Page 101 of The Space Between Stars

“I’m sensing a lack of communication.”

Niklaus became suddenly and overwhelmingly aware that Calver could probably snap him in half without breaking a sweat.

“Easy. I’m, I’m—” He wished his words weren’t horrifically slurred. “Fuck. I’m just pissed.” He held out the tiny scroll. Calver snatched it. “And she said something about command seizing a Pilfari and her setting it loose.”

A stick of charcoal rolled out from the small bundle of paper, along with an even smaller scrap. Whatever Calver’s crime, the Ruxian was abetting him. Calver’s eyes darted across the script on the larger piece, then the smaller one. He stuffed both into his pocket, face unreadable.

His hands flew.

Niklaus tried to speak. “Ah. Um. Yes?” How eloquent.

“Might I suggest a bit of sugar?”

Calver’s expression threatened to bite him in half.

Not a time to pry for details, then.

Niklaus turned to leave, but before he reached the door, Calver gasped. The noise was so unanticipated from the silent man that it raised the hairs on Niklaus’s arms. He spun, half expecting the mute to be clutching a stubbed toe. Instead, Calver dropped to the ground and shimmied underneath his work table.

The note must have inspired a breakthrough—which meant, should Niklaus still be standing by the time the sun went down and the rally crowds gathered, he might just have some answers. As Niklaus’s bumbling fingers reached the door handle, Calver rapped one of his tools on the metal shelf for attention. Niklaus turned again.

Niklaus nodded.

Signaled in a way that said it would be the last thing Niklaus ever did.

“I—won’t.”

Niklaus went. He teetered from the wagon like a loose hinge, cursing himself for his timing. For the fated mute who’d forced him into this withdrawal compensation. For his mouth, which felt drier than the sands around him. He pulled from the canteen, but it didn’t seem to help. The need to urinate was overwhelming.

He moved towards the food store wagons. They were closer than the merchants’ quarter, which wouldn’t be staged at this time of day anyway—their tents were raised only in the evenings. As Niklaus walked, a story fell into place. Calver was so chaosbent on stopping the ambush because the Ruxian was at risk. She hadn’t wanted to be seen—she was under Thyatira’s watch. Was the Ruxian a hostage? How did one even hold a distortionist hostage? Had she and Calver been forcibly separated? Fates, he’d been an ass, making light of it.

Stars dotted Niklaus’s vision. He sat heavily on the steps of a sorghum wagon to catch his breath. Kretch. Someone actually needed him, and… what was he supposed to be retrieving again? Tinctured lemon—easy, that was on hand to prevent scorbutus—and something else.

He pulled supplies into a bag and stumbled back to the wagon. One could only guess how long he’d been gone; minutes—hours. He knocked on the door, to no answer. Pushed it open anyway.

“I think I owe you an—”

Calver lunged at Niklaus, tackling him from the wagon. They smacked into the sand, forcing the breath from Niklaus’s lungs. His head rattled. His vision blackened.

Gasping for air, he threw his hands over his face, sure a swing was coming. The hit never landed, but a set of hands clenched around his ankles, dragging him. Hot sand scratched angrily at his back. A gurgled scream erupted from his mouth—a pitiful cry for help he knew no one would hear. His vision began to clear. Calver had pulled him behind another wagon, catty-corner to the mess supply. The man lunged again, and Niklaus prepared for the blow—

—only to be embraced. The mute huddled over him, hands covering the back of his head, thumbs plugging his ears.

The world split itself in two, the air around them erupting with searing heat and blinding light. The ground shook as though it were being ripped open by the Fates themselves. Debris hurled toward them. Niklaus screamed again as a plume of obsidian smoke billowed into the air. A ringing filled the desert around them, the overture to a backdrop of crackling flame.

Calver sat up slowly, face contorted, breathing ragged.

“What was that?!” Nilaus could scarcely hear his own voice.