Page 98 of Cage of Starlight
The brutal significance of his order hangs, scythe-sharp, in the air until Iri says, “I won’t.” Motions wooden, he slings the rifle’s strap around his neck, leveling an even gaze on the wagon’s occupants. He stops a moment too long on Sena, his humorless smile an apology. “I had hoped to speak with you more. Don’t let those bastards make a weapon of you, all right? You’re better than that.”
“Iri—” Sena starts, voice broken, but Travin settles both hands on Iri’s shoulders from behind.
“Ready to go?”
One dry, mocking bow, and Iri disappears. Moments later, Travin flickers back in.
“Let’s head out!”
“Wait,” Tory says, but everyone’s bustling to obey.
Tinny and small from somewhere far away, Tory hears Iri’s running feet fading into the distance. A whoosh and crackle of flame. The soldiers who were drawing closer call out and follow, getting farther from the wagon. Someone beside Tory sighs.
The wagon begins to move, and Tory scrambles over supplies to get to Riese. “You can’t leave him out there. We can go back. This iswrong. Riese—”
He doesn’t move. Tory grabs Riese and tries to pull him around.
A strong arm whips out and knocks Tory to the ground. He lands on rations and rifles, knocking ammunition to the floor with a shower ofclinks.
“He’s just a kid! He can’t take on that many soldiers! Not with Null.”
The sharp report of a rifle punctuates his words, followed by an answering spate of bullets. Through the flap, a rush of flame grows bright in the distance, then extinguishes with horrible suddenness and a shocked cry.
“No.” Tory bolts to his feet, but Riese grabs his wrist.
“Stop it, Tory.”
Tory’s legs lose strength and he staggers, but Riese’s grip stays tight.
“Riese, they’ll look at him and see only an enemy. They won’t take him, they’llkill him.”
A final shot rings out, and Tory flinches at the unfeelingcrackthat splits the silence. If he knows anything from all his painful years of healing, it’s how breakable the human body is.
Riese claps a hand around his mouth. “Exactly,” he whispers, pained.
Exactly.
There’s something terrible and knowing in that word. Tory can’t help but recall what Iri said:You would have volunteered me.The words crawl like bugs beneath his skin.
Would he?
“Iri made his choice.” Riese says. Then, louder, “We’ll survive today because of him. Remember that.”
Tory gets as far as he can from Riese, dropping down at the back of the covered wagon with Sena, well away from the rest of the Seeds.
“You hearing this?” Tory says. “He’s already fucking eulogizing him.”
Sena’s lips thin, gaze fixed on the scenery intermittently visible through the heavy flap over the back of the wagon. “It was . . . a solid tactical decision. Iri is not the only Pyrokinetic Seed in Riese’s group, and he’s right—they will almost certainly shoot first rather than take an Arlunian Seed into custody. No competent leader would put a weapon in the hands of his enemy, so Riese chose to give them a weapon they would not dare to use.”
Anger sings through Tory. “How can you—” He breaks off when he notices how Sena’s teeth grind. He’s shaking and damp with sweat, a flush of restraint high and hot on pale cheeks.
“The utilitarianism of it disgusts me. It’s . . . it’s exactly what my father would have—” Sena pulls his knees against his chest, buries his face in them, and dissolves into wracking coughs until Tory thinks he might shake apart. “Fuck,” he moans, and wheezes out a laugh more like a sob. “It was his choice. Earlier, he told me . . .”
“What?”
He waits a bit too long before he speaks again. “He said there are causes worth dying for, said he’d do anything to see Riese’s visionthrough. I could’ve saved him. Riese would have let me go if not for you. Did you see? That look. He . . . couldn’t make an enemy of you, so he couldn’t agree. He—he wouldn’t . . .”
Tory swallows.
