Vanguard Read online

  “There you are,” said James.

  Turning, she found him approaching from the east end of the village, Millie still at his side. They must’ve spent all day in the library. She’d done the same when she first arrived, but based on the sparkle in Millie’s eyes, Tegan suspected it was more James’s charm than any overwhelming adoration of the written word.

  “You had a productive day?” she asked.

  Millie tipped her head with a frown. “Why do you look so tired?”

  Can’t accuse her of being tactful.

  “I’ve been seeing patients. It’s rewarding but not precisely restful.”

  “Oh. Now I feel bad,” the other girl mumbled.

  “For playing or insulting me?” Tegan teased.

  Millie laughed, as Tegan had intended. “Both, I reckon. Do you think Deuce and Fade are looking for us?”

  “By now? Probably.”

  “I’ll walk you back.” James fell into step between them, offering his arms for escort.

  Though Millie accepted, she couldn’t. Tegan already had her staff in one hand and doctor bag in the other. Maybe it frustrated him that she found it impossible to lean, but it was a fact that wouldn’t change. Soon enough he’d force a personal conversation on her, and she didn’t look forward to it. If only he could content himself with friendship, life would be much simpler. Yet he’d already decided that she was the heroine of his dreams, and in her experience, it rarely mattered what a girl wanted when a man set his mind on something. The people of Rosemere would doubtless protest if they knew she thought of their favored son that way, but whether his courtship was cruel or kind, one thing was unassailably true:

  Love is a burden when you don’t want it.

  “You seem to be thinking hard about something,” Millie observed.

  Rather than deal with that today, she mustered a smile. “I am, in fact.”

  “Don’t be stingy.” The other girl nudged her with a friendly shoulder.

  That was one of her favorite things about Millie Faraday. She never treated Tegan like a careless misstep would leave her floundering. So many people took one look at the hitch in her stride and assumed she had been broken once and would be again, when it was the opposite—that the pain reminded her she was strong enough to survive and always would be.

  “Remember the ship we saw earlier?” At Millie’s nod, she shared her news.

  While Millie asked her usual plethora of questions, James went lukewarm, his steps slowing to the point that even the other girl noticed. “What’s wrong?”

  But James only gazed at Tegan steadily, his heart in his eyes. “I thought … Do you remember that I offered to take you to sea? I was going to show you the dolphins.”

  It has to be you? she thought. The dolphins don’t exist otherwise? But she didn’t say it aloud, for he was a good man—he just wasn’t hers—and it would be unkind to wound him for her own amusement.

  “I remember,” she said.

  But I was hoping you’d forget.

  James seemed to sense her reluctance, and he brightened up, that effort like pulling a sore tooth. “If you decide to go, tell me. I’ve fallen behind in my quest to fill Rosemere’s library, and I’m always game for adventure.”

  Tegan surveyed him with an assessing eye. When he’d almost died, she realized she loved him dearly—as a friend—but he seemed hearty enough now. He probably thought traveling together would wear her down, like a shoe against the road, but they would see in time who was leather and who was stone.

  So she nodded. “I’ve a couple of days to think it over. But I’ll tell you: I’m drawn to the idea. I’ve always wanted to learn more about the world.”

  “I wish I could go.” Dejected, Millie kicked a rock that bounded along the path and eventually skittered into a ditch. A splash of water followed.

  Tegan bit her lip. She held no sway over the captain, and it seemed unlikely that the woman would consent to taking on deadweight. “She might consider you if you’re willing to work. Do you have any useful skills?”

  “I’m ever so kind,” Millie said with a wicked grin, her eyes wide as soup bowls.

  Tegan laughed. “You’re welcome to try that look on Captain Advika, if you wish.”

  “My ma always says I’m the fastest at cleaning that she ever met. Do ships need scrubbing as much as houses?” Millie wondered aloud.

  “In fact, they do,” James answered. “And some captains will take on passengers if the price is right. I’m sure my father could help us come to terms.”

  It was hard not to hate him when he said things like that. The hardship and terror that had swept over everyone else in the free territories—that was an adventure to him—or rather, a choice he’d made. He’d only suffered because he wanted to save books, not people. The fact that he didn’t seem to grasp what pure luxury his prior existence had been … That lack of awareness separated them more completely than a chasm. Before he decided to go out and face monsters, he lived here in perfect peace and security, the world open before him like an oyster with its pearl, and that was a creature she had only seen in books.

  Millie whispered to Tegan, “Did you know his father was so powerful?”

  “I knew.”

  A long pause and then the girl said, “I’m glad nobody spelled it out for me, then. I probably would’ve been too nervous to speak.”

  “Secrets are rude,” James reproved.

  “We’re plotting against you. Don’t take it personally.” Tegan smiled and pressed ahead, quickening her pace through town.

  She greeted a few people as she went, not pausing or looking back until she reached the cottage yard, where Deuce was talking to friends from down below. Stone and Thimble were a lovely couple, the only known survivors from Deuce’s enclave. Before Deuce and Fade’s house was built, they had stayed with Stone and Thimble. Today Stone and Thimble had their little boy, Robin, with them, and they seemed to be having a party, gauging by the laughter.

  Tegan’s palms went damp as she stared at Robin, and suddenly she wanted to be anywhere but here. She didn’t regret what she’d done, but when she saw his fat, rosy face, emotions tightened into a knot too complex to be termed one thing or another. Her head melted under the chaos, and she turned with a mumbled excuse. Before anyone could question her, she hurried north along the shore. Tegan put quite some distance behind her and for the longest time, she concentrated on breathing, not feeling. She ran until the dull pain in her thigh screamed like a whistle, shrill and undeniable. Slowing to a walk, she rubbed her leg. If she sat down now, it might be difficult to stand up again.

  I always get up again. That’s what you learn from falling.

  Eventually her heart stopped racing; she strolled along the promontory, counting the different kinds of birds. From here, she couldn’t see the village at all, only the spiky green tops of trees behind her, and the silver gleam of water ahead. It was hard to imagine what lay beyond the river, which was supposed to open into the sea, an expanse so wide, it took weeks to cross.

  And what’s on the other side? Uroch? Gulgur? Or something entirely new?

  With a groan, she plopped down on a rocky overlook. She’d left the tavern in search of food, but now it didn’t seem likely she’d eat anytime soon. What sounded like her name echoed some ways off, which meant James was probably searching. He wouldn’t give up until he knew she was safe. I should be moved. Wearily, she fell back into the flax and stared up at the sky. Seabirds circled, swooped, and fought for food nearby, providing a raucous chorus for her respite. She didn’t close her eyes, though; she sailed the blue, free as any gull.

  Tegan imagined boarding Captain Advika’s ship.

  Maybe I won’t ever come back.

  Maybe that would be for the best.

  But … she had ties here. Deuce and Fade were the closest she had to family, and one day she might want to bounce their babies on her knee. Sometimes the impossible came to pass, creeping on such quiet feet that you didn’t even notice t
he world had changed. Around her, the birds quieted. When that happened in the wood, Szarok stepped out of the dark. Tegan sat up and glanced about.

  “I know you’re there,” she said to the silence.

  And the silence answered.

  The Sweetness of Her Trying

  “How did you know?” Szarok asked.

  She was a mysterious creature, this human. In the twilight, there were others searching and calling her name. To his eyes, it seemed that she’d fled from her own kind, only to invite his company. Yet she didn’t seem to find it odd.

  “I’m not inclined to share my secrets.” Tegan patted the ground beside her, her gaze returning to the water that bedeviled him.

  “I’d rather not,” he said.

  “Oh. I’m sorry. Should we move closer to the trees?” Rising, she left the view she had been enjoying and chose a different spot. “Here?”

  So many words crowded his mouth, they tasted like meat and tried to come out in a jumble of sounds that would be intelligible only to his own people. He swallowed them back, breathed, and tried again. “Yes, thank you.”

  “So polite,” she teased.

  He ignored her words. Today he was tired in a way that he never had been before, his heart overflowing with the silent surety that no matter how long he waited, the answer would never come as his people needed: Yes, we trust you. Yes, we will help you. No matter what promises had been made, humans would always view the Uroch as the terrible threat lurking in the dark. Being surrounded by the enemy might well drain the life out of him, for it was a constant struggle to bow and smile and not seem menacing. For some, his mere presence was enough to make them cross the road.

  This is why they made me the vanguard. I can do this. I am patient.

  “You’re not well,” she said eventually.

  His gaze swung to her. It was nearly dark now, so he could see her better. In the light, the shapes lost their cohesion, and it was hard to tell humans apart. Szarok did better identifying them by smell. Today she was sweat and medicine, an unpleasant combination, but he could find her with his eyes closed, unlike that idiot still shouting her name. His ears prickled.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I’m a doctor, remember?”

  “So I seem sick to you?”

  “A little. Tired, at least, and homesick, I think.”

  “What does that word mean?” Nobody had used it to him before.

  “That you miss your home.”

  “For me to miss it,” he said slowly, “I would need to have one first. Appleton is the place the old ones took. We Uroch had no say. Now that our time has come, we hope for better, but I don’t—I don’t see how.…” The human words dissolved again, under the weight of a despair so profound that it must sink him in the ground, like the mass graves they had dug for his ancestors.

  “Oh.” That round little sound was a rope, and it let him climb up to sit beside her, blinking in the starlight.

  “I am sorry.”

  “For what?” She didn’t look at him, and it helped.

  He closed his eyes and listened to the water he hated. As long as he couldn’t see it, the sound almost soothed him. “Troubling you.”

  At that, she laughed, and the vibration rang in his ears like a happy growl. “You’re keeping me company while I vex those who love me. Don’t you think I’m awful?”

  “No.”

  “You’ll feel lighter if you tell me,” she said.

  Szarok’s eyes snapped open and gazed at her in wonder, trying to figure out how her eyes worked. Could she see the weight on him? From his own observations, these creatures were nearly blind and definitely dense to smells, but maybe she was different. Better training? He didn’t even mean to answer her, but the words flowed out of him, hesitantly at first, and then in a torrent, until she knew everything. Shame and chagrin should be overwhelming him by now, but in the silence that followed, he only felt hollow, and in that space, a kind of relief. Full night had fallen as he talked, and it was cold enough that he could see his breath when he exhaled. She was shivering, trying not to show it.

  Why won’t she go back?

  Tegan blew on her hands and then tucked them into her sleeves. “Does the answer have to be yes or no? Is there no room for maybe?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I understand why you can’t stay in Appleton, but do you want to come here, where you’d have to fight for acceptance? Wouldn’t it be better to find somewhere that’s all your own?”

  “We learn quickly,” he said without looking at her. “But we have never built. The People are not patient. Without guidance—”

  “You’re afraid it will go wrong. That the Uroch will decide it’s easier just to kill and take, like the old ones did.”

  Yes.

  He didn’t say it aloud, but she knew. It would be natural if she hated him, if she feared him, for those feral impulses not wholly settled. But instead she leaned against his arm, a minute but unmistakable shift. That small and subtle warmth reminded him of simpler times, before he understood the burden Rzika had handed him.

  “Maybe won’t save us,” he said quietly.

  “It could. Listen, I’ve been invited on a long-haul voyage.… Maybe you could come and scout potential settlements? Near enough that you could trade and request help, but not so close it makes either side uneasy. And … if you made that offer—to settle on a neighboring island—Governor Morrow might round up some men to help with the building.” She peered at him, so pleased with herself and so earnest.

  Szarok laughed. The sound startled her, but she didn’t shift away. To her, he must have sounded like a barking dog. “That’s the worst idea.”

  “Why?” she demanded.

  “My people hate water. Yet you propose an extended sea journey? Rosemere on the river is bad enough. The only reason we came here first is because we have no relationship at all anywhere else.”

  That wasn’t the only reason. It was impossible to put into words how the island made him feel. Crossing the water, that was a necessary trial to reach paradise, so pure because blood had never been spilled here. Humans expected that beauty as their birthright; it wasn’t wrong to want the same for his people. Though the other towns had reason to be grateful, Szarok had made first contact here. But possibly he had been too hopeful in his estimate of Rosemere’s tolerance.

  “Then find your own solution.” Her outrage was … pleasant, somehow.

  “I shall,” he promised.

  “Do you think they’ve given up on me yet?”

  “No. Your friends are the kind who will be out until dawn.”

  She sighed. “That’s what I think, too. We should go back.” They stood, and began to walk. “But … do you feel any better?”

  “If I don’t, will you prescribe some medicine?”

  “Talking was the cure,” Tegan said. “If it didn’t work, I have more words.”

  “Oh?”

  The moment she smiled, the moon came out from behind a cloud so it turned her face into a blob, all strange eyes and open horse-mouth, and she was so awful, he couldn’t look directly at her. Szarok narrowed his eyes until it was tolerable.

  Then she spoke, slow and measured. “You’re my friend. And I’m here for you.”

  A low breath seeped out of him in an aching rush. Szarok growled a reply in his native tongue, but when she pressed him to translate, he only laughed and shook his head. Her voice went shrill, for it appeared the quickest way to aggravate this girl was to deny her knowledge. Tegan quickened her pace, demanding answers, and he increased the length of his stride, doing his best to outpace her. It seemed like a poor idea for them to return together, but she ignored his unsubtle hints and practically ran alongside him.

  “Tell me,” she panted.

  Only when she stumbled and fell did he pause. She landed on her hands and knees, muttering words he recognized as curses. The human captives in the pens had taught him a wide variety of these words. Szaro
k took a step toward her, but she stopped him with a snarl worthy of a Uroch.

  “I can do it. Don’t help me. Don’t ever help me.”

  So he stood by as she struggled to her feet and dusted her palms off. He caught the coppery tang of her blood, but since she said nothing, he found it best not to ask if she was hurt. This one should have been born with claws and fangs; she had the anger hidden, same as he. After that, he stopped trying to shake her, matching his stride to hers.

  The other guests had long since departed, Szarok supposed. Near the path that led to the cottage, the governor’s son paced alone, reeking of anxiety. When he saw Tegan, he melted a little and lost both height and dignity. Hands outstretched, he came toward her, and she backed up a pace so that her shoulders brushed Szarok’s chest.

  “Do you have any notion how worried we were?” The storyteller tried for a light tone and failed, a stern measure of scolding beneath.

  “Is there some reason you should fear for me on Rosemere?” Anger radiated from her in a peppery wave. Too bad the human male couldn’t smell it.

  “You could have fallen … or gotten lost.” He was very gentle in his reprimand, but he didn’t seem to realize he was making it worse.

  “I did fall,” she bit out. “Then I got up again.”

  Szarok had no idea why he spoke then. “And if she got lost, I would find her.”

  The words provoked more of a reaction than he expected, as the human male fixed him with a sudden sharp look, and the intensity felt like a challenge. “Why?”

  Puzzled, he cocked his head. “Because I’m good at it.”

  “It’s true,” Tegan said, not reading the nuances. Or not caring. With her, it was hard to be sure. “Come, let’s find some food and go to bed.”

  With that, she dragged Szarok by his arm into the cottage, the first time such a thing had ever happened to him. Her fingers bothered him, and once they got inside, he swatted her away. She frowned and rubbed her hand.