Horde (Razorland #3)(92)

“Did it work?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t been back.”

“Tell me about it?”

The storyteller was in his element, painting a picture for me in words. He spoke of a jewel of a village with white stone cottages and charming gardens in bloom, of the market where all manner of lovely things were sold, of a sturdy dock where men went out in small boats to cast their nets and women in head scarves hung out their washing while calling cheerfully to one another. Of the Evergreen Isle, he said even more.

“You have to see it to believe. Forests all around, green as far as the eye can see. It’s lush and unspoiled, no other ruins, and there have never been any mutants.”

That seemed odd. “Why not?”

“They can’t swim. I’m not sure why, but I’ve seen them try a few times from the ruins on the other side of the river, and they always sink like stones.”

I bet Dr. Wilson would have a theory, but there was no time to detour to Winterville to ask him; with the delay for provisions, we had lost our momentum and needed to get back to the fight. But I filed that information away as a weakness I could exploit, provided I figured out the way to do it. Since the Freaks got smarter and more knowledgeable with each generation, they doubtless would be wary when it came to water.

“That doesn’t explain all the books … or your fancy knife work,” I pointed out.

Morrow seemed annoyed that I hadn’t been distracted by his eloquent descriptions. “You’re pushy, you know that?”

“I usually accomplish what I mean to.”

“The first adventure I ever went on didn’t lead me far from home,” he said. “But it was dangerous. See, on the other side of the river, we have ruins, similar to what I imagine Gotham is like. So I swam across to explore, and in my wandering, I ran across a building full of books, you can’t even imagine—”

“I can, actually. We found a place like that in Gotham. It’s called a library.”

“I know that,” Morrow said. “I suspected you didn’t.”

“I so enjoy it when people assume I’m stupid.”

He shook his head. “Not that, just very focused on killing.”

“Go on,” I prompted.

“I barely made it out … the ruins were crawling with Muties.” That sounded like a story I’d like to hear, and maybe it was even akin to Fade’s and mine. But I needed answers so that all the pieces added up, so I didn’t ask him to elaborate. Morrow went on, “I was in bad shape when I stumbled out of the river, and my father was livid. As soon as I recovered, he dragged me to a man in the village who was teaching his sons to fence, a family tradition. And my father insisted I learn. He said I had to be able to defend myself if I meant to take foolhardy risks.”

“You took to it,” I observed.

“Yes, well. I had the proper build and I like the elegance of it, though I enjoy the bloodshed less.”

“I’ve noticed. And the stories…?”

Morrow nodded, slightly annoyed with my impatience. “I couldn’t forget all those books … so I went to my father and I demanded the use of one of the boats. It took me weeks, but I recovered as many as I could and brought them to Rosemere. Now, we have the only library in the territories.”

“Books people can borrow anytime they want?” I asked, impressed by the notion.

“Yes. I’ve read more than anyone I know.” It wasn’t a boast, just a statement, and that explained much about him: why he was so in love with stories and so set on writing his own.


“Thanks for telling me. I think I’d like to visit Rosemere someday.”

“No offense, Deuce, but I hope you come as a traveler, not a Huntress.”

I smiled at that. “None taken. I don’t wish war or hardship on the only peaceful place in the territories. I just … I’d like to see something like that. That’s all.”

“I was wondering…” For the first time since I’d met him, Morrow seemed bashful. “You teased me but I’m recording all of our adventures. And someday, I’d like to hear your story in detail—everything you can remember from down below, what life was like, how you came to Salvation and then Soldier’s Pond.”

“Really?”

“Truly. I need your permission, though. It doesn’t seem right otherwise.”

“You have it,” I said.

Campaign

In addition to provisions, boots, and uniforms, we picked up forty more men, including Rex, before we left Soldier’s Pond. I heard her advisors haranguing Colonel Park as we marched past HQ, but there was nothing they could do, short of rummaging through each man’s pack.

This time, I was better equipped to provide for so many men and with warmer weather and better forage, the soldiers should stay healthy longer.

It hit me hard that I didn’t have Stalker as my scout leader anymore. He had handpicked the scouts according to some private criteria, and I missed his expertise. Morrow did his best, but he lacked my friend’s instincts. Their information was critical, however, so we all had to press on. I remembered what Colonel Park had said to me about structure, now that we were substantially larger than twelve men.

“Hold up. Tegan, Fade, Tully, Spence, Morrow, Thornton!” I called their names as soon as we left town, and they came over to see what I needed.