He says, I thought we agreed it was safer you didn’t.
That was before all this, I says. I need to talk to ’em right away.
What about? he says.
Jest tell me where to meet you.
Sector Four, he says. At the watermill on the Don River. I’ll see you there late afternoon. It’s short notice, but I’ll git as many as can come. With a click to Kell, he tugs the reins an turns to the north.
Hey, I says.
He looks back.
You got my crow in yer coat, I says.
I fergot, he says. He’s asleep. He reaches unner his cloak. C’mon you, wake up, he says.
He picks him out an with a shake an a squawk, Nero takes to the air. Rain or no, he’ll be glad to fly. He’s bin tucked inside there fer ages.
Jack, I says.
He waits. His hat’s still low over his eyes. I’m shut out. He’s shuttin me out. This ain’t like him at all. Unease heats my belly. Sticks my words in my throat.
What’s wrong? I says.
Nuthin. It’s jest a lot to take in all at once. I’m gonna catch a little sleep, he says. You should too. I’ll see you later.
I’m glad you was there, I says. That it was you an me. We always do make a good team. I wouldn’t of wanted to be with nobody else.
He answers with a tip of his hat. Then he flicks the reins an moves Kell out. I will a turn of his head. Look back, look back, gawdamnmit Jack. I ache fer a smile. Or a wave.
Jack! I call. The fog deads my voice. They’re melted to the mist as silent shadows. He probly didn’t even hear me. Nero perches on HorseArch an caws his impatience to be gone.
He’s right. I got much bigger things to deal with. I ride a thoughtful trail back to Starlight Lanes. I sort an sift an consider. All the words I bin hearin an speakin. What I’ve seen an thought an felt.
Whaddya make of this place, Mercy? Of New Eden?
Things ain’t always what they seem to be. People neether. The Chosen of New Eden, they’re all tryin to be what DeMalo says they are. Do you see? Not entirely real.
DeMalo an his visions. The bunker. The seedstore. It’s the lodestone. He’s the lodestone. Brothers an sisters an fathers an mothers. Stewards stolen from their families.
You’re paired with a boy you don’t know. Sent off with this stranger to work the land an make healthy babies for New Eden. How do you feel?
Natural feelins don’t come into it.
They got no skills, no knowledge, no trust between ’em. They hardly know each other. It won’t take much to make their house crumble. It don’t stand on strong foundations.
Strong foundations. Family. Blood ties. Babies taken from the Stewards.
Not one of them girls wants her baby to be took from her. They try to hide what they feel, but I seen it in their eyes, their faces, every time.
Weak foundations. DeMalo’s weakness. Our strength.
Think like me, like me, not him.
Jack an me at the Irontree. He nearly had me undressed an I never noticed.
Boy, do you work fast.
Yer a movin target, I hafta. Here, lemme help.
I button, he unbuttons. I tuck, he untucks.
Do. Undo.
When you start to pick it apart, their house will crumble. Undo it. Fast. Quickly.
What do you believe, Saba?
On the whole, I’d say we’re stronger fer love.
Then I’m thinkin like me. Not like him.
The Starlight Lanes sign appears through the treetops. With its comet an stars an words that meant somethin to somebody, once upon a time ago. Then I catch sight of Molly. A little ways ahead, she slips from the woods onto the trail. She’s all rosy aglow an not quite tucked in. The day’s changed its mind since the mizzle of dawn. Now, early mornin sun sifts through the treetops. It gleams her hair golden as it rivers to her waist. Tied back, like always, in a tousled tail. She appears to have half the woods stuck in it. A battered bucket swings in her hand. She swings her hips with cautious abandon.
Mornin, I call.
She jumps from her skin. She whirls around. Dismay gives way to a wide smile of welcome. I bin pickin mushrooms, she calls, holdin up her pail. Oh! Nero’s jest landed on her shoulder. An a very good mornin to you, she says. Delicately, he picks a piece of moss from her hair. He gives it to her. Well, she says, thank you.
Followed by a leaf, then a twig, then another leaf. I’ve reached her by now. She’s very pink an very flustered. I tell you, she says, yer so lucky to have short hair. Mine collects everythin. Moss an twigs an—
Men? I says. Or should I say boys? I swing myself down from Hermes.
Her smiles crumple to woe. Oh gawd, she says, I swear, Saba, I didn’t mean fer this to happen. I had no idea. He jest—
Hey, I says. Calm down, don’t worry, it’s okay.
It is? she says.
This is me, remember? I says. You of all people know I ain’t in no position to preach. How could I return yer kindness to me with harsh judgement? An … he is handsome an charmin an, as we all know, he can be very persuasive—
Well, it warn’t so much that as—
—as the fact he’s bin after you since the moment he laid eyes on you. Yer only human, Molly, I says. Yer the loveliest, most gorgeous woman. You bin on yer own a long time. An I gotta tell you, it don’t ezzackly come as a shock.
It don’t? There’s wary surprise in her eyes, in her voice.
I seen you, I says.
Oh?
At Em’s party. You touched his hand.
Touched his hand, she says.
When he was goin on lookout duty, I says. You was at the food table with Mercy and he walked by you an you touched his hand.
Right, she says. You seen that.
I was th’only one noticed, I says. I didn’t mention it to nobody an I won’t. Molly, you so deserve happiness. Of anybody I know, you deserve it. Fer a night, a week, fer the rest of yer life. The only thing is— You gotta admit, it’s bin pretty stormy with you two already an I jest don’t want … I dunno, a lovers’ quarrel or somethin to cause more problems.
Say no more, I unnerstand completely, she says. I would never do nuthin to jeopardize this fight. I’ll talk to him, to Creed. He ain’t really my type anyways.
Oh, no, I didn’t mean that you had to—
It’s all right. She presses my hand an smiles. You can set yer mind at rest, she says.
Oh, Molly. Yer beautiful, weary brown eyes. Where hope’s so faded an thin, I could weep. I seen her today, Moll. Jest fer a moment. Barefoot, her hair a golden river down her back. Cheeks flushed, eyes bright with possibility. It was you. It was her. The girl you once was. If only I’d come along the trail a bit sooner. Or passed a little later. She could of walked in the sun a bit longer. I’m sorry.
I kiss her on the cheek. Her skin’s soft as dew. She smells musky an warm, of lovers in the woods. You better let Nero tidy yer hair, I says. But don’t be long. I got somethin to talk to you all about.
I find ’em at Peg’s flyer field. Tracker leads me up the hill behind the junkyard to the long stretch of scrubby grass on top. It’s from here that Peg tries to make like the birds. This mornin, with the help of Moses an Bean an far too many ropes, they’re all doin their sweaty best to launch her latest junkcraft to the sky. I call ’em to order, but they’re so childishly excited that they won’t be deterred. The whole thing’s ridiculous an doomed. I give up. They won’t be long.