Ruins (Pathfinder 2)

“One of the best things about finding out I have a brother,” said Param, “is that I inherit all his friends.”

Friends. That’s what they were. She was teasing him like a friend.

“Which is a lot more than I’ll ever inherit from my mother,” said Param ruefully. She turned back to look at the city. “I think that place is so sad. So glorious, and yet they left it behind. All that work, all that marvel, and they walked away.”

“Maybe they ran,” said Umbo. “Maybe they died.”

“Well, they’re all dead by now,” said Param. “I remember being so distraught when Papa died. I wasn’t there to watch, the way Olivenko was, but I loved him more than anybody. And Mother took me by the shoulders and said, ‘Everybody dies, and since we don’t all die at once, somebody’s always left behind. Just be glad it wasn’t you who died.’ I should have realized then what Mother was. Or maybe I did. She was perfect—perfectly selfish. Well, no. Perfectly devoted to the Tent of Light. She had seemed so devoted to me. But I knew then that if I died she’d feel exactly what she felt about Father’s death.”

“Nothing.”

“Annoyed,” she said. “She was irritated that Father’s hobby had gotten him killed.”

“Well, just think how irritated she is right now that you’re alive,” said Umbo.

Param giggled. “She’s still there. Remember? As we were falling, all I could do was slow us down more and more, so a whole night passed, and the whole time those soldiers were there, swinging those heavy metal bars. They’re doing that right now.”

“And we’re still falling toward them,” said Umbo. Instinctively he reached out and took her hand. “Let’s do it again.”

She took his hand and looked at him, laughing. Then her face darkened and she took her hand back. “No,” she said. “Let’s never do that again.”

She turned away and ran lightly back into the grove.

Never do what! he wanted to shout after her. Never jump from the rock with enemies beneath? Or never let me hold your hand again? Or never talk to me. Or never time-jump. Or . . .

Anything he asked would show just how desperate he was. For a few moments it was as if she actually liked him. And then suddenly she snatched her hand away and was gone and he had no idea why. No idea what she actually felt about him.

This is agony. I didn’t ask to fall in love with Rigg’s sister.

She called me her hero.

Umbo stalked off through the grass toward the city until he reached the path. Or road. It was grassy, but in the cold grey light of the Ring, it was as if Umbo could see the road that lay under the grass. It was wide, and while a thatch of grass roots lay over it thickly, no tree grew where the road had been. If we peeled up all this grass, it would still be there, like the roads in the city, changed not a whit by the passing of ten thousand years.

Umbo walked back to the camp. Param had already resumed her place and was either asleep or wasn’t, but wanted to seem so. Umbo didn’t walk anymore. He was wide awake now—she had wakened him even more than stepping in water had. He kept his watch and even after the position of the stars told him that his watch was over, he waited another half-watch before waking Rigg to take his turn. I won’t sleep anyway, Umbo thought. But he also knew that he was letting Rigg sleep to make up for all the terrible things that Umbo had thought about him that day. Not that Rigg had any idea. But punishing himself a little, serving Rigg a little, that made Umbo feel better. A little less ashamed.

Naturally, Rigg noticed that Umbo had wakened him late. “I couldn’t sleep anyway,” Umbo whispered. “No reason for both of us to lose sleep.”

Rigg moved off a few paces. Umbo lay down and, even though he thought he wasn’t sleepy at all, he was unconscious within moments, and then it was morning, and it was as if no time had passed. He thought: Param touched me. Of course I could sleep. I wanted to get to my dreams as quickly as possible.

Except that if he had any dreams, he didn’t remember them.

Being awake at dawn felt perfectly normal to them all—they went about their normal chores, except for boiling water. There’d be no hot gruel this morning. Nor was there any shaving or washing. They needed to hold on to every bit of water for drinking.

“So,” said Loaf, when they had all gnawed their jerky and cheese and had their sips. “You time travelers, are you going to go back and see what happened here?”

“I’d like to,” said Rigg, “if Umbo’s willing.”

Rigg seemed so deferent. Umbo blushed with embarrassment at how he had blamed Rigg for always deciding everything.

Then again, was Rigg really leaving it up to him? How could Umbo possibly say no?

I can say no, if I want to, thought Umbo. “No,” he said.

Everyone except Rigg seemed surprised. “Umbo?” asked Param.

Now that he had refused, he had to come up with a reason. “Are we going to change it?” asked Umbo. “And what if it changes us? What if I send Rigg back and he gets killed? We don’t know how violent these people were. Or what diseases they had. What if Rigg catches the plague that wiped them out? What’s the point?”

“Don’t send him back alone,” said Olivenko. “Send me and Loaf along to protect him.”