Page 60 of Bannerless (The Bannerless Saga 1)

They could have tripped and broken their necks anyplace on the road. They studied each other, now. She was sad, driven. He was scared, exhausted. Sweat dripped from his hair, dirt smudged his face, his shoulders slumped. And he was looking at her like it was her fault.

Dak wanted to be where he was safe. Where he was loved. He needed that. She wondered then if he really needed her, or just someone standing in the place she was, following him. He’d probably never followed anyone in his life, the way he’d followed her into the ruins. He didn’t seem to like it much.

She suddenly wondered why she had blithely scampered off with him to the ends of the world in the first place. It must have seemed like a good idea at the time. Weirdly, she couldn’t remember what that felt like.

She was such an idiot.

“Well,” she said. “We’re going home now. It’ll be okay.”

They went back to the main camp to collect their things, thank Star for the hospitality, and then they walked east, away from the ruins.

CHAPTER ELEVEN • PASADAN

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Waste and Excess

Philos wa

s the angriest. He was the one making bribes and threats. The issue of exceeding quotas might have nothing to do with Sero’s death, but once they discovered the truth of the one, Enid wondered if the other truth might also unfold. Did Sero learn something? Had he threatened to report it? Did someone—maybe Philos—have a talk with him that ended violently?

Enid asked Tomas, “Would someone like Sero contact investigators?”

“I’d have thought he wouldn’t want to be the snitch,” Tomas said. “Wouldn’t want to draw attention to himself.”

They’d never met Sero—she wanted to interview him anyway. Sit him down and ask questions, get to the heart of why he was the way he was and what he wanted. She thought she knew the answer: he wanted to be left alone. So he wouldn’t have asked for an investigation. Wouldn’t have even sent an anonymous message if he’d discovered the hidden crops.

“But,” Enid said, thinking, “Philos might not have thought that. So, what happens if we don’t find anything at Bounty?”

“There’s a half-dozen cellars in this town. More barns. Did the fields look mature? Had they been growing for more than one season?”

“Yeah. They should be getting ready to start this season’s harvest.”

“Then someplace around here will have a hoard of surplus grain. We’ll check to see if any looms are weaving burlap for bags. Don’t worry, we’ll find it.”

He drank from his mug of tea. Shadows marked his eyes, and he still looked as tired and drained as he had last night after the altercation with Kirk.

Enid asked, “Are you coming down with something? Do you need to rest?”

“Stop babying me. You’re the one needs looking after, remember?”

“I will always need looking after. Just when I think I’ve figured the world out . . .” Shaking her head, she let the thought go. “I will never have the world figured out.”

Tomas chuckled. “Let’s go knock down some walls, should we?”

They straightened their uniforms, and Tomas gathered his staff and pouch of tranquilizers. The day was looking to be hot and muggy, a late last gasp of summer. It would either make everyone lethargic or make them edgy and prone to fighting. Better they get this over with early, then.

Not two strides out the door, Dak came up to the committee house, blocking their way. His expression was set, tight lines of tension around his mouth. At some point in the last decade, he must have decided he didn’t mind getting involved.

“Hola,” she said lightly.

“So what happened with Kirk last night?” he said, his casual tone at odds with his stance. He glanced at Tomas but saved the bulk of his attention for Enid. Like he thought he had a better chance of intimidating her. Tomas obligingly stepped back, crossing his arms, and looked on, interested. Waiting.

“What happened how?”

“Everyone says you attacked Kirk—”

“Kirk attacked us. We settled him.”

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