It still seemed strange to me that volunteering for the Army was why I became a Wanderer. Maybe we are predestined to do some things in our life. Verðandi has always been a little vague about predestination. She can see how things are going to happen, at least among humans, and she can tell when someone is doomed to die if they take a right turn rather than a left, but she’s never explained whether the person has no alternative than to take the right. I think she’s just avoiding the issue and I don’t know why. It’s not like being predestined to choose the one thing in your life that will change everything is something you could do anything about unless someone told you which one of those turns would make the difference. Most of us humans–yes, I still consider myself a human–live our lives without knowing whether we have any choice or not. Even I, with my intimate knowledge of Fate, have no idea what will happen if I make a choice.
I watched the shadow move past Powers Boulevard and thought of my decision to get off the Interstate in New Braunfels, Texas, two weeks ago. That decision led to the death of one of the very few women I had ever loved. If I had just gone on to San Marcos or Austin before finding a motel, Laura would still be alive. She’d still think I was the lover that she’d sent away before learning that she was pregnant with our son, Alex, but she’d still be happily alive.
Verðandi could have told me what would happen if I took that exit and ran into Laura, but she didn’t. At least I think she could have. It grated on my thoughts that the Fate I served could have saved the life of someone I loved so much, but didn’t. I tried to tell myself that if I thought Verðandi had known, I would have walked away, turned my back on Verðandi and the Wanderers, and maybe even joined Rowle in bringing about Ragnarök. I’d thought about it many times since I’d been forced to put my blade through Laura’s chest. Would I have? Perhaps, but only if I could be sure that Verðandi had let Laura die. Otherwise, I still had an obligation to Tess. She was my Apprentice, a future Wanderer in training.
I realized their voices had gone quiet. I wiped my eyes with the back of my leather sleeves and took a moment before turning around.
Tess and Joe were sitting still, quietly watching me.
“What?” I asked.
“You are troubled,” Joe stated flatly.
“Yeah, so what?” I asked with an edge to my voice that Joe didn’t deserve.
Joe gave me a sad smile. “I’ve never seen you troubled, old friend. Is there anything I can do?”
I took a deep breath and sighed. I shook my head. “No, Joe, I appreciate your concern, but it’s all in the past. There’s nothing to be done for it.”
Joe stood and walked to me. The old shaman’s face was heavily wrinkled and tanned even darker than a normal Ute would be. He placed both his hands on my shoulders. “I am sorry for your loss, Rafe.”
I stared into his brown eyes for a few seconds and then looked past him at my Apprentice. “You told him?”
Tess shrugged. “He wondered why you were moody. I just told him you’d lost someone you loved.”
“You should share your sorrow with your friends. It will lessen your burden,” Joe said.
I met his gaze and frowned. “That’s not my way, Joe. I lost someone, and yes it hurts, but I’ve lost people before, and I’ll deal with it on my own, just like the other times.”
Joe dropped his hands from my shoulders and studied my face for a long moment. “That is your right, old friend. A man doesn’t have to share his grief, even with those closest to him. However, if you change your mind, we are both here to talk.”
“I appreciate the gesture,” I said.
Joe watched me for another second and then gave a brief nod of his head. “Come; tell me more about Rowle and what you’ve been up to since I last saw you.”
We talked long into the evening of events both amusing and deadly until I noticed Joe’s attention beginning to waver. I complained of being tired to give the old shaman a chance to turn in without him having to admit that he was tired.
While Joe used the only bathroom to prepare for bed, Tess and I went outside. The night-lights of Colorado Springs glittered across the foothills and wide plains beneath us. The night was brisk, already below freezing at this altitude, and our breath fogged in the air.
“It’s an even lovelier view at night,” Tess said.
I grunted an acknowledgment.
We walked down to where Beast and Maia stood beside Joe’s old pickup.
“We can set them free for the night, can’t we?” Tess asked.
“Certainly, we probably should have done so earlier. Beast, wake up. You’re free for the remainder of the night. Be back by sun up,” I said.
As Beast began to shift forms, Tess said, “Maia, you’re free too. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Beast, keep an eye on Maia until she’s familiar with the rules,” I said.
“Rules?” Tess asked.
“Always with rules,” Beast growled. “You don’t have any rules, why must we?”
“Because I’m the Wanderer and you’re the familiar. Now don’t start an argument about something that we settled forty years ago.”
Beast growled something unintelligent and shook himself as he assumed his true form. His great
