Everyone knew what lived down in that well. If it was alive. A weapon from the old world, protecting something stored deep in the well like a dragon guarding treasure. Sometimes it emerged to soar across the blighted air. The Typhon, it was called. Parents warned their children, Behave or the Typhon will come after you, and its vague menace stalked their dreams.
These were the fixtures of their bleak and fractured landscape, rough-hewn icons in a broken world: A living machine guarding a deep well in the center of a vast crater radiating canyon cracks. Opposing cities on opposite sides, self-contained and struggling to survive a world stripped bare. This dire tableau a rude-carved history of catastrophe.
But in the last few days there had been odd changes in the shimmering column. Flickers and flares and undulations. Brief solidifications like some textured shaft of coruscating glass. Wennda thought it could be an indication that the Redoubt had managed to defeat or evade the Typhon and gain access to the crater well. Something down there was powering that vast display, perhaps the thing the Typhon protected. And if the Redoubt had got hold of that kind of power, there was no telling what they might unleash.
Two years ago the column had exhibited similar behavior. Wennda had wanted to lead a recon team then, too. But then Yone had arrived, escaped from the Redoubt to seek asylum, and the ensuing argument over what to do with him had eclipsed any suggestion of an investigative team.
Now the massive fixture of their landscape was acting up again, and the man whom many of her people thought might be a Redoubt spy was crouched before her studying the very place he might be trying to return to—and Wennda had practically escorted him here.
But no one knew the Redoubt as Yone claimed to, and if her people’s ancient enemy had finally managed to gain access to the crater well, Wennda definitely wanted him along. If it turned out Yone had lied to them and really was a Redoubt spy, then only three of their party would be coming back. Wennda would have some explaining to do, but she was used to that. And she doubted anyone would grieve too much about the loss of a spy and an unplanned mouth to feed.
Yone flattened the binoculars and turned away from the Redoubt, frowning as he sat back against the shattered boulder.
Wennda held out a hand and Yone gave her back the prized binoculars. “See anything different?” she asked. “It can’t have changed very much in two years.”
Yone gave his characteristic quick nod and twitch of a smile. “Nothing I can see from here,” he said. He had an odd accent and a precise way of speaking. People in the Redoubt were very different, Yone had said. Different speech, customs, organization.
“I want to go in,” Wennda said. She ignored the startled looks from Arshall and Sten.
“That would be very difficult,” said Yone. “They are always watching.”
“It’s amazing that you got away at all,” said Wennda.
“Fortresses are built to keep things from getting in,” he said. “Not from getting out. But yes, I was very fortunate.”
“Can we get in the same way you got out?” Wennda waved at the bottle-green wall a kilometer away.
Yone raised an eyebrow. “It doesn’t seem likely. I walked out the front door.”
“You walked, or you were pushed?”
He shrugged, refusing to rise to the bait. “You have heard my story many times by now,” he said. “I can tell it again, but you have already made up your mind. I came with you when you asked me to. I am trying to help.” He held up a hand to stop her interruption. “Yes, I have my own interest,” he said. “Anything I can help you learn about what they may be trying to do here will only aid my credibility. Anything I can do to help our city also helps me.”
She started to say something else, to go after his use of the word our, which irked her. But Sten said, “Wennda, does anyone even know we’re here?”
She felt her face grow warm. “I never said this mission was authorized,” she said.
“You didn’t say it was unauthorized, either.”
“By the time anyone got around to an official look, Redoubt troops would be banging on our airlock.”
Now Arshall chimed in. “So far we haven’t seen any reason to think they’re up to something.”
“So far,” she agreed. “That’s why we should go in there.”
Sten blinked. “There’s nothing wrong, so we should take a closer look?”
“Yes.” Even to her it sounded ridiculous, but she folded her arms and dug in.
Arshall and Sten exchanged an exasperated look—one that Wennda should have been accustomed to, since she’d seen it most of her life. But such expressions—their very dismissiveness, their eye-rolling, here we go again nature—only made her even more obstinate.
Sten sighed. He knew Wennda better than the other two did—he had even requested a compatibility assay a few years ago, more out of curiosity than from desire—and now he appealed to her reason. “Look,” he said, “I agree that it was worth scouting around, authorized or not. We don’t have the resources we used to, and anything that looks like a threat from the Redoubt should be taken seriously.”
Wennda nodded eagerly. “All right, then. So we’ll—”
“But,” he interrupted, “going back and reporting that nothing’s going on here would be a lot more useful than not going back at all.” He pointed at the Redoubt wall. “And if we go in there, we won’t come back out.”
“My mother would be really angry,” added Arshall.
Sten grinned. “And Arshall’s mother would be really angry,” he agreed.
Wennda looked at the three men. She was prepared to argue her case, but what good would it do? If they didn’t want to go in, she couldn’t make them.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll go in myself.”
“Oh, for—” Sten hung his head, gave Arshall a pleading look, and shook his hands at Wennda.
“Perhaps,” Yone said, “we can learn more without trying to get in.” He pointed to a series of low ridges like overlapping shingles. “From there we can get a closer look at their security placement and their defenses. We can get a better idea if there’s more activity now than the last time you sent a team.” He turned back to Wennda. “The commander might go easier on us if we return with useful information.”
Wennda frowned. Yone had a good point. But his perpetual helpfulness even in the face of suspicion annoyed her. She’d probably respect him more if he told her to go jump in the reverter. She also couldn’t help noticing that the vantage point Yone had indicated would bring him even closer to the Redoubt. Was he helping her, or himself?
They were waiting for her reply, and she knew that she would only look unreasonable and stubborn if she insisted on trying to get into the Redoubt without at least pursuing Yone’s compromise first.
Wennda nodded. “It makes sense,” she said. She looked at Yone, and Yone gave his quick tight smile. I almost hope you do try to run, she thought.
Yone stood up from behind the rockfall. Something in his expression made Wennda think she must have said her thought out loud. His face was absolutely blank, but his eyes held an alarming intensity, as if he were coming to some realization. Now, she thought, he’s going to do it now, he’s going to make his move.
Wennda stood. Her hand went to the nerve gun slung on her back.
Yone squinted and cocked his head to one side. He frowned.
Wennda’s hand paused on the plastic butt of the gun. Yone hadn’t even glanced at her. Was it a ploy? If she fell for it would he kill her? Arshall and Sten would have no time to stop him. She glanced down at them and saw that they were craning their heads and frowning as well.