Bannerless (The Bannerless Saga 1)

Enid met Tomas walking back to the committee house. The scent of wood smoke hung about him.

“Pyre’s done, then?” she asked.

“Just about. How’d your talk go?”

“Her name’s Miran; the guy with her was Kirk, and she was careful to tell me they’re just friends. Sero did work for the household a couple of weeks ago, but she can’t remember the last time she saw him. You find anything?”

His expression went from pensive to sly. “I have two witnesses say that in the days before he died, they saw a young woman named Miran go to Sero’s house twice.” He looked like a cat who’d just dropped a mouse at her feet.

“Huh. She didn’t mention that.”

“Right?” he said.

“So what’s going on here?”

“Somebody’s hiding something.”

“Well, yes, clearly. Could they have had a thing going? Miran and Sero?”

“And hiding it because everyone would have disapproved,” Tomas said.

“You’ve picked up on that too, hmm?” She was thinking of the auger, the list of names, and whether Sero might have wanted to add to that list.

“It’s a thread at least,” he said.

She turned to him. “You’re so calm! Doesn’t it make you angry? The way everyone wants to brush this away like Sero didn’t matter? He’s got no one standing up for him.”

“Better to stay calm,” he said, like he always did. “See more, when you’re calm. You know that.”

“Yes. But I want to knock some heads together.”

“You usually do,” he said, grinning.

There was a disadvantage, doing this job with someone who’d known her so long. She scowled in reply. “So we need to get a timeline down and see where we follow it out to—”

Enid stopped. A group of people was in front of the committee house. Ariana, a couple of others from the town. The way they hunched in together suggested serious conversation. Likely, discussing the arrival of a certain pair of investigators and what they might find.

One of the people there had long brown hair that brought out the angles of his face, sharp chin and defined cheekbones. Nut-brown skin. She’d have recognized this older version of him soon enough. Especially if he’d been holding a guitar.

And then his voice. “—they’re here now, nothing to do but deal with it and hope they finish quickly—”

She knew that voice; it hadn’t changed. It was like hearing the familiar, nerve-breaking crack of pottery shattering on hard ground. She hadn’t seen him in ten years, and she hadn’t ever expected to see him again. Yet somehow, she wasn’t surprised to see him now. As much traveling as she did—as he must still do—it was inevitable. And all she felt was frozen.

He looked out at the newcomers, caught her gaze. She thought she saw surprise there, eyes going round in a moment of shock. He knew investigators had arrived, but no one had told him their names. That one of the investigators would be her. His performer’s instincts quickly took over and settled his expression into a pleasant smile.

“Dak,” she said with her next breath. Disbelieving.

“Enid,” he said. “Been a long time.”

CHAPTER SIX • THE COAST ROAD

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Sea Glass

The Coast Road was somewhat misnamed—it ran inland for a third of its length. Miles west of Haven lay a series of hills and the ruins of the old cities that had been flooded, destroyed, and abandoned at the time of the Fall. Folk didn’t much go out that way. But south of the ruins, the Coast Road bent westward around the hill country and finally reached the ocean. Fishing and seaside villages clustered there. Enid had never seen the ocean and was looking forward to it. Dak promised to show her.

Along the way, several byways branched off from the Coast Road—the Long Road to the eastern plains, the Sierra Road north to the mountains—and one could travel along these for weeks and still come across households and villages that were part of the Coast Road communities. This late in the season, Dak kept to the main road, where he was more sure of the welcome he would get. High summer, when harvests came in and before the autumn storms hit, was the time to go exploring.