“Believe it, Ash,” Toryn said. “She’s not kidding.”
The interior of the cabin was sparse but clean. A small kitchen area with a counter and sink occupied one corner and two bedrolls were spread out on the floor. Wrapped in a blanket, Rickert was slumped against the wall, eyes closed, face twisted in pain.
He looked up with an expression that reminded Asher of a wounded bear—somewhat incapacitated but still extremely dangerous. “What are ye doing here?”
“You look like shit.”
“Aye. I’ve been better.”
Boot steps sounded behind him as Toryn and Konal entered the cabin too.
“Bloody hell,” Rickert snapped. “Can’t a man be sick in peace? The rendezvous…not till next week. Why are ye all so damned early?”
Toryn cleared his throat. “Since the explosion, New Seattle has been crawling with army patrols, making it hard to go unnoticed.”
“I had to show my fake papers twice,” Konal piped in.
Toryn set the three sockeye salmon on the counter. “There wasn’t enough time to go through the portal and come back, so we decided to come now. Figured we could get in some hunting and fishing while we wait for the others to arrive.”
“The rest of the men…are back in Cascadia,” Rickert grumbled. “So it’s just the five of us anyway.” He turned to Asher. “I’m glad ye came early. We have things…that need to be discussed.”
Asher was going to tell him about the explosion as well as Olivia and her brother, but that would have to wait.
Rickert turned to the others. “Mind giving us a little privacy?”
“Sure,” Toryn said.
Neyla rose and the three of them headed for the door.
“Can she stay?” Asher asked. “I need to talk to her about something when we’re done.”
“I don’t mind,” Rickert replied. “Neyla?”
She walked back to Rickert and stood with her arms crossed over her chest.
Rickert waited until Toryn and Konal were gone, then looked at Asher. “The taghta magistrates want you…to head things up over here for a while.”
“Me? What about you?”
“I’m banished, remember?”
“But you and Neyla got the okay to set up a safe house over here. Did that get changed?”
“No, we’re still doing that, but I’ve temporarily…lost my Iron Guild command.” Every word he uttered seemed to be a struggle. “You’re my second. They want you to take my place. You’re to appear before them at their next meeting, where they’ll officially appoint you.”
“Can’t you appoint me? You’ve done it before.” Even though he’d told Olivia he needed to go back, he’d lied. He planned to stay here. Just not with her.
“I lost my command. It’s not mine to give.”
Asher paced around the tiny space. “When and where is this meeting?”
“Up at Red Mountain the day after the next full moon.”
His Iron Guild induction ceremony had taken place there, so he knew it well. “And what if I don’t want the job?”
Rickert shrugged, then immediately regretted the movement as his face twisted in pain. “Then they’ll have to give it to someone else, I guess.”
Asher thought about being responsible for the other men over here. The last time he was put in charge, Fallon died. He didn’t want that weight on his shoulders again. He was a lone wolf. Always had been. Leadership was not something he was interested in. Besides, a good leader should at least be able to read and count under pressure.
“Toryn or Konal could step in, but you’re…the most qualified. My punishment is for six months. Then…I go before the taghta…to see about getting…my command back.”
“What’s the scope of the upcoming missions? More raids on army bases? Heading off enemy troop movement into the mountains?”
“They appear to be regrouping,” Rickert said, pausing to take a few deep breaths. “We need to scan the area for other portal entrances on this side. The old monks…predict another will…open soon. Need to find it before the Pacificans do, so it stays hidden.”
“Speaking of portal entrances,” Asher said, rubbing the stubble on his jaw, “that’s partly why I needed to talk to you.”
He told Rickert and Neyla about Olivia, her brother, and the drawings of Asher’s sister. He kept things as straightforward and unemotional as possible, but it wasn’t easy. His heart raced as he talked about Olivia. He missed her. Desperately. Like an aching hunger that needed to be fed. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, tell her he was sorry he’d left without an explanation, and bury himself inside her again. In the short time they’d been together, she’d become his anchor, his rock, giving him the ability to sort through the constant jumble in his head and think more clearly. As he spoke, he tried to stay on track, but talking nonchalantly about her and pretending to feel nothing was next to impossible.