The Shelter in the Bend site had been radically transformed once more. The tents were gone, leaving the rig-work unearthed and exposed to sunlight. Whatever had been left by the performers and audience was abandoned, the remaining trash rapidly being reclaimed by the ice plains. With Vandie in jail and her management company shut down, it seemed as if cleaning up the mess was no one’s job.
I parked near the rig and hopped out of the snow-runner. I sucked in a breath and winced as the biting cold snaked into my bones, making my bruises and bandaged cuts ache. I hoped I wasn’t too late. I’d been delayed by the traffic snarl caused by the sudden departure of the Barekusu caravan. The crowd that watched the Barekusu leave was just as silent as the one that had welcomed them. Weylan had disappeared, presumed lost in the sinkhole. That, combined with the scandal surrounding Serrow, was the official reason the caravan was leaving early. Serrow herself would be shaved and ostracized, left to die of exposure on the route back over the ice plains.
Shivering, I pulled a cardboard box from the rear of the snow-runner. Nearby movement made me jump. A form longer than I was tall flowed past me like a shark. I clutched the box to my chest but held my ground. With a swish of its tail, the big cat padded by as if I were inconsequential. White on white, her passage was totally silent. I followed her, the sun at my back pressing my shadow ahead of me. The cat had a shadow as well, though hers was shaped like a woman. Then cat and shadow both turned a corner and disappeared from sight.
Ducking my head against the wind, I walked faster, and found myself facing an outbuilding that looked familiar. I shouldered past the door and moved down the hall until I came to another familiar room. It was the office that Vandie Cedrow had used as a residence. The smell of the cat was heavy in the air, but it was Gellica who stood near the desk, staring out over the vast, icy plains.
Among the casualties of the new sinkhole were about a dozen badly wounded Barekusu guards. They told half-coherent tales of a roaring, slashing beast almost as large as them. These tales were written off by rescuers, but I knew better. Whatever ancient predator had spurred the evolution of the Barekusu’s herd behavior, Gellica was worse. The Barekusu’s primal fear ran deep, and the ice-white cat that managed to be everywhere at once was likely the cause of their quick retreat from the city as much as anything else.
The woman standing at the desk was a creation of magic, broken off from the world she sought to serve. I figured we had a lot in common.
I approached to within a few paces and leaned against the desk. The office views had been restored by the removal of the tent, and we could see the Mount to the south and sweeping, relentless ice plains to the north. Gellica didn’t take her eyes off the north-facing window as she spoke.
“Why did you want to meet here?”
I shrugged. “It seemed like far away.” I plunked the box on top of the desk.
“Tell me about it,” she said. “The Titan.”
I pulled off one glove, then the other. At least the festival crew had thought to leave the heat running inside the rig buildings.
“What do you want to know?”
“What it was like, seeing a saint of the Path?”
“It wasn’t divine. It . . .” My eyes flicked across the ice plains, and to the skies above. “It was alien.”
“Like it didn’t belong?”
I surprised myself by responding with a humorless laugh. “No. It made me feel like I didn’t belong. Like none of us belong here.” I winced to hear my own nonsense. I was getting worse than Hanford.
She was silent, then asked, “What do we do now?”
I thought of Talena, and her faith in faith itself. “We go on. It means that we do what we can to help people.” I slid the box closer to her, then shoved my hands back in my pockets. The heat was running, but that didn’t make it warm.
“The other reason I came up here was to return these to where they came from.” I thumped a heel into the desk, peppered by Vandie’s stickers and slogan of optimism.
Gellica frowned and yanked the box top open with one hand. Inside were dozens of reel-to-reel audio tapes.
“Those are Heidelbrecht’s reports to Harlan Cedrow,” I said.
“Isn’t this evidence?”
“Evidence locker still has the same number of tapes. They’re just blank.” I cleared my throat. “There’s more than enough evidence to link Vandie to tampering with the geo-vents. Between her confession, the statements from her workers, and the warehouse with the big hole in the ground. This wasn’t needed.”
“I notice you didn’t destroy them, either.”
“This way you see them, know they’re here. You can destroy them yourself. Or you can listen to them. See if there’s something in there that’s useful to you.” I shook my head. “I don’t blame you for not trusting me.”
She started to say something then covered it by faking a cough. “It was never about me not trusting you. The problem is that you can’t trust me. Or anyone else, for that matter.” Her lips pinched tight. “You hate having to trust the living. It’s why you prefer working your murder cases. You think the dead can’t disappoint you.”
I shook my head. “Look, it’s not that I hate trusting people—”
Gellica closed her eyes and laughed. “Yes, you do, Carter. Yes, you do.”
I fell silent, staring at my snow-crusted shoes. After a few heartbeats she leaned back against the desk.
“Let’s try again.” She tapped the box. “You broke the law and risked your job. In exchange
