Maev turns her head. Their eyes meet. Their eyes hold. The air goes still.
I know it ain’t right that I should watch ’em. But I do. I ain’t never seen Lugh like this before. Heart open. Nuthin hidden.
He’s the first to look away. He catches me watchin him an his face closes down. There’s a sharp pain inside me. I feel it in my gut. In my chest, I feel it. In my head. The pain you feel from a knife.
We’re bein cut asunder, Lugh an me.
Bit.
By bit.
An it makes me think.
It makes me wonder.
Is this how he feels when he sees me with Jack? Do I look at Jack the way Lugh looks at Maev?
Helpless.
Throat bared.
Hopeless.
I’m runnin. Down a long, dark corridor. Torches light the way. Their jagged shadows dart an hiss an somebody whispers my name.
Saba.
Saba.
It brushes my skin. On a gust of cold air. The voice so dark an deep. The heartstone’s warm in my hand. That means Jack ain’t far away.
Then I’m climbin the staircase. Up the stone steps.
Saba, Saba, Saba.
The voice agin, strokin my spine. I know it. So well. It settles inside me. Deep inside.
I clutch the heartstone. Wait fer me, Jack. As the stones whisper, Saba, I run up the stairs. Then I’m at the top. At the wood door, old an scarred.
With the heartstone hot in my hand.
I turn the handle. I open the door. I step inside the room. It’s near empty. Near dark.
Jack, I says.
Rushlights. A candle. A high-backed chair. Turned to the fire in the hearth. He gits up from the chair. He turns to face me.
Turns to—
Turns to—
Then it’s gone. All gone.
It’s jest darkness. An I’m fallin.
Down, down, down to the deep, vast dark.
I wake with a gasp.
It’s a star-filled night. A mellow moon night. A breeze blows sweet in the trees. By the sweet, mellow light of the late summer moon, I see Lugh an Maev by the fire. They’re kneelin. Facin each other. She touches his hair. His face. His lips. With gentle, tender care.
She moves towards him. She goes to kiss him.
He turns his head away.
She waits a long, long moment. At last she gits to her feet. She goes an lays herself down. On the ground beside Tommo an Em.
Lugh sits on watch.
I pretend to sleep. But I’m thinkin about what I jest seen. He’s drawn to her. He feels fer her. I read it in his face. I know. So why did he turn away?
I sleep shallow, driftin in an out on half-thoughts an almost-dreams. I crave the oblivion of deep sleep, but my brain’s too busy.
A rustle an a whisper weave their way into my head. Unner heavy eyelids, I half-see Slim relieve Lugh on the watch, settle his bulk into his slingchair. Then I’m pulled down into a fevered muddle, of snakes an skulls an yellow medicine wagons.
An one dream, more real than the rest. Where Slim’s openin the rear door of the Cosmic an takin out a bulky sack. He hushes Tracker, who’s doggin his heels with keen innerest. With a glance around the sleepin camp, Slim slips off into the woods. Tracker follows. Then it’s rope bridges an lightnin storms an meet-me-at-the-Lost-Cause-by-the-full-moon.
When I come to agin, it’s becuz Slim’s touched my shoulder to wake me. Then everybody’s stirrin. As we break camp in silence, my head starts to clear. So strange, the visions that take hold of you in the night. Essept there’s fresh mud on Slim’s boots. An I could swear it warn’t there when we went to sleep.
We’re back on the road agin while it’s still dark. We head east. Always east. We’ll be drivin into the dawn. Same as yesterday, I ride up front with Slim. Lugh an Emmi ride Hermes. Maev an Tommo’s inside the Cosmic. Tracker sprawls over my feet. Nero flies above, swoopin down every now an then to see what’s what.
Slim natters away, tellin me how there’s a curfew between sundown an sunup. The Tonton don’t permit no travel durin the hours of darkness. But we’re on a mission, says Slim. The Lost Cause or bust. He’s stickin to the main trail as long as we can to make better time. We’ll jest hafta dodge off-road before we git to Maryville Drift. That should be some time around sunup. They got a guardpost there, so we’ll take one of his little detours onto a side road.
Time an distance rattle away unner the wheels of the Cosmic. The landscape changes. We start to see the shadows of soft, folded hills. Stands of birch make thin silver ghosts in the darkness. Not long now till dawn.
Slim sits taller. His hands tighten on the reins. He ain’t so cool about travellin these roads as he makes out. It ain’t far to Maryville, he says. We need to start lookin out fer—
Fer what? I says.
He curses unner his breath. It warn’t like this last time I passed, he says.
Jest ahead of us, to the left of the trail, there’s signs of new settlement. A raw, razed parcel of birch forest. The felled trees, cut an stacked neat around the edges. The site’s bin almost cleared of stumps. The thick chain an horse yoke lie ready to be used. An there’s the horses. Two sturdy, shaggy mustangs. They’re tied to a stake next to a tent.
A tent. Somebody’s here.
I hold my bolt shooter on Slim. Take us outta here, I says. Fast.
Slim slaps the reins. Moses picks up the pace. Slim slaps agin an the camel really starts to fly. As we race by the clearin, we turn our heads to look. Somebody’s comin outta the tent. They bin roused by the rumble of our wheels. It’s a young guy. Short hair. Tall with broad shoulders. He’s pullin on his shirt.
He calls, Long life to the— Hey! Hey, come back here! It’s still curfew! Stop! Lemme see yer marks!
I press the shooter to Slim’s temple. Don’t even think about it, I says.
No fear of that, he says. Heeya, Moses! Heeya!
I grab the side of the Cosmic an look back. The fella’s runnin fer the horses, shoutin. A girl, maybe my age, comes dashin outta the tent with two firesticks. She throws him one.
They’re comin after us, I says. There’s a girl too.
Damn, he says.
Hermes gallops up alongside us, Lugh an Emmi lookin over.
What now? says Lugh.
Take the child outta harm’s way! Slim shouts. There’s a hill comin up! Once yer past it, peel off to the right. Wait fer us at the long stone wall. You cain’t miss it. Go!
Lugh’s eyes meet mine. Don’t do nuthin stupid, he says.
I won’t, I says.
Hold tight, Em! He heels Hermes an they race off.
I stand up on the seat. Hang onto the edge of the roof as I peer back over it. The guy’s on horseback. He’s movin fast. The girl ain’t far behind.
I slide back down on to the seat. They’re gainin on us, I says. What’ll we do?
You’ll hafta kill ’em, says Slim. If you don’t, they’ll report that I broke curfew, that I didn’t stop. Everybody knows the Cosmic. The Tonton’ll be on the lookout fer us. His voice sounds matter-of-fact. Like he’s talkin about the weather.
I blow out a quick breath. Hold her steady, I says.
I stand on the seat agin. I shove my bolt shooter into the back of my belt. Pull myself onto the roof of the Cosmic. I lay flat on my stummick. The rig bumps an jolts. We hit a hole. I fly up. Land hard. If I don’t crack a rib or git thrown off, it’ll be a small miracle. I got a feelin Lugh might consider this stupid. But it’s lucky fer me the Cosmic’s such a wreck. Slim’s wrapped ropes an chains around to keep her from fallin apart. I jam my feet unner one of the ropes. Make sure I’m well an truly braced. I pull out the shooter an lean on my elbows.