Page 92 of The Space Between Stars

Niklaus made the trek back to the mess storage wagon and pondered the things men spoke of. All this time, he’d had his ears pricked for talk of Roskaad Thyatira. He’d hardly focused on the talk of the Shadewalker. But talk there had been. Some were keen to speak of him, the way men were keen to speak of aethersprites, phantoms, and djinn. The Shadewalker had been leaving his mark for two decades, described as a man who took in the lost, the weary, the desperate. And, in the same sentence, he was described as a man with a bloodlust that could not be tamed. Others shushed those who breathed the Shadewalker’s name altogether.

Niklaus quickened his pace, thinking more clearly now than he’d been able to all day. The similarities between the Shadewalker and Thyatira suddenly seemed too many to dismiss. Though, given the pressure, a man might find the same number of similarities between water and flame. Still, considering the repercussions from his speculation that Thyatira may not be Nelfinden, and the mute’s credence that Thyatira had been a Tera’thian informant…

Maybe this Friyal was hunting the Shadewalker. And maybe, just maybe, the Shadewalker was General Prime Roskaad Thyatira.

Niklaus returned to the mess wagon just in time to see Dex leaving it. The boy was a walking migraine.

“Where did you go? I’ve been looking for you half the night!”

“I’ve been here the whole time, chikoto.” Dex carefully avoided eye contact. “I’m turning in. Busy day tomorrow.”

Niklaus would need to be sure Dex went to his tent. But first, the tabs… and the mute. Niklaus took the stairs into the wagon and slipped through the door. He quickly tucked the nearly-three tabs from his palm into a waxed cloth from one of the shelves. These he would keep on him, considering the progressed dependence. He folded it over twice, glanced at the mute, who hadn’t seemed to take notice, and shoved it into his pocket.

“Ho,” Niklaus offered in greeting.

While the highmoon grew near and the circles beneath the man’s eyes had deepened, he didn’t show any sign of seeking sleep. He gave Niklaus a moment’s eye contact and a subtle nod.

The mute had never been particularly forthcoming with information, but Niklaus burned with the need to know. He tried his luck. “Been meaning to ask you…” It was not the neatest opening, true, but there was no slowing down now. “What are your thoughts on all of this Shadewalker business?”

The mute continued to adjust the distortion core.

“Because I have a hunch.” He paused for input but didn’t receive any. “Isn’t it convenient that Thyatira gained affluence in tandem with the Shadewalker’s rise in influence?”

There it was. The mute’s fingers tightened around his tool.

Niklaus pressed him further. “It seems possible the two are related. They might be partners. They might even be the same person.”

Silence.

“Would you agree?”

The dipping of the man’s chin was so slight, Niklaus thought he might have imagined it.

“I can’t tell if anything I say is getting through to you.”

His dark brows met.

“Which says about as much as a wink to a blind man.”

Fates. Did the man just blink at him? As if that was any better.

“You are infuriating.”

A minute passed. Then the mute stood, returned his improvised tools to their cutlery slots, and set the plate shields on a shelf in a slow, meticulous way that raised the hairs on Niklaus’s arms.

Perfect. Perhaps he would tell him everything. “Alright.”

The mute’s footsteps thunked against the planking as he pressed around Niklaus to the door. He twisted the lock into place with a soft clack.

Niklaus swung around to face him, swallowing hard. The mute pulled a bag down from the hook and set it on the floor. Water sloshed somewhere within.

Supplies. Why?

“What is it?”

The mute stepped towards him.

Panic snaked its way down Niklaus’s spine. He forced a laugh, but the sound came out like a plea. “That’s a terrifying way to begin a sentence.”