She nodded to Dug, closed the locket and held it out to him. Forced a lopsided grin that must have looked as fake as it was and gave him a wink just to play out the farce. “Hankirk says they’re on their way to Nexus.”
“Good,” he said, taking the locket back. He held it to his lips for a moment, then slid its twine cord over his head. It hung just below the notch at his throat. “Give him to me.”
“Who, Hankirk?” Talis almost dropped the lid of the jar as she tried to replace it. She knew she’d have to deal with him sooner or later, but she’d been forcibly pushing the thought away. She screwed the lid on tight and tucked the jar back into its place, then busied herself cleaning up the scraps from the aborted dressing of her now-healed rib.
Dug moved into her path when she started to carry the water bowl to the basin sink.
“You aren’t going to kill him.” The storm was back in his eyes.
“He could be useful,” she started. Then stopped. Dug didn’t care about that. But here and now, in the face of Dug’s intentions, she realized that Hankirk’s death was not something she could be responsible for. Not personally and not by association. She was weary from all the death that had already accumulated in the eddies off Wind Sabre’s stern. And now a ship full of aliens that she’d have to settle accounts for at the end of her run.
“He’s one of them. A murderer.” His voice was barely a whisper.
“He’s at least that, and planning more.” She shouldered past him and put the bowl down in the sink before turning back. Shoved her hand in her pocket, then tossed him the ring. He caught it reflexively.
“How mad are you, exactly?” she asked him, shifting her weight to lean a hip on the counter. He didn’t answer, and she lifted her chin to indicate the ring. “You put that on, and Meran will kill anyone you want her to. Go get your revenge. She’ll make it glorious.”
He rolled the ring between his fingers. It would fit him well. Better than it did her own slender digits.
“That might be enough.” There was no humor in his voice. He handed it back to her. “But you have never led me wrong.”
She laughed, and the lights of the med bay flared into stars through the liquid in her eyes. “Look where we are and tell me how I haven’t led you wild astray.”
“Onaya Bone has chosen you. I chose you. The Mother of Sand would not have called you to her service if she did not have faith in your judgment. We can set things back in balance.”
Onaya Bone hadn’t really allowed room for Talis to make any judgments. Bring her the ring. Fetch her a drink, she might have said. Talis was a lackey, that was all.
But seeing that brand on her arm had shifted something in Dug. No questions left. He’d barely pressed the matter of Hankirk.
“A brand on my arm can’t bring Silus Cutter back. Can’t bring your wife and son back.” She gestured uselessly with the ring in her hand. “Gods, I wish Illiya’s berserker drug hadn’t worn off, Dug, then I could hand you the heads of everyone who ever did you wrong.”
Her own head could top that pile.
“Talis,” he said, using her name to get her attention.
His deep purple eyes searched hers, lower lids slightly squinted. He was fighting his own tears, she realized.
He put his hands on her shoulders. “You will do what is right.”
“Says one thief to another.” She was being flippant. Knew it wasn’t fair, but her thoughts were a coiling mess and they tightened around her heart. She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his grip on her shoulders, and forced herself to soften her face. “I’m a mess, Dug. I don’t know what to do. I can’t tell what’s right in this.”
“Listen to your heart and follow it. And we will follow you.”
She sighed and leaned her forehead against his chest. His skin was as hot as the desert sand, even out here in the cold. She put her hands over his wrists and inhaled, and a light spiced scent from his aftershave filled her nostrils. Myrrh, lemon, sandalwood. He’d always worn the same combination. Scent memories flooded her mind. Barroom brawls that ended in laughter and another round. Other, more worthy battles that drenched them in sweat and blood and left her shaking as the bravery fled her afterward. From things that only mattered to a drunk and restless mind, and now to things that, maybe, could truly make a difference.
The smell mixed with the spices of Zeela’s ointment. She felt shivers down her arms, down her spine, straight into her feet.
“Okay, Dug.” She pulled back to look him in the eyes. Gripped his biceps, gave them a firm squeeze. “Okay. You want to follow my heart, I’ll follow your lead.”
He nodded, and touched his forehead to hers. “Good.”
An absurd joke occurred to her exhausted mind as he started to walk away. She called after him, “You know that means we’ll be following each other in circles, don’t you?”
He looked back, a genuine smile puckering the old scars over his left eye.
“Until the end of time.” Then he ducked through the doorframe and went back to work.
Chapter 33
The Yu’Nyun armada had arrived. Distant, at the edge of Peridot’s atmosphere. To the naked eye, it looked like a great sparkling storm cloud.
“Silus help us,” Tisker said, the scope to his eye.
They all winced, the blasphemy striking with its own irony.
He held the scope out for someone else to look again, but no one took it. They’d all seen. The vision was etched in their minds.
In the magnified view, the gleaming starships were even prettier. Much like the aliens’ rifles, they were elegant in their deadly design. The scout ship they’d left smoldering in the
