We set our rendezvous for evening, when it’s harder to be seen, so between the south dock and my shift with Unach, I work relentlessly, dispelling any possibility of her suspicion. After dinner, I make my way up toward the farming walls, where Azmar said he would meet me. I find him easily, and he takes me up to the bridge, tipping his head once to Homper as we go.
No one questions him. They are Deccor, and he is Centra.
I breathe deeply as we step out into the fresh air, the sun nearly set. It paints the sky with swaths of orange and pink, casting long blue shadows across the dry ground, coloring the bridge pastel and deepening the blackness of the canyon.
I walk behind Azmar, the picture of the obedient servant. He even has his toolbelt and pack with him, making him look every bit the engineer on duty. When we reach the skeletal forest, I walk beside him for a few minutes, then I step in front, blocking his path.
“You need to wait here,” I say.
He doesn’t even hesitate. “No.”
“I promised I would go alone.” I look up at him, pleading. “They might have a half trollis in their township, but they’re afraid of you, and I have to keep my word. I don’t think he’ll hurt me.”
He frowns. “They have before, Lark.”
He means Colson and the other humans in Cagmar. Shaking my head, I put my hand on his wrist and repeat, “He won’t hurt me. He’s supposed to be alone, too.”
“And if he’s not?”
I smile at his protectiveness. I’m still unused to having someone worry over me. Defend me. “Azmar, I’ve been honest with you. Just trust me.”
His jaw works, but he nods. “Quarter hour.”
I roll my eyes. “You are not my nursemaid.” I turn and head through the trees, but then I stop. “Only come for me if I scream.”
Azmar’s expression darkens, but he acquiesces, and I am undone by his trust. So I put my arms around myself, holding my pieces together, and hurry through the wood. I don’t want to miss Tayler.
He isn’t there when I arrive at the boulder that marked the spot where we’d caught up to him and his friends. Nervous, I search the forest behind me. No sign of Azmar, and no sign of any predators—it’s too difficult for them to survive here.
I wait another ten minutes or so, standing on the boulder so Tayler will see me. If he doesn’t come . . . I could leave a note, but what if someone else finds it? I’ve no idea how far off Tayler’s township is. It might not be easy travel, if he even planned to return. And I hope he returns. Tayler is hope, hope that there are more of my kind out there who might accept me for what I am, like Ritha does. If this township welcomes Baten, if he belongs and has a family . . . maybe they could spare some acceptance for me, too.
I murmur a silent prayer to the stars. As if in answer, they begin dotting the sky. Minutes later, a narrow shadow moves toward me from the east—too small to be a trollis. Stepping off the rock, I call out, “Tayler?”
The shadow takes a few more steps before snapping, “Keep it down.”
Relief cools me as I recognize his voice. He came.
He stops about four paces from me, hands shoved into his pockets. His attire differs this time—it’s darker and closer to the skin. He’s about two inches shorter than I am.
“I’m glad you came,” I say.
He shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “You spared me. I’m honor bound.”
I’ve never heard a human say such a thing. Many in the past didn’t care if I used my abilities to save their lives. “The trollis wouldn’t have killed you.” Though I cannot speak for Homper.
Tayler scoffs.
“I heard the rest of your band escaped?”
“Barely.”
“How?”
He glares at me.
I hold up both hands in surrender. “You don’t need to tell me.”
“Are you a spy?”
Lowering my hands, I say, “No. I came to Cagmar as a refugee. There are dozens of us.”
He glances behind me. “Liar.”
“I’m a refugee,” I insist, also glancing behind me. The darkening forest appears empty. “My friend, who was with me before, is back there, but he promised to stay put.”
Tayler hisses through his teeth and steps back. “You said you’d come alone.”
“I did. He’s at least a quarter mile off. I can’t leave Cagmar without an escort.”
Tayler shakes his head. “I don’t believe you.”
Rubbing my hands together, I try to think of a way to persuade him. Remembering my satchel, I pull from it a floral disk and press it into his hand. “This is all I have right now. If you look carefully, there are small seeds inside. They come from one of the vines the trollis harvest for food.”
Tayler’s brows knit together as he examines the pink disk.
“I . . . am different from most of our people,” I try. “I’ve struggled for acceptance in many of the townships. So I sought out Cagmar for my shelter. The trollis are a hardened people, yes, but they’re not terrible.”
The floral disk vanishes beneath Tayler’s cloak. “They kidnap humans and make them slaves.”
I consider this. “I . . . heard that they used to, yes. But not anymore. We’re . . . not respected there as a general rule. But I have friends who are trollis. Just like you do.”
Something about that strikes him, for he instantly sobers. “I suppose.”
Taking a deep breath and treading carefully, I say, “You said you have a trollis in your township.”
“Half trollis.”
I nod. “Baten.”
He studies me in the dark. “What about him?”
“He’s accepted? Among the humans? And he’s the only one?”
Adjusting his cloak, Tayler asks, “Why do you care?”
“I told you about Perg. He’s also half-human, and a friend of mine. But he isn’t treated well in Cagmar. Not by most. They have a strict caste system there, and it’s . . . difficult to raise his status.”
“Not surprised.”
I push onward. “But your people accept Baten?”
Tayler shrugs. “We’re not cruel to him. So . . . yeah. His mother is from—” He stops abruptly. “His mother is from our township.”
He must have almost slipped and said the township’s name, not that a name would tell me where it was. My father had extensive maps of this area, but Tayler’s township was not included on them. If it had been, I would have sought out its shelter before turning to Cagmar.
“If you would . . . sate my curiosity,” I try carefully, “how was it that Baten came to be?”
Tayler hunches and shrugs again. “Don’t know. His mother never talks about it. Or talked about it, so everyone says. She ran off, once upon a time, before I was born. Came back a couple years later bursting at the seams.” He clears his throat. “Pregnant, I mean. We all just assumed she got caught up in a raid and taken advantage of.”
I wince at the bleak theory, so much like Perg’s. “Is she happy?” I whisper.
His head snaps up. “What?”
“Is she happy? With her son?”
Tayler looks confused. “I mean . . . yeah. They live in the same place and all.”
A long, slow breath passes my lips. “Good.”