Seeker (Riders #2)(89)

How did these people get in here? Like Bas, did they get sucked into the Rift?

And why do they seem so  …  content with being here?

Samrael is smiling at me. He's obviously entertained by my apparent confusion-and that only distracts me more.

"I think that's enough for now, Rayna. Torin. Thank you," he says.

They excuse themselves, and suddenly I'm alone with Samrael. Silence settles thickly over us. He drums slender fingers on the wooden table.

"Do you have any particular way you'd like to do this?"

"No." I shake my head. "Do you?"

He lifts his shoulders. "I thought perhaps I'd show you around, then we can eat outside. We can talk along the way about how we'll search for Gideon and  …  any other items we might want to cover. How does that sound?"

Even though he helped me yesterday, my initial reaction is distrust. Borderline revulsion.

You already made the decision, Daryn. Give him a chance. I need to find Gideon. And  …  I need food. My empty stomach is begging to be filled. Food needs to happen. "That sounds fine."

Samrael smiles. "Great." He lifts a linen bag off the table and slings it over his shoulder.

We leave the kitchen, exiting through a side door that passes through a neatly kept garden outside, with rows of planters overflowing with vegetables, lettuce, and herbs. I'm modestly cheered by it; it's a much brighter place than the inside of the house.

As we follow the path, I gain enough distance to get my first look at the structure where I slept the night. It's a gray stone mass, solid and squat, with deeply recessed beveled windows with diamond panes. Gray Fort is well named, more a fort than a home. The roofline is crenellated and I half expect archers to peer over.

Archery reminds me of Jode, which reminds me of Marcus, Bas, Gideon-and I realize I'm grimacing when Samrael smiles, looking from me to the house.

"Not much to look at, is it? It was the height of fashion once." He squints at the dark clouds. "We may get rained on. Do you want to stay here? We could try again later."

"No." Being stuck in a storm sounds more appealing than being stuck in that somber house. "I don't mind rain. Let's go."

Samrael leads the way, taking a trail that circles the crown of the hill where Gray Fort and its small keep perch. We pass stables. Animal pens. Gardens. Cottages and orchards.

The feeling of the place is quaint, pastoral, but also slightly sad.

It could be that my mood or the weather is affecting my perception. But I don't think it is.

Along the way, I meet several other people. A young couple with their son and daughter. Two elderly women, portly and kind-faced, mending a chicken coop with hammer and nail. A tall man driving a plow hitched to a dun-colored ox. The people are friendly, but faintly distant, too. A little mild, or muted, or faded-or all. An impression forms in my mind of simplicity, just like Rayna said. The only real objective seems to be the production of food.

I think of Maia, who instantly gave me an impression of capability, toughness, and humor. Cordero, who was so pushy right off the bat. Low, singing his twangy country songs and smiling mischievously, like he was constantly pranking people in his mind. Ben, who always tripped all over himself in his rush to be helpful.



       
         
       
        

It seems right that when you meet someone, you should feel something right away. Feel anything right away.

I don't for these curious Rifters. I feel nothing. Only curiosity because I feel nothing.

"Care to share your thoughts?" Samrael asks.

Surprisingly, I do care to. "The people we've seen-where did they come from?"

"They've been here a very long time and every one of them has a different story, but I can tell you that none came willingly."

"So do they want to leave, too?"

"Actually, no. Not a single one, in fact. They've abandoned their former selves. You could say they've given up-or accepted their new existence. If you're here long enough, you become comfortable with this. Anything else would be overwhelming. This is what they've shared with me."

"You haven't accepted this, though."

He looks at me. "No. As I told you, I have hope. I want to find the people I've hurt and make my apologies. It's not in me to give in."

"About that … "

"You think Gideon is still out there."

"Yes. And I need help. I need to keep searching for him. He's out there. I know he is."

"Do you see this wall?" he says as we round a bend in the trail. A high fieldstone wall comes into view, topped with wicked iron barbs, long, rusted, and twisting in all directions. "That's how we keep them out. That's how we stay safe in here. It circles the entire settlement."