Page 17 of Veil of Vasara (Fate of the Five #1)

CHAPTER 17 – NEMINA

I didn’t know what to make of the clothes Riece had brought me. I’d never seen so many colours. I didn’t even know how the majority of them were worn. They looked like intricate contraptions designed to trap your limbs.

There were some pants. I recognised pants. They were deep red in colour, almost black. They were tight. That felt unusual. I’d only ever worn loose clothing. I’d only ever been given loose clothing. Wearing these was like wearing a second skin. They were supple, flexible. I liked them.

I didn’t have any undergarments. I had no desire to reveal my starved frame’s more filled out areas to these strangers or to anyone. I glanced at the shirts, searching for one with longer sleeves. I picked up a white one. It was clearly intended for a male body, but that made it perfect for this occasion. It had laces near the top and slightly ruffled sleeves at the end. I ran my finger along those ruffles, their texture was delicate and soft. There were patterns running through the shirt, so intricate and fine they looked as if they had been woven into the garment by light itself.

My gaze was drawn to a black jacket with silver buttons, buckles, and a silver lining. It was exactly like the one the guards had worn at Audra, but longer, more magnificent even. I approached it and rubbed the edge of a sleeve between my fingers.

I put it on.

There was something so disgusting and yet tantalising about wearing it, about wearing the uniform I had only ever seen as a source of brutality and pain. This jacket had been discarded amongst a pile of more discarded clothing, forgotten, left to gather dust in a corner. Once, it had been a symbol, and now it was nothing.

Now, it was mine.

I hoped one day I could return to that place. I’d like to kill some of those guards wearing this.

Kill them with their own swords, in their own clothes. A pattern seemed to be emerging. I chuckled quietly then stopped suddenly.

I’m going insane.

I sighed.

Hardly surprising.

I was about to take it off, shaking my head, when somebody stepped into the tent.

“Please tell me you’re not wearing that.” Baz sounded displeased.

I took a moment to process his presence.

“There’s not exactly much to choose from, is there?” I snapped back.

“What are you talking about? This is more choice than we’ve had in years.” He put his hands on his hips, glancing at the pile of clothes with the same awe in his eyes as I had, just minutes earlier.

“And yet you chose that.” I pointed at his attire. He was wearing a pale, mint green tunic. It was high necked and covered in iridescent floral golden patterns. His pants were an equally fluorescent gold, and were partially see through, like curtains. “You look…” I tilted my head to the side, trying to find the words. “Colourful.”

He shrugged, “I like it.” He fiddled with the waistband of his trousers. “Why would I want a reminder of that?” He pointed back at my outfit. “Why would you?”

“I like the idea of murdering them in it.”

Baz snorted out a laugh, but when he realised I wasn’t joking, he looked startled. I thought about how my words must have sounded, but I didn’t care much for platitudes and conjectures, and I was far too exhausted for them.

“Murdering who?”

“The people who wear these things.”

“Right.” Baz looked uncomfortable. “They’re not here though so....”

I laughed at his expression. “Don’t worry. I’m not planning on murdering anyone at the moment.”

“At… the moment?” His voice was drawn out and thin.

I took off the jacket and put on another, similar one that was dark brown and leathery.

“Better?”

He nodded. “You looked like Gina in the other one.”

“Gina?” I asked.

“You know, very short, dark, black eyes. She used brass knuckles to—"

“Oh, guard number eight.”

“I didn’t know they had numbers.”

“They didn’t. I just gave them numbers.”

Baz was looking at me with increasing concern. “Why?”

“I never learnt most of their names after I was sent…below.”

“I see,” Baz said, now looking at me with pity.

I crossed my arms. “What are you doing here?”

“I just thought that we should talk about…all of this.”

“What is there to talk about?”

Baz looked dejected at my tone. I suddenly realised this was probably the longest conversation both he and I had with anyone for years. He was probably hoping for it to be warmer.

He stepped closer to me, lowering his voice. “Everything. Like why we were being sent to Kalnasa in the first place?”

“That doesn’t matter now.”

“Yes, it does. The transfers, they’ve been doing them more frequently. Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m not saying that you know. I’m saying that it doesn’t make sense. And why did these people free us? What do they want? What do they mean by help and by… war ?”

I sighed and looked at the ground. I knew I was probably coming across as an imperturbable, inhumane person, but the truth was I just didn’t care.

“Nemina? Are you even listening to me.”

“Don’t call me that,” I said bluntly.

“I don’t have anything else to call you. Unless you want me to call you by your captive code?”

“I don’t want to speak to you at all.” I was being rude. I knew I was. Still, I couldn’t muster the ability to care, or to feel guilty about it. My mind was riddled with far too much information, too many memories, too many possibilities.

Baz jerked his head back as if offended. “Look. I get it. You don’t want to talk to me, or anyone. But we’re here now and we’ve got to figure out what to do.”

“There is no we. I don’t even know you.”

“Out of everyone here, you know me the most.”

“That’s not a reason to trust you or talk to you.”

“I’m not asking you to trust me, I’m asking you to be on my side, and I’ll be on yours.”

“I don’t need you on my side.” This discussion was becoming more tiring by the second. I wasn’t sure how much more clearly I could indicate I didn’t want him here.

Baz walked to the precipice of the bed and sat down. “You know, I heard about what you did.”

I debated dragging him out of the tent but the deep fatigue setting in my bones throbbed in protest.

“Everyone heard about what I did.” I sighed.

“I hated Karll. He was a pervert. Just” — he scoffed— “The worst kind of human being.”

“What are you getting at?” I asked, impatiently.

He licked his lips and spoke. “Did you know that after you killed him, after you were sent down there, that we all protested… for days? Did you know that?” He looked me in the eye. His eyes were dark, but warm. A rich brown. It was the first time I’d really focused on their colour, or the colour of anyone’s eyes.

“Yes.”

He seemed taken aback by my answer. “How did you know that?” He put both his arms behind him and leant back on the bed, half sat up.

“People died in those riots, and every time someone died, they came to tell me about it. They’d sit there and tell me their name, what they looked like, where they'd been from.”

He looked horrified. “Oh.”

“The first time, the first few times I screamed at them to stop. I’d tried to drown out their voices by bashing my fists against the floor, yelling, covering my ears, whatever.” My voice sounded detached. “Then I gave up. It just kept happening for weeks. The irony is that I knew far more about them in their death than I would ever have been permitted to during their life. But they died because of my decisions.”

Baz shook his head. “No. They made their own decisions. They fought because they wanted to. They knew the risks. We all did.”

I understood then. “You fought in them too.” I stated it as a fact, not a question.

"You became a bit of a symbol there, actually." He shrugged. The gesture sweeping truth beneath a veneer of indifference. I recognised it instantly. I had practiced such a thing myself. Many times.

I laughed wearily. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

Baz opened his mouth, probably attempting to say he wasn’t disappointed in me. But before he could, I raised my eyebrows in his direction, indicating I already knew it would be a lie.

“My point is that those people, they didn’t know you, but they fought for you anyway, of their own free will. We don’t know each other. But we could. We could know each other, and we could fight together. I have a feeling we’ll need someone in our corner if we’re going to get through this...whatever this is.”

I thought about it. I would be better off alone. I didn’t need to be worrying about someone else’s welfare. I didn’t want that. I trusted myself, at least enough to know my actions would be based on what I thought was best for myself, and my chances at survival.

And yet, I might need help at some point. I was aware of all the possibilities that could arise, the different things which could go wrong. In a large proportion of them, being alone would save me, but in an even larger number, being alone might be the reason I die.

I leant against the bed frame and put one leg over the other. I was still barefoot.

“To answer your burning questions,” I started, and Baz smiled slightly, sitting up. “I couldn’t care less about the intentions of these people because I don’t plan to stay here for any longer than necessary. Do you have a problem with that? Because if so, our partnership isn’t going to last more than a few hours.”

Baz took a second to think. “No… I don’t have a problem with that. But we can’t leave tonight, they’re expecting us to talk to them tomorrow, and we haven’t even figured out how to get out of here yet.”

“I know that.” I nodded. “We stay here until we gain enough of their trust to formulate an escape plan. Then we’re gone.”

“What if they do really want to help other people like us though? Shouldn’t we help them do that?”

“Like I said,” I repeated, “I’m leaving. You decide what you’re going to do and let me know.”

“I already said that I’d come with you.”

“Great,” I said, sounding less than enthusiastic. “Oh, and don’t ever burst into my tent again. I could have been naked.”

Baz laughed. I was so confused by the sound that I uncrossed my arms and turned to face him. His laugh was high pitched, light, almost like a giggle. He waved his hand around in the air in front of him.

“You don’t need to worry about that. I don’t…” He cleared his throat “Women don’t interest me.”

“That’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you,” I said flatly. “My privacy does interest me though.”

The amused look on Baz’s face slowly dissipated. “Fine, fine.”

I had an idea.

“Sleep here.”

“Did you not hear what I just said?” Baz looked genuinely bewildered.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I threw him a reproachful look. “We’ll take turns sleeping, the other person will keep watch.”

“I thought you didn’t trust me two minutes ago.”

“I still don’t. But I trust these people even less.”

“What are we going to say if someone asks why—"

“We’ll say we were making passionate love all night. That against all odds, we formed a bond during captivity as Vessels. Something heart wrenching and emotional. That should embarrass them enough to avoid any follow up questions.”

Baz’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t seem to get his head around my sharp way of speaking.

I made my way to the bed and grabbed a blanket from it.

“So, what, now we’ve got to act like we’re in love? This partnership is moving very quickly.” He raised his palms into the air.

“I’m sure you’ll manage.”

Noticing I was placing the blanket on the floor in front of the bed. Baz said, “It’s fine you can sleep first.”

“I know, I was going to do that.”

“The bed is here,” Baz gestured to it, behind him.

I pointed at it. “I haven’t slept in a bed like that since I killed Karll. I’m used to sleeping on the floor.” I settled down on the blanket and lay down, looking up at the ceiling.

Baz’s arm slowly dropped. I could feel his eyes on me from across the room.

I turned my head to the side. “What is it?”

“You didn’t eat the food they left there.” He pointed at the table.

“Again, I wasn’t exactly fed much as a convicted murderer. I could only eat some of it before I felt sick.”

Baz silently glanced at me for longer than was comfortable, then walked towards the bed.

“Wake me in a few hours.”

“I’m still calling you Nemina.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Do you have a better alternative?”

“You don’t need to call me anything.”

“That would be a bit strange don’t you think. Considering how madly in love we are?”

I made a grunting noise of displeasure and lay on my side.

“How about Nemi?”

“Stop talking.”

“Nem?”

“Please be quiet.”

“Mina?”

I was about to tell Baz that if he suggested a name for me one more time, I would personally tape his mouth shut.

“Nemina it is then.”

I gave up.

“Goodnight, Nemina.”

I thought he had finally stopped talking until he said, “That’s unusual isn’t it.”

“What is?” I asked reluctantly.

“Saying goodnight to someone.” He sounded as if he was on the verge of crying.

He was right. It was. It rang like some unfamiliar entity in my ears.

“Not as unusual as your outfit is,” I said after a moment's silence.

He chuckled softly.

We both said nothing after that. I didn’t sleep at all. I still didn't trust Baz wouldn’t slit my throat in my slumber. I wanted to see if he would do anything while he thought I was unconscious.

He didn’t.

He lightly tapped my shoulder around four hours later to “wake me up.” I sat up and leant against the foot of the bed. I found myself lost in thought, taking in each and every detail of the tent’s interior. My eyes found their way back to the coat from Audra.

I smiled to myself. Yes, that coat was mine.

***

The next morning crept upon me like a silent predator. The lighting gradually dissolved from a silver-streaked indigo into a warm orange as the sun rose. I still wasn’t used to that, to sunlight. It felt painful. I covered my eyes with my hand and looked down at the ground. Maybe if I squeezed them hard enough, I could shut the light out, shut it all out.

“Keeping watch, I see,” Baz’s sleep lulled voice sounded from behind me.

“The night is over,” I grumbled.

“Since when has that ever stopped anybody?” Baz scoffed. He was right about that.

“You can eat some of this.” I walked over to the table of the food I hadn’t much touched, and handed him the platter, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Thanks.” He sat up, grabbing some fruit off the plate. I did the same.

“So,” he said between mouthfuls. “Do we wait for them here? Or do we try to find them ourselves?”

“I need more time," I declared flatly, looking at my distorted reflection in the silver of the plate.

“Time to do what?”

I sighed. “My eyes. I’m not used to the light. I don’t think I can…go looking," I said bitterly. It irritated me beyond belief. I felt powerless. I was sick of that feeling.

“Fuck. Not used to a bed. Not used to food. Not used to the light. They really punished you.”

“They’ll get what’s coming.”

Baz raised an eyebrow.

“Once I can see, that is,” I scoffed under my breath.

“Urrr, lady, can I come in?” Riece’s silhouette was outside.

Baz looked panicked.

“Yes, come in," I answered before Baz could try to hide.

“We’re having breakfast and…. oh… urrrr.” Riece scratched the back of his head, looking around the room awkwardly once he noticed Baz in the bed. “That saves me the walk to his tent at least, ha.”

“You were saying?” I urged him to continue.

“Yes, I was. Yaseer wants you to join us. For breakfast, that is.”

“We’ll be there soon,” I said, nodding.

“Alright, ummm…alright.” He hurried out.

Once he was gone, Baz turned to me.

“What are you going to do?” he sounded wary.

“We have to go. I’ll bear it.” I stood and lifted the hood of the brown leather jacket over my head, so that it partially covered my eyes.

“Here we go then.” He pulled the tent's flaps open.

Baz and I walked outside.

The sun was much, much worse than I had anticipated.

I had forgotten how bright it was. Everything looked so white and reflective. Everything gleamed so unnaturally. Everything was attacking my sight with colour and brightness. I couldn’t take it all in fast enough. It reminded me of the stories people had shared on how the world had appeared, when Acciperean sorcery was lost. There was too much life, too much light. I sucked in a sharp breath and involuntarily groaned at the pain the sun had caused, not only in my eyes, but throughout my entire body. It was so hot too. It burnt, caressed my skin like a blistering flame.

“Nemina?” Baz whispered, gently grabbing my elbow.

“It’s…fine.”

“It’s clearly not. Maybe you should wait inside and—"

“No," I cut him off.

“You can barely walk out here.”

“That’s not true.”

Baz sighed, clearly not wanting to attend the meeting alone.

“Just close your eyes and look down, I’ll lead you there.”

Before I had time to protest, Baz started dragging me along, and I, not being foolish enough to refuse the opportunity to spare my eyes, closed them.

I was used to that. I was used to having to accept things I didn’t like. I was used to making decisions with my head and not my heart.

I used to imagine things. I used to imagine a life where I was free, or at least not underground. I used to imagine a life where I made decisions based on what I wanted, what I desired. I created scenarios and people. I dreamt up love, friendship, sorrow, travels, because it was the only way I could live. Inside my own head.

But it was also the worst place to live. There were so many things lurking there, much darker than my imagination.

Baz stopped and I opened my eyes slowly. From the bottom half of my vision, I could make out a small group of people sitting around a scant fire and eating what smelt like bread of some kind.

“Aaaahh here they are, care for some?” someone offered.

“We’ll pass, thank you,” Baz answered for us.

“Really? You both look like you haven’t eaten in weeks,” he insisted.

“Almost as if we’ve been prisoners or something,” I said, my face and eyes still locked at my feet.

I couldn’t see their reactions, but I could hear teasing laughter directed at the man. Baz gripped my arm slightly harder.

So much for making decisions with my head.

Someone stepped into the left side of my view. I recognised the dark thick boots from the day before. “Leave them be.”

“We were only offering them some food,” a female voice protested.

“Come with me,” Yaseer commanded in our direction.

Baz led me inside the same tent we had been brought to yesterday. Cautiously, slowly, I raised my head but left my hood up.

There were more people here this time.

Yaseer stood at the edge of the large table. Surrounding its other edges were Riece and Fasal, but there were new faces as well.

A woman with light brown skin and short silver hair peered at us curiously, her arms crossed. Next to her, a young man sat, one of his brown eyes was surrounded by purple swelling. Opposite them were two women. One tall, lean, her features sharp, and her brown hair the same shade as my jacket.

The other was an older woman. Her face was hard and cold, but her green eyes were luminous. Her dark blond hair was tied up, coiled around a golden pin. She looked Baz and I up and down with dissatisfaction.

As her eyes rested on me, her lips grew noticeably tighter. She took in a deep breath, jerking her head away from us.

“They’re nothing but skin and bone, Yaseer,” she said, still appraising us.

“Do not be fooled by their current state Ullna. You know what they harbour.”

“Are you sure about this?” She spoke to Yaseer with far more confidence than Riece and Fasal had.

“Do you doubt me? After all this time?”

“It is not you I doubt.” Her gaze slid over to us again.

“I think we need them,” the battered man spoke up. “We haven’t freed an Acciperean for years, let alone two.”

“Four,” I corrected them.

The bruised man looked at me, and then stole nervous glances at both Yaseer and Ullna.

“Alas. Not anymore,” Yaseer said softly.

“Not anymore? What did you do to them?” Baz flared up immediately.

“ We didn’t do anything, boy, other than save your lives in case you had forgotten?” Ullna spoke.

“Where are they?” I asked, avoiding the implication of murder.

“The child is alive, but the mother…” Yaseer trailed off.

“Prya,” Baz interjected.

“Prya…did not make it through the night. She had a deep wound hidden behind her rags. It had become infected.”

“And we’re just supposed to believe that?” Baz sounded furious.

“Trust me young man, we value your lives, we value your gifts. We would not wish to see any sorcerer leave this world, especially not an Acciperean.”

This was beginning to feel familiar. Our value was tied to our abilities. Yet again.

“I am sorry,” Yaseer spoke carefully.

“Her child? What will happen to Enala?” Baz asked.

“Her child will stay with us. We will look after her.”

“Until she’s older, and she can fight in your…war?” I spoke up.

Ullna tutted. The silver haired woman smirked. Yaseer gave me that same disappointed, burrowing glare.

“We will be done with the war long before that child is grown,” he asserted.

“She will have no chance to grow, should you lose,” I replied.

“And what will she grow into should we do nothing? We are fighting for children like her, and for all the children that will come after,” the woman with brown hair spoke up.

“And when do you expect they’ll be arriving?” I said to her. “Since repopulating sorcerers is so strictly regulated. Or is that you expect the members of your troupe to handle the task?”

Yaseer straightened up, taking the fists he had been leaning on the table off it. “I understand your scepticism. I do. But you and I both know that no future is better than a future where nothing changes, Nemina. We have been collating a network for years now, liberating sorcerers from their captivity all across Athlion, as often as possible. Soon, we will have enough to strike back, and fight for the future we deserve.”

“It sounds as if you’ve already decided what I know, for me, and for everyone else.”

“This is the only option we have.”

“Dying?” I asked.

“I told you, we’re wasting our time on these two,” Ullna said proudly, her green eyes glinting with disdain.

“Oh no,” the silver haired woman disagreed. “I think they’re perfect.”

“Of course you do, Nyla,” Ullna rolled her eyes. “They have no desire to help us. They’ve made themselves clear. You heard them.”

“We don’t even know what you want our help with," Baz refuted.

Silence fell for a few seconds.

“Do either of you recognise… this?” Yaseer pulled something out of his pocket and pressed it to the table with an outstretched hand.

Baz and I looked at each other, deeply confused.

“Are we supposed to?” Baz said.

“Do you?” Yaseer reiterated.

“No,” Baz answered. Yaseer turned to me.

“No. I don’t,” I replied cautiously.

“This was found on one of the guards accompanying you to Kalnasa.”

“I…don’t…what is it?” Baz’s upper lip rose in irritation.

“It’s Noxscroll,” Fasal spoke up.

“I’ve never heard of it,” Baz said.

“It’s extremely rare. Made in Audra, where you and I are from.” He looked at Baz. “You can’t read what’s written on it without Noxstone,” Fasal said.

“Also, extremely rare,” Nyla added.

“Right,” Fasal nodded in confirmation.

“What does this have to do with us?” I asked.

“Everything.” Nyla leant against the table with one hand. “You should not have been travelling there in such a large number. Four transitions at once is almost unheard of. Four Accipereans being transferred, that’s…” She struggled to find the words.

“A sign that something greater is at play,” Yaseer finished her sentence.

“There are things we cannot do. Things you can. We need your skills,” Nyla explained.

“To do what… exactly?” Baz asked before I could.

“To make sure we win,” the bruised man said.

“We told you yesterday,” Baz started, “We don’t know how to use our powers. We weren’t allowed to understand them.”

“Yes…Yaseer told me that.” Nyla looked at him. “But you can learn. I will teach you. You are not the first to arrive here without such knowledge. Besides” — she shrugged — “you are naturally stronger and swifter than non-magic wielders. That's a good start.”

“We haven’t agreed to anything yet,” I reminded them.

Ullna stepped forwards. “Where else do you have to go, girl? We are giving you a chance. A chance to learn what you are and what you’re capable of. A chance to have somewhere to sleep, to eat, to bathe. A chance to make something of your life. A chance to fight. That is more than you could ever have dreamed of a few nights ago.”

I stepped forwards, closer to her. The bruised man stood. I looked at him and furrowed my brow. Did he think I was going to attack her?

I looked back at Ullna. “Don’t try to frame this as a chance for me, when we both know that this is a chance for you .”

“It’s a chance for us all. This isn’t just about you. Or is that you’re simply too selfish to see that?”

“ Selfish ?” I sneered and stepped closer to her again. She didn’t react at all, but her eyes betrayed surprise at the movement.

“I’ve had people make decisions for me all my life. I’ve had people control my life for as long as I can remember. I was never, not at any point, allowed to decide for myself. I was never allowed to be selfish. How can I be something I’ve never had the opportunity to be? You say that this is a chance to make something of my life. It’s not. It’s a chance to make my life yours. It’s a chance to be your captive, rather than theirs. I’ve earned my right to make a choice for myself, even if that choice is at the expense of others. I’ve earned my right to rest. I’ve earned my right to say no. You, and nobody else here” — I pointed around me — “will convince me otherwise.”

Ullna’s facial expression was contorted with a mixture of anger, shock, and disgust. “I knew he was wrong about you,” she murmured to herself.

Yaseer, I assumed. It was his fault for placing me on a pedestal.

“As I said,” Nyla broke the silence. “Perfect.” She shrugged with her hands in the air.

I was aware the plan Baz and I had formulated the night before was falling apart. How would we gain the trust of these people when I was unable to bite my tongue? I was used to not having a voice. I was so used to suppressing my true feelings and thoughts, that I had assumed doing so would come naturally. But now, I couldn’t stop speaking.

“Nineteen, near twenty years," Ullna stated. “You’ve survived as a Vessel far longer than anyone else ever has. Why do you think that is?”

I squinted at her, trying to understand the motive, or meaning behind her question. “I don’t know.”

“That’s one of the reasons they move you around, didn’t you realise? So that you never noticed when somebody died from the drainings, or…other circumstances. It’s clever. It prevents any stories or rumours spreading about those deaths. It prevents people from grieving anyone.”

Amali.

A deep pang blasted through my gut. That’s how she had died, in all likelihood.

Ullna observed the look on my face. “You didn’t realise,” she said.

My silence confirmed I didn’t.

“The fact remains. Nobody, I mean nobody since the Wielders' War has survived the drainings for that long.”

I was still staring off to the side, through and not at the table.

“I have a theory,” Ullna restarted. “I have many theories as to why, but they all have one thing in common. And that is your abilities…are different somehow. They are unique.”

“How long before—"

“Before you? No longer than seven years had been recorded,” her eyes drifted over my shoulder to look at Baz. “That’s about as long as you were there young man. I’d say you had months left to live.”

Baz gulped at the revelation.

Ullna focused back on my face. “You make your choice, and you make it your own. But do not convince yourself that running away from this, from this war, from yourself, is the only autonomous one. If anything, it is only fuelled by those who placed chains around you in the first place,” she snapped.

Nyla added in a calmer voice. “Choose this. Choose to help us, and we can stop it.”

I stepped backwards so that I was standing side by side with Baz again. I turned to meet his eye. I abruptly remembered his desperate punches against the side of the cart, his bloody knuckles, his voice cracking as he raised his chained hands and spoke.

"This is killing me."

And it literally had been. Baz would have been dead in another few months. Prya was dead. Amali was dead.

A part of my soul was dead too.

He had agreed. He had agreed to come with me. To leave this all behind, but I knew at this moment, that was not what he wanted. He wanted to fight. He wanted to try. For whatever reason, he believed in a better world.

I didn’t.

I either lived in this one, running, or I died in the hope of never running again. Both options were terrible. But Baz had made up his mind and to my absolute horror with a resolute lift of his chin, he asked.

“What do you need us to do?”