***
Their group was a quiet one, which was alright for Fedaro, as his mind had not stopped racing since he saw what the girl could do. Even though he was mindfully guiding them out of the Gardens, in the back of his head he was testing every scenario they would likely face on his way to Doma Arak. Beluka and the girl walked behind him, and he had told the Hippo to only follow in his tracks. As it were the big man could not see the placement of his own feet, and though Fedaro was wary of the white-looped red snakes that slithered here and there, he was more nervous about the Hippo falling over an unseen rock or branch. Fedaro was willing to put up a large wager, that even if a snake did manage to bite through Beluka's leggings, that the venom would barely give the Hippo anything more than a headache, given the man's mass. He was not exactly what you would call fat, but he was built as wide as a house and standing at least at 6 foot 6, maybe 6 foot 7. His lumpy head was shaven clean, making him an ugly man - The best of all to Fedaro's amusement, was the smallish ears, which had made the moniker of Hippo so much more fitting.
Fedaro kept hoping for a clearing where he could see the sun better, the overhead forest canopies causing a bit of disorientation. Still, he was certain that they were generally going in the right direction. Where they would end up would be a whole new host of problems on its own - heading back, through the Imperials and to the ferry with which Fedora had arrived on was not an option. He had even left his bike behind, which was an out of character move on his part. He didn't like to think about it, but he would probably have to make a couple of such sacrifices along the way.
Their silence was suddenly interrupted by a buzzing noise, and then a ringtone coming through. Fedaro turned around, realizing that the Hippo's helmet, hanging from his backpack, was ringing.
The mercenary shook his head, walking to the Hippo and ripping the helmet from his back, him standing there motionless with the girl in his arms still.
‘While I know these come with factory settings, I am at a loss why you wouldn't change the options to something a little less bubblegum?’
‘No one ever calls me directly,’ grumbled Beluka, ‘all our communication comes through broadcast.’
Fedaro ignored him and raised the helmet to his mouth, answering the call.
‘Where is Beluka?’ asked Mestarés immediately over the phone.
‘He is with me. At the moment I find him best suited as a baggage carrier. I might even give him a promotion, depending on how he behaves himself.’
‘Can I ask that whatever reasonable part of you remains to send Beluka back to us? He doesn't need to share your fate.’
‘He certainly doesn't need to share yours,’ said Fedaro.
‘Beluka is carrying the girl?’ asked Mestarés.
‘Indeed. Not bad Mestarés, if only you had shown this type of insight before coming to Scithea.
‘I never wanted anyone to come on this mission!’ said Mestarés sternly over the phone, and Fedaro detected some serious anxiety in his voice.
‘And it's not me that that concluded Beluka is carrying the girl. Sternroe is a bloodhound when it comes to tracking. He took one look at your tracks and he knew exactly the composition of your group and where you are headed. He will find you Fedaro!’
‘If he is so good why did you get to the girl before he did?’
‘Happenstance. He came from the other side of the Gardens and my company was lucky to be nearby the girl. Trust me when I say he will track you down.’
‘Good, then I can put a few bullets in him and get it over with.’
‘Will you really turn hostile toward Imperials?’
‘At the moment, anyone who threatens my cause. Let me give you some advice Mestarés. Turn back and call it a day.’
‘I've tried, Sternroe isn't going to give this up.’
Fedaro held up his hand and indicated to Beluka that he should stay put. He walked away from the Hippo and the girl, until he was out of sight and out of earshot.
‘Are you still there?’ asked Mestarés.
‘How important is this girl really?’ asked Fedaro not for the first time.
‘I meant what I said. She has the spirits of the dead Kingdom of Arterra following her. The rumours I heard; this includes any of the royal family members. Can you imagine what would happen if the second son of Osprey walks into the Imperial throne room? Emperi Josalain cannot stand uncontested if the likes of King Serego is seen walking the halls!’
Fedaro almost laughed. He did chuckle a bit, much to the annoyance of Mestarés.
‘Do you understand now why everyone wants this girl dead?’
‘Oh yes I understand that part now, fully. What I don't understand is how the Imperials allowed her to live to begin with. But you were not ordered to kill her. And she was thrown into The Hold to begin with the first time she was captured. Was she scheduled to be executed?’
‘No,’ said Mestarés, ‘not as far as I know.’
‘Whoever commanded you to come after her wants the girl for themselves.’
‘Now listen to me Fedaro. The reason I'm sharing any of this with you is because what that girl can do can tear Doma Arak apart. Anything your father helped built will be lost to the wind.’
‘I don't really care what my father helped build. It is the Imperials that wiped out the closest thing to civilization in the south. They destroyed Arterra, not I. They are right to fear the ghosts following her.’
‘And here's what you don't get Mestarés. They send you, the sensible obedient one, and a bloodhound as you call him to chase down a girl - not to kill her, although they had not relayed that information to you because they expected Sternroe to catch up to her first. Tell me, what did Sternroe say? Did he insist on pursuing the girl?’
‘He did,’ admitted Mestarés.
‘Your orders, or at least Sternroe's, does not come from those in favour of Emperi Josalain. If the girl was caught by you, the enemies of Emperi Josalain would at the very least blackmail him with the mere existence of this girl with her dead spirits. It would actually have been better if the girl was dead, which you very nearly accomplished. If you value your Imperial Empire Mestarés, then leave the girl with me.’
Mestarés' silence on the other end told Fedaro that what he had just said made perfect sense.
‘What are you going to do with her?’ asked Mestarés.
‘You will read about in the newspapers.’ Fedaro pressed the signal end at the base of helmet. He was well aware that the Imperials would be able to trace the device.
He fiddled with the bracelet on his arm. It was called a pallet, very much in the same sense as the tray in a painter's dumber hand, from which he chose colours for his brush, and mixed new ones as he went along. Explained in detail the pallet would turn out to be a very complicated device and Fedaro was still mastering it after years of use. He used the almost embedded dial on the bracelet to choose the aspect he wanted his Musket to assume.
What came out of the Musket had been a project of years of travelling, researching and calibrating the weapon to the device. Fedaro held the Musket over his shoulder with one arm and tossed the helmet high up and into the sky. He instantly snapped straight the Musket and took steady aim, and fired when the helmet had just begun to fall from the highest point of its trajectory. A silvery streak escaped from the muzzle, almost invisible in daylight, piercing the helmet and smashing it into a thousand tiny pieces that rained on the surrounding area. So much for the masterpiece of the Imperial uniform. Somewhere in Gardens Mestarés was swearing right now, realizing he had lost their signal.