The Prime raises a hand, silencing them. “I’m sure Delta has answers for that, too.” Her gaze slides back to me, calm and patient. She’s not shocked by this revelation. She barely even looks rattled. The only way out is with the dead. How long has it been, I wonder, since she stopped believing in the gods, since she realized that no one was coming to save us and we had to be our own salvation?

I clear my throat and continue, explaining about Amory’s situation, the uprising and abandonment, his motives of instilling hope in our ancestors. How the weapons he left behind at Eden will fail during silent storms, giving the Prime the perfect opportunity to attack the General. How Bedrock can be a home for all who want it—a new Verdant that works in partnership with Powder Town—and how the wastes themselves may sprout new life when the water the General hoards is used—and shared—responsibly.

“We transported as many of the mag-rifles as the wind wagon could carry. I’ll bring the weapons to the General and trade them for the freedom of my pack. Meanwhile, you have lumber here. You can build more wind wagons—a whole fleet of them—and wait for the next silent storm. They’re on the rise, a new solar cycle about to kick off. Most days, there’s a strong wind on the wastes that blows southwest to northeast, which means that reaching Bedrock will be easy and fast when the time comes. You can bypass the Barrel, swing around from the east through desert too deadly for anyone on foot or horseback. He’ll never expect you.”

“And you think he’ll turn you and your pack free when you give him the weapons?” the Prime asks.

“Yes. There’s no Verdant, and if he can’t have that, he’ll settle for the mag-rifles.”

“I think he’ll hold you until he can confirm your story. He’ll want directions to this Eden place, and then he’ll send a scouting party to confirm what you’ve told him. He’ll find the messages you did, learn that the mag-rifles are useless during the silent storms.”

“Then I won’t tell him the way to Eden,” I insist.

“And then he won’t trust you,” she counters. I hadn’t considered this, but she’s right.

“He can’t get to Eden without a wind wagon,” I point out.