they would encounter here, or whether it could be met with nothing more than tempered steel?
Out of all of the surviving crew of the Llothriall, though, it was surely Bestion who looked the most lost. For him, the absence of his god was bad enough, but he was utterly appalled to find himself amongst a people without faith. Illiun’s people put no faith in any god, and Bestion would spend hours sitting with them, arguing points of theology, trying to make them see that a life without God was a life without hope. And they would argue that on countless worlds they had seen the damage that faith had done: whole planets devastated by conflict wrought in the name of one deity or another; innocent people punished or murdered for espousing ideas at odds with an established church.
“Can you not see, Bestion,” Shalim said to him one evening, “that a life without a god is a life without tyranny? Does having a god make you any more capable of appreciating the wonder of existence, or the majesty of the universe?”
But rather than being swayed by these arguments, Bestion was frustrated and even angered. Once, when he had been on the point of boiling over with rage, Silus had stepped in, taking the priest outside the camp and sitting with him at the edge of the lamplight.
“Bestion, you shouldn’t let these challenges to your faith affect you so. They should strengthen you, not bring you to despair. Father Maylan once told me that there are many paths to God.”
“But there is no god, Silus. Look up. His absence is there for all to see.”
Without the presence of Kerberos — or the Allfather, as Bestion called the deity — it was clear that there was nothing Silus could say to the priest that would reassure him. Though the settlers continued to try to reach out to him, Bestion was becoming increasingly distant, often walking far ahead of the main group. Silus worried that they would lose him in the desert, but each night he would return to the camp, sitting beyond the warmth of the campfires and gazing into the heavens, as though willing his god to return.
There was, however, one person who seemed happy enough with the circumstances they found themselves in — Zac. He had fast made friends with Hannah and spent almost as much time with the girl and her parents as he did with Katya and Silus. This didn’t trouble Silus, he was happy that at least someone was making the effort to fit in. Zac had even picked up some of the language of Illiun’s people, conversing with Hannah in simple broken sentences. And Hannah wasn’t the only playmate that Zac had, for there were several children of varying ages amongst their party, some as young as six months. Silus had questioned Illiun on the wisdom of allowing children on the expedition, but he had dismissed his concerns, saying, “The families of our tribe do everything together. Besides, our sentinels will protect them from danger.” He nodded to the silver-eyed men, who stood impassively around the perimeter of the camp.
Despite Illiun’s reassurances, Silus tried not to let Zac out of his sight, and any time his son wasn’t in his immediate vision his stomach would lurch and his mouth would go dry.
The desert was silent on the night that Zac went missing.
The wind died just before sunset and the camp retired early, no one seeming in the mood for conversation or story-telling, each merely concerned with wrapping themselves up against the bitter cold and retreating into sleep. Even Zac appeared subdued, the serious expression on his face more befitting a man in his middle years than an infant. A song after feeding soon sent him into a deep sleep, his small body lying slack and warm in Silus’s arms. He settled his son into his blankets before stretching himself out beside Katya.
Silus nuzzled his wife’s neck, inhaling the comforting smell of her as he planted small, gentle kisses just below her hairline. At first she didn’t respond and he feared that things were still broken between them, but then she arched her back, pushing her bottom against his crotch before reaching behind her and stroking the length of him through his clothes. Despite the cold they both quickly struggled out of their clothing — elbows and knees striking each other in the dark. They tried to be as quiet as possible, so as not to wake Zac, but when Katya mounted him neither of them could hold back. They made love urgently, almost clumsily, as though they had only just remembered how it was supposed to be done, and Silus came shortly after Katya.
Katya looked down at him and smiled. “Hello.”
“Hello,” said Silus.
“Gods, but I needed that.”
“Me too.”
“Almost as good as that first time, out on the Ocean Lily.”
“I’d only just met you. You shameless hussy.”
“Shut it, fish boy.”
“Ouch, hurtful.”
Silus wasn’t sure which of them felt it first — that absence — but it was Katya who leaned over him to check on Zac.
“Silus, Zac isn’t by you, is he?”
By the fear in her voice, she clearly already knew the answer to that question. After everything that they had been through, to lose Zac now, out here where there was nothing, felt unutterably cruel and unjust.
“Zac!” Silus’s call immediately alerted the camp. Bestion was already out of his tent and standing before them. “Have you seen him?”
The priest shook his head and Katya ran over to where Hannah’s parents were sleeping. They were struggling into wakefulness when she opened the flaps of the tent and when they saw Katya’s face they immediately looked around for their daughter. But, like Zac, Hannah wasn’t there.
Illiun stood outside the tent, one of the silver-eyed men by his side. “Katya, what’s wrong?”
“Hannah and Zac are missing.”
“You know the children?” Illiun said to his servant, who nodded. “Good, then take another with you and search the area.”
Two of the silver-eyed men set off into the night and Silus moved to go with them.
“No,” Illiun said. “They will find them. There’s no sense in you going. The sentinels are far better equipped to deal with any dangers they may face out there.”
“But Zac’s my son, Illiun. I can’t just do nothing.”
“Illiun is right,” Shalim said. “The sentinels will find our children.”
Though astonished at the seemingly calm and accepting manner of Shalim and Rosalind, Silus decided to put his trust in their leader. After all, these people were more familiar with this world than he.
After an hour of waiting, staring into the campfire and gripping Katya’s hand, Silus was becoming restless.
“Let me go and help look for them,” he said, getting to his feet. “Illiun, trust me, I can fight.”
“I have no doubt of that, Silus, but can you see in the dark? Can you scan miles of terrain while moving just a few yards? The sentinels will find them.”
In the third hour of waiting, several other members of the camp were growing restless, some whispering to each other and looking over at Illiun with expressions of concern. Their leader, however, did not stir. Instead he sat and waited patiently, as though utterly certain of the children’s safe return.
In the fourth hour of waiting one of the silver-eyed men knelt down and conferred with Illiun. Silus was close enough that he could hear what the sentinel said.
“Units four and seven have stopped reporting in.”
“‘Stopped reporting in’?” Silus said. “What does that mean? You said that we could trust these things, Illiun.”
For the first time since Silus had met him, Illiun looked unsure of himself.
“Fark this,” Silus said. “We’re going after them. Kelos, Dunsany, Bestion, Katya — you’re with me. Anybody else who wants to help, you’re very welcome, though I suggest that you arm yourselves first.”
Katya looked relieved that they were finally taking action, while Dunsany belted on his sword with a look of satisfaction, almost as though he had felt the embrace of an old friend.
“We’ll find them,” Silus said to Katya. “I know that they’re alive.”
“Really. Is this prescience another one of your powers?”
Silus said nothing, already aware of just how dreadful the consequences would be for him and Katya if they didn’t find their son.
Shalim and Rosalind joined them as they set off, as did Illiun and a handful of others, including one of the
