Bearers of the Black Staff

Of course, there was still the matter of getting Prue back safely, and their chances of doing that were less easily measured.

“Listen to me,” the Gray Man had said to Pan after all was revealed and the question of Prue’s fate was a cloud they could not get out from under. “Listen carefully, because this will not be easy for you to hear. We can’t go back for her just yet. No, say nothing until I finish. We cannot go back because we must first go to our people and set them to the task of saving themselves. It is the life of one girl versus the lives of thousands. We must act responsibly and choose the latter. Once we have done what we can in the valley, then we can act to save Prue Liss. She will not be forgotten or abandoned. But she must wait her turn, and you must be patient.”

There were a dozen arguments that Panterra could have made about this approach, though he knew that doing so would achieve nothing. The Gray Man was right about the importance of delivering a warning first. But Pan made up his mind that before any meeting with Taureq Siq and its inevitable fallout, he would go back for Prue. He didn’t know what he would do when he found her. He did not know if anyone would go with him or if he would end up going alone. He only knew that whatever the case, he was going.

Besides, he could not shake the nagging feeling that Sider Ament would do whatever was expedient in all matters, this one included. If it became impractical for him to do something about Prue, he would find an excuse for abandoning her. It wasn’t that he didn’t mean what he said or didn’t intend to do what he could; his work as a bearer of the black staff simply meant that he must always balance gains and losses in making his choices, and that sacrifices were inevitable. Panterra understood why this was so for the Gray Man. But he would not allow Prue to become one of those sacrifices.

When they stopped for the night—as Sider had decided they should, too much in need of rest to complete the journey on a single trek—Panterra took his doubts and his fears to one side, away from the others. He watched as the Orullians rolled themselves into their blankets and went straight to sleep. He watched Arik Sarn do the same. Phryne lay down close to him, her face turned away. Even Sider, positioning himself at the edge of their concealment where he could look back across the valley, found rest of a sort, his eyes fixed and staring, his gaze blank, his breathing slow and even in the silence. Pan needed to sleep, too, but he was still thinking of Prue, still caught up in his regret and shame at leaving her behind. Her skills and experience notwithstanding, she had been his responsibility in their partnership as Trackers and in their relationship as childhood friends, and he would never be able to get past that. It didn’t matter that she had absolved him and told him to go; the guilt was still there, a raw wound that would not close.

For the first time since he had returned, he thought about having to tell her parents what he had done. How could he do that? What could he tell them? Anything he said, unless it was a lie, would be devastating.

He sat staring out at nothing, lost in thought, wrapped in his remorse and dismay.

“I’m sorry I told you to go,” Phryne said suddenly, her voice not much more than a whisper.

He glanced down at her, startled. “What?”

“I shouldn’t have been so insistent. This is my fault; I know that. I wish I could take it back.”

“About Prue?” He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Mostly, it’s mine. I left her.”

“But you wouldn’t have had to do that if you hadn’t gone to look at that fire, and you wouldn’t have gone to look at that fire if I hadn’t insisted.”

Panterra edged over so that they were almost touching. He leaned down. “I made the choice to go, Phryne. I didn’t have to do so. I didn’t have to take Prue with me, either. So you don’t need to blame yourself, or apologize to me.”

“I feel like I do. I feel like I need to apologize to everyone.”

He smiled in spite of himself. “I feel like I need to crawl into a hole.”

She was silent a moment, retreating into herself. “I won’t be satisfied until we get her back, Pan. I’m going to tell my father everything and insist that he do something.”

“Well, I hope he listens to you. I hope he believes what you tell him.”

There was another pause. “I’ll find a way to make him believe.”

“I expect you will.”

She was silent for a long time then, and he was about to find a place to sleep—or at least try to—when she said, “Would you lie down next to me? Just close enough that I can feel you?”

She didn’t explain, and he didn’t feel that he should ask her to. He just did as she asked, sliding close as he lay down facing her back. Using her blanket, she reached back with the trailing edge and covered them both. She didn’t say anything more, but soon he could hear the regular rhythm of her breathing and feel the heat of her body.

He went to sleep not long after that.