“Dying is not an option,” Damin mutters. “We start the so-called revolution by saving the folk of the lower city from the floodwater.”
“How do you propose to do that?” I ask.
He gives me a smile. “We have been busy. We built boats and hid them. If we can get to them, we row folk to a place where the plateau is more accessible.”
It sounds like a plan, yes. It also sounds dangerous. Rowing laden boats in a flood? Attempting to get to those boats from here, with the lawmen on the look-out? Dangerous. I say so and earn a look of censure.
“What happened to the Lyra who swam the torrent back home to save a puppy?” Damin demands.
“She grew up,” I snap back. “I did not say I will not do it; I am saying it is dangerous. This too can get us killed.”
He blinks at me. “Maybe you should stay here.”
“No, I am not sitting in a cocoon while you risk your life. I need you alive and I need you to come home with me to convince the stubborn old folks to pack up and head south. So I am going with you. Argue all you want, it will help none.”
Those blue eyes stare into my soul. “I missed you,” Damin murmurs.
His words anger me. Until I showed up in his enclave, he gave me no thought and now he missed me? “Not enough to send word.” I glare at him.
“I tried, Lyra, but all post is confiscated.” He comes to sit beside me and takes my hand. “Learn a trade I said, and I did. I learned how to lead people. We need leadership desperately. We also need your talents. Lyra, I will lead them to safety, but you will keep them alive.”