Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 61
memories of it than he.
That meant he'd passed her almost immediately last
night.
He ate silently for a while, his mind paralyzed in a
catalog of "if-only's". Finally he said, "I want to see her."
"When we've finished with our job," she said.
"What job?" He felt a faint spark of hope; she hadn't
suggested before that she was going to let him go at all.
"You have to help me find the man I'm after," she said.
"Armiger. Do you know him?"
"No. Why would I?"
"He knows you." She leaned forward, squinting a bit as
she appeared to examine him over the small campfire. "He
visited you years ago, and left something of his behind. In
there." She pointed at his forehead.
Jordan reared back, eyes wide. Was there some kind of
thing in his head? He pictured a worm in an apple, and touched
his temple with suddenly trembling fingers.
This had to have some connection with the visions. Was
that thing their source? But if it had been there for years, he
would have had visions for years, wouldn't he?
"You're crazy," Jordan said. "There's nothing in my head
but me. Plus the headache you gave me!" he added.
She scowled, but he'd seen her do that before, and she
hadn't beaten him then, so she probably wouldn't now. She
stood up, stretching her slim arms over her head. "We'll figure
this out later," she said. "Put out the fire, will you? We have
some walking to do."
He sat obstinately for a few seconds, until she fell out of
her stretch and snapped, "I can carry you if I have to. You'll be
safe, and you'll see your sister again, but not until I'm done
with you."