The door opened. Wenda walked in. She saw Ronan. Ashyn flew across the room before she could cry out.
"Yes, it's Ronan," she said. "He had to sneak in. Something's wrong. The children are being held here."
"How?" Wenda asked.
"I don't know, but Moria isn't with them."
"Then he lies," Wenda said, turning on Ronan. "The boy lies."
The boy? Ashyn had never heard Wenda call him that. Nor had she heard that hard edge in the child's voice.
"I saw Moria. I know I did." Wenda's tone changed now. Childish indignation.
Ashyn relaxed. "I'm sure you did. She must have escaped. Now, Ronan's going to lead us out--"
Wenda looked alarmed. "Out? Why?"
Ashyn explained as quickly as she could.
"And you believe him?" Wenda said when she finished. "He's a thief."
Ashyn felt a surge of anger. "Who helped us through the Wastes."
"Because he wanted a reward. Which he doesn't think he'll get because he abandoned us out there."
Reward? When had the child heard that? They'd never discussed it. Nor had they told Wenda that Ronan was a thief.
Ronan had moved forward and was watching Wenda, his eyes narrowing.
Wenda went on. "If these bandits stole the children, why wouldn't they have taken us captive at Edgewood? Why let us come across the Wastes alone?"
Now Ashyn stared at Wenda. This did not sound like the words of a child, nor the reasoning of a child.
"We can't go!" Wenda said suddenly, childlike again, tears springing to her eyes. "We can't! Ronan's wrong, Ashyn. He must be. He's made a mistake." She looked up at her. "We're safe now. We have food and water, and they're taking care of us. We can't go back out there."
"Then you can stay," Ronan said. "Ashyn?"
She looked from Ronan to Wenda. Outside, she heard voices.
"They're coming," Ronan said. "We must go. The child will be safe." He turned to Wenda. "I'm sorry."
"So am I, boy," she snarled. Her eyes turned orange, a bright, glowing orange, even the whites suffusing with color. Then she opened her mouth and let out an inhuman shriek as she launched herself at Ronan.
Moria
Thirty-one
Moria and Gavril had been walking through the Wastes for three days now. They were moving quickly, rising early, walking until they needed lanterns, and then stopping to conserve fuel.
They'd found signs that others had passed that way--a campfire by an oasis, footsteps in a sandy patch, an abandoned waterskin by the roadside. Signs of Ashyn and at least four others, including what looked like a child's small footprints and an elderly villager's shuffling ones. Moving slowly, then. Good. They would catch up before the party reached Fairview.
The third night, they stopped earlier than usual. Moria wanted to push on, but Gavril refused.
"You're getting tired," he said. "Keep this up, and you'll fall by the roadside. I'll not stop for you, Keeper."
"Of course you won't. You'll carry me."
He hadn't even favored her with a scowl for that one.