Chapter 231: Who paid him? (2)

Encrid did not mention the system or the information it had given him. Instead, he explained what he had witnessed at the Riven and the conclusions he had drawn since waking.

He told the Reaper about the Watch commander who had waited for twenty-three years on the Wall, about the gate that had been opened from the inside, and about the horde that had been brought there to die. The entire event had seemed less like an attack and more like a sacrifice, with thousands of lives arranged to serve a purpose that had nothing to do with conquering the Wall.

Then he told him what he suspected.

"The demon followers."

The Reaper listened without interrupting.

"I don’t know exactly how they did it, but I think your Blue Moon stood in their way for a long time," Encrid continued. "Whatever they wanted to accomplish, your organization must have made it difficult for them. They couldn’t reach you directly, so they found another way to hurt you."

He looked at the Reaper.

"They went after your daughter because they knew she was the one person who could break you."

For the first time that evening, the Reaper closed his eyes.

He remained that way for several moments, sitting quietly beside the bed. Encrid did not try to fill the silence. There was nothing useful he could say, and he doubted the Reaper needed someone to explain the cruelty of what had happened.

When the Reaper finally opened his eyes, the stillness in the room began to lift. The draft returned through the window, and the lamp flame bent to one side before settling again.

"Thank you," the Reaper said.

Encrid did not ask what he was thanking him for.

He suspected the answer had little to do with the information itself. After eleven years, the Reaper finally had a direction in which to look. He still did not know which of the five people had betrayed him, nor who had given the original order, but he no longer had to search blindly.

For now, that was enough.

There was one more matter Encrid needed to discuss, and he had been dreading it even before the Reaper arrived.

"I need to ask you not to tell anyone where I am."

The Reaper looked at him.

"I haven’t told anyone."

"I know. I’m asking you to keep it that way." Encrid took a breath before continuing. "My sister, my father, the people on the southern bank. I don’t want any of them to know I’m here. As far as they’re concerned, I need to remain dead or missing, whichever they already believe."

"Why?"

"Because any message you send will pass through Blue Moon hands, and one of the people who knew about your daughter is still with you."

Encrid held the Reaper’s gaze, making sure the old man understood what he was saying.

"We know someone in your organization betrayed you. We don’t know who it was, and we don’t know how far their influence reaches. If you send a message saying I’m alive, that information could reach the wrong person before it reaches my family."

He paused, then added, "The demon followers lost their altar at the Riven. They know someone interfered with what they were trying to accomplish. If they discover that the man from the bridge survived, and learn where he’s recovering, they’ll come here."

Neither of them needed to discuss what that would mean for the people living in the estate.

The Reaper’s expression hardened slightly.

"Then I will deliver the message myself."

"And leave your daughter here?"

The Reaper did not answer.

Encrid had expected that. He knew how the man would react, because he had already considered every possible response before raising the subject.

"If you leave now, someone will notice your absence. If you travel north, someone will notice where you’re going. And if you start investigating the five people who were with you eleven years ago, the others may realize what you’re doing."

He shifted against the pillows, suppressing the discomfort in his side.

"You can’t leave her alone. Not now. Not until you know which of them betrayed you."

The Reaper’s hands tightened slightly against his knees.

It was a small movement, but Encrid had spent enough time around the man to recognize how unusual it was. The Reaper was always composed, even when discussing matters that would have shaken someone else. Seeing that composure slip, even for a moment, told Encrid how much the decision troubled him.

"Not even your sister?" the Reaper asked.

"Not until I can leave this place on my own feet."

Encrid said it calmly because he had already made the decision hours earlier. He had spent much of the afternoon staring at the ceiling, going over the consequences until he could no longer find a reason to change his mind.

That did not make the choice any easier.

He had not yet allowed himself to think about Zuri’s face when she learned he was gone. He had not imagined what his father would say or how his sister would react if no message ever arrived. Whenever those thoughts came to him, he pushed them aside and returned to the problem in front of him.

There would be time to think about them later.

For now, remaining hidden was the safest choice.

The Reaper studied him for a long moment. Then he rose from his chair and straightened his clothes.

He inclined his head in that familiar, precise manner.

"Rest, benefactor."

With that, he turned and left the room.

Encrid watched the door close behind him before settling back against his pillows.

The conversation had taken more out of him than he had expected. His body was still weak, and even sitting upright for too long left him exhausted. Yet it was not the pain in his wounds that kept him awake.

His thoughts had turned north.

Far from this quiet estate, on the bank of a river where there was no bridge, a boy was holding a blue-glass lamp.

Encrid had told him to keep it safe. He had promised that he would want it back.

Gus would still be holding it.

Encrid was certain of that. The boy had taken his words seriously, and once Gus decided to do something, he was not the sort to abandon it simply because the task had become inconvenient.

He would wait for Encrid to return.

And every day Encrid remained in this garden, Gus would spend another day waiting for someone who would not come.

That was the price of staying hidden.

Encrid had understood that much when he made his decision. He had accepted that he might have to remain away from his family, that he might be forced to abandon the life he had known and let the people he cared about believe he was gone.

What he had not considered was how much of that price would be paid by someone else.

He closed his eyes, but the image remained.

A boy beside a river, holding a blue-glass lamp and waiting for a promise to be fulfilled.

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