She shakes her head, disbelief turning to fury. “You can’t make that choice for me.”
“I was going to tell you. But there was never a good time.”
“I’m not a pot that can shatter,” she snaps. “I needed thetruth.”
I frown. “I was trying to spare you.”
“I don’t need sparing.” Her voice cracks, but she keeps going, trembling with anger and grief all mixed together. “And you don’tknowshe’s dead. You don’t. You said you saw tracks. You didn’t see a body. You didn’t see her dead.”
“That doesn’t matter,” I mutter, but it sounds weak even to my own ears. “An outcast took her. One man. In an area where there are no tribes. There’s no worse thing?—”
“It doesn’t mean he killed her!” she fires back. “Maybe he took her because she needed help. Maybe he wanted to trade her to a tribe. Or give her to someone. Or anything! You don’t know, Kenz’ox! Some of the girls in the Borok tribe were abducted by lone men. They all survived. You’re just assuming the worst.”
I grit my teeth. “Because outcastsarethe worst.”
Her dark eyes shoot black fire. “Aren’t you maybe an outcast yourself? And areyouthe worst? You’renot!”
I draw breath, but no response comes to mind. “Well…”
“Anyway, you think that’s enough to stop me?” she demands. “You think that because it looks bad, I should just lie down and accept that Callie’s gone?” She steps closer, jabbing a finger at my chest. “I don’t give up on people I care about. Not until Iknow.”
Her voice softens on the last words, but the determination in her eyes is blinding.
“Even if there’s only a tiny chance Callie is alive,” she says, “I have to take it. I have to.”
I sigh.
This woman.
This impossible, fierce woman.
She will walk straight into danger with duty as her only shield.
And nothing I say will keep her here.
“Then go.”
- - -
Dorie quickly prepares everything. She’ll be walking for at least two moons to reach the Borok tribe. She says she can find it. I tell her all I know about how to get to my old tribe.
“It’s more dangerous than you think,” I warn as she closes the leather pack she’ll carry. “The chief doesn’t want anyone to know about the Envoy. You may have to bring many men and threaten to fight.”
“I don’t want that,” she says, opening the sack again and putting more things in. “What do they need? We can offer to trade in exchange for talking to Dex.”
I think for a moment. “Good steel for swords. Charcoal. You mentioned fabrics? Bright colors for the totem pole. Small blades. Sweet-smelling firewood. Many of my tribesmen will like the strong frit the Borok make. Salt—bring as much as you can. Perhaps find a new site for a village if you spot one along the way. The tribe’s turf isn’t the best. It’s small, and hunting is getting difficult.”
She gives me a quick glance. “Thanks. I will remember. Can you please keep this?” She hands me a rolled-up sheet of leather with a string around it. “If someone comes from the Borok tribe—awoman, and maybe someone else that you don’t expect—give her this.”
I peer at the roll. “Someone I don’t expect?”
“Someone who’sdifferent,” she says without looking at me. “Maybeverydifferent. Or scary. There are some such men in the Borok tribe, they say. And still, they are members of the tribe. Just like Aker’iz would be. And you.”
I ignore her strong hints. We’ve been over that. “When you meet my old tribe, there’s no need to mention me to them. Or Aker’iz.”
“I won’t,” she promises, closing the pack again. “But I will be back. It may take a while.”
“I don’t think you will,” I tell her, carefully keeping the bitterness out of my voice. “The Envoy will tell you nothing useful. There will be no reason for you to come back here to this broken ship. And you will return to the Borok tribe—and stay.”
