“You had nothing to do but to be yourself: this blood-letting badass kicker of all other asses. All you had to do was give them what they got hyped up for and let them die honorably. Nearly screwed up the easy part of the plan,” Van Ry said, his lips twisting into a sneer. “What the hell? Where did you grow a sense of mercy?”
So many thoughts. Kat didn’t know where to start. A plan? What plan? And he had no idea what to say to the stuff about the blood-letting and the mercy. In the middle of wondering what Van Ry meant by it all, Kat felt a strong impulse to retort. Anything that he might say jostled around his tongue, almost like a mouthful of warm ice. He couldn’t think where to start a retort either. He could have said something about Van Ry having stupid ways of executing plans, or he could have said something about mistaken perceptions. The two subjects collided in his head into a treatise about governing principles of sentient motivation.
Oppressed under the agitation of whirling words confusing anything he might have said, Kat leaned back into the seat. Heat grew under his collar from the agitation. “Painu helvettiin,” Kat muttered.
“Didn’t catch that,” Van Ry said.
Kat, almost lazily, raised his hand and extended his middle finger at Van Ry without looking.
Van Ry fell silent. Kat glanced at him. Van Ry’s sneer had a cheerful twist to it now, like he had started enjoying the moment. Nothing about the man made much sense to Kat.
For a few silent minutes Van Ry powered the vehicle across the dusty desert. He occasionally checked his mirrors to make sure they had no pursuers. They never did.
“Hummer,” Kat said.
“Hmm?” Van Ry said.
“I remembered what this thing is,” Kat said, pointing at the seat of the vehicle.
“Ah,” Van Ry said. “You really come from very far away, don’t you?”
Kat did come from far away. Thoughts of home warbled in a haze at the back of his head. The ashen, fiery heat, so like and unlike the dusty sunshine of the dessert—the sharp, dark grey stones, cracked in orange-glowing veins—the sky filled with dragons and dragon-herding spirits of fire and smoke and wind—the castles, the keeps, mostly subterranean, but with their tall towers scraping to the sky from craggy mountains.
Yes. Quite far away. He had no interest in talking about that place. So he said nothing. He stared at the wobbly division between the red-brown horizon and the empty blue sky.
“Can I ask you something?” Van Ry asked.
“If I could stop you I would,” Kat said.
“I respect that,” Van Ry said, then asked his question anyway, which is what Kat expected to happen. “What went wrong?”
You walked into my life, Kat wanted to say, but decided that answered too broadly. He guessed—in spite of no evidence—that Van Ry had a more specific thing in mind. “When?”
“Back there,” Van Ry said, gesturing vaguely behind himself. “Back in the sheriff’s office. Why did you have so much trouble with them? You’re the world’s first-in-line badass.”
“I don’t understand,” Kat said.
“You haven’t heard your odious reputation?” Van Ry asked. Kat’s eyebrows lowered. He had not. Van Ry saw it in his face. “You’re responsible for numerous destructive acts. You destroyed at least Cauldron Outpost—blew it up with its own ordnance cache.”
“I didn’t do that,” Kat said. “I was there. A dragon did that.”
“Oh,” Van Ry said. He sniffed. “Free advice for you.”
“I did not ask for your advice.”
“Keep that to yourself,” Van Ry said anyway. “It could be convenient to maintain a reputation as a man capable of destruction on a huge scale.”
Except, Kat thought, for times when people like Van Ry make misguided assumptions because of said false reputation and corner him into impossible situations.
“Still,” Van Ry said. “You were little lover of all the underground fighting rings. I know you’re good in a fight.”
“Good is relative,” Kat said, his ire rising and his tone growing clipped. “Fighting is only one tool. I am not a brawler.”
“Then what are you?”
“I am a tactician,” Kat said. “I would have avoided that fight.”
“Hmm,” Van Ry said again. He thought about it for a few seconds, then he nodded. “I understand.”
Kat took a long breath, letting it out slowly. He felt tired, and let his eyes close part way.
“You seem to have heard a lot about me,” Kat said.
“I hear a lot about everything,” Van Ry said.
“You acted like you had never heard my name,” Kat said.
“I still haven’t,” Van Ry pointed out.
“Katriel Këkale,” Kat said.
“Tiff Van Ry,” Van Ry said, tapping the front brim of his hat and smiling crooked. “’Sides, none of the rumors about you have your name attached.”
Kat took another long breath, this one nearly a growl. “So you guessed who I am,” Kat said.
“Yes I did. It was the glowing eyes gave you away, mostly.”
“Your plan, such as it was, required that I was a person who you only knew by rumor,” Kat said, only kind of asking.
“Kind of gives the whole situation a tingly sort of excitement, doesn’t it?”
“Why?” Kat said. “Why would that be a good idea?”
“Gambling, Kat,” Van Ry said. “It wasn’t a good idea. It was a gamble. Besides, if I couldn’t get to you, I was still home free.”
“Reasonable,” Kat said, sighing. It was reasonable, though hardly comforting.
A few more minutes passed in silence. Van Ry drove the Hummer off road and toward a hill, along a route familiar to him. Kat tried to make note of the way, in case he found himself in need of escape. He found it difficult to navigate in the area, though, and settled for memorizing as many landmarks as he could.
“Judgment,” Van Ry said, in a tone that said that Kat ought to understand. Kat did not, so Kat shrugged. “That’s the name attached to your odious reputation, in case you were curious.”
“It’s not very flattering,” Kat said in a flat voice.
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s somewhat of a compliment, in the right light,” Van Ry said. Kat shrugged again. “It’s the scariest thing they can think of around here.”
Kat thought about that for a few minutes, frowning. Eventually, he said, “I’m not I like that.”