious when I used that part of you, even just to defend myself. But I only brought it to Norlenheim and then again during this last couple months… What?”
Sirona held her hand to her mouth, but she lost her fight with laughter. She reached out and pulled him close.
“You’re so sweet.” She threw her arms around his neck. “You take my lore so seriously. That’s not literal, Orson. No, I had no idea when you had the lantern. I mean, when I heard about you cutting a whole battleship in half, I thought that I might’ve helped. But that is so cute.” She hugged him and kissed his neck.
“Hey, that reminds me,” he said. “I actually have a gift to give you too.”
“You’ve been giving me gifts for days.” She said, with a nudge to his shoulder.
“No, all of this is for both of us,” he said. “I mean an actual gift. It’s not a huge deal, but I printed a copy of that picture of our first kiss. It’s with the files to go. We couldn’t print a backup of everything, but we have some stuff, in case, well… You need to be prepared. If something happens to us, you still have your key. They’ll still be after you.”
“You have my full faith.” She took his face in both hands. “If you didn’t, I would find a way to stop you from going. And I’d find another way to help those people. Other than waiting to summon everyone who fought with your Enigma Guard against Thunderworks – and who knows if that’s possible now – I think you are the best we have.”
Even lying together in the darkness, Orson felt a flush rise up his cheeks.
“But even if you win,” she continued. “Helmont is not the end, not even the end of the Liberty Corps. And there will be other people after it. No, there are. We shouldn’t doubt that, even if we haven’t seen them. We need a plan. I’ve been thinking about that. I think I’m going to protect the other Key-holders as Keeper of the Truce. If you find them, bring them back. We’ll find the Dreamside Road together. We’ll find a lasting solution together.”
“It’s a great idea,” he said. “I beat Helmont. I find some fantasy people. Then you can take over.” He kissed the corner of her mouth, then her cheek. He trailed his lips across her skin and kissed her neck, her collarbone.
“We should be sleeping.” She wove her fingers through his hair.
“I’m not tired yet.”
“If we oversleep because you wanted my attention…” She had exaggerated sarcasm in her voice, but he knew she was smiling.
And when they touched, he forgot all that waited for him. No Helmont. No Knightschurch. No Dreamside Road.
Only Sirona.
* * *
“What more do you hope to learn?” Kol saw the clock read 10:45, just over six hours before their departure. “Really.”
“Potential numbers.” Max faced their cabin’s table. Dr. Stan sat beside him. They’d assembled two rows of pages, some left behind by Wyll, the rest printed from the Aesir’s computer. “Weapons ranges, troop numbers, specifics about the ships Helmont’s bringing. Everything with the IHSA was modified. Take the lead vessel, the Balor. It’s ostensibly Nimitz-class, but the storage and weapons capabilities are totally different. If we are going to be useful in this situation to come, I need to be prepared to discuss my area of expertise.”
“There is also a fair amount of information about Helmont’s knights,” Dr. Stan added. “Not all of them are known quantities to you.”
Kol imagined the gathered knights, Sir Geber and all the rest, surrounded by their students. He remembered the weight of Geber’s mind on his body. He knew the power they all must have. He’d fought so hard to save himself and Max from their control. Now, willingly, they might face them all again.
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“I’m too slow a researcher to add very much.” Kol stood. “I will need my rest before Shaping.”
“Goodnight, Kol,” Max said.
“Goodnight,” Dr. Stan added.
“Goodnight,” Kol answered. “You know, all of the good-byes and the well-wishes the others received tonight, friends and family and the odd man who called Orson—”
“Teddy?” Dr. Stan asked.
“Yes,” Kol said.
“He’s one of Orson’s closest friends,” Dr. Stan said. “He’s like family to Orson.”
“He’s an heir to the Ookelthorpe family,” Max added.
“Him?” Kol asked. He thought about the faded logo on the doors of the rover that had carried them across the country. “That’s ironic. Are you aware…”
“We drove in an Ookelthorpe Defense Rover for over one thousand miles?” Max asked. “Well, you drove. Yes, I know. Orson’s friend Theodore lived or lives on land just west of the old IHSA testing grounds. This was, I believe, a deliberate choice on his part, and it put him on a collision course with a young Orson Gregory, when the Blitzkrieg’s forces sent him to die in the Mojave Desert. Is that correct?”
“It’s all correct as far as I know,” Dr. Stan said. “They didn’t say very much about the specifics of how they met.”
“How do you know?” Kol asked Max.
“Memoir,” Max answered. “At least to get me started. You were trying to say something before we interrupted you?”
“Yes,” Kol said. He looked away from both of them. “Every time anything happened, for good or bad, or any time I did anything really stupid. Duncan was always there. Now, he isn’t.”
“Given the chance,” Max said. “We’ll ask Helmont where he sent our dear friend.” He smiled, and it was the confident grin of the strong young sailor that Kol had not seen in so many years.
“Take it from me,” Dr. Stan said. “Revenge is, as the say, a dish best served cold.”
“Kol’s trained well enough not to let anything get stuck in his head,” Max said. “The Liberty Corps couldn’t train you the way I was trained, not on purpose. They taught you in captivity instead, by accident.”
“They did,” Kol said. And he could still feel the moment when he resisted Sir Geber’s strength in Max’s testing room, when he turned the knight’s power aside. “Get some rest, both of you.”
Kol took their cabin’s small hallway, bare wood, with hanging paintings of the local scenery.
He prepared for sleep, but long lay awake.
For the rest of the night, both awake and asleep, two images dominated his mind.
He saw Duncan carried away from him by Helmont’s forces.
And he saw Duncan’s old heirloom watch wrapped around Sir Geber’s wrist.
* * *
Enoa lay awake in the near-silent darkness.
Far away, she heard only occasional sounds from Jaleel, still at work in the ship’s cabin. But she paid him no attention.
Tomorrow, she faced her true journey, her real destination.
A season had passed for Enoa since she set out seeking Knightschurch, not even knowing its name. All that she had faced on the winding road – the dangers, the places she’d never imagined, the life among the crew – none of it would have happened if she’d read Aunt Sucora’s letter. None of it would have happened if she’d left with Archie Grant, did what her aunt intended.
But what would training mean? What would it be to learn from a living person, from a voice that was not her aunt’s?
Enoa found no excitement for the next chapter.
She knew too little. Would her new teacher try to change what she’d already learned, methods that had saved her life? What more would she learn about the Dreamthought Project, the Hierarchia, her aunt’s role in that long-gone time?
What would she do, what would any of them do, if Sir Merrill refused to support their quest? What if he opposed the gathering of Dreamside Road keys?
And half of the keys still waited for them, even after Sir Merrill’s and Sirona’s. So much more waited ahead, even after everything, after all those months of fighting. And a third of her year away from Nimauk was already over.
Would she return home in defeat if that time ran out? Could she return, if the Liberty Corps still hunted for keys? How could she hope the Liberty Corps would be gone in such a short time? That could not be.
Enoa sat bolt upright. She threw her blanket aside. She wiped the sudden sweat from her forehead.
She returned to her most basic meditative breathing, ignoring everything. She found that place far away, the mental glade where she did not doubt the impossible, where Shaping could happen.
She listened to her breathing and the faint arrhythmic clinking as Jaleel worked on something out in the cabin. She kept her mind blank, following only her sound and the noises of Jaleel at work, until she felt a chill on her sweaty skin. She pulled the blanket back across her legs.
Enoa did not check her clock. She did not want to know how many hours remained until their flight.
As she’d done for days, she began her transmutation. She spun vapor to water to ice, and back, wheeling the basics of what she’d learned.
Enoa let her Shaping steam away as she finally found sleep.
* * *
“We’ve got our regular food stores and a week more, courtesy of the lodge and Teddy.” Orson held the ship’s tablet. He scrolled through the final preflight list. “Thanks to the lodge’s summer camping area, we have a full water tank and empty waste.”
“And thanks to me,” Jaleel called from the copilot’s chair. “Apparently, first mate is the water and sewage specialist. That must go with being two-ply man!”
“Thank you, Jaleel,” Orson said.
All of the crew and passengers were already in their seats. Dr. Stan and Enoa sat in the row behind Jaleel. Kol and Max were strapped into the armchairs.
“Solar cells are charged,” Orson read. “All systems are in good condition. Ruby, is the Aesir ready for launch?”
“Ruby told me this morning that the Aesir is ready for you, Captain!” Jim called from the couch, where he was belted in place. “It is time to go sightseeing?”
“I am happy to report that we are ready.” Ruby spoke in a more natural cadence, with almost none of the robotic stiffness Orson had heard for years.
“Everything’s really interactive, suddenly,” Orson said.
“We are very excited to travel,” Jim said. “Ruby told me all about flying and all of the exciting places you go.”
“Great,” Orson said. “Yeah, it’s time for sightseeing.” He shot a glance at Jaleel, who was turned back toward him. “We are going to talk about all the learning going on here. Do you have the emergency protective helmet?”
“I spent all night working on it, Boss,” Jaleel said. “Ready to go.”
“Jaleel let me know he made a helmet for me, special,” Jim said. “My first special gift. You are taking us to see a dangerous place, but I’ll be safe if I keep the helmet.”
“Safe as any of us.” Orson scrolled to the bottom of his list. “We’ll have sightseeing for a while, but we’ll need to head above clouds too. Pops sent an update to the mapping system. Looks like some of the new Pacific powers are having a spat. The Free City of Vladivostok and the Republic of Kenai and Kodiak, in what used to be Alaska, are duking it out over part of the Pacific, so we’ll be staying clear of that.”
Orson walked to the front of the cabin and returned the tablet to its slot in the dashboard. He faced his crew and passengers. “We ready?”
Enoa nodded. He couldn’t tell if she was tired, frightened, or sad. She’d gone to her closed-off Shaping place.
“Aye-aye, Captain.” Jaleel gave Orson a two-fingered salute.
“I am ready.” Dr. Stan had the sensor screen already active, a small 2-D map of their course plotted.
Orson looked to the Maroses. Both nodded too.
Then Orson took his new coat and pulled it on. No wires wove through the fabric, not with his boot and blaster both gone. Now, only his armor hid inside.
Orson walked to the open door. He let the coat billow out behind him. The Aesir was parked outside the barn, on the side toward the trees and away from the lodge guests.
Sirona waited in the glow from the doorway. Aneirin and Melanthymos stood at the far edge of the light. Aneirin gave him a small wave. Melanthymos only stared.
“Looks like that’s it,” Orson said.
“Looks like it.” Sirona wore a sad smile. She had her Aesir crew jacket again. Her hair was braided and draped over one shoulder. “Greet Sir Merrill. Hello from the Concealment Truce Keeper.” She raised her closed fist. Red flame erupted into life above her knuckles. “And give my best to Grover.” She let the flames die away.
Orson remembered their last good-bye. After that parting, he did not see her for over five years. He imagined five more years stretching ahead of him, facing another half-decade of horrors before he held her again.
Orson jumped from the ship. He pulled Sirona into his arms and kissed her.
“Sirona,” he said. “I love you.”
“I love you, Orson,” she answered. “Find the Key-holders. I’ll find somewhere safe for us all.”
“And then I’ll be back,” he said.
“We’ll figure out the rest together,” she concluded.
Then he heard the faint sound of music. It was a strange droning, like a low and lyrical bagpipe. Orson looked toward the sound and found Embre approaching. She held an odd instrument, shaped something like a violin, but with keys and a curved crank that Embre turned from side-to-side. It took Orson another moment to realize what she was playing.
The Wayfarer March sounded strange without the thundering brass. Embre’s hudry-gurdy was less brazen, less like the modern world. But the sound had another quality, like the folk myths out of the legendary past. In Embre’s hands, it was not just new music, it was the latest in an ancient tradition.
“Pops sent the sheet music.” Sirona spoke directly in his ear. “Embre kindly learned it. Perfect for sending an adventurer to victory.”
Embre ended her rendition. “I hope you carry legend, Captain Gregory.”
“Thank you for everything,” Orson said.
Sirona kissed him a last time, and he held her a heartbeat longer. But then he forced himself away and jumped back into the Aesir.
Helmont and his ships were already on their way to Knightschurch. Orson could not afford to arrive second.
“Bye.” Orson gave Sirona his cockiest smile.
“Bye. Be back soon. I miss you already.” Sirona smiled back at him, and then there was no sadness. “Don’t forget to tell Grover.”
“It’s over, Grover!” Jaleel shouted.
“If I get the chance,” Orson said. “I’ll tell him.” He was still looking in her eyes when he cycled the door closed.
Orson hurried through the cabin and back to the pilot’s seat. “Thank you for choosing Wayfarer Air for all your adventuring needs. We’ll be seeing a view of the Pacific Northwest, followed by a lot of water, then a lot of clouds. Then we can only really guess.”
Jim cheered from the couch. Jaleel joined him. There was applause too behind him and distant chattering from Wesley in his pen.
Orson triggered the repulsors. He felt the slam at his feet and rose the Aesir into the sky, above the barn, the lodge, and the knobby limbs of the eldest oak.
With a burst from the drives, Orson sent them hurtling into the west, toward Knightschurch.
* * *
Sirona watched the Aesir rocket into the distance. Everything in the clearing flashed with blue like a neon lightning flash. Then the color faded to two bars of light from the Aesir’s twin drives.
“You could have stopped him, you know that,” Melanthymos suddenly snapped. “He’s a fool, but he listens to you. Only you. If you asked him to stay… Stop!” She swatted away Aneirin’s hand when he reached for her. “You sent him to die!”
“No.” Sirona did not look at her. She watched the blue light slowly smear into one remote pinprick. “I sent him to win.”
Melanthymos made a noise like she was about to vomit. Then she turned and stormed away. Aneirin followed in her wake.
“If you plan to come with me to my inn,” Sirona called after them without looking. “We leave after breakfast.”
“We will join you!” Anerin called back. He said something to Melanthymos, but Sirona could not hear the words. Embre walked away too then, playing her hurdy-gurdy. She started into a variation on the Wayfarer March, making it more nostalgic than triumphant.
Sirona listened to the music and watched the fading light, until the last illumination from the ship was lost to the predawn darkness.