This was it. His heart quickened. I won’t be long, he said.
A woman gave him some damper and corn porridge. He found a quiet corner, away from curious eyes. While Nero ate his fill, he took four things from the pouch on his belt. A length of string, a thin peg of charcoal, the cherrybark scroll she’d dropped in the woods and a small roll of oilskin.
Molly had handed him a gift. Not just a few hours’ sleep, but a whole night. It was late afternoon. They’d be on the move again the moment Saba woke. That would probably be around dawn. His timing would be tight. But he had to chance it. He was depending on Nero’s speed. And his need to get back to Saba as soon as possible. Luckily, the changeable hotwind had died. So that wouldn’t slow him down.
He pondered for a bit. He made a few careful marks on the scroll. He drew the same marks on the piece of paper rolled inside the oilskin. After he’d rolled the skin back up and tied it with string, he put it safely in his pouch.
Then he waited till Nero had finished and wiped his beak clean on a grass tuft. You missed some, he said, and picked a fleck of corn from his head. As he tied the scroll to Nero’s leg, he noticed that his fingers were trembling. He stood, cradling Nero’s warmth to his chest.
Find Jack. Nero, find Jack, he said.
Then he gave him up to the air. The great black wings began to row steadily. Onward, westward, he watched. As their future beat towards the sun’s red blaze.
NIGHT TWO
ONCE THEY WERE LYING ON THEIR HARD BUNKS, BEFORE SLEEP TOOK hold, Emmi did as she’d done last night. Her first night at Edenhome. She spoke quietly but clearly, so every girl in the bunkhouse could hear. She said,
My name is Emmi. I come from Silverlake. My folks was Willem an Allis. I got a sister an a brother. He’s got blue eyes, the same as me.
She started them off, then they took it in turns, up and down the bunks and around and along, keeping strictly to order. Their name, where they came from, who their people were. The more timid ones whispered so you could hardly hear.
It’s what Mercy had done, when she was in the slave gangs. She’d talked to Mercy a lot. Told her how afraid she’d been when the Pinches snatched them. When Saba was taken from her to fight in the Cage. When the Tonton took her prisoner to Resurrection. Mercy said she’d been afraid when they slaved her. Saying her name and where she was from helped her remember who she was. And it helped the other slaves too. It helped keep them strong. The kids here were prisoners as much as the slaves.
Last night, as they’d settled in for sleep, she knew she had to do the same. Even though such talk was forbidden. They had no family now but Mother Earth. They only lived to serve her. Emmi had no idea if the girls could be trusted. If anyone told on her she’d be set for a beating. Like the boy at supper yesterday. He couldn’t sit for the pain, couldn’t eat. He was made to stand at his place, red-eyed from crying, a warning to them all. So, before she could lose her nerve, she just dived in and did like Mercy. When she’d finished, there was a long silence. Then, from the bunk below, Nell began to speak who she was. After her, the rest followed on.
And nobody told. Not yet, anyway. But secrets would be hard to keep in this place. The only safe place for a secret was inside your own head, shared with no one. If only they knew. She had the biggest secret of all inside hers.
Soon Saba would come. The Angel of Death was coming to free them. To take them back to their families.
As their voices murmured in the dark, her hand went to it cautiously. That very afternoon, she’d been sent for a hammer. And there it was, in a dark corner on the floor of the shed. It must have fallen and nobody noticed. In the leap of a heartbeat, it was in her hand and she’d tucked it in the waist of her unders. Now she pushed it out of sight, into the space between her bunk and the wall. Her stolen treasure. A wire cutter.
Another big secret that no one could know.
I come to with a stone-heavy head. Dull an dull-witted. Fer a long moment, I cain’t place where I am. There’s the wide sound of rainfall. The smell of damp cool. The wash of grey dawnlight on smooth pale stone walls. I’m in the den. Nass Camp. Dismay jolts me. I must of slept through the night. I told Molly clearly, a couple of hours, no more. She’s still here. Sat on the ground, leaned aginst the wall with closed eyes. Has she bin watchin on me the whole time? She starts awake at the first sounds of my stirrin.
It’s rainin, I says.
Jest started, she says.
You coshed me, I says. Slowly, stupidly, I start to sit.
No, no, don’t move. She props me up aginst her shoulder. Here, drink this. It’ll help clear yer head. I sip from the cup she holds to my lips. It’s water. With the faintest hint of somethin bitter. That dose I gave you was nuthin, she says. But you was on yer last legs. It hit you hard.
I says, One dose to sleep, another to wake. How often d’you do this, Moll?
She gives me brown-eyed blankness. I know that look. I should mind my own business. Drink it all down, she says.
I drain the cup, to my dry throat’s relief. How often d’you do it? I says.
Hardly at all these days, she says. I save it fer the big stuff. Y’know—she gives a little shrug—when life jest gits too much to bear. You do look better fer a night of rest.
I may thank you fer it later, but not now, I says. I should of bin gone ages ago. Gimme a hand up.
Outside, a chill grey world rains an rains. Steadily. Patiently. The ground’s turnin to mud. I find Nero huddled half asleep on the dry of a ledge. Webb Reno’s there too. Crouched on his haunches with a little cloth bundle, shelterin unner his drippin cloak. He jumps to his feet. Ready when you are, ma’am, he says.
No more ma’am, please. I’m Saba, I says. You kissed yer wife g’bye, Webb?
Well, sure, he says.
Go kiss her agin. I got a couple things to do.
Nass Camp’s bin awake fer some time, includin Lugh an Tommo. I got a hunger on me fer once. They take me to a shelter that’s bin rigged fer cookin. A stringy old fella fries me a tin of corn porridge. While I share it with Nero they tell me how the war parties slipped away in the night one by one. Slim an Creed, Ash an Manuel an their peaceful army of sixty souls. They couldn’t wait to be gone, Lugh says, their hearts was so fired by what I said.
It was stirrin stuff, says Molly.
I cain’t remember more’n bits of it, flashes. It’s hazy in my memory, like I dreamed it. I ain’t never bin a good talker, but it’s strange what you can do in the moment. It won’t be long now till some of ’em show up to New Eden farms. What I’d give to be there. To know right away if this works. It has to work. What can I wish by? The stars, the sun? Maybe Slim’s old rabbit foot. No doubt he’ll rub it enough fer all of us.
The moment I sat down to eat, a gaggle of silent kids gathered to stare. I can jest see ’em from the corner of my eye. One tow-headed chancer, braver’n the rest, edges closer, bit by bit. Till I can hear his breath, shallow an nervous, at my elbow. They’re puttin me off my grub. I growl an they scatter, shriekin with terrified delight.
After food an sage tea, I’m anxious to be gone. My head’s clearin, but the weather sure ain’t. I wrap my sheema around an pull my coat collar up. As I splash to an fro in the mud, gittin Hermes ready, I realize I ain’t seen Auriel this mornin. I better say g’bye before we ride out.