Taking A Deeper Step?

As the group is walking back from getting the third key of Nodden-Torr, Alexis brings up a question.

“I’ve been thinking about the ring.” He keeps looking straight ahead. “If I go deeper with it, it could help us understand what’s between us and Bandesingh, and what’s waiting for us when we get there. Same way Gus was the only one who could use Dauntless, I’m the only one who can use this. Red could get there someday, but he’d have to make some choices he hasn’t made. That’s not where he is.”

He’s quiet for a few steps.

“If it didn’t cost anything I wouldn’t be bringing it up. There would be moments where I’m looking at too many possibilities at once and I’d need someone to help narrow it down to a decision. Someone with a clear head and strong convictions who can cut straight to what matters.” He glances at Ca’armine. “That kind of thinking would be useful.”

He keeps walking, lets that settle.

“There’s no danger of the ring taking me over. Same as there was never any danger of Dauntless possessing Gus. This ring was forged for one purpose: knowledge in the service of keeping humanity alive. Red wants knowledge, full stop. The rest of you want to protect humanity, to varying degrees. I’m the only one who combines both enough that the ring and I are truly aligned.” He says it plainly, but something in his face tightens. “I wish that wasn’t true.”

He keeps his eyes on the tunnel ahead.

“This is one of the great artifacts humanity has ever made. We’re going after the Tear because it improves our chances against Bandesingh. Should we let me lean further into the ring for the same reason?”

He glances sideways at the group, still walking, clearly waiting.

With Horn And Canyon Can a Sending Make?

It’s the day after their second night watching Tarkus Vell’s warehouse. The camp sits on the ragged edge of Ghanil, tents pitched close but without order. To the west, the Westlands stretch out under a clear sky.

Ethelred keeps his watch, cloth in hand, working over the wooden spyglass. The fittings look sturdier than when they first bought it, the grain smoother, edges tighter, as though time and use had only sharpened it.

Alexis stirs, props himself up, voice low.
“Evening, Red.”

“Dreams again,” Alexis says. “Running corridors that turned back on themselves. Always ending where I began. A woman’s pleading voice all the while.”

“Red, I’ve been excited for you to finish the scrolls and take your new craft to the next level…” his voice falters, just for a breath, as if there’s more he wants to say — something personal. He pushes on. “…but I need you in the here-and-now too. So much I want to say to so many people.”

He starts counting on his fingers.
“About Zrithrak. The howling winds. The undead on the edge of Ghanil. The Spider of Ilceros. And more.”

He ticks them off the way Ethelred does his inventory: precise.

“We need a way to get word out. A way to send messages over distances. I don’t know when we’ll see another proper town.”

A breath. Then another matter.
“And there’s Verisimus, always watching through his pool. Gustav managed to blunt it for a while, but…” Alexis shrugs “We need cover from Verisimus. Something that moves with us.”

Alexis quietly pushes out of his bedroll. The red jasper at his neck catches the daylight, burning faintly.