The Elves of Cintra (Book 2 of The Genesis of Shannara)

“I read something about it,” Fixit said suddenly. “They were building computers that could think like humans and were programmed to perform one or two specific functions. But I never actually saw one before today.”


“I wonder what else was in those buildings,” she mused.

There was silence between them again for a time, only the crunch of the wheelchair running over gravel and debris intruding. Owl watched a hawk fly overhead and was reminded of why they were traveling south. She thought back for a moment to how things had been in Pioneer Square for all those years, when they had a home and the outside world hadn’t yet intruded.

She thought about how much she missed it.

“I wish it hadn’t happened,” Fixit said suddenly, the words so soft she almost missed hearing them.

“I know.” She kept her eyes directed forward. “I wish we could change all the bad things that happen to us.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t even think about him being back there.” She could hear his voice break. “Why didn’t I look? All I had to do was turn around. I would have seen him.”

“You were trying to do something brave and dangerous,” she said. “You were trying to save your friends. There wasn’t time to stop and think about anything else.” She looked at him now. “If you hadn’t acted so quickly, they would be dead. All of them. The rest of us didn’t know what to do. You did. You were the only one.”

He glanced down at her, then up again quickly. “I should have looked.”

“It is easy to second-guess yourself now,” she said. “Now, when everything is quiet and peaceful and safe. But you did the best you could in the heat of the moment. I don’t think anyone blames you for what happened to River’s grandfather. Not even River.”

“You don’t know that. She won’t even talk to me.”

Owl took a deep breath. “Let me tell you something, Fixit.

Something true.

The Weatherman was very sick. He had the plague. He had a strain I couldn’t treat, something I didn’t have medicines for. It was a sickness he had suffered from before. River told us. This was just the latest incident. But this is what I haven’t told anyone until now. He was going to die. He was getting weaker, and I couldn’t do anything about it. He was already almost gone.”

There was a long silence from behind her. She waited patiently. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” the boy said.

“Yes, I am saying it to make you feel better,” she admitted. “But it’s also the truth.”

It wasn’t the truth, of course. It was a white lie. River’s grandfather might have gotten better, might have recovered. No one could be sure. But she didn’t think so. She hadn’t seen anything to indicate he would.

And no one could know for sure whether anything that Fixit had done while driving the AV had contributed to the old man’s death. For all they knew, he might have already been dead and no one had noticed. Death in their world was like that: it claimed those around you like a wind gathering fallen leaves, and you didn’t even notice right away that they were gone.

“Did he make any sounds while you were driving?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Did you hear anything?”

Silence. “I guess not.”

She let him think about it for a moment, then said, “You saved three lives.

Three very important lives. If we had lost those lives, we might ourselves be lost. We probably couldn’t complete this journey, our search for Hawk and Tessa, without those three to help us.”

She didn’t say anything more, nor did he, and they passed down the highway behind the AV and the shopping cart like sheep to a pasture as the sun faded into the west. By twilight, they had reached a wayside park where they could pull off and take cover in the trees, back where there was a shelter and fireplace and a few weathered old benches. As soon as they were stopped, Logan set about digging a grave farther back in the small stretch of forest.

Bear and Panther were lending a hand when Fixit walked over to ask if he could help, too. Panther looked at him, and then gave up his shovel wordlessly and walked over to where Owl was unpacking the supplies that would provide them their dinner.

“That old man would have died anyway,” he said without preamble.

“You and I know that, but Fixit isn’t sure,” she replied, looking up from her work. Sparrow, who was helping her unpack, didn’t look up at all.

“Don’t make sense, him blaming himself for this. He did what needed doing or we’d be dead, right, Sparrow?”

“You tell him that, Panther Puss,” she said.

“Fixit ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for.”

“Tell him that, too.”

Owl smiled at the boy. “He needs to hear it from all of us.

He needs to hear it enough times that he’ll start to believe it.”