“Yeah, I know,” said Helena impatiently. “But it doesn’t mean we have to drag him broken and bleeding to Dola, either. Let’s head north. Right now. Just grab our stuff and go. We can change the meeting spot. Go where Dola’s not welcome, and then—I don’t know—send her an apology that’ll more than make up for this.” She pushed off the wall and looked down at Feiyan, her expression solemn. “I don’t want our last memory of this old life to be throwing the man who helped us to the wolves.”
Feiyan’s face contorted into a silent snarl as she stared up at Helena, and then her gaze cut sidelong to where Scorio stood. She clenched her jaw, then pressed the base of her palm between her brows, scowling. “Idiots. We’re complete idiots.”
Helena wrapped a long, tanned arm around Feiyan’s stocky shoulders and squeezed her tight. “Gorgeous, insanely talented, and free idiots.”
Feiyan’s shoulders slumped, and she shook her head wearily, then looked up with a rueful smile at Helena. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?”
Helena beamed at her and turned to Scorio. “So. Looks like you’re off the hook.”
“I owe you one,” he said.
“Probably, yeah. Or maybe we’re about even.”
“Dola won’t let you go,” said Feiyan, tone grim once more. “She’ll hunt you down wherever you go. She can’t afford not to.”
“There’s got to be some place her influence doesn’t reach,” said Scorio.
“Sure. Lots of places. But you can’t get into them either.”
“Then… fine. I’ll stay in the ruins. Go deeper, even, till I figure things out.”
Helena peered at him. The darkness was growing murky, the last of the browns and oranges fading to shadow. Overhead, the clouds were spiraling swiftly around the sun-wire, causing a wind to pick up, fresh and humid. “You going to work on your, ah, special talents?”
“Something like that.”
She nodded approvingly. “Best thing you can do. Probably the only way you can make yourself untouchable.”
“Good. Any pointers on where in the ruins I should go?”
Feiyan scrunched up her lips, peered down both sides of the street in thought. “It’s all pretty rough out there. The gruel and water fountains are non-operational. Fiends come up from below when it gets dark. You’ll need to find yourself a safe room you can defend.”
“And avoid the area around the really tall tower,” said Helena. “That’s Nightmare Lady territory. You’ll know it when you see it.”
“Nightmare Lady?” asked Scorio.
“Bad news. Don’t know if she’s a fiend or what, but… yeah. Just take my word for it. Steer clear.”
“Got it.”
“Can I go?” The youth rose to his knees. “You’re not going to kill me, and I, ah, can walk slowly back to Dola’s.”
“What are you going to tell her?” asked Feiyan, leaning out the window to pin the boy with her glare.
“That—that I saw him come by here… and…” The boy’s mind was clearly racing.
“And we kicked him out,” said Feiyan. “He set off this trap”—and she plucked gently at the windowsill string—“and we came and told him to clear out. Which he did. We didn’t talk. He didn’t catch you. Then you went to tell her everything. Right?”
“Right,” said the boy uncertainly.
Feiyan narrowed her eyes. “You know who I am?”
The boy gave a jerky nod.
“Dola’s trouble, but I’m not much better. I find out you told a different story, you won’t see me coming.”
“And when you think about it,” put in Helena, “you’re still basically telling the truth. We’re telling Scorio to get lost, and want nothing to do with him.”
“True,” said the boy.
“So get out of here,” said Feiyan. “Walk slow, think it over.”
The boy climbed to his feet and backed away warily. “All right. Thank you.” And then he turned and ran off into the gloom.
“And you.” Feiyan raised her chin at him. “We’re not friends. We don’t like you—”
“I kind of like him,” said Helena.
“—and we don’t want you looking us up again. You hear me?”
“I hear you,” said Scorio. “Mind if I wish you luck with your new life?”
Feiyan snorted, but Helena wrapped a long arm around her friend’s shoulders again and pulled her into a tight hug. “Go right ahead.”
“Best of luck to the both of you. I’m sorry if I caused you any trouble. It wasn’t my intent. I hope the sunphire gets you everything you’ve been wanting, and more.”
“That was so nice!” Helena turned to beam down at Feiyan. “You hear that? Tell me that wasn’t nice.”
“Yeah, real sweet,” grouched Feiyan. “Now come on. We need to pack up and get going.”
“Take care of yourself, Scorio.” Helena extended her hand out the window to him. “And watch your back.”
He shook her long-fingered hand. “I will. Bye.”
Feiyan turned and disappeared into the house, Helena following right behind, and even as Scorio turned to walk away, he heard Feiyan say something low and grouchy, which caused Helena to laugh, the sound echoing faintly down the ruined street.
The sun-wire darkened to a cherry-red streak, barely visible through the revolving cylinder of clouds, and a strong gust of wind tore down the street as a light rain began to fall, pattering over the shattered rocks as night fell over the city.
Scorio fought off a sense of bleak disappointment. Had he thought Helena and Feiyan might become actual friends?
He should have known better.
Again he thought of Leonis and Lianshi. The rain plastered his hair down, soaked into his robes, the drops fat and warm. Were his friends inside somewhere, eating dinner? Comfortable, clean, and learning how to wield their power?
He sure hoped so.
Scorio walked deeper into the ruins, into the rainy night. No matter. He was still walking, still alive, and now he had two vials worth more than he could fathom tucked into his robe.
It was time to get to work.
Chapter 14
The next few weeks were spent in a state of constant hunger and paranoia. Scorio found himself a wretched home on the fourth story of a half-collapsed building deep into the ruined zone, the streets blasted out and cracked, the chasm depths showing a fiery red and wafting up eerie heat that caused the air to shimmer.
By day he focused on his Igneous Heart, sought to draw closer to it, to manipulate it, to crack it open, to set it on fire. It defied his every attempt. He worked on the sooty black clouds that had returned, and which he began to associate with the ruins. Sought to become more adept at manipulating them, swirling them about his Heart, envisioning a huge paddle with which he strained against their blackmass.
It was hard work, and ultimately dispiriting. For no matter how hard he strained, he felt little improvement; the breakthroughs he’d enjoyed in the depths of the earth were what he enjoyed now, and despite ceaselessly working at triggering his treasures, here in the ruins he was barely able to make them last longer than the original six seconds.
He constructed theories and abandoned them. The bridge had lasted nearly thirty seconds in the skycrane yard because of that silky, iron-hued smoke. No; it had been his fear for his life that had caused him to imbue the bridge with such durability. Perhaps a combination of both—perhaps neither.
He toiled until he could bear it no longer, and then would leap up to climb to the broken roof and there lie on his back, gazing up at the distant ruins that revolved around Bastion’s interior, watching for movement, for flocks of bat-winged shadows that occasionally flew down the dark corridors during First and Second Clay. Came to know the curious, benign attention of the fiery salamanders, that seemed unceasingly curious about his presence.
Learned to avoid the blocks to his left, where an elongated, six-legged panther with eyes that burned the deepest amethyst prowled the ruins.