"Of harming him? Of course not. Of seeing him walk away and doing nothing? Yes." She pointed at the rocks. "You were sitting guard up there last night?"
"I was, and yes, I saw him, and yes, I did nothing. He was not attacked, Ashyn. He walked away. He knew he was a burden, and he made his choice."
She stared, stunned at the casual way he said it. "Abandoning elders is the mark of a primitive society. We've moved past that. Long past it."
"Because we can afford to. Because we have an organized system of trade and communication that means a village never needs fear passing a winter without sufficient supplies. Do you think they used to drag the elders off to the forest as they kicked and screamed for mercy?"
"Sometimes."
He paused, then nodded. "Yes, I'm sure sometimes they did. But for most elders, it was a part of life. A final sacrifice for their families. A way to die with honor."
When she didn't answer, he moved toward her, his voice lowering. "Every time you needed to stop for Quintin to rest, the entire group was at risk of being bitten by rattlesnakes or attacked by nomads and bandits. You were all at risk of running out of food and water because the walk was taking twice as long as it should. He knew that."
"And you gave no thought to going after him?"
A pause. "Yes, I did. To offer a quick death."
Ashyn stared at him.
He stepped back, his face hardening. "Did you want me to lie to make you feel better, Ashyn? Or are you hoping to make me feel worse? You've told me to be honest. So don't ask a question if you don't care to hear the answer." A brusque wave. "Now, if you'll leave me be, I might get a little sleep before I need to catch up with your party."
That night, Ashyn lay shivering on the hard lava, her cloak and sleeping blanket wrapped tightly around her. It was still not enough to fend off the savage chill of night. She peered around. Under the moonlight, lava fields stretched to the horizon itself.
There was an end. They were following the "road"--a smooth, winding strip of lava, marked by piles of rock. It was not the fastest route through the Wastes, but it was the only safe one.
Safe being a relative term, she thought as she peered into the night.
Besides the poisonous snakes and giant scorpions, the Wastes were home to roving bands that called themselves nomads. There were only two reasons anyone would choose to live here. First, it was beyond the reach of the empire's law, at least from a practical standpoint. Second, trade wagons passed through once a moon in the warmer seasons. So, too, did travelers or scholars who wished to see the Wastes for themselves. All were such easy pickings for "nomads," there was almost an unspoken arrangement that wagon trains would bring extra goods and toss them out like honey cakes at a festival. Road tax, they jokingly called it.
They'd seen no one since leaving Edgewood. Ashyn had detected no spirits either. She could feel the lack of them, chilling the air. She supposed that made sense--what spirits would exist in a desolate land of rock?--but it still unsettled her. She longed for their whispers and their warmth and the soft buzz of their energy.
That's not all I long for.
She blinked back the prickle of tears. She'd spilled enough of them onto the rocks at night. Tears for her father. Tears for her village. Tears of worry for Moria, thinking of her with the children, a captive.
Please, don't do anything foolish, Rya. If I lost you . . .
Tova shifted, pressing his shaggy body against hers. She nestled into it, face buried in his fur. Then she lifted her head and peered around. Ronan was out there somewhere, watching over them. Protecting his investment--she understood that, but it didn't change the fact that he was sacrificing his own safety for them. Just as Quintin had sacrificed his life.
If she'd gone ahead with Ronan, Quintin wouldn't have walked into the Wastes. He could have slowed down, knowing they would have sent help when they reached the first town.
I failed him.
But it's not too late for the others.
She pushed up from her sleeping spot, Tova rising beside her.
"Can you find him?" she whispered.
Tova grunted, as if understanding. She would go speak to Ronan now. She'd tell the others at dawn and then leave with Ronan.
Twenty-five
Soon after Ashyn returned from talking to Ronan, she awoke to a scream. She leaped up. Tova was already on his feet, fur bristling.
It was Wenda. The girl stood by her blanket, sobbing as Beatrix held her.
A nightmare, Ashyn thought, sinking down again. The girl had held up so far, but bad dreams had to come eventually.