Quentin nodded in agreement. “Triana wasn’t happy about staying either. But she’s been through too much. She needs to stay here and rest.”
Babel walked silently beside them and did not enter the conversation. Quentin took notice. “What is it? You don’t agree with my decision to leave Triana behind?”
“No, I agree she had been through a lot. But she knows much about the Keeper and the Klopph and we could have used someone with that information with us.”
“Normally I would agree with you Babel but she’s been through too much. And I don’t just mean her time in the palace. I’m talking about what she saw when she was captive with my family. No one should have to experience that much death. Her place is with the women of our village. She’s not a soldier.”
Babel let it drop but a single thought entered his mind: You should tell her that.
They walked the duration of the day before making a cold camp. When night had fallen and the camp had grown still except for the men on watch, Quentin approached Babel and sat down in the dirt next to him. Babel had closed his eyes and started to drift warily when he heard Quentin’s voice. “I think my children are alive.”
Babel did not open his eyes as he answered. “I know.”
There was genuine surprise in Quentin’s voice. “You do?”
“Sure, why else do you think we are going to the Erőd?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Quentin, you accepted me when I first arrived without question. You have been by my side even though most people would have run when they found out their life was in danger. You have every right to hate me for the death of your family. But yet you are standing here with me. If there is any chance that your children are alive, I want to be there for you just like you are here for me.”
There was silence for a few moments before Quentin answered. “Thank you Babel. I’m glad you came to my house that day.”
“I am as well. I wish everything had turned out better but it hasn’t. Now, all we can do is continue to move forward.”
“Babel…” Quentin started to say.
“You’re welcome.” Babel answered. “Now get some sleep. That’s an order from your Császár.”
Quentin grunted and relented, disappearing into the darkness when the small plot of land he had claimed for the evening awaited. When he was gone, Babel turned his eyes to the sky and stared at the stars. The night was clear. He wished at that moment that he had paid more attention in his astronomy class in college (he picked it as an elective because the girl in the line in front of him with the very low cut shirt picked the class). He was curious as to the stars and how they differed centuries in the future.
Elsewhere, under the same sky, the people of the village slept in an uneasy comfort, worried about the men who now marched to the city. No one in the village saw Triana step away into the night.
CHAPTER FIFTY
“This doesn’t seem right.” Quentin said.
“You think?” Jims replied sarcastically. “It’s almost like they are withdrawing their entire force from the Outerlands. There should be Klopph all over the place.”
“What do you think that means?” Babel asked. He glanced back at the vacated village that was receding in the distance. They had come upon the desolate setting just after the sun came up.
“I’m not sure.” Quentin answered. “I have never heard of an entire Klopph division being called from the Outerlands back to Orleans. Of course, the fact that we destroyed the palace could have changed that.”
Babel felt a twinge of sadness at the mention of his family’s palace – one that had been a place of respite for generations. Half of the palace had been consumed by fire and the remainder was on the verge of collapse.
“Where are they going to house the extra troops?” Quentin asked, drawing Babel back from contemplation.
“They will displace people in the city.” Jims answered.
“Won’t the people rebel against that?”
“The people in the city are afraid of the Klopph. They are reminded daily of the range of their malice. They won’t do anything to risk their families.”
“So,” said Babel, “we’ll just have to do something to make sure the Klopph are not around to fear.”
“We’ll get our chance soon enough.” Quentin replied. “We’ll be inside of city limits in a few days.”
They walked unmolested and in the early afternoon of their fifth day since parting from the people of their village, just as Quentin had said they began seeing small buildings and the road turned from dirt to broken concrete. As they continued, shacks became reinforced buildings and areas of commerce became commonplace. They crested a hill and saw what had once been the downtown area of New Orleans, its skeletal buildings climbing out of the horizon.
They smelled the smoke two blocks later.
The smoke thickened in the air as they neared the Garden Quarter. It began to fill their lungs and sear their eyes. They reached an intersection and the chaos unfolded as they turned the corner.
They looked on as people marched in the street. Several of the buildings were consumed in flame. Buildings not taken by the blazes displayed ruined windows. Citizens heaved bricks into the windows of vehicles.
“What is this?” Babel asked, shocked. The Klopph ruled by an iron fist and complete order was the standard. Criminals were dealt with swiftly and rarely lived to commit a second crime. What they saw before them
