Ruins

CHAPTER 9 Responsibility

To Rigg, it was a relief to strike out over untracked country. For one thing, it was familiar—he and Father had done it so often before, and though he half expected to hear Father asking him questions, he also didn’t mind the silence as the others trudged along behind him.

It was also a relief to have no one seeking them, to have no particular hurry. There were dangers, of course—who knew which waters might contain facemasks? But it had not been hard to attach thin branches to tin cups, dip them in a stream, and then boil the water before replenishing their waterskins. It was time-consuming, but they had time. There were no predators large enough to pose a danger to them, for if there had been, Rigg would have seen their paths. As for danger from poisonous plants or insects, all they could do to protect themselves was look before they stepped or leaned or touched.

What was strange, though, was the lack of human paths. The farther they got from the city of Vadesh, the fewer the ten-thousand-year-old paths, and soon enough even those were gone. From then on there were no human paths, except now and then the trace of some ancient hunter from the days before the facemask people and the unadorned humans went to war and wiped each other out.

In all his life, Rigg had never seen a place so empty of a human past. He had heard other people say, “It felt as if we were the first people ever to walk there,” speaking of some wild patch of wood or meadow, but of course Rigg knew that there was hardly a place in Ramfold where no human had ever been, or which no human had seen.

Here, though, it was literally true: No human eyes had seen this view, no human feet had walked this hill, descended into this glen, found toeholds in this rock. Rigg couldn’t decide whether to be proud of bringing the first human paths into the land, or to regret spoiling its pristine clarity. For wherever they went, five bright and recent paths glowed behind them.

It was not all silence. Olivenko spoke from time to time, conversing with Param or Umbo, or asking Rigg a question. And Param, though she tried not to complain, had to speak up now and then to ask for a rest. She was truly unused to such traveling, hour after hour on their feet, moving forward, up and down, sometimes climbing with hands and feet.

The rests were not wasted. Rigg used the time to find water. He was learning that the native animals knew which water was infested with facemasks, and avoided it; where many animals had drunk over a long period of time, and recently, Rigg felt safe to take water without boiling it. He drank it himself first as a test. That was only right. And when they stopped longer, or for the evening, Rigg would find animal paths and set snares, so that by morning there would be meat. He would string the small animal carcasses over his back, letting them drain as they walked, then let Olivenko or Umbo cook them that night as he set snares for more. Rigg also found nuts, berries, edible roots—enough variety that the meat did not become tedious. Providing for five took more work than providing for himself and Father, but not much, and Rigg felt more than a little pride that no one went hungry while in his care.

Rigg felt bad for Param, who had obviously never climbed so much as a tree in her childhood; and he could see that her shoes would not last the journey. He would have to make her some moccasins, and he saved several pelts for that purpose. He also knew that Param did not like walking directly behind him—he supposed the sight and perhaps smell of the dead animals he wore across his shoulders bothered her. She had not seen the animals she ate being killed before, had not seen their carcasses still shaped like the living animal, but headless and skinless. If she didn’t like seeing them now, there was no reason to insist that she look. She would get used to the cycle of life soon enough.

What oppressed Rigg, what weighed on him with every step, was the silence from Loaf, and the way Umbo stayed near the man with the mask, holding his hand as if to guide him, as if he were blind. Loaf’s eyes were covered but they were not blind; he saw more unerringly than anyone, his hands finding every hold when they had to climb, ducking under every branch or pushing it out of the way. Without seeming alert, Loaf saw and heard everything. But he said nothing. Umbo mumbled things to him from time to time, but Rigg did not try to hear what passed between them. They had spent a long time together, apart from Rigg, and Rigg would not insert himself between them. How could he? It was Rigg who had allowed this terrible thing to happen to Loaf. Umbo did not accuse, but he didn’t have to. Rigg accused himself.

The high escarpment to their left bent to the east, and they turned with it, staying below it. It reminded Rigg of Upsheer Cliff, of course, since it had been caused by an identical starship crashing into the ground at the same angle and velocity eleven thousand years ago. Since Vadesh and the first colonists had built a tunnel and track from the city into the mountain, Rigg wondered now if there had been another tunnel and track leading out the other side. Why hadn’t he asked when he was there where the ship’s computer could answer him?

And were there tunnels in the other wallfolds, ways to get deep into the heart of the mountain without climbing the high cliffs? There was so much he wanted to know.

Most of all, though, he wondered what he could do to resist the humans from Earth when—or if—they came, and if they needed to be resisted at all. What if they came only as rescuers, and when they found that the people of the colonies on Garden had survived for longer than all of human history on Earth, they would marvel at the fact, and then peacefully negotiate with the people of each wallfold, and let the worlds become acquainted with each other. Why shouldn’t it be that way?

Only Rigg knew that the expendables were right to fear the coming of the humans. In the eleven thousand years of human life on Garden, there had been no change in the deep nature of human beings, not in Ramfold, anyway—it was eleven millennia of war, of empires that rose and fell, nations that burgeoned and shrank, languages that developed and disappeared. Vadeshfold was only different in that the facemasks were involved, and history ended in the death of all humans. Death and mutual destruction had come close in Ramfold’s history, too, a couple of times. It was in human nature, and if a hundred and twelve centuries on Garden hadn’t been enough to breed hatred and war out of the human character, Rigg could hardly hope that in the eleven years that had passed on Earth there would be any improvement. They would find that there was something strange here and they would be afraid. Fear would create enmity. It would be mutual. But the people from Earth would have technology that the expendables had not allowed any humans on Garden to match.

And what do we have to counter them? We can hold hands and flee back in time. That will make them tremble!

Rigg could only hope that there was something in some other wallfold that would allow the people of Garden to protect themselves. Yet if there was, why would the people of that wallfold believe Rigg about the danger that was coming? For that matter, why should Rigg believe in it himself? It’s not as if the expendables had been unfailingly honest with him. Could he say that he knew, for himself, that there was some danger coming? No. And yet he must persuade them to help him, to work together with the other wallfolds to find some way to protect the world, to meet the people of Earth as equals, with strength enough not to invite conquest and destruction.

And what if, in one of the wallfolds, there was some variant of humanity that was far more dangerous than anything that might come from Earth? What would Rigg do then? Leave their Wall in place, of course, if he could. But it was just as likely that any such powerful race would overwhelm him before he could give any command to the ships. They would take the jewels from him and rule the world and then it would be up to the people of Earth to protect themselves from the monsters of Garden.

Or none of these things. What if many wallfolds were empty? What if Ramfold was the most advanced of the wallfolds, and there was nothing but this feeble gift of time manipulation?

That would be easy, then. Rigg and Umbo and Param had only to keep silent about their gifts, and let the humans from Earth rescue the people of Garden as they surely expected. There were too many here to take home to Earth, of course, but they could provide the ancient technologies and bring us back to the level that human civilizations had reached on Earth, when they achieved the power to reach out beyond their own star system. Then their coming would be a gift.

Or a curse. They might conquer us, rule over us. But was that anything new? Would it be worse than when the Sessamids came with their mountain warriors and conquered the people of Aressa and all the lands drained by the Stashik River? One harsh ruling class would replace another. Wasn’t that the course of human history? What difference would it make, that one group of humans was in the ascendancy for a while, until they fell to another?

In that case, we’re on a fool’s errand, thought Rigg. Why go from wallfold to wallfold?

Because we can, he answered himself. Because for the first time in eleven thousand, one hundred ninety-one years, humans can go through the Walls, and find out what has become of our once-identical cousins on the other side, and what we humans can do, we must try, or why are we alive?

Rigg saw that Param wasn’t with them. He went back a short way and found her.

“I can’t go on,” said Param.

“Time to rest then,” said Rigg. “This isn’t good ground for a camp, though. Can you go a little farther to see if the ground levels out above this rise?”

“No,” said Param. “I don’t mean it’s time to rest. I mean I can’t go on.”

Rigg looked at her. It was true that she looked tired and bedraggled and she could use a bath and her clothes could use a washing and her hair wanted combing, but what of that? They’d been trekking for nearly three weeks.

“You mean you want to go back?”

“No,” said Param. “I don’t want to go at all.”

Rigg was nonplussed. “You want to stay here on this slope until you die?”

“It won’t be long.”

“Actually, you ate and drank only a few hours ago. So if you stay here it will take several days for you to dehydrate enough to die. And then you’ll fall and roll down the slope, so you won’t actually stay here until you die.”

“She’s got a point,” said Umbo. He and Loaf had followed at once when Rigg went back for Param. “Where are we going? How far is it? Do you have any idea?”

“It’s farther than this,” said Rigg. “Assuming the escarpment is roughly round or oval, it has to turn completely east before we’ve rounded it to the south and can strike out for the coast.”

“If anything we were told is true,” said Param.

“We weren’t told anything,” said Umbo. “The voice only talked to Rigg.”

“We heard it,” said Param. “Oh, please don’t fight over this. I just can’t go on, that’s all I’m saying. I’m exhausted. You said I’d get stronger, but I’m not.”

“You are,” said Rigg. “Much stronger. You walk farther each day, you move faster, you rest less often. Of course you’re stronger.”

“Walk farther, farther, farther, and up and down forever,” said Param. “The whole land looks the same.”

“But it’s not,” said Rigg. “It changes. With the elevation. We have different trees in this forest now, higher elevation yet from farther south. Different animals, a different season.”

“If there’s a difference, I can’t see it,” said Param.

Were people of the city all as blind as this? “We’re making progress,” said Rigg. “This is what a journey requires.”

“We had a carriage when we left the city,” said Param. “We had horses after. And we were running from danger. There’s no danger here. Where are we going? Why?”

“We’ve talked about this before. And you had the choice, when we were still near the Wall. You could have—”

“But I didn’t,” said Param, “and now I’m here. Why couldn’t we all have ridden that self-moving wagon you rode on, and gone into the starship, and flown away?”

“Because it’s buried under millions of tons of rock,” said Rigg. “To start with.”

“I know you’re doing what they said to do,” said Umbo. “And you’ve provided food for us, and we’ve been safe. But look at us. Look at Loaf. This is what came from doing what these machines told us to do. Why are we listening to them?”

“Good question,” said Olivenko, who had finally come back to join them.

“What else can we do?” asked Rigg. “If we’re in danger from starships from the home planet of the human race, then—”

“If,” said Param. “Ships between the stars? Really?”

“We saw the ship that planted us here when it arrived,” said Rigg. “As we passed through the Wall.”

“We saw something,” said Olivenko. “We only have the machines’ word that it meant what they said it meant.”

“Do you have some better source of information?” asked Rigg. “If what they say is true, then we’re the best hope of the human race—human races—of Garden.”

“Have we met any living humans from another wallfold?” asked Param.

“Why did your father train you, if you were just supposed to leave the wallfold where that training had some application?” asked Umbo.

“Do what you want,” said Rigg. “Go where you want. I’m going on.” Rigg rose to his feet and began to climb up the slope.

“So you’ll just leave us?” asked Param.

“You’re free to come,” said Rigg. “Or stay and rest.”

“He’s bluffing,” said Umbo. “He knows we can’t get food without him.”

“He won’t leave Loaf,” said Olivenko.

“He won’t leave me,” said Param.

But Rigg kept walking. Yes, he had started this maneuver as a bluff, but Umbo’s assertion of it as fact made him harden his resolve. They wouldn’t starve—Olivenko and Umbo were resourceful, even if Param and Loaf were useless. And if Rigg turned around now, then their trek would collapse into a democracy, which meant that whatever whim struck them would change their plans. There’d be no purpose. And he’d be trapped with them.

So Rigg would move on, and let them do whatever they wanted. Either they’d run and catch up with him, or they wouldn’t. In the former case, this nonsense would stop; in the latter, then he wouldn’t have to play at being leader anymore.

Nobody followed him. Nobody called after him. And Rigg never looked back.

Without others to provide for, Rigg realized he wouldn’t have to stop so soon, wouldn’t have to search for a camping place with water and firewood at hand. He didn’t have to hunt or trap for food. With the bit of meat he had saved to eat as he walked, he could keep moving until dark. Or later—following the paths of animals, he wouldn’t fall into canyons or pits in the dark.

But if they changed their minds, they’d never catch him if he doubled his pace. So it was time to decide: Did he want to leave them behind and proceed alone? Or did he want to give them a chance to rejoin him?

He had already gone too far for them to catch up before nightfall, especially if they had dithered before changing their minds and following him. But he could build up a big, bright fire, set traps for meat, and then get a late start in the morning. It would be good for them to spend a night in the dark and cold without him.

In the morning, his plans began to seem foolish. Were they following him or not? They were too far for him to search out their paths; did that mean they weren’t coming, or that they were moving slowly? He cooked and dried the flesh of the animals that his traps had taken during the dusk and dawn. And still they didn’t come.

So I’m on my own, he thought. It made him feel bleak. Lonely. But it also eased his mind. I have no more responsibility, he thought.

Only his mind wasn’t so easy after all. What if they had tried to follow him in the dark, and got lost? They had no knack for tracking. Umbo should be able to follow, though—he had grown up near the woods, and he was smart.

But they were burdened with Loaf. And Param. How much ground could they cover? As long as he had been with the others, Rigg had ranged ahead, then returned to the group, again and again. Now, since he had stopped checking back with them, just how far and how fast had he gone? Without his encouragement and guidance, how slow had they become? Maybe they were trying to catch up with him. Or maybe they were lost.

Slow, or lost.

Or heading back to the Wall, without any means of getting more food.

And Rigg gradually realized that their lives were more important to him than getting his own way. Yes, they had rebelled against his authority, but it was authority he hadn’t asked for, and didn’t want. He had taken charge only because he knew how to survive in the wilderness; but what difference did it make how quickly they moved? It’s not as if he had some urgent appointment in the next wallfold. And it had been stupid to go on alone. What if he needed them? Umbo and Param had time-shifting skills that might save him. And Olivenko, the only soldier they had left, might be just as necessary.

And what about Loaf? Why had Rigg thought he could leave Loaf behind? Just because Umbo was so devoted to Loaf, and had become much closer to him during their time together while Rigg was in Flacommo’s house, didn’t mean that Rigg wasn’t responsible for bringing Loaf, or whatever was left of him, back to Leaky in their inn at Leaky’s Landing.

Rigg carefully put out his fire, stowed the meat he had dried in his pack, and started back the way he had come.

He walked for hours, and saw no other human paths. They had not followed him.

He reached the place where he had parted with them. Far from following him, they had started back toward the Wall.

Well, then, what responsibility did he have? They weren’t trying to rejoin him. They intended to go their own way. If he kept going and caught up with them on the return journey, it would be a complete admission of defeat.

And if he didn’t, Loaf might die.

What kind of leader was he, if he abandoned his people?

But in what sense was he a leader, if he surrendered to them completely like this?

He started down the path they had taken, retracing their steps toward the Wall.

Then he changed his mind and began to climb up again, abandoning them to the consequences of their own choice.

Then he stopped, remembering that Loaf had made no choice, and headed back down.

And then the whole matter was taken out of his hands, because from the crest of a ridge he saw something shiny, flying above the trees, coming rapidly toward him.

It was a vehicle from Vadesh’s starship. Not the wagon he and Loaf had ridden through the tunnel, but something from the same culture, the same technology. It flew. Was this a starship? No, too small, and it didn’t seem designed to withstand the dangers of cold space, as Father had described them to him.

Father had talked about spaceflight. As conjecture, as if it had never happened, but he had talked about it, and enough of it had stuck in Rigg’s memory that he knew this flying coach could not be a starship. What else had Father taught him without Rigg’s guessing its significance?

Everything. Rigg had never known the significance of anything.

The flying machine rose up swiftly to the level of the crest where Rigg was watching. Then it came to rest in the meadow that surrounded him.

A door opened in the side of it, and Vadesh emerged.

“What are you doing here?” asked Rigg.

“The others called me.”

“They’re not here.”

“I know,” said Vadesh. “After I picked them up, I came for you.”

“Thank you for telling me that they’re safe. Now I can go on.”

“There’s no reason for you to keep walking,” said Vadesh. “I’ll take you to the next wallfold, if you want.”

“I don’t trust you to take me where you say you’re taking me,” said Rigg.

“The vehicle obeys the ship, and the ship obeys you,” said Vadesh. “And I am sworn to obey you now.”

“Now that you destroyed my friend,” said Rigg.

“Get in the flyer,” urged Vadesh. “It will take us all to Odinfold.”

“The others wanted to go back to Ramfold,” said Rigg. “Take them there, and let me be.”

“They changed their minds,” said Vadesh.

“Then why aren’t they talking to me? Why did they send you?”

Vadesh turned without another word and headed back to the flyer.

Rigg realized how ridiculous this was. What kind of child was he, to insist that they had to ask him nicely to rejoin him? He didn’t want to lead them, and they didn’t want to be led, so let Vadesh take them wherever they wanted, to do whatever they wanted.

Rigg walked away across the meadow, heading eastward again, retracing paths that he and his one-time companions had already crossed more than once.

Olivenko came out of the flyer and called to him. “Rigg! Wait!”

Rigg just shook his head and went on. He felt foolish. But he would feel foolish no matter what he chose. Somehow, in his hours alone, the wall between him and his erstwhile friends had grown so thick and high that he could not even think of crossing it. They resented him. He was just trying to do his best and they hated him for it. So he was done with them. That was a wall he didn’t even want to get through.

So why were tears spilling from his eyes as he continued walking away?

“Please wait,” called Olivenko. Rigg could hear him running.

Olivenko is my friend, Rigg remembered.

But he didn’t stand with me when the crisis came, he told himself. So he is not my friend.

“Please,” said Olivenko. “I know you’re angry, you have a right, but it doesn’t make sense to pass up a chance to get a ride in this thing. Except for Umbo throwing up the first time it rose into the sky, it’s been exhilarating.”

Good for you, thought Rigg, still walking.

“Vadesh says we could reach Odinfold well before night. But walking, it will take more than three weeks. Well, it won’t take you three weeks, trekking alone. But it would have taken us all three weeks at least, at the pace we were going.”

Rigg didn’t remember deciding to stop walking away from the flyer, but here he was, with Olivenko beside him, at the edge of the meadow. Now he turned to face the man who had once been his real father’s friend. “I wish I hadn’t brought you all here.”

“I distinctly remember Loaf and me carrying you the last few steps through the Wall.”

“It all started with my foolishness in trying to sell a jewel in O.”

“It all started,” said Olivenko, “with the arrival on this planet of starships from a world called Earth. You didn’t cause that.”

“I’ve made mistake after mistake.”

“You didn’t cause any of this, Rigg,” said Olivenko. “The expendables have been running the whole world from the start.”

“But now I’m supposedly in command of all of them.”

“That’s a joke,” said Olivenko. “You only know what they tell you. So by shaping what you know, they shape what you’ll order them to do.”

Rigg had said almost the same thing to the ship’s computer. It was such a relief to know that Olivenko understood the dilemma. “How can I lead anything or anybody when I have no idea what I’m doing?”

“You’re not leading because you know everything,” said Olivenko.

“Why, then? Because my parents were the deposed queen and king of the Sessamid empire? Because the expendable I called Father bred me and Param into existence so we’d have these abilities to manipulate the flow of time?”

“Both of those things,” said Olivenko. “And because your supposed father trained you in all the skills of government, in languages, in finance, in human nature.”

“Trained me like a dog.”

“Trained you like a soldier,” said Olivenko. “Loaf and I were trained like soldiers, too. But look how different we are. Were. Before Loaf acquired his parasitic captor. Loaf was a real soldier. I’m a scholar, pretending to be a soldier because I’m large and strong and because I couldn’t find any other work that would keep me alive.”

“He’s an innkeeper,” said Rigg.

“I’m telling you why you’re the only possible leader of our group,” said Olivenko. “Training is important, which is why the expendable called Ram gave you so much of it. But why did he train you and not someone else? He could have trained Param and Umbo—he did train them, to a point. Yet he chose you to receive his constant attention. Why? He’s a machine—it wasn’t love.”

No, it couldn’t have been love. Having it said out loud like that stabbed Rigg to the heart. He never loved me because he couldn’t possibly love anyone.

I spent my whole childhood without love, unless I count the friendship of Umbo and the rough affection of Nox. But I thought I was loved. I thought that one day Father would say it. But now I know that even if he said it, it would be just one more calculated move in my training.

“I’m the last person who should lead,” said Rigg. “I’m the one who was most perfectly shaped by these machines. I’m a machine myself. I know it was all illusion, but I still feel this terrible responsibility. This need to carry out the mission these machines chose me for. That’s reason enough right there for you all to choose somebody else to lead. You might as well be following Vadesh as me.”

“Do you think we’re machines?” said Olivenko. “We chose you ourselves.”

“Chose me?” said Rigg. “Param had to flee or her mother and General Citizen would have killed her. Umbo and Loaf—”

“Chose to go to Aressa Sessamo to try to—”

“Get back the jewel I stupidly sold.”

“To try to save you, I was going to say. And it wasn’t stupid to sell the jewel, it’s what Ram intended, knowing what would happen when you did it. It plunged you into the affairs of government, it brought you to your true heritage. By birthright you are the king of all Ramfold.”

“Param is queen, you mean.”

“Param is a lovely girl, but her mother treated her exactly the opposite of the way Ram treated you. She was kept from any knowledge of how to use power, how to influence events around her. She’s spent her whole life hiding. She has royal blood, but no royal instincts.”

“She has more than you know.”

“Whatever her instincts are, she has no idea how to use them. Listen to me, Rigg. Does Umbo resent you? Yes, of course he does. He’s also your true friend. Let him work that out in his own way. But one thing is certain—he is not capable of leading our little party, if only because neither Param nor I would follow him. Param can’t lead. And what am I?”

“The man who made the mistake of befriending me when I was a prisoner, so that you were the only one I could think of to call on when I needed help.”

“And I chose to help, didn’t I?” said Olivenko. “I chose you, and so did everyone else. Did Loaf have to take you and Umbo to O?”

“Leaky made him.”

“Loaf does what he wants. Or did,” said Olivenko. “Param could have hidden from you. We all chose.”

“And then you all chose not to follow me.”

“I chose to take compassion on Param’s weakness and Umbo’s resentment. They were in rebellion. You were—correctly, I might add—going on. Loaf was in no position to help anybody. So I had no choice but to stay with them and keep them alive until you came back for us.”

“So you knew I’d give in?”

“You’re a responsible man, Rigg,” said Olivenko. “Don’t you get it? That’s what you are. That’s why you’re our leader. You take responsibility. So even though you’ve had the responsibility for the future of the whole human race of Garden thrust upon you, you also have responsibility for the four of us. I knew that you couldn’t throw off one responsibility for the sake of the other. You had to do both. Of course you’d come back.”

“But you weren’t there when I did.”

“Vadesh came with the flyer.”

“You weren’t moving forward to try to meet me,” said Rigg. “If you had been, I would have seen your paths.”

“We weren’t yet. We were hungry and couldn’t get much beyond nuts and berries to eat. We didn’t even know which water was safe to drink. Umbo couldn’t admit he was wrong—the boy has more pride than a lord. But Param was already condemning herself for her weakness. Saying that she should have stayed with you, that we shouldn’t have let her whining break up our group.”

Rigg had no trouble imagining this, particularly since self-blame was part of her weakness.

Part of mine, too, he admitted to himself.

“You’re trying to persuade me that giving in and riding the flyer doesn’t mean I lost,” said Rigg.

“That’s the plan,” said Olivenko. “How am I doing?”

“You’re proving to me that you’re the real leader of this group.”

“Not possible.”

“It wasn’t possible while Loaf was still himself, because he wouldn’t have followed a member of the city guard. But now—face it, Olivenko, you’re the only grownup in the group. And talk about taking responsibility—you’re the one bringing us back together.”

Olivenko shrugged. “So. Imagine that I’m the leader. Does that mean you shouldn’t get inside this flyer and go to the Wall with us? Are you as proud as Umbo? Can’t you be in a group that someone else is leading?”

“So you admit it.”

“I admit that right now I’m giving you the smartest advice you’re going to get, and yes, if you follow my advice, that means that in this one instance, I’m leading you. It’s a stupid leader who can’t turn follower when somebody offers him a wiser course.”

Rigg knew he was right. About everything. Rigg was the leader by training, disposition, birthright. And Olivenko was the leader at the moment by virtue of talking sense.

So why did it feel like failure and humiliation even to think of entering the flyer and facing the group that had rejected him and left him to go on alone? He wanted to lash out at them, punish them for their pointless defiance. He wanted to cry at his frustration and loneliness. He wanted to go on alone and never see any of them again. He wanted them to admit that he had been right all along and beg for his forgiveness. Yet he didn’t want their subservience. He wanted them to trust him. He wanted them to like him. He wanted Umbo to be his friend. And as far as he could tell, he’d never have any of those things.

So it came down to this: He had a responsibility to take care of these people who had committed their lives to his cause when they came with him out of Aressa Sessamo, when they passed through the Wall with him. And if they were willing to go on to Odinfold with him, then it hardly mattered how they got there, or how miserable he felt about all that had happened in the past few days. The tasks at hand mattered more than how he felt. Feelings would pass. Feelings were a temporary lie. They must be ignored. Sensible plans must be acted upon.

Rigg nodded. He touched Olivenko’s arm. “Thank you for talking to me like a better person than I actually am.”

Then Rigg walked to the flyer, with Olivenko close behind.

And when he went through the door, he sat down in a chair and then looked at Param and Umbo in turn, and at Olivenko when he came through the door and also sat. “Thank you for coming to find me,” he said. “I’m sorry I left you. I was coming back for you.”

“That’s all right,” said Umbo. A little sullenly, and his ungenerous forgiveness galled Rigg, since in Rigg’s view one apology should have been answered with another.

Param reached over to put her hand on Rigg’s. “I needed you more than I needed rest,” she said softly.

That was what Rigg had needed. A word of kindness. A gesture of affection. A recognition that someone needed him. He could go on now. He could do this.

“Let’s go then,” said Rigg. “How is Loaf?”

“No change,” said Umbo.

“Except that he’s stronger and leaner and healthier,” said Vadesh. “His companion is helping his body reach its best possible condition.”

“Shut up and take us to the Wall,” said Rigg.