him significant advantages. He isn’t…entirely behaving like a hero. Yet. But he has a sense of purpose. He doesn’t like simply standing around while people get away with things. He could technically have done anything on this quest—tried to bargain with the wizard, tried to take the village over and make the people his slaves instead of Sephith’s. He’s trying to save them, and he’s invested in his friends surviving as well.”
Mary noticed Tad’s expression. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s…building all of this.” He tried to clear his throat but there was a lump in it. “You remember when we’d go down to the river sometimes and—no, not that. And just read? You’d get books from the library sales for five cents and we’d climb into that tree and sit all afternoon.”
“I’d forgotten that.” She smiled at him. “We read some awful books.”
“And some really good ones,” Tad said. “I loved books like this—whole different worlds. I could never make something like that up. Justin can, though.”
“Yes.” Mary was still smiling at the memory when she turned to look at the pod. “He knows it’s a game but he isn’t simply going through the motions. He’s building it. But he always did that kind of thing. Do you remember the stories he would make up for his friends in the one with the dice and the figurines?”
“No,” Tad said.
“Oh, notebooks and notebooks full of stories. There are some at home.”
“How could I never have seen that?” He moved to the pod. “How did I…just…not notice at all?”
Mary said nothing. She came to take his hand and he squeezed hers as he looked over the top of her head at DuBois.
“I want to send another message to him,” Tad said.
“Justin knows you love him,” she said.
“We haven’t heard anything after the last one.” He shook his head. “What if he didn’t get it? I need to speak to him. I need to tell him—so many things.”
Wordlessly, DuBois handed him the keyboard and he sat and began to type.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The cart jostled over the roads. It seemed as though a new pothole appeared every few seconds, each one bigger than the last and able to send the cart in a new direction. It would appear that Sephith didn’t spend very much on the infrastructure in the valley.
Justin supposed it was the kind of thing that happened when you were able to fly everywhere you went. He flexed his fingers and scowled.
“For the last time,” Anna said, “stop doing that.” She and Justin were bound back to back with their hands and arms tied together. The situation was not one either of them was pleased about.
“I’m not trying to grope you!” he retorted. “I’m trying to maintain blood flow to my fingers. They’re going numb. I swear if I wake up and I lost a hand—”
“You’re already awake, genius.”
“Whatever.” He fought the urge to wrench at the bindings with every ounce of his strength. All it would accomplish would be to pull Anna over, and if she went, so would he—at which point, there was no way he could see that they’d manage to get upright again.
In the corner of the wagon, trussed to the side like a turkey, Lyle snored. Whatever he was dreaming about made him smile.
“I still say you wouldn’t ever have gotten into that tower on your own,” Justin said finally.
“Who says that was my plan?”
“You, when you marched up to me in the inn and told me Sephith was yours.”
Anna didn’t say anything to this.
“You go on about stupid choices, but if you’d come to me and asked to help, we wouldn’t be in this situation,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, well, we wouldn’t be in this situation if you had asked around to see if anyone else was planning to kill Sephith either. You knew you weren’t the only one who had been sent.”
“If you were the last one the mayor of Riverbend sent, I can see why he sent me, too,” he responded acerbically. After a moment’s silence, he abruptly felt bad. “Look. I’m…I’m sorry. You’re good with magic. You’re probably good with daggers, too.”
“When they don’t melt.” Anna sounded like she was trying not to cry, but she carried the joke off well enough. “And I suppose you should know—the mayor didn’t send me. Also, my name isn’t Anna. It’s Zaara.”
It took Justin a moment to place the name. “Zaara?” He tried to scramble and twist and almost made them tip over. “Fuck, ow. Wait. You’re the mayor’s daughter?” He