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Rodin walked.
He remained alert, but the feeling of threat had gone. Cat’s words made sense—if those following him wanted Rodin dead, they would have acted with more determination already. The attack on the house and the ambush were means to force his hand. Those two who had been set on him at the chasm—and that seemed so long ago, although it was only a matter of days—had been a test. The man with the vest top had been an anomaly, a hired hand who had overstepped his mark.
If they were out here, in the desolation, they would be watching and waiting. If Rodin remained passive—or appeared to be so—they would be no threat to his life.
Only to his liberty.
It made sense, in a Dome-logic kind of way, that they would want to take him in, but it also seemed wrong. Autho
