Whispers Between Towns

They arrive in Burmal some days later. The other wagon does not.

Even split between only three, their rations barely last them to Burmal. Raum can't imagine how the others fare – seven people divvying rations for five, or really four people. Are they still stuck on the flat? Did they follow the navigator into the mountains? Though his optimism usually holds, this time, his unease defeats it.

The second his radio finds reception, Raum announces on a public channel that a wagon went missing near Burmal. Reyl slaps him.

At touchdown, he addresses Burmal's sheriff. Though the wagon may simply be behind, and not lost, he agrees with Raum's initiative. He deploys scouts over an area demarcated by Raum as the group's most likely position.

Then it's time to split. Sticking around gives people time to think of inconvenient questions, and moreover serves them no purpose. They ought to rent a wagon from somewhere and immediately depart for Indris.

Problem: insufficient funds. Reyl reminds Raum of the earrings Aquila gave him to pawn. Raum declines, finding them too sentimental, and suggests they try hoofing it.

It's not as insane as it sounds. This is the preferred method of travel for qualified veteran Trivia Venn, and Indris is only a couple days away by foot. Reyl agrees without too much complaint. She's sick of wagons anyway. Raum seconds that sentiment.

News on the radio tells that scouts found the party – indeed lost in the mountains and desperate for water. Rescue efforts to bring them to Burmal proceed. They're thin, but not skeletal. They're exhausted, but not lifeless. Still, their unanimous survival is a miracle, attributable only to their early detection.

A wagon passes them the next day, only to stop and its driver to alight. The twins don't recognize him – but he recognizes them. Say, aren't you the Ordish boy who helped find that missing wagon?

Nah. Wrong guy, he replies.

It doesn't matter. The driver knows. He namedrops them as Raum and Reyl, compliments them for the work, and offers them a ride. They decline. Though somewhat put-off, he continues on his way.

This is exactly the attention they don't want, gripes Reyl. Now rumours gonna be circling all around this area. She hopes he's happy with his stunt.

Yes. He is.

Reyl knows he is. He's always happy with his fucking stunts. Problem is this time there's assassins on their ass. Forget about those? The assassins?

No, I haven't forgotten. Reyl gives up, disgusted. Raum, also, lets himself feel disgusted.

He knows his sister is – selfish. That she does bad things. But never before has he felt so inclined to, pragmatism aside, detest those behaviours.

Reyl sighs and asserts she'll deal with whatever happens. Raum, abruptly guilty, apologises. Fighting can wait for when they're back home and safe. ...Not that they ever really fought, back there, or found themselves particularly safe, two facts Raum abruptly realises are likely related.

The next day, with the gates of Indris within sight, they encounter another wagon. They are another vigilante group hunting the cult – and they followed the same rumours as the twins. In fact, they are now returning from the rumoured cult hideout to Indris. Raum asks them how it went.

Poorly, they reply. They found the settlement abandoned. Rather recently, too. But nothing proved the place had belonged to the cult. Just that someone had been there, took everything with them, and left.

So where'd they go? Raum wonders, and the vigilantes reaffirm his guess of: probably Indris, if anywhere. It's the closest settlement. And if not Indris, hell knows. There's nothing but open grasslands for miles, prone alternatively to thunderstorms and bushfires.

Raum thanks the vigilantes for their time, but it's disappointing news. Their lead is dead and poorly replaced. As they debate whether pursuing the settlement would now be worthwhile or desperate, Raum and Reyl reach the portcullis gates of Indris.

Of all things, what defeats them is paperwork. The assassination has tightened nationwide security and the officers at the gate want ID. They have no money for bribes and Reyl can't reasonably threaten the guards, so, assuming the universal efficacy of Ordish negotiation, what remains would be for Raum to kneel and—but when the officers reread their listed names Raum and Reyl, they demand the twins stay put while they find someone to corroborate their identities.

It's plainly not routine hospitality. Somebody is pulling strings.

The guards keep them in a detainment room at the city border. Hours pass in silence before the radio on their overseer’s hip crackles, frantically spouting some military jargon. Instantly, a bang and a rumble shake the room. Black smoke billows through the street from upwind, as officers bark and yell, scrambling to usher pedestrians away. Raum calls out. An officer unlocks the door and urges them to follow him — quickly.

Together they soon break away from the crowd. The streets the officer guides them down are not crowded so much as scant, then not scant so much as empty, lined with rundown buildings. While the officer reassures a suspicious Raum that yes, this is the way to safety, Reyl draws her knife.

She attacks. The guy bolts deeper into the streets, Reyl pursuing. But that means she’s only continuing to follow where the guy wants her to go. Raum rushes to advise her to wait, but by the time he catches up, she’s already subdued him outside a row of ramshackle houses.

She demands to know the guy's game. Raum warns her to relocate immediately.

The door of an adjacent house flips open. The silhouette of the woman in the doorway is intimately familiar.

“Hey kids," Desiree laughs. “Knew you'd make it."