A Quiet Crossroads (Lake Baikal, Siberia)

[Sören]

Sören paused to consider whether the heat in her accusation was justified. He had been using Kemala. Of course he had. But the word bait curled his lips downward and stiffened the muscles locking his jaw. It implied a carelessness he did not care for, and the insult dug under his skin colder than the water dripping down his face. “I told you what I was doing,” he said bluntly. If she had not believed him, the fault lay with her.

“You told me you stared down a tsunami. You asked to come. I would not have allowed it if I did not think you were capable.”

He could feel his temper begin to stir. Not at her, really, but at the way Declan’s face burned behind his eyes sometimes. He was not likely to risk the same mistake again.

In the end he grunted and released his fist. The runes fizzled out.

If need be, he could unearth Morven from wherever the Custody buried her, or press upon the Network to connect him with another woman who could use the runes. Either of those would take time, but first he needed to ascertain how to recover the shard without losing it to the bottom of the lake. Roopkund had drained itself upon its guardian’s demise, but clearly the same would not happen here. In the meantime Elias could search all he liked, but lacking the missing piece it would be fruitless. The girl trailing in his company had no power of her own. Sören had time.

What he did not have was the patience to soothe Kemala’s hurt feelings. No matter how pathetic she looked huddled under that shawl. He sat. They rocked, gentle and aimless without the boat’s motor.

“I’ll take you back, if that’s what you want. You’ve every right to be afraid.” His gaze returned to mildness, though it was not without challenge. He did not in fact think he was wrong about her capabilities, or her courage. He finally retrieved the warm thermos from his pack, and held it out. “Instruct me. How do I get the boat to move? We’ll need to work together.”