Page 57 of Into the West

“All of us there are, Baron. Every Gifted sibling, of even the slightest skill, is in this flotilla. You see, Baron, over the years, Valdemar became our secret home. We rescued each other from the danger of the Empire, and when we Saw your Plan, we put our own in motion. None remain in all the Empire. We wanted both security for our kind, and the end of our presence in the Empire, denying them our gifts. What they’ve done to our ancestors is . . . unforgivable.” Angia’s voice just stopped for a moment, and she recovered. “If we didn’t need to protect ourselves so thoroughly, we’d have openly offered our aid to you. But we just couldn’t.”

“I’m sorry for what happened to your people. I appreciate your plight, but you are still mucking about in the mind of an entire people’s leader. That’s not right. Even if I like the results.”

“I promise you, Baron. I promise we have respected your sovereignty. We agonized over whether to tell you at all—but the consensus was, you deserve this explanation. Not so you can count on us as if we were known advisors, but so you don’t balk against your secret allies when we help you. We feel like you deserve to know and, with your clear head, understand us. To truly think it through, with context.” She sniffled, unsurprisingly for the weather, but there may have been more to it than that. “Another thing. All this isn’t easy on us, either. We have to decide what possible futures to act upon, to do the least harm. Sometimes, there is no way to avoid tragedy. Danger does not always have a preventable moment. Things will hit us all.” She sounded very downbeat about that. “When we help you take a path that will kill sixty people instead of ninety, we’ve still been part of killing people. It’s never easy.”

“I understand. I’ve done things that I’m not proud of, and it unbalances and sinks my heart.” Kordas let that just rest there a while. Angia didn’t interrupt the silence, and eventually, Kordas resumed. “The Red Forest keeps throwing me off. When I think plans through near it, I feel resentment, and I want to kick someone in the throat. It batters my emotions, and I have to work harder every time through just to stay level-headed. Are you all helping with that?”

“Not much,” Angia confided. “We give you a mild boost in positivity when we can, without getting you drunk on it. But that’s what I’m telling you—even when we nudge you, it’s still you. Just—my advice?—reconcile the fact that you have positive forces on your side that you can’t quite define, and feel good about it. In practice, really, it all adds up to this one thing for you: trust your intuition. When you feel a decision is right, trust that. When you have a flash of intuition, here’s what it is: you are aware of that sudden feeling, but behind that impulse is more analysis, imagination, and forethought than you’re consciously aware of. You have thought it through, so quickly it felt like you didn’t. You were unaware of the process, but you gave yourself an answer. So listen to yourself.”

“So . . . intuition . . . instinct. They aren’t divine gifts? They’re just—fast thinking?”

“Fast thinking, fast feeling, comprehension. You’ve worked hard to be like this, so embrace the benefits of the work.”

“This is dizzying. But I can see the reason in it. Obviously, you have to protect yourselves, and if I’m being honest, I need the help. Just—don’t take anything away from me. I can forgive, and even come to appreciate, your trespass upon me, but don’t override me. Don’t ever take away who I am.”

“I’m not sure anyone could. But I get it. As someone who’s spent her life hiding and pretending, the things in my life that I feel are intensely mine are vital to my sanity. They form the Angia I know.” After twenty heartbeats, she simply said, “I feel good about us talking as soon as we could.”

Kordas made ready to get to his feet again. “Answer me this. Why here, in the black and cold?”

“Good question, Baron, which brings up a good point to make.” Presumably, she gestured around, and Kordas nestled back in. “A few marks ago, I realized the opportunity for everything we found in our predictions about talking with you would present itself tonight. We knew you and I would talk. All any of us perceived about when and where was this general timeframe, starlight, darkness, cold wind, and a strange land as the setting. No distinct scents or sounds, and no way to count the marks passing.”

Kordas laughed. “So, wait, you’re saying that even your certainty is a puzzle?”

She laughed too. “The powers must think they’re pretty funny, the way only a few bits of knowledge get handed out. What to do with that knowledge, well, we still have to sort that out ourselves.” She sniffled and took on a more somber tone. “Kordas. Listen. We’ll need to get back soon. Even before the Palace incidents, we knew we were needed. You took on too much, and it would have crushed you and those around you a dozen times over. If we have compromised or diminished you, we apologize deeply.” Then, after another pause, “How do you feel about all of this?”

Kordas chewed on his lower lip a while. “I feel like . . . I’m disappointed that I am not everything I thought I was. I never knew I was being helped. I thought I led with smart moves and charisma.”

“You do. Every star above here as my witness, if you were anyone else, we’d never have left the old land at all. Unless we’re stuck with them, believe me, we don’t back morons. Morons are only for strong disappointment and weak comedy, and puppets are tedious.”

“Thanks for that. Truly. The other way I feel is deeply appreciative. I mean, I prefer to know when I’m collaborating with someone, but in this case, the results are good for everybody. I may feel differently later, and resent my manipulation in a hundred ways down the line, but for now, though—I can live with this. Only my pride is hurt, and lives are saved.”

“Don’t think you’re any less brave or clever, Baron. We loaded the dice, but make no mistake, the dice were still thrown. Your success comes from being the person you are. The rest follows.” Angia rubbed her hands together and Kordas imagined this same discussion, but someplace warm instead. He liked that discussion better.

“Angia, this makes me wobbly inside, and I need to be as sharp as gar teeth. I’ll second-guess everything now—I’ll wonder if any decision I make is a bad one because maybe you didn’t have any visions, and it’s just my own decision. I can’t believe you’re telling me that I am actually favored by fate. History has shown that being a Chosen One turns out . . . just awful for everyone except the playwrights.”

Angia barked a laugh. “Hah! Nah. Me, I don’t see you as the Chosen One type. You know how to back off before you get yourself martyred. Listen, Kordas, we know how people work. You are about to go through a lot, I can’t lie. Have faith that even when surprises happen, things will be better,” Angia soothed. “Don’t worry about everything. Just do what you know is right. Don’t feel bad that your prayers were answered. You should feel good about it.”

She made sense.

“It doesn’t lessen you to be helped. It means someone else was willing to put themselves out to uplift you.”

That sounded true to him. Most of his best memories involved that.

“We care about you. We’re very close to you.”

There was truth in that, too, he was sure. That was a great feeling.

“And don’t bother yourself about remembering everything. Over the next few minutes, we’ll make sure that all you specifically recall is a cold night, with no results of note, in pleasant company.”

The time out, if he thought about it, was a reset for his nerves. Sure, it was cold, but this night was really something he’d needed. He felt like his thoughts had cleared of congestion from being out here, just observing.

They sat there together in the dark as the bitter breeze gleefully stole more of their heat, until he finally sighed. “I don’t think there’s anything more that’s going to come out,” he said.

Angia levered herself up off her rock. “I think you’re right. Well, it was worth trying.”

He was reluctant to open the shutter on his lamp—but he also felt very reluctant to fall over something and break his leg. And he kept glancing back over his shoulder until they were well out of sight of the forest, and the lights of the barges beckoned to them welcomingly.

“One more set of barges tomorrow, and we’re through,” he said, as much to himself as to her. “It’s mostly storage: things no one needs on the journey, but that we will need when we find a place to make our land and we’ve gotten ourselves established.” And the Spitters and Poomers, he reminded himself. In the end, I don’t think I’d care if we lost those, but after all the work the Dolls did in funneling them to us, I don’t have the heart to unload the boats and leave them on the bank somewhere.