“You think that’s on purpose?”
He gave her an appraising look and slid his finger slowly across the panel to take the skiff around a tall outcropping of moss-covered rock. “Do you?”
“Kind of.” Cheyenne folded her arms and couldn’t help but look at the thick silver cuff around her wrist next to her wrapped chains. “If everything looked like the Oronti Valley, or even all black and dead like the lake, I wouldn’t think twice about it. The plague or whatever seeping out of this world and trying to break out through the portals.”
Persh’al nodded, watching her with a crooked smile. “Keep going.”
“The Crown’s the one fucking things up. Usually the source of infection starts at one point and spreads.” She spread her fingers and held them out in front of her, trying to find the piece she was missing. “But the part that’s spreading here didn’t start out at the lake. Everything looks less sick and more normal the closer we get to the drow who’s supposed to be doing all the damage.”
“There it is.” Persh’al thumped a fist on his thigh. “That’s the interesting part. And I’m willing to bet that’s what most O’gúleesh haven’t wrapped their heads around yet. Either that or they’re not willing to look at it.”
Cheyenne shrugged and stared at a passing herd of ostrich-looking birds with antlers growing out of their backs instead of wings. “You sound like you have a theory about why that’s happening.”
“That’s because I do. I’ve had a feeling about it for a while. I’ve heard so many stories from Earthside magicals who made the crossing for the same reason. Just like your neighbor friends, yeah? This inner ring of normalcy is part of the Crown’s game, that’s what I think. Whatever she’s cooking up on her damn pedestal is eating away at everything, and she’s tapping into more energy than she should be to keep the little pocket around her sparkly clean. To keep the O’gúleesh close and fat and happy so they don’t go wandering around and stumble over what she’s causing.”
“Like an illusion spell?” Cheyenne frowned at the field they crossed, which was green this time and dotted with purple and yellow flowers pulsing with soft light. “That’s a huge illusion.”
“Not nearly as big as the one she’s casting up here.” Persh’al tapped his temple. “My guess is she’s feeding on energy that doesn’t belong to her. Taking it from Ambar’ogúl itself, starting with the Nimlothar, most likely, then everything else. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was taking it from magicals. And where’s it all going? To her. Most of it. The rest is filtered back into some very strategic places. Keep this little belt around her city well enough to convince anyone who comes this far out that there’s nothing to worry about, and keep the inner city too good to leave, so no one comes this far out.”
The halfling frowned. “That sounds like way too much work.”
The troll’s chuckle was devoid of humor. “Never underestimate what a drow will do to get what they want. Especially this one.”
“She’s already ruling the entire world, isn’t she? What else could she want?”
Persh’al shrugged. “More power. More control. To live forever and hold onto those things forever. What else is worth doing all this? Man, it would be hard enough having to run Ambar’ogúl. I mean, sure, there are other rulers, but they’re spread out trying to take care of their own little piece of the pie. She’s trying to take the whole thing.”
Cheyenne ran a hand through her hair. “That’s the most anybody’s told me about what’s going on over here.”
“Well, hey. You’re here, I’m here, and Corian and L’zar stayed the hell back from this one. Personally, I’ve never been a big fan of keeping things all hush-hush and super-secretive, tiptoeing everywhere.”
“No, you just sit behind a monitor and dig into people’s lives.”
Persh’al laughed. “So do you.”
“Got me.” Cheyenne glanced at the silver cuff again and frowned. “If this is what we’re up against, I’m not sure half a dozen rebels are gonna do much to change anything.”
“Yeah, take that doubt and shove it up your ass, kid.”
She chuckled.
“It’s not just half a dozen of us. There are way more than you think, Earthside and right here in the place that’s too messed up for us to call it home anymore. And I already told you.” He shot her a sidelong glance and raised his eyebrows. “Never underestimate what a drow’s willing to do to get what they want. There’s a reason the Crown didn’t want you to pass your trials and a damn good reason why she wants L’zar out of the picture.”
“Because he’s a crazy, selfish, buzzing fly in her ear?”
“Something like that.”
An hour later, they stopped at the first real town. Low steel buildings extended in two long rows, with a wide avenue between them. Magicals moved between the buildings, stopping to talk or fight, going about their business. Persh’al slowed the skiff down at the edge of a four-foot steel wall around the two-mile perimeter of the town and hopped out. “You hungry?”
“Oh, yeah. Totally.” Cheyenne stared at him. “All the mutant animals and the dead bodies really worked up my appetite.”
“Yeah, I bet. When was the last time you ate?”
She squinted at the metal wall. “Okay, fine, but I don’t want any of that glowing blue veggie-fruit stuff.”
He chuckled. “What?”
“With the tentacles. It was in a salad.”
“Okay, kid. Whatever you think you’ve had from here isn’t what you’re gonna find in a place with more tech than magic.”
“And that’s here, huh?”
“Eh. I’d call this half and half.” He kicked the side panel of the deactivated skiff and bent over to unscrew something from inside. Waving the thin black tube at her, he nodded, then stuck the piece in his pocket. “Junker like this doesn’t come with
