Chapter 32

  Hitasa woke to the sound of a door softly shutting. She sat up in Dava’s bed, staring at the entrance to his room. The door was closed, and no one was with her. Morning sunlight slipped through a small window to her right. She had not slept long and she did not feel particularly well rested, but neither did she feel comfortable sleeping in the stranger’s bed any longer. Even alone and guarded by sturdy walls, one of them the endless rock of the canyon face, she felt exposed.

  She had foolishly thought herself safe from Castreier and had not been prepared when he thrust himself back into her life. The man was not dead. He would return.

  A knock sounded on the door to Dava’s room. Hitasa froze. Castreier was the kind of man to knock. The appearance of kindness and formality was an intrinsic part of his interrogation method, and he always stuck to his method.

  Dalex’s voice asked softly, “Hitasa, are you awake?”

  She stared at the door, pondering on how to respond. In the end, she said nothing. A few seconds passed. She heard Dalex’s footsteps move away from the door.

  Suddenly, she felt embarrassed. It wouldn’t have been Castreier at the door, and she didn’t plan on going back to sleep. She should have just told Dalex to come in.

  She rested her head back on the pillow and stared at Dava’s ceiling.

  What had Dalex wanted?

  A second later, she jumped out of the bed and almost kicked the door down. “Dalex!”

  He was sitting at a table in the center of the common room, looking surprised to see her. On the table was an extinguished candle, a wide glossy white brick, and a little pile of thin, startlingly blue tubes. Dava slept on a bedroll towards the side of the room. Hitasa’s appearance had not woken him up.

  “I thought you were still asleep,” Dalex said.

  “Where is the paper?”

  He patted the white brick. “Right here?”

  Hitasa walked up to the table and stared down at it. “This is not paper.”

  “Check this out,” Dalex said. He picked up the white brick. It flexed slightly under its own weight. He pinched its side and pulled away a film encasing the brick like a snake’s skin. It made a crinkling sound as he manipulated it. The brick slipped slightly apart, revealing itself to be a stack of hundreds of thin white sheets.

  Hitasa dropped to her knees and reached forward to caress the edges of the leaves. It was like no paper she had ever seen or touched, but she instantly knew it would fulfill her needs.

  “You really got it.”

  Her voice came out as a whisper. She picked up a single sheet. It flopped over in her hands. She straightened it out, feeling the cool smoothness of the material. It was perfect.

  And then she realized it wasn’t enough.

  She stood up, still holding the sheet of paper. “I don’t have ink. I don’t have a quill.”

  Her feet carried her toward the door leading to the street, intent on finding writing implements. Dalex jumped up to catch her before she left.

  “Fear not, I thought ahead.”

  She looked at him and saw he was holding one of the blue tubes. He gripped one end of the tube and slipped a piece off its top like he was removing a little hat, revealing a pointed tip.

  Taking the paper from Hitasa’s hands, Dalex placed it flat against the wall next to the door and put the tip of the tube to the paper. He ran the tip back and forth across the white sheet, leaving behind a solid black mark.

  She lunged forward and plucked the implement from his hands, replicating the feat herself. He only smiled at her eagerness as she wrote five words. There is shame in our history.

  “Ink and quill in one,” Dalex said. “Ready to go, right away.” He chuckled to himself. “Write away.”

  Still holding the miraculous pen with its own ink reservoir, Hitasa let her hands fall to her sides. She stared at Dalex for a moment and then she hugged him. His eyes went wide, so shocked that he didn’t even have time to consider hugging her back.

  Before he could do so, she let go and snatched the demonstration sheet from his hand on the wall. She gathered up the other paper and pens and dashed back into Dava’s room, closing the door behind her.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  Setting her precious cargo carefully on the bed, Hitasa cleared off Dava’s small nightstand and pulled it around to the foot of the bed. She transferred a quarter of the sheets to the stand and then sat down.

  For a moment, her hand hovered over the paper, pen between her fingers. She sensed Sitoa watching and felt his excitement.

  “I’m going to finish it, brother,” she said to herself. “Everyone is going to read your words.”

  Hitasa brought the pen down as if it were a spear and the top of the page was Castreier’s heart. It bled black, becoming the voice of her people.

  ***

  Dalex stared at the door to Dava’s room and blinked. Had Hitasa hugged him because she was grateful, or had it simply been a distraction to take the page from him? It certainly felt a lot like the latter, but he was just happy she was happy. Granted, he was also disappointed that she didn’t want him to see her writing yet, but he supposed there would be other chances.

  While flying back to Dava’s home, Dalex had reflected on his lack of mana and how he might circumvent that to stay involved in the magic of Gaia. Even if he couldn’t cast any true spells, he could help others write and publicize them. A flood of ideas came to mind, but he put them aside for now.

  The city was safe, Hitasa had her paper, and he needed another nap. Three hours of sleep and some bad coffee was not enough to keep him going.

  Dava hadn’t woken up despite the clamor. Either that, or he hadn’t wanted to interrupt Dalex and Hitasa and was just faking sleep.

  Either way, Dalex returned to the bedroll his host had provided him and snatched another few hours of sleep.

  ***

  When he woke next, Hitasa was still locked away in Dava’s room. Dava was awake as well, sitting at his dining table, sipping from a steaming cup of what Dalex guessed was tea. He offered Dalex a cup and Dalex gladly accepted. He felt much more rested now and tea sounded grand.

  They sat around the table and mostly talked about nothing. Dava didn’t want to dive back into the conversation from the night before, so they stuck to “How did you sleep?” and “The weather is nice today, isn’t it?” For the latter, Dalex did not actually know if the weather was nice, but that didn’t stop him from participating in the small talk.

  Dava did ask after Hitasa, and Dalex informed him that she was awake but that she probably wouldn’t be relinquishing his room any time soon. Dalex offered to roust her out so Dava could have his bed back and regain access to his cabinets, but Dava declined. He didn’t seem to mind her requisitioning his space.

  When his tea was done, Dava departed to take care of hunter business. Presumably, he would also be contacting Metsa, but he did not say so.

  Just before Dava left, Dalex asked him, “Where could I find the home of High Lord Michel What’shisname?”

  After Dava gave him the human’s address and left, Dalex took his own final sip of tea. He set the cup down with Dava’s soiled dishes and went to the door behind which Hitasa was still feverishly writing.

  He knocked softly and said, “I’m going out. If you need anything, just ask the {charm of protection} to contact me. It’s been told to listen to your commands.”

  He heard a grunt through the door and took that as acknowledgment. Leaving her to her work, Dalex stepped out into the late morning sun and stretched. Seventh flew down to meet him.

  “You get any sleep?” he asked her.

  She gave him a withering look and said nothing.

  “Just so you know, you can take a day off any time you like.”

  “Your concept of vacation time is irrelevant to me,” she finally said. “Even were I to disengage from ‘work,’ as you say, I am still connected to the [stealth frigate], its systems, and all other craft at all times.”

  “Ouch. Is there a way to turn that off? I have to imagine even [androids] need a break every now and then.”

  “That is not a built in function of an [android].”

  “Well, think about it. In the meantime, let’s go give Michel a visit.”

  They both took off and flew west out of the city. Michel’s main residence was an estate two miles away from Batulan-bar at the top of the canyon. An exquisite manor sat near the edge of the canyon, giving it a perfect view of both the river and the plains. It was surrounded by acres and acres of farmland for both crops and animal husbandry. According to Dava, Michel controlled the fertile land to the west on both sides of the canyon. Other humans accounted for ownership of the rest of the surrounding area, along with a handful of smaller beastkin landowners.

  When Dalex arrived over the manor, the grounds of the estate were in a hubbub. Elven servants and slaves ran into the building, coming back out with vases and paintings and furniture to be loaded onto a train of wagons sitting in front of the building. Armed beastkin guards patrolled around the manor, watchful for intruders, though they didn’t seem interested in the skies above them.

  Dalex cast {far sight} and searched until he found Michel, standing at the front of the wagon train, observing the proceedings. He looked imposing among his household, both those contracted and those bought. He wasn’t taller than any of the elves, but he was a well-built man, used to looking down on others. And Dalex knew he had magical reserves that his servants probably couldn’t hope to stand against.

  Dalex floated down until he was standing behind Michel. No one noticed him, and so he walked forward to join the man on his right.

  “What’cha doin’?”

  Michel went rigid. The rest of the estate went on working, but he didn’t move a single muscle, not even to look in Dalex’s direction.

  “Some last-minute moving plans?” Dalex asked. “What’s the rush? Are you not getting along with the neighbors?”

  He noticed Michel’s fingers inching toward his right pants pocket and Dalex laid an arm across the man’s shoulder. A jolt traveled through Michel’s body, strong enough to overpressure a can of soda.

  “I have some good news,” Dalex continued. “You can put all of your stuff back in your house. There’s no need to run. I’m not gonna kill you. I won’t even hurt you for that matter. I’ll probably have a look around to see how your staff feels about you. Some of them probably want better work elsewhere. Oh, and your guards are fired. You can tell them it comes from me if you think they’ll be mad.”

  A woman in a fancy white dress walked out of the manor’s front door. She put a hand to her brow and scanned the surroundings for something. “Michel!” she called. “Where are you, dear?”

  Her eyes landed on the subject of her search, terrified out of his mind and with a stranger draped on his shoulder, and she adopted a confused frown. “Who is that, dear? What are you doing?”

  Dalex raised a hand and waved at her. “Your wife, I assume? Is she as delightful company as you are? Why don’t we head inside and have a nice chat. I’d like to get to know the area better, and I think you’re just the right person to ask.”

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