She dug her visor out of her gear bag, wiped her cheeks again, and promised herself that it wouldnt happen. Not Palmer. Through clenched teeth, she promised. No one else would die that day. No one. She slung Marcos canteen over her head. It rattled emptily against hers and Palmers. Ill be right back, she said. She scanned the horizon for sarfer masts, had seen dozens in the distance on the sail south, but none right then. Supine on the sand by the sarfers hull, Palmer looked peaceably asleep. This is what she told herself as she powered on her suit and disappeared beneath the sand.
More minutes went by. Palmer stared out over the desert sand. Vic had emptied her canteen into his mouth one cap at a time. His stomach was in knots. Springston and hope felt so very far away. And where could they go once they got there? People wanted him dead. He remembered the way Haps body had been twisted out of shape. What the hell had he gotten himself involved in? And for what? Some coin?
A crow swooped down and lighted on the sarfer. The mainsail flapped, and the
bird flapped back. It pecked the aluminum with its beak, the reaper rapping to be let in. Palmer waved his arm and begged it to go. He wondered what he would do if Vic didnt come back. How long before the sun slid overhead and his shade dwindled to nothing? How long before another diver or a brigand found the sarfer with its flapping sail? How long?
The crow startled, and with a beat of its black wings, labored into the sky. Palmer heard a deep gasp. He turned to see Vic sliding up out of the ground, sand cascading off her and catching in the breeze. She took deep breaths. Rested on the sand for a moment. And then she flipped up her visor and startled Palmer with the barest of smiles.
36 A Note from Father
This is our tent, Conner said, correcting him. Yours and mine. Not Fathers. And we cant very well carry her all the way to town.
Conner went back to his knots, and Rob watched his brother work in the pale light of the starry sky. The horizon was beginning to lighten beyond No Mans Land, out where the sporadic bootfalls of stomping giants could be heard. The sun would be up within an hour, by his estimate.
He turned back to the girl and watched her sleep. They had moved their bedding and the girl out onto the sand in order to collapse the tent. She lay flat on her back with her head to the east and her feet to the west. Sand gathered in her hair. She might appear to be dead were it not for the imperceptible rise and fall of her chest, which lay partly exposed by the rip in her shirt. Rob reached over and pulled the fabric shut, covering her pale flesh. He had watched as Conner had cleaned her wounds. His brother had two extra canteens of water and all kinds of bandages and supplies in his pack. Rob didnt ask about these things. He knew what they were for. He didnt ask why Conner had been out of the tent in the middle of the night. He knew where Conner was going. It scared him to think of being alone, but thats what Conner had planned. Rob kept all this to himself. He often saw how things worked, how they fit together, and had long given up on explaining these things to those older than him. Adults just looked at him with strange expressions when he spoke his insights, like they didnt believe him. Or were frightened of him. Or both.
If youre done fondling her breasts, you can grab my pack and stop this damn tent from flapping.
Rob grabbed Conners pack. No point telling him he wasnt fondling her breasts. It would just sound like he had been. Silence would sound the same way, too. Didnt matter either way, so he saved his breath. He carried Conners pack and set it on the folded tent opposite where his brother was knotting the lines. The fabric stopped flopping around in that pre-dawn breeze.
Make a pillow for her. Up here where her head will go. His brother sounded annoyed. No, something worse than that. Conner wasnt being himself. He sounded scared and unsure. Rob didnt like that.
We should put her head back here and drag her feet-first, Rob told his older brother. To keep the wind and sand out of her face.
Conner studied him a moment. That look. Whatever, he said. Its what adults said instead of: Youre right.
The girl was moved onto the sand for a moment. The bedding went onto the tent, and then the girl went back onto the bedding. All their gear was arranged on the flat canvas, which was now like a sarfer with no skids and no sail. Just two sets of lines to shoulder. It was a long way back into town, but neither Rob nor his brother complained as they adjusted their kers, draped the ropes over their shoulders, and leaned into the task.
What if she dies before we get there? Rob asked.
She wont.
But how do you know?
I just do, okay? Now shut up and do your share or well go in circles.
Rob pulled. He counted his steps. Whenever he could, he counted anything that could be counted. A few years back, he and Conners camping trip had come on a windless night, and when the fire had died down to coals and the stars had burst bright, he had counted five thousand two hundred and fifty-eight stars before he couldnt be sure if he was counting the same ones over again. Numbers calmed him in a way that words couldnt. If he thought with words, they went around in circles and crashed into each other and grew more