Shada
door to Emberly’s wagon, Bishop Arumin’s booming shout drove her back a step. It cut through the ringing that the bombing in Ronia had left in her ears.
“You swore to obey Huire’s will, Emberly!”
The bishop noticed Shada first. Usually, he greeted her with grandfatherly cheer. Now, red with anger, he said nothing.
Captain Emberly sat behind his tiny desk, fingers on his temples. Many in the company had headaches from the bombing, which had targeted them but mostly killed ordinary Ronians instead. Between the explosions and the street battle with terrorists that followed, the company had lost three soldiers. Arumin had announced that a group called the Unheard were responsible, though he had kept the source of this information to himself.
Shada stepped out of the warm jungle night of the planet Caidfell and into the wagon’s cramped confines. The captain looked up with a glare.
“What do you want?” As he spoke, he saw her for the first time. The words twisted in his mouth as he tried to stop them. “I’m sorry, Caretaker,” he said, sitting up straight and folding his hands. “What can I do for you?”
Shada nodded in greeting. “I suppose you know what I’m going to say, Captain.”
“Yes. Our route.”
“I’ve heard you insist on crossing the jungle using the north road.”
The captain’s eyes shifted to the bishop. “We were just talking about that. Yes, I insist. The main road is more likely to be watched.”
“I don’t understand.” She kept her tone polite. It would not do to upset Emberly more than needed. “The Lady wants us to take the main road. We must retrace the path she took on her way to Ronia.”
Emberly spoke with visible restraint. “Shada—Caretaker—I’m not sure the Lady is aware of our exact circumstances.”
“She’s the Goddess Huire’s messenger.” It was not a direct response, but it was the core of the issue.
“Her messenger. She’s not the Goddess herself.”
The captain’s boldness surprised Shada. It had the flavor of blasphemy, if not its substance. Maybe soldiers were like that.
Arumin could not contain himself. “She speaks for the Goddess, Emberly. It’s the same thing.”
The captain kept his eyes on Shada. “If I only knew why—”
Shada let her impatience show a little. “Because she knows the route is usable. She’s taken it before.”
Emberly shook his head. “Sheer luck must have kept them alive. We can’t count on that. Plus we’re a much larger group. If the convicts are out there, they’ll certainly spot us.”
Arumin stepped over to stand with Shada, facing Emberly shoulder to shoulder. He had calmed himself with remarkable speed. “You’re scaring yourself over nothing, Captain. The convicts can’t possibly still be alive. If anything should worry us, it’s the jungle.”
He was right as far as Shada knew. Caidfell’s jungle had been deadly even before Ronia abandoned the prison camp. Common wisdom held that the convicts left behind after the uprising must be long dead.
Emberly glanced between the two of them, an expression crossing his face that Shada had never seen there before. He looked trapped.
His next words sounded like a painful admission. “I believe the convicts are not our only enemy.”
When Shada grasped his meaning, she understood his embarrassment. The bishop’s voice changed radically, hinting at a concealed smile. “My Goddess. Captain, have you been listening to the soldiers’ ghost stories?”
Emberly glared. “Those stories persist for good reason.”
The bishop gave him no respite. “If you believe wraiths haunt this jungle, then surely we’d be safer on the main road, out of the deepest wilderness.”
“I repeat: the main road is easily watched. By anyone out there.”
Shada opened her mouth to reply, but the bishop cut in. His voice rose, incredulous. “How can you—”
He stopped himself from saying whatever it was. Maybe there were measures he was unwilling to take yet. Instead, he switched tactics. “The main road is in worse condition than we feared. The north road is narrower. Imagine the state it must be in.”
Emberly had regained his footing. “We’ll cut through.”
“Won’t that take too long?” Shada asked. This matter was outside her experience, but it sounded time-consuming.
“If it does…” Emberly paused. “That’s why we brought explosives.”
The word “explosives” cast a pall over the room. Before that morning, Shada had never heard an explosion. She never wanted to hear one again.
Everything about Arumin betrayed disbelief. He spoke softly. “You say you’re worried about being noticed. Then you suggest we start blasting.”
“Won’t anyone out there hear us, Captain?” Shada added.
“The girl is right. Every living thing within a day’s walk would hear us. What are you really worried about, Emberly?”
“Your Holiness, I don’t answer to you.” The captain’s voice sounded strained. “Huire will judge me. I’ve made my decision.”
Arumin exploded. “Judge you she will, soldier!” His face was red, and his neck muscles bulged. “Tell me about the Goddess! How dare you!”
He flung open the wagon’s door and hurled a last volley. “Her will shall be done. Someone will do it.”
He stormed out, leaving the door open and dust settling.
Shada tried once more. Her voice was tiny in the wake of Arumin’s. “You’re forgetting what matters, Captain. The Lady commands—”
“I’ve forgotten nothing,” Emberly snapped. His usual genteel manner with her had slipped. “I think you’ve misunderstood the Lady.”
“I’ve heard her clearly. She traveled safely with the last caretaker because the Goddess protected them. The Goddess will do the same for us.”
The captain’s head had settled into his hands. When he heard her last words, it jerked up. “She didn’t protect my men who died this morning.”
The words hung in the air. Shada could have answered in a few ways. She could have reminded him that everyone had known the danger when they took the crusader’s vow. But that would be worse than saying nothing.
“No,” she admitted as she walked out.