The rest of Vaddon’s people were out riding across the countryside in search of Elidyr and Lirra, all of them in possession of communication amulets containing psionic crystals. The amulets allowed the wearers to send and receive brief telepathic messages to each other, though the crystals only contained enough power for two or three exchanges before they burned out. Vaddon wore one of the amulets around his neck, and his crystal was larger than the others, allowing it to retain a charge longer. Elidyr had originally created the devices for the Outguard’s use, and the irony that his brother’s handiwork would now be used to track him down wasn’t lost on Vaddon. His own amulet had already seen a significant amount of use that morning.
“I’ve received some reports,” Vaddon said. Each time someone had contacted him, he’d felt a surge of hope that there would be news about Lirra, but he’d been disappointed every time. “None of our people have sighted either Lirra or Elidyr, but they have run across a number of abandoned farms-all of them in a more or less direct line between the lodge and Geirrid.”
“Do you think either Lirra or Elidyr had anything to do with it?”
“There’s no evidence to suggest that, but you know as well as I that coincidences are never to be trusted in a campaign. I’ve ordered a couple of our soldiers to ride to Geirrid and see what, if anything, they can learn there.”
“Do you think Lirra or Elidyr would head for the town?”
Vaddon shrugged. “Who’s to say what either of them will do now? My brother is clearly insane, and Lirra …” He paused and sighed deeply. “She may retain more of her sanity than Elidyr, but her fusion with the symbiont affected her mind as well, and every moment she remains bonded to the foul thing corrupts her further. It’s only a matter of time before she loses her mind as well.”
“I wouldn’t be so certain of that,” Ksana said softly. “Lirra is strong in body, mind, and spirit. If anyone is able to resist the corrupting influence of a symbiont, it will be her.”
Vaddon dearly wanted to believe that Ksana was right, that his daughter would be able to maintain her sense of self and not be overwhelmed by her symbiont. But it was precisely because he so badly wanted to believe it that he couldn’t allow himself to do so. Lirra was his daughter, and it was tearing him up inside that she had become corrupted in body and mind because the symbiont project had failed-a project he was in command of. But if he was to have a chance of freeing his daughter from the parasite that afflicted her, he had to control his emotions and do what had to be done, just as he’d had to on a hundred previous campaigns, on a hundred different battlefields. But this time he would do it for Lirra.
As if sensing his mood, Ksana turned the conversation in a different direction. She nodded toward the two warforged guarding Sinnoch’s tent. “So what do you think of our new recruits?”
Vaddon snorted. “You know how I feel about warforged. I will say this: They were useful for flagging down the lightning rail. I ordered them both to stand in the middle of the tracks and wave their arms until the engine stopped.”
Ksana grinned. “And I bet you wouldn’t have been disappointed if they’d been run down.”
Vaddon smiled back. “I’ll admit the thought had occurred to me. Unfortunately, the driver stopped in time.” He glanced over at the warforged. Longstrider stood still as a statue-which, Vaddon supposed, came naturally to his kind-but Shatterfist kept talking to his companion, moving about as he did so, almost fidgeting, in fact.
“Bergerron sent them both to keep an eye on us, but they’ve been ordered to assist us as necessary, and I don’t doubt they will.” Vaddon paused. “I can tolerate the tall one,” he said grudgingly. “He’s quiet, does his job, and doesn’t get in the way. As for the short one …” He shook his head. “He talks too much. I’ve begun to wonder if Bergerron didn’t send that one with me as a form of punishment for bungling the symbiont project.”
Ksana chuckled. “I’ve talked with Shatterfist a couple of times. He’s different then most warforged, but that’s his charm.”
Vaddon turned to face the cleric. “You talked to him? Whatever for?”
“To get to know him, of course. I’ve spoken with Longstrider as well.”
“Why would you want to do that?” Vaddon asked, honestly puzzled. “They’re just constructs. They aren’t alive. There’s no more sense in getting to know them than there is getting to know a horseshoe. They’re tools designed to fulfill a purpose, nothing more.”
“We’ve had this discussion before, Vaddon. You know how I feel. Just because the warforged were created through magical engineering doesn’t make them any less alive than you or I. The gods have many ways of working their miracles.” She smiled. “Or to put it in a way you might better appreciate, there’s more than one way to skin a wolf.”
Vaddon couldn’t help but return the cleric’s smile. “Perhaps so.” But he didn’t truly believe it, and he knew his words didn’t fool his friend. He took another sip of tea before going on. “I’m beginning to question the wisdom of keeping Sinnoch with us.”
“The dolgaunt hasn’t caused any trouble, has he?”
“No,” Vaddon admitted. “He hasn’t left his tent since we made camp. Rhedyn checks on him from time to time, but the dolgaunt never seems to need anything. I’m not sure if the damned thing even eats or drinks.”
“Sits in his tent, make no demands … Sounds like a troublemaker to me.”
“I simply don’t trust him. He’s like a coiled snake, lying motionless, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I can’t help thinking he had something to do with the Overmantle’s malfunction.”
“He denied any involvement when Lirra questioned him,” Ksana pointed out.
An image flashed through Vaddon’s mind: Lirra standing over the dolgaunt, fury twisting her features while her tentacle wrip wrapped around the aberration’s throat and squeezed. He felt a pang of sorrow at the memory.
“She forced him to answer,” he said. “The dolgaunt might well have said what he thought Lirra wanted to hear in order to save his life.” He thought for a moment. “Then again, who knows why his kind do what they do? They don’t think like you and me, Ksana. You know that. It’s impossible to guess their motives.” He glanced again at Sinnoch’s tent. “I’m not even sure they have motives, not as we would recognize them.”
“Elidyr trusted him,” Ksana said, though she sounded less certain than she had before.
Vaddon nodded. “And look where it got him.”
“If you don’t trust him, why do you allow him to keep the Overmantle?”
“He claims that he’ll be able to repair and adapt it so that it can be used to separate the symbionts from Lirra and Elidyr.”
Ksana looked doubtful. “And you believe him?”
Vaddon shrugged. “Not really. He might have assisted Elidyr, but the dolgaunt’s no artificer. And like I said before, there’s no way to guess what his true motivations are. But if there’s even a chance that Lirra and Elidyr can be freed from the aberrations that have claimed them …”
“And what if Sinnoch is repairing the Overmantle for his own reasons?” Ksana asked. “What if he wants to reopen the portal to Xoriat and free the daelkyr that touched Elidyr?”
“The thought had occurred to me,” Vaddon admitted. “But I’m willing to take that risk if it means saving my daughter and my brother. I intend to keep close watch on the dolgaunt to make sure he doesn’t betray us.” He smiled. “That’s the real reason Rhedyn keeps checking on him for me.”
As if on cue, they saw Rhedyn approach Sinnoch’s tent. The warrior paused and turned to look at Vaddon questioningly, and the general waved him on, giving him permission to talk to the dolgaunt again. Rhedyn nodded and then-after exchanging a few words with Shatterfist and Longstrider-he walked past the warforged guards and slipped into the dolgaunt’s tent.