Perfect Shadow: A Night Angel Novella

asked, quiet, hopeful.
    “Because you’re an arrogant little shit.” The color wight laughed.
    Kip shouldn’t have been taken off guard. His mother had said worse. Still, it took him a moment. A small failure. “Burn in hell, coward,” he said. “You’re not even good at running away. Caught by ironfoot soldiers.”
    The color wight laughed louder. “Oh, they didn’t catch me. They recruited me.” Who would recruit madmen to join them? “They didn’t know you were a—”
    “Oh, they knew.”
    Dread like a weight dropped into Kip’s stomach. “You said something about my town. Before. What are they planning to do?”
    “You know, Orholam’s got a sense of humor. Never realized that till now. Orphan, aren’t you?”
    “No. I’ve got a mother,” Kip said. He instantly regretted giving the color wight even that much.
    “Would you believe me if I told you there’s a prophecy about you?”
    “It wasn’t funny the first time,” Kip said. “What’s going to happen to my town?” Dawn was coming, and Kip wasn’t going to stick around. Not only would the guard’s replacement come then, but Kip had no idea what the wight would do once he had light.
    “You know,” the wight said, “you’re the reason I’m here. Not here here. Not like
    ‘Why do I exist?’ Not in Tyrea. In chains, I mean.”
    “What?” Kip asked.
    “There’s power in madness, Kip. Of course…” He trailed off, laughed at a private thought. Recovered. “Look, that soldier has a key in his breast pocket. I couldn’t get it out, not with—” He shook his hands, bound and manacled behind his back.
    “And I would help you why?” Kip asked.
    “For a few straight answers before dawn.”
    Crazy, and cunning. Perfect. “Give me one first,” Kip said.
    “Shoot.”
    “What’s the plan for Rekton?”
    “Fire.”
    “What?” Kip asked.
    “Sorry, you said one answer.”
    “That was no answer!”
    “They’re going to wipe out your village. Make an example so no one else defies King Garadul. Other villages defied the king too, of course. His rebellion against the Chromeria isn’t popular everywhere. For every town burning to take vengeance on the Prism, there’s another that wants nothing to do with war. Your village was chosen specially. Anyway, I had a little spasm of conscience and objected. Words were exchanged. I punched my superior. Not totally my fault. They know us greens don’t do rules and hierarchy. Especially not once we’ve broken the halo.” The color wight shrugged. “There, straight. I think that deserves the key, don’t you?” It was too much information to soak up at once—broken the halo?—but it was a straight answer. Kip walked over to the dead man. His skin was pallid in the rising light.
    Pull it together, Kip. Ask whatever you need to ask.
    Kip could tell that dawn was coming. Eerie shapes were emerging from the night.
    The great twin looming masses of Sundered Rock itself were visible mostly as a place where stars were blotted out of the sky.
    What do I need to ask?
    He was hesitating, not wanting to touch the dead man. He knelt. “Why my town?” He poked through the dead man’s pocket, careful not to touch skin. It was there, two keys.
    “They think you have something that belongs to the king. I don’t know what. I only picked up that much by eavesdropping.”
    “What would Rekton have that the king wants?” Kip asked.
    “Not Rekton you. You you.”
    It took Kip a second. He touched his own chest. “Me? Me personally? I don’t even own anything!”
    The color wight gave a crazy grin, but Kip thought it was a pretense. “Tragic mistake, then. Their mistake, your tragedy.”
    “What, you think I’m lying?!” Kip asked. “You think I’d be out here scavenging luxin if I had any other choice?”
    “I don’t really care one way or the other. You going to bring that key over here, or do I need to ask real nice?”
    It was a mistake to bring the keys over. Kip knew it. The color wight wasn’t stable.
    He was dangerous. He’d admitted as much. But he had kept his word. How could Kip do less?
    Kip unlocked the man’s manacles, and then the padlock on the chains. He backed away carefully, as one would from a wild animal. The color wight pretended not to notice, simply rubbing his arms and stretching back and forth. He moved over to the guard and poked through his pockets again. His hand emerged with a pair of green spectacles with one cracked lens.
    “You could come