Raging Star

NIGHT FIVE

IT’S ANOTHER NIGHT OF RUMPUS IN THE SKY. THE STARS chase about in fiery disorder. We came by the fieldways, around the edges, in the shadowland. But we probly could of took the roads, checkpoints an all. After dark in starfall season, most people bolt the door. They won’t answer a knock fer fear of the shades on the roam. Lurkin here behind the stables, with our pale faces an dark clothes, we might well be mistook fer haunts. Beheaded in life maybe, searchin fer our lost bodies. Essept ghosts don’t breathe fog on a chilly night.

On the left there, at the front, Jack whispers. That’s where the women stay. The birthin room’s on that side too. There’s a hallway divides the buildin in half. Runs straight from the front door to a door at the back.

Nursery’s on the right, says Mercy. Plus beds fer the midwife an wetnurses. To the rear’s Tonton quarters an a kitchen. Outside’s a well, a privy an a woodstore. They’ll git a food delivery every couple of days. That’s it.

How d’you know all that? I says. You didn’t midwife here.

They lay out all the babyhouses ezzackly the same, says Jack. An it’s always four men on duty. A commander an three grunts. Four horses in the stable here. That means they’re all inside.

We left our own horses in a scrubby hollow a half mile north. I’d be happier with ’em nearby but we didn’t have the choice. There ain’t no cover hereabouts to be found.

The babyhouse stands by itself at a flat crossroads. It’s edged on three sides by little poplar whips. But it’ll be years before they’re high enough to make a windbreak, let alone one thick enough to hide in. This place is raw an new. Built only a few months ago, accordin to Jack. It’s a low one storey with a bark an sod roof. Walls of board, mud an strawbale sprawl low an long. There’s a sturdy barred door in the middle. Two windows eether side with narrow iron bars. They’ve closed the wood shutters inside, but light trickles out between the slats. I check ’em out through the looker, but cain’t make out a thing. Here behind the stables, we’re maybe fifty foot from the house.

Babyhouse, says Cassie. Baby prison, more like. D’you really think you can bluff us in there, Jack?

Oh, I can do that no problem, he says. It’s what comes after that I’m worried about. Seein how we got no idea what comes after. He smiles his lopsided smile at me.

He seems more like hisself tonight. I’m mightily relieved, if none the wiser. I don’t think I could of took no more of his cool distance. Tonight—unlike last night—he does have his Tonton gear on. An, fer the first time, I’m glad to see him in it. When I told him so, he jest raised one eyebrow. The fact is, he’s our only chance of gittin into this place.

Mercy’s padded Cassie with a pretty decent halfways along baby belly. Our plan at the moment—an to say it’s rough is high praise—is fer Jack to pound on that barred door an say he’s got a pregnant woman who’s in a state. Mercy practised Cassie in signs of false labour an what to do when an it turns out she’s a champion at pretendin to be in hysterics. Once they’re inside, Mercy says the Tonton will leave the midwife to deal with her. An there’s a good chance she won’t blow the whistle when she sees Cassie’s a sham. Midwives hate their slavery, they hate what they’re doin, an they hate the Tonton above all. From there on, it’s down to Jack an Cassie what they do. So long as they don’t use no weapons an nobody gits hurt.

I trust you, I says.

I’m flattered by yer faith in me, Jack says. An, as you know, I’m a great believer in wingin it. But even by my standards this is a very loose plan. Yer sure you wanna do this?

Cassie’s got the final say, I says.

Let’s move in closer, she says. Take a look through them shutters. See what’s goin on.

Keepin low, we run across the yard. We flatten ourselfs aginst the house next to the window on the left-hand side. We edge in to peek through the shutter slats. It’s one long room lit by wall lanterns. Two neat rows of beds. Only two girls. One, a big ruddy gal, hugely pregnant, lays propped up in bed. The other’s a slim little thing with a sweet, exhausted, frightened face. She ain’t pregnant. She paces an turns. Starts an stops. Wearin a path in the floor beside what must be her bed. There’s a small cloth-wrapped bundle set on it, like she’s ready to leave. Her hands clutch together at her waist. Tryin an failin to stop the agonized claw of her fingers. She stares at the door to the hallway.

That’s Rae, whispers Cassie. She must of had her baby.

A feeble wail trickles from the other side of the babyhouse. Emmi used to wail like that. Weak as a newborn mouse an no mother’s milk to feed her. It’s beyond a wonder that she lived.

Mercy shakes her head. Born before its time, poor thing, she says.

A collared slave, her face a careful blank, sits in a chair beside the door. She’s a great carthorse of a woman. That’s why they picked her. Why she’s here. To keep the girls on this side of the door. Rae goes to her, speaks to her, pleads with her. The woman shakes her head. No, Rae cain’t go to her baby.

Rae turns away. You can see her tryin to git hold of herself, but she’s crackin. The other girl holds out her hand, says her name. Rae runs to her an buries her head in her shoulder. She weeps as the girl holds her. As she strokes her back, talks to her quietly. She makes Rae sit up an dry her tears.

The shutters muffle their voices. The night-time flicker of the rushlight lanterns softens, blurs their distress.

Let’s take a look the other side, I says.

We scuttle across the front door to the window of the baby room. Slowly, cautiously, we take a look. A room jest like the other. Only here, instead of beds, there’s hopeful rows of small cots. They stand testament to DeMalo’s belief in the future of New Eden. From here, we cain’t see how many’s full. But a Steward woman moves between maybe half of ’em, checkin on the infants inside.

The midwife, whispers Mercy.

The pitiful noise comes from a swaddled baby that another Steward holds to her breast. She’s sittin in a chair, tryin to make it take a drink. But it won’t grab hold. Its head flops away an it cries out its life in thread-thin complaint. Rae’s baby, born a month too early.

Wet nurse, says Mercy. They only use women whose own baby died or was too weak an got exposed.

Mothers of the dead held captive. No chance fer them to mourn. Does it ease their sorrow some to see a child grow healthy from their milk? Fer them whose baby died natural, maybe. I could see it might help. But the women with feeble babies like this one? Who know the fate of their child? It must cut deep to their souls.

The Steward holdin Rae’s baby buttons her shirt an holds it to her shoulder. She rubs its back, tries to calm it with her hands an her voice. She’s got curly copper hair, a bit like Maev’s. I’d say she’s ages with me. If she had a baby that died, it might well of bin her first. Even to my eyes, she don’t seem practised. Her gaze flicks anxiously to the two Tonton who jest come into the room.

The older man, dark-skinned, wearily handsome, is in charge. The other is a red-cheeked boy of about twenny. He looks too fresh faced to have the blood tattoo, but he must do. He stands post near the door while his commander speaks with the Steward wet nurse an the midwife. We cain’t hear what they say, their voices are too quiet, but it’s clear they’re talkin about Rae’s child. He makes them unwrap the baby from the swaddlin so’s he can see it proper, take a good look at it.

It’s a girl. A pathetic red scrap. Tiny sparrow arms. Legs you could snap between yer fingers. She’s stopped cryin now. I can hear DeMalo’s voice in my head.

Whose children will best serve the earth? Those born to the scum of Hopetown? Weak children born to the weak? Or the children of these people?

Sometimes the strong give birth to the weak. An sometimes the weak grow to be strong.

That’s jest how Emmi was, says Mercy.

Emmi. Born early, denied a mother’s love to anchor her to the world, she barely hung on fer the first few weeks. Then, with Mercy’s care, somethin inside of her kicked an she started to fight to live. The commander checks the child over. He speaks to the women some more. He turns to the young Tonton an flicks his fingers. The boy slips from the room.

The copper-haired wet nurse starts to swaddle the baby agin. The commander stops her. With urgent distress, they talk at him, her an the midwife. They’ve raised their voices, so I can make out, Another few days, an Please, sir. He cuts ’em off short with a raised hand.

He’s decided, says Mercy. No hope fer this one.

After a few more words, the commander leaves the room. The young Tonton’s jest comin back in an they exchange nods at the doorway. He comes over to the women. The wet nurse hesitates, clutchin Rae’s baby to her. Then she gently kisses her head an hands her over, naked as she is.

I notice how carefully the Tonton takes her. How he supports her head with his hand. How he cradles her in his arms so easy, so natural.

An I think to myself, He’s done that before. Maybe had a little sister of his own. Was happy to help with her, loved her. Not like me. To my shame, I never touched Em once. I blamed her fer Ma bein dead. Lugh was the one who helped Pa with her.

Suddenly, the pound of runnin feet. We all hit the ground. A second later, two Tonton appear from the back of the babyhouse. They head fer the stables. The moment they’re outta sight, we scramble around the far corner of the buildin. We hold our breath. We wait.

The red hot quivers in me, strains to break free. My hand rests on my gunbelt—flew there at the sound of runnin feet. Essept I ain’t wearin it. Fer the very first time since I left Silverlake, I ain’t packin no weapons. None of us are. No bows, no guns, no knife in my boot sheath. It don’t feel right. I don’t feel right. I notice Jack’s hand rests where his gun ain’t.

The Tonton haul a double bench buggy from the stables. One runs back inside to fetch a horse an they ease him into the traces an hitch him up. It’s all done in double-quick time.

They’re gonna take Rae home, whispers Mercy.

You know where she lives? I says to Cassie.

She nods. She’s perfectly calm. I recall her steady nerve the night I first met her. When Jack snatched Emmi an it was only thanks to her an Bram’s cool heads that I didn’t git us all killed there an then.

While the Tonton bring the horse an cart to the front door, locks rattle, bars creak an it swings wide open. The commander walks Rae out, holdin her by the elbow. She hugs her little bundle to her chest. No sign of tears now. She wouldn’t dare make a fuss in front of him. She holds her head high. Doin her best to act the way a Steward should.

The commander helps her onto the buggy’s rear bench. He smiles an bows his head. She almost manages a smile back. She’s made of stern stuff, this girl Rae. Whether that’ll work in our favour remains to be seen. The two Tonton climb in an settle on the front bench. The grunt ridin shotgun lays his firestick on his knees. With a slap of the reins an a sudden jolt, the buggy rumbles from the yard an into the moonpath that lights the road north Silver.

As the front door shuts, locks rattle, bars creak, we can see Rae’s dark figger on the buggy’s back bench. She twists around to take a long, last look. Then she turns to face the road ahead.

Don’t worry, girl, I says. You’ll see yer baby soon. Then I says to Cassie, We ain’t gonna need yer play actin after all. We picked the right night to come. You an Mercy git the horses. Wait fer us by the first bend along that north road. There’s some rock cover there. Jack, yer with me. Let’s go git that scrawny little baby.

The young Tonton’s easy to spot. Easy to keep in our sights. The night’s clear lit an the land lies flat an he’s the only thing movin besides us. An the light breeze carries snatches of the baby’s thin wail. So we hang back an keep low in case he glances behind him. Nero coasts along above us, but nobody’d give a second thought to a crow flyin by night. That’s if they even noticed it.

With the Tonton’s head start, he must be well on the way to wherever he’s bin told to leave the child. I’m guessin it’ll be some fair distance from the babyhouse. Far outta hearin range. Nobody could take the sound of a baby cryin outdoors all night long. Not even the Tonton. The speed this guy’s goin, a sort of runnin walk, says he’s in a hurry to git the job over with. From his gait, you can tell that he’s hunched around the baby, huggin her close to his chest. He’s probly got her unnerneath his cloak.

What a grim task. He must be bottom of the peckin order. We follow him fer half a league or so, along a path through the low scrub. It ain’t worn ground, but it’s bin trampled down enough to make easy goin. Then he’s gone. Jest like that. Disappeared from view completely.

Jack snatches up the looker that’s hangin around his neck. Where’d he go? he mutters as he sweeps the night. Dammit. C’mon!

We belt across the plain. We nearly tumble down on top of him. He’s sat cross-legged at the bottom of a dry little gully with the baby laid across his lap. We duck behind a boulder an peek out. The baby’s whimperin now, but the steep rocky sides will blanket any sound she makes. The Tonton’s took off his own sheema to wrap her. That’s somethin he ain’t meant to do. He’s makin a tidy, careful job of it as well. His firestick’s on the ground next to him.

He’s sayin, Don’t look at me like that. This ain’t my fault. Yer too small an whose fault is that? Yers, that’s who. You should of stayed inside yer ma till you was growed big enough. But oh no, you was in too much of a hurry. An fer what? Look at the pickle you got yerself into.

He talks to her like you would anybody. Jest normal conversation. It’s the only way he can do this. Me an Jack look at each other. An, fer the briefest of moments, in the starfallen night, I see the father he was fer the briefest of times. Gracie’s father. A girl child like this one. I always ferget Jack had a child. Only now does it occur to me that this might be hard fer him.

Okay, yer done, says the Tonton. He takes the baby in his arms an gits to his feet. I gotta put you somewheres outta the wind. You don’t wanna catch cold. An we don’t want them coyotes catchin wind of you. Over there? Good idea. He settles her in a nook between the rocks. There you go, look at that. Yer snug as a bug. Now listen to me, an this is real important, okay? You cain’t cry, not a peep an I mean it. If a coyote was to find you— His throat works as he fights not to cry. Suddenly, he turns an scrambles up the other side of the gully. He rushes off into the night.

Jack an me do a silent finger count to ten. He stands slowly an checks with the looker. He’s goin, he whispers.

You stay here, I says.

I pick my way down the rocks, takin good care every time I move a foot or a hand. I mustn’t make no sound. But my last step sets off a slide of pebbles. I freeze. Stare up at Jack. He checks through the looker.

He’s outta sight, he says. Go on.

The baby’s started to mew agin. I hurry to her along the gully. She gringes a feeble protest as I try to winkle her out from where she’s tucked between the rocks. I ain’t quite sure how to go about it. I don’t wanna hurt her by mistake. Shhh, I tell her. My hands feel clumsy. About as useful as feet fer the task. The Tonton’s sheema seems to be caught on somethin.

Nero circles overhead, caw caw cawin. He probly don’t like the baby’s shrill laments. He ain’t the only one. Does the little thing sound weaker or is it jest my imagination? Whatever, we need to git her to Rae as quick as we can.

I tug at the sheema an, bit by bit, I manage to wriggle her free. I reach in an take her. She don’t hardly weigh nuthin. She’s mainly bulky cloth. I turn to retrace my steps.

An he’s here. The Tonton. Standin in the gully. Twenny foot away. A bolt shooter aimed at my heart. He gasps as he spots my birthmoon tattoo. The Angel of Death. Fear shards his face. He scuttles back. But his gun stays on me.

How did he creep up on me without Jack seein? Without me hearin him? He knows this place an we don’t, that’s how.

I raise my voice. I’m alone, I says. I ain’t armed. D’you hear me, Jack? Stay outta sight. Don’t try nuthin.

The Tonton’s eyes widen. His breath’s shallow an high. He’s heard the stories, the rumours. The ghost of the Angel of Death. On the prowl in New Eden. Set on revenge.

I know what you think but I ain’t no ghost. I’m real enough, I says. Here. I reach out my hand to him. Go on, I says. Feel. I’m warm.

After a moment, he sidles forwards. His fingertips touch mine. A tiny nod. Show me yer clean, he says.

I keep my eyes on him as I move slowly an smoothly. I don’t want him gittin jumpy on me. I lay the baby on the ground. I slide off my coat an throw it on the rocks. I open my arms wide an turn in a circle.

He moves in an does a quick pat down, holdin his shooter on me all the while. Lookin at me all the while. Like he still ain’t sure this ain’t some ghost trick. His face is a soft boy’s face. His razor shaves peach fuzz, not bristles. He steps back. I seen the crow, he says. I thought he might hurt her.

The crow’s mine, she’s safe, I says. We look at each other, the Tonton an me. I seen you, I says. I heard you talkin to her. I’m gonna pick her up agin, okay? Don’t want her gittin cold there on the ground. I crouch an scoop the baby to my arms.

Yer holdin her wrong, says the Tonton. You gotta support her head, doncha know nuthin?

Not much, I says. He’s already holstered his gun an goes about settlin the baby proper in my arms.

Yer easy with her, I says. You got a little sister yerself?

His jaw tightens. His mouth too. That tells me all. Yes. But alive or dead, I dunno. Maybe he don’t neether. That must hurt.

I got a sister, I says. She was born weak, jest like this one. But she grew an thrived an … she’s somethin special.

Where you gonna take her? he says. When I don’t answer, he rushes on. I won’t clype on you, I swear, he says. Apology—no, more than that—shame shades his face. This boy who shed tears over a baby that ain’t nuthin to him.

I’m gonna give her back to her mother, I says.

You better hurry, he says. She ain’t doin too good. She’s awful small. He strokes the baby’s cheek with one finger.

It don’t hafta be this way, I says. Every blood tie cut. Mother from child. Brother from sister. Did they take her to Edenhome, yer sister?

I dunno, he says. Maybe.

What’s her name? I says.

Then, it’s like he suddenly realizes that he’s standin with the Angel of Death, enemy of the people, talkin to her like anybody else. His face slams shut. He steps away. Head high, stood tall, he holds his clenched right fist to his heart. Long life to the Pathfinder, he says.

I bring my clenched fist to my heart. I spread my first two fingers in a V. Freedom, brother, I says softly.

Raw hunger spikes his eyes. Like a spark to a wick. His fist loosens. His lips part. Ohmigawd, he’s gonna do it. He’s gonna say it. Say it. Go on. Freedom. In the sky overhead, a star dashes itself to darkness. Hope sighs across his face an slips back in the shadows.

I says, The Pathfinder ain’t what he says he is.

They really shouldn’t let him out on his own. His face gives away his every thought. He knows he shouldn’t believe such as me. But. He folds my words very small an tucks ’em away somewhere secret. To take out an ponder on later. I won’t tell on you, he says. I promise.

Then he scarpers. Scrambles up the rocks an outta the gully, racin to git back to the babyhouse before they wonder what’s takin him so long.

An Jack’s slippin out from behind the boulder an scramblin down to help me up the slope. Possibilities brew in the gleam of his eyes. Huddle in the corners of his smile. As he gives me his hand, he says, Well.

As I take it, I says, Well, well.

My hands was sure itchin fer a gun, he says. That turned out innerestin, though.

Let’s hope there’s plenty like him, I says. The baby starts to grizzle agin. You take her, I says. I ain’t good with babies.

Jack makes a sling around hisself with the ends of the sheema. Then, with the baby held snug aginst his chest, we head off at a fast trot north across the scrubland. To where Mercy an Cassie wait fer us. Where the north road takes a first bend.

Past curfew. Dead night. The stars rampage the sky. An all is quiet in Sector Three. Besides us, there ain’t nobody afoot. The chill wind swings restless between north an east. My skin shivers. Maybe it’s a fallen soul passin by. People believe that on starfall nights, they hitch rides on the back of the wind to wherever it is they’re goin.

A wildcat on a field prowl fer mice pauses. Head high, he sniffs us, ever hopeful of a bigger meal. Then he carries on. The likes of him would easily take a baby left out in the open. She’s asleep now, thanks to Tam’s gentle jog an Mercy’s heartbeat. She’s cradled snugly in the sheema, tied around Mercy’s chest.

The air whispers of winter soon to come. It mumbles the musty corn stubble back into earth. Murmurs on the tips of our noses an fingers. This’ll be the first winter of my life that I ain’t spent at Silverlake. If I last that long, that is. If I don’t slip up fer DeMalo to crush me. But if I’m crushed, so will my people be. I look at the moon. It seems to grow fatter by the second.

I whisper to Cassie, How long away d’you figger the blood moon to be?

She says, Countin tonight? I’d say … five nights from now.

Jack hears me an frowns. I keep askin. Like time might be turnin backwards somehow. I gotta stop. He’ll be wonderin why I need to know.

All’s quiet at Rae’s farmstead, like the land that surrounds it. The Tonton would of dropped her off an turned right around agin. Her an her boy—called Noble—farm ten acres. There’s a sod an junk cabin an two rackety sheds. The tall wind pointer tacks to an fro with a metal click-click-click. Accordin to Cassie, their nearest neighbours ain’t jest well outta sight but they’ll be well outta hearin distance too. A baby’s cry won’t be heard.

Light bleeds out from unner the cabin door. Inside, a girl’s cryin. Loud, body-wracked, heartbroke sobs. Here, with only her boy as witness, it’s safe fer Rae to crack. The ugly sound of her pain warms hope in me.

Jack’s keepin well outta sight. The fewer people who know about him, the better. Fer now, me an Mercy hang back in the shadows too.

Hermes tosses his head. His feet shift a restless demand to gallop. He longs to run flat-out over distance, across endless plains with big skies above. That’s what he was born to. Not this closed-in land. Not this walkin in shadow edges, pickin through trees, this way, that way, around an back agin.

Yes yes, my dearie, I know, I know. Not long now to wait, my heart.

My hands soothe him, promise him. Come what may, he’ll have his freedom. I’ll make sure he ain’t slave to no Tonton.

Cassie stands at the door with the baby in her arms, wrapped in the Tonton’s sheema. My belly’s twisted. My mouth’s dry. Mercy squeezes my shoulder. My eyes meet Jack’s. We’re takin a big chance here. Much bigger’n we did at the gully. It ain’t jest that I’ll be proved right or wrong. Cassie’s riskin her life. Liftin her mask. Obedient no more.

She straightens her back. Raises her head. She takes one deep breath an she knocks. Her gentle tap barely sounds on the heavy slab of wood.

Who is it? A man’s voice raises from inside. Unwelcome. Suspicious.

Noble, it’s Cassie, she says. Steward Cassie from Midway Rock.

Quick, heavy footsteps come to the door. Cassie? It’s the middle of the night. What’re you doin here after curfew?

Open the door, she says. Hurry. Please.

There’s a fumbled rush as he lifts the bar, then a tall, husky lad fills the doorway. He lights the night with a rush lantern. There’s a firestick unner his arm. Long life to the Pathfinder, he says. What’s the matter? What’s happened?

Cassie holds out the baby.

He stiffens. What’s that? he says.

It’s yer daughter, Noble. She raises her voice. Rae, I’ve got yer baby here.

There’s a sharp cry, a rush of feet, then Rae’s there. Her arms reach desperate fer the child. Noble blocks the doorway with his body so’s she cain’t git past. She pummels his back with a snarl of rage. How did you—? You stole her? he says.

Saved her, says Cassie. They left her in a ditch fer the night beasts to take.

Give her to me! Rae scrambles like a beast herself as she tries to shove past Noble. But he ain’t movin an he’s much bigger’n she is.

You shouldn’t of took her, he says to Cassie. She must be a good fer nuthin or they wouldn’t do that. The Pathfinder knows best.

There ain’t a thing wrong with this baby, says Cassie. Nuthin that good care an love from her parents cain’t make right. Look! She’s perfect. She came early is all. Cassie pulls away the sheema, shows Noble her limbs, but he don’t look. Not even a glance. The baby starts to cry, woke by the fuss. Cassie covers her up agin, soothes her.

We don’t want no trouble, says Noble. We ain’t havin no baby here. Our only family is the Earth, you know that. If they find out, it don’t bear thinkin what they might do to us.

He tries to shut the door, but with a No! Rae shoves herself between him an it.

They won’t find out, says Cassie. I’m gonna help you. We’re all gonna help you. We’re gonna help each other. Everythin’s changin, Noble. We ain’t livin unner the boot no more. We can heal the earth, work the land, raise our children, an not at the point of a gun.

That kinda talk’ll git you slaved or worse. Take her away now, I mean it, he says. Rae, hush, please! Cain’t you see I’m tryin to do what’s right here?

Rae’s pushin him, pullin him. Let! Her! In! she says. Three words, each one jaggedly fierce.

I got a elder with me right here, says Cassie. She knows all about babies. She’ll teach you how to care fer her, what she needs. Most of all, she needs you. Her father an mother.

Ohmigawd, what’re you doin? says Noble. What’s happenin here? You can tell he’s startin to waver. Fer the first time, he looks at the baby. Well how about that, he says. She’s got a nose jest like my ma. In his voice there’s both wonder an defeat.

She’s made from yer own flesh an blood, Noble. She’s yer child, says Cassie. I got some friends here I want you to meet.

At that, me an Mercy walk outta the dark into the light of the lantern. Noble sees my tattoo right away. Ohmigawd, he says. He tries to raise his firestick, but he’s jugglin that an the lantern an keepin Rae an Cassie at bay an he was already on the verge, so his last defence crumbles.

With a cry of relief, Rae seizes the baby, Cassie slips past him an the two of ’em disappear into the cabin. I raise my hands an me an Mercy keep on comin.

We ain’t got no weapons, Noble, I says. We ain’t armed. We’re here to help.

He flattens hisself to one side to let us pass. His face tangles in complete confusion. His hair’s askew. I smile, friendly-like. Try to look normal, not ghostly. His gaze twitches to Nero, perched on the tree in his yard. To the starwild sky an the wind pointer as it chitters to an fro. Then he looks back at me, eyes wide.

I hitched a ride on the wind, I says.

I close the door behind me. Close it on two nervous people with a newborn child an Mercy to show ’em the way. I lean aginst the door fer a moment. I let out a long, thankful breath. One baby. One tiny crack. It worked.

Everythin okay? Jack’s low, husky voice rides the dark easily. I go to him. He’s leanin aginst the shed, huddled in his cloak.

I’m okay, I says, but that baby’s got problems. Her name’s Lucky Star. Luck, fer short.

He winces. I know a tavern called the Lucky Star, he says. Scurviest dump in the livelong world.

I invite myself inside his cloak. Fold myself around his heat, his heartbeat. His arms circle my waist. But he takes his time, I notice.

So, he says. Ruthless killer sees the error of her ways. How does it feel?

Like this, I says. I take his face in my hands an I kiss him. With relief. With hope. With the newness of a day that I ain’t never seen. With somethin my dustborn soul don’t know the name of.

I wanna be with you tonight, I whisper. Jack, I—

He pulls away. His eyes pull the warmth from me as he says, I won’t have too much to lose, d’you hear?

My bones take the stab. Quick an cold. I know what he means right away. He means he will not love me. He will not give all to me. He’s lost all before. What he loved most dearly. His child. His Gracie.

Fer all he’s said to me before, how he feels about me, he’s drawin the line, steppin back from the line. But why why why? What’s brought him to this? Only two nights ago, we lay together. In the bed he’d made of fir boughs. Maybe I didn’t hear him right. Maybe he—

He sets me away from him. Out from his arms. When we was in that white room, he says. With DeMalo’s fake visions. What did you mean when you said, them people in the bunks?

The smell of danger prickles my scalp. I don’t remember sayin that, I says.

Well you did, he says. You said, when them people lay on them bunks fer the very last time, they died with hope that somebody would find the seedstore one day. What people in the bunks? How d’you know people died there?

But why? This is why. Ohmigawd, I let that slip. Does he suspect I was in the vision room before? One wrong word here, this could all break open. Be careful. Be very careful.

I really don’t remember sayin that, I says. But, uh … I dunno, I guess I jest imagined what might of happened. Like you said, it was a lot to take in all at once. The seedstore an the maps an the vision room, the bunks. I s’pose I jest seen it all an made a story that made sense of it to me. Didn’t you? Ain’t that what anybody’d do?

I dunno, you tell me, he says.

An I’m thinkin, that don’t sound like he believes me. Would I believe me if I was him? My mind dashes about, tryin to think what else I might of let slip. It ain’t like him not to say what’s on his mind. Not to chide me direct fer my sins. But then Cassie’s comin outta the cabin an Jack’s sayin, completely normal, like he didn’t jest maybe very possibly stick a knife in me,

So, what next, Saba? More baby stealin?

I … uh … yeah, I says. Mercy’s gonna see these two through the night. You’ll be glad of her skills, so she’ll stay on till you ain’t got need of her no more. You should take every child they leave out to die. Return ’em to the parents, but only if they can be trusted. If not, you’ll hafta keep the babies safe an well.

Okay, he says. But there won’t be that many exposed. A handful at most. You’ll need a lot more babies than that to make any progress. This’ll take weeks. Months.

No, no, we bin talkin about that jest now, says Cassie. It’s obvious what we do. In fact, Rae was the one said it. We’ll need the help of the midwives to steal the babies to their parents. There ain’t no Tonton in the birthin room, jest the midwife. Mercy says they ain’t innerested in stillborns. They don’t wanna see ’em. The midwife’s in charge of the burial. So she reports a stillbirth an we take the baby. Cassie looks at Jack. Could you git Mercy back into the babyhouse she used to be at? The other midwife there was of the same mind as Mercy. She’s sure that she’ll help.

I’ll think of a story to cover it, says Jack. Whatever Tonton was there when Mercy was, they’ll be long gone. They’re on constant rotation so’s there ain’t no time to build factional loyalties.

We’ll work out how best to smuggle them away, says Cassie. We’ll hafta make sure they don’t cry, of course. Anyways, that’s only our first thoughts on this. I’m sure once we dig into it, we’ll have more. What if we have other ideas?

Talk to Jack, I says. If he agrees, then you do it. This is perfect, Cassie. It’s jest what I meant should happen. You git the idea, you make the plan, you make it happen. All of yuz workin together. Not me tellin you to do this or that. All I do is set you off, set you thinkin in a different direction. Then you pass it on, teach the others. You become yer own leaders, d’you see? Cassie, you’ve changed yer life tonight. Rae as well, an Noble. One step. That’s all it took an yer changin New Eden already.

Cassie’s all smiles an bright eyes. We’re the mountain, she says. An we’re on the move. I didn’t unnerstand when you explained this at the mill. I listened, but I didn’t hear, not really. I had to see it fer myself. Do it fer myself. It’s so simple.

Not everybody’s like you, says Jack. Or even Rae, fer that matter. You gotta be careful with this.

An remember, no weapons, I says. You use violence even once, you’ll be painted as the enemy.

We won’t be able to keep this secret fer long, says Jack. A baby’s cry carried on the wind could well be heard. Rumours here catch like a spark to dry wood. An there’s always some toady wantin to gain favour with the local commander.

If Rae an Noble git informed on, says Cassie, if anybody comes to take their baby, they’ll reach fer a gun. They won’t let her be took without a fight.

That means we gotta move quick on every front, I says. Before there’s a chance of word gittin out.

Before the blood moon, it seems. You keep askin when it is, says Jack. Why then?

Be careful. Be very careful.

Five nights ain’t too far, ain’t too near, I says. Probly jest about as long as we can keep this quiet. So we really gotta push. Move fast. The baby stuff’s all up to you now. I’m steppin back unless you wanna bring me in fer somethin. It’s slaves next fer you, Jack. I need you to play the Tonton commander an slip Skeet into a few slave gangs. A mornin here, a afternoon there. Quick, in an out. DeMalo ain’t got no support with the slaves.

Some of ’em used to be his Chosen ones, says Jack. They might think to git back in favour by turnin informer. Skeet’ll hafta be careful who he talks to.

I says, The main thing is, they need to be ready to move when they git the call.

Call to what? he says. Throw off their chains?

That’s right, I says.

Okay, how? he says. When?

I’m workin on that.

You better work fast.

They need to stand tall, I says. Look the Tonton straight in the eye. Make polite, do what they say, don’t give ’em no cause to come down hard. But look ’em straight in the eye. Man to man, woman to man. You act low, you believe yer low, an they do too.

High-minded words, he says. I’ll pass ’em on.

Cassie says, I better git home before Hunter comes to. She looks at me. A smile warms her. What we done tonight, it’s powerful. A kinda power I could never of imagined. Bram would be amazed. He’d be very pleased.

I’m choked. She didn’t hafta throw me such a bone. She’s a far kinder soul than I’d be in her place. This time she holds out her hand to me. I take it. Then she hugs me. Thank you, she says.

As she goes to mount up, Jack says, G’night, Saba. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Like I’m anybody. Like my kiss didn’t tell him, like my body didn’t tell him, like we don’t both know that I jest said to him, be with me Jack, burn with me till the dawnrise. His face is storm shuttered. This ain’t how we are, him an me. It ain’t how he is. Frantic hands rummage words on my lips. Quick, find the right one to make it okay. Remember, though, Cassie’s in earshot.

Well done fer tonight, he says.

Please, say somethin else, please, Jack. No, no, of course, no, he cain’t. Cassie’s here an she don’t know about us an she cain’t know. But a look, he could manage somethin. I could manage some little thing.

Don’t go, I whisper.

But he’s already on Kell’s back an they’re already turnin their horses an then they’re headin out along the field an I’m standin in the yard an watchin them go. Cassie, back to her man who ain’t Bram an her secret life that keeps her soul alive. Jack, to ride away from me when he shouldn’t. Could I be readin this wrong? Readin too much into it? Nobody can be fine all the time.

Then I remember. The look on his face, in his eyes, as we listened to the Tonton with the baby. We all got wounds that will never heal. Jack’s dead child is one of his. It must go deep. An it’s bin pressed on hard this night. Maybe he jest needs to be alone fer a while. I gotta stop thinkin that everythin’s always about me. I know full well that it ain’t.

I know another thing, too. Whatever else I hafta own to, or cook a story to cover, Jack cain’t never find out about me an DeMalo. I could never explain it. Never make him unnerstand. Some things are jest too big to fergive.

As I’m nearin home ground, with my eyelids at a half-mast, I realize we didn’t arrange our next meet. I need Jack, want him with me on the Edenhome recce.

I whistle Nero down an bring Hermes to a halt while I dig in the worn leather bag around my waist. I find the cherrybark roll that I’m after. A stick child inside a square with a moon above. Meet me at Edenhome tonight. A arrow drives through the middle. That means be ready fer action.

Nero flaplands on my head. I pick him off an tie the roll to his leg. Find Jack, I tell him. Then I throw him back into the air. He banks north an with a caw caw of farewell, he beats strong an steady towards Jack.

I do need him on this recce. But—selfish as always—every time I see him, it’s another chance to try agin. To try an git things right fer once.

An I’m in urgent need of somebody else too. I need Auriel. Auriel Tai. I need her an the best of her Snake River refugees. We need bodies in New Eden. We gotta rumble every last one of these fault lines. An fast.

The blood moon’s comin at us quick.

I ride through the gate of Starlight Lanes as the first shades of dawn light the eastern sky. Slim’s on watch in his slingchair. Though that heroic item is completely lost in his bulkitude of flesh an blue frock. As he struggles to his feet, it comes with him, attached to his backside. Lugh says one time it’ll disappear up Slim’s rear exhaust an bagsy he ain’t gonna be the one goes after it.

Damn thing, he says. I swear it’s shrinkin. He wriggles loose with grunts an curses. That knave, Bobby French, he’s went an sold me a pup agin. A man pops wind when you handshake the deal, that tells you he’s nervous. I should of asked myself why. How’d the politeness offensive go?

He ambles over to hold Hermes’ head while I swing myself down. As my boots hit the ground I stumble. More tired than I know. Dumbed by it all.

Whoa there! Slim catches my arm. Where’s Miz Mercy got to?

I says, She stayed to help a Steward couple settle in with their baby.

His whiskery face cracks a wide grin. Hark at you, so casual! He grabs me in a one-armed hug. So, you bin baby stealin! Ha ha! He cackles with delight.

Finders keepers, I says. Somebody threw it out.

Ain’t you the cool one, he says. An don’t the bunny always come through? He waggles the manky old rabbit’s foot at me. That’ll teach you to mock, he says. I bin rubbin this old fella bare to send you luck. I wanna hear it all, soup to nuts, but later’ll do. Go bag some zees. You earned yer beauty sleep tonight. He bows his head, with a fancy swirl of his hand. I shall attend to yer mount, oh great one, though I be but a mere humble vessel. Okay if I tell everybody mission accomplished?

When they wake, I says, that’ll be soon enough. I need to see Ash, though, right away. Would you tell her I’ll be in the grove? I head towards the forest garden an washpond. Oh! I talk to him as I walk backwards. Anythin to report?

Jest a heads up, he says. Creed’s pressin me hard to show him the weapons dump at Nass Camp. He wants to know ezzackly how much firepower we got. That boy’s brewin trouble. Best give him somethin dangerous to do right away.

Thanks, I’ll think of somethin, I says.

You done good tonight, Angel, he says. Keep on provin me wrong. Who knows? I might even find I like bein a peacenik.

We smile at each other. I wobble as my heel hits a rock.

Oi! Look where yer goin, he says. With a salute, he trundles off with Hermes.

I duck inside the shed where I left my gear. I grab my bow an head fer the grove.

I zing the shots. Fast as I can. No time to think. Snatch, nock, pull, let fly. I scatter the target. Arrow by arrow. I’m tired. Off centre. Wobbly.

Lugh put up this big moss bullseye fer Emmi to practise. Tucked it outta sight in Peg’s nuttery, hopin to spare her from all the Dutch uncles. But everybody swarmed on it, anxious to keep target trim. An any time Em twitched a finger she’d git don’t-do-that-do-this, no, don’t-do-this-do-that till she quit the grove in protest. Now she shoots at wormy apples in peace.

Oh, the relief of my bow in my hands. The rightness of my whiteoak bow. It cleaves to me like my own flesh. The gift of a dead man, Namid the Star Dancer. Warrior an shaman. Auriel’s grandsire who lives in my dreams.

Arrow by arrow, I steady. Shot by shot, I move closer to the heart. I pull my self in. Shoot my self back to true. My hands, my eye, my body, my mind. Then, I’m on it. Hittin it. Time after time.

An everythin but the centre falls away. An it’s simple. Perfect. No quarrel, no quibble, no trade-offs. No coldness in Jack. No lie upon lie that might betray me.

Hands start clappin. Behind me. I jerk at the sound an my arrow flies wide.

It’s Ash. She stands there, clappin me, knee deep in a thick mornin ground mist. There’s a smile on her lips, in her eyes. She’s tall an solid an steady an familiar an I’m suddenly exhausted. Jest like that. My bow goes limp in my hands. She comes up an hugs me. Tightly. Strongly. I lean aginst her. My throat tightens. Weak tears threaten salt trails. She steps back to give me a good lookin over.

The Angel has triumphed, she says. First time I ever bin woke by them words. Well. I’m proud of you. An so would Maev be. She told me to hang in with you, you know that? Mark my words, Ash. If anybody’s gonna carve a new path, it’ll be that one. If yer smart, you’ll stick with her. That’s what she said. She was right.

She thumbs my eyes dry with clumsy tenderness.

It worked, I says. I think this could really work. Was it hard, though, Ash. Much harder’n fightin. I had no idea.

You sent fer me, she says. I’m here an I’m ready. What’s the job?

I didn’t notice before. She’s dressed fer the road. She’s brought her pack.

I says, I need you to ride faster’n you ever rode before. I need you to—

Saba! Saba! Come quick! Emmi flies towards us, flappin in high excitement. It’s Lugh an Creed! They’re gonna kill each other! Hurry!

With a clatter of curses, Ash pelts off. An I’m right behind her.

It’s a dustup at dawn. A two-dog fight in the junkyard. We hear the rumpus well before we reach them. Everybody yellin, Tracker barkin, Moses bellowin. They’re brawlin on a junkpile. Strugglin an tusslin. Throwin punches that mainly miss. Creed’s split Lugh’s lip. Lugh’s blooded Creed’s nose.

Make ’em stop! cries Emmi. Lugh! Look out!

Creed’s grabbed him by the waist an hauls him down. Metal an iron. Slabs an sheets. Beams an girders. Edges to cut. Blocks to break bones. Stupidity times a million.

Gawdamnn eejits! Ash yells. Git offa that pile!

Slim’s in there shoutin at ’em an Tommo’s tryin to grab a arm or leg to separate ’em, but it’s too wild fer their safety an they beat a retreat.

What the hell’s goin on? What set ’em off? I says.

Who knows? Slim mops his head with a kercheef. I’m in the stables, next thing I know, it’s a brouhaha. Damn, I’m too old fer this.

I was asleep, says Tommo.

Creed’s the more wily fighter, the victor of many a scrap. I know fer a fact this is Lugh’s first punch-up. But he’s taller an heavier an he ain’t a bad wrestler. He’s also wearin boots. Barefoot, on a heap of metal, Creed’s on a hidin to nuthin. He must know it, but he’s fightin like he means to win. They’re breathin hard. Hot-eyed with fury.

Molly’s yellin, Creed! I ain’t gonna stitch you agin! Stop it! Lugh! Dammit, you two, stop this right now! Her colour’s hectic. Her mushroom pail stands beside her. Another early mornin walk in the woods, it seems.

Any time now, there’s gonna be blood, says Slim. One of ’em’ll crack their head wide open. You better wade in there an break it up, Angel.

I’m already pilin in fast, shoutin, All right, that’s it! That’s enough.

Tommo an Ash help an between the three of us, we somehow haul ’em off the junkpile. Worked up past thought, Creed rushes me. I sidestep, hook his foot an he’s down. He slams on his front an lays there, winded.

I says, Right, who started this? Lugh?

No reply. He won’t look at me. Won’t look at nobody. He wipes his bloody mouth with his sleeve, his breath comin harsh, his chest heavin. He’s a fought-to-a-standoff mess. Shirt ripped. Britches torn. Scraped, bruised an drippin with sweat.

Creed’s the same. Tracker’s lickin his face, whinin. With a groan, Creed pushes him away. He rolls onto his back. Tommo helps him to his feet. He leans over, hands on knees, shakin his head. It’s a wonder he didn’t split his stitched shoulder wide open.

Creed, I says. You tell me, if Lugh won’t. What’s this about? Who started it?

He scowls as he dabs at his nose with his filthy shirt tail. Silence from him too.

Fine, I says. I ain’t got time to waste on you two. It’s a draw. Shake hands an that’s it.

They don’t move. Gawdamnmit, I yell, be a man an shake hands!

They do. One quick shake, not lookin at each other.

Creed, I says, yer headin out with Ash. Git yerself cleaned up an ready fer the road.

He jabs his finger at me. Hotly angry. I do not do what you tell me to, he says.

I’m askin, I says. Please.

Why doncha send yer dear brother? he says.

I want you with Ash on this. She’s gonna need yer help, okay?

C’mon, man, says Ash. Don’t be a bigger ass than you already are. She claps him on the shoulder as she passes. See you at the stables, she says to me. We’ll wait there fer orders.

Creed hesitates. His glance flicks between me an Lugh. Tryin to decide if he’s lost face or not.

C’mon, Creed, I says. Please an thank you. With a curse, he heads after Ash.

I grab Lugh by the shirt an drag him outta earshot. He nurses his fist. He avoids my eyes.

That was a disgrace, I says. You put us at odds with each other, we’re gonna lose this fight. An we won’t walk away with a bloody nose, it’ll be our heads on spikes. So think on that an whatever itch you woke with this mornin, consider it scratched.

He nods. I’m sorry, he says. I—

That’s it, move on, I says. I turn to go.

Saba, he says.

I look back at him.

I need somethin to do, he says. I’m kickin my heels here, goin crazy ever since the bridge. Please. Lemme make it up to you. Gimme somethin to do.

I cain’t hardly think, I’m so tired. I cain’t remember when I slept last. I bin on the go the whole night. Then all this trouble an now, here’s Lugh, askin me fer orders.

C’mon Saba, he says.

Okay. I got a recce tonight. Come with me, I says.

He goes off with Emmi to clean up an mend his wounds. Molly an Slim’s already disappeared. There’s only Peg an me left. I don’t s’pose you know who started it, I says.

Who started, what’s this, why oh why do bucks fight? Peg cackles an winks at me. She’s bin hunkered down on a fender all this time. Parin her knobbly claws with a knife an watchin the fight like it’s some travellin show. Whoops! I bin lookin fer that! She dives at the crashed junkpile, seizes a rusty crank an scampers off to her workshop.

Why do bucks fight. Why oh why, indeed.

I’m at the stables with Ash an Creed. Havin scared up provisions enough to keep ’em goin a few days, I fill their waterskins an help load their gear. While I do, I tell ’em the route to the Snake River. By way of the Yann Gap an the Wraithway an what they should tell Auriel about what we’re doin here. You probly won’t need to, I says. She’s a star reader, she knows everythin. I want sixty of her people, the strongest an best she’s got. Bring ’em to Nass Camp. You know where that is?

Slim told me, says Creed.

You two gotta go like the wind, I says. You cain’t stop fer nuthin.

Fergit the wind, we’re lightnin, says Ash. Jest as soon as we clear New Eden. Whaddya figger … four days all told? Us to the Snake an hustlin sixty of them to Nass Camp?

Two, I says. No more.

She don’t even blink. We’ll steal fresh horses on the way, she says.

Send me word when yer crossin back over the Gap, I says. I’ll ride to Nass Camp an meet you.

What if they ain’t at the Snake? says Ash.

Dig me a grave with a view, I says.

She looks at me, puzzled.

Never mind, I says. A feeble joke. If you don’t find ’em, come back here fast as you can.

Maybe the punch-up got rid of some steam, maybe Ash boxed his ears, I dunno. But there’s the offer of a truce in Creed’s voice—if not his eyes—as he says, Slim told us what you did at the babyhouse. I still think the whole thing’s crazy, I still don’t think it’ll work, but I bin … persuaded to give it a try.

I kicked his butt, says Ash.

That’s all I ask, I says. That you give it a try.

He sticks out his hand. We shake. Let’s make tracks, he says.

He goes to mount his horse, but Ash grabs him, sayin, Hey, hey, not so fast. Yer a mess, fergawdsake. Why should I hafta look at you all bloody all the way there an back agin?

His hackles rise. A snap sparks on his lips. Then he takes off his precious frock coat, hands it to her, goes to the horse trough, vaults into it, dunks hisself whole an clambers out agin on a wave of water. He takes his coat, puts it back on an swings onto his horse, drippin wet. I’m ready, Ma, he says.

Fast as you can, I tell them.

We won’t let you down, says Ash. Wish us luck.

I wave them on their way. Wish all of us luck, I whisper.

All quiet on the western front? says Slim.

He’s leadin Moses along. An what a sight. Poor old Moses. He’s bin decked out in a jaunty bell harness an straw hat to haul Peg’s junktub around her circuit. As he shakes his head to try an throw off his bonnet, the bells on his harness jingle. He moans in despair at his plight. The King of the Pillawalla Camel Race has fallen low.

Now that’s jest cruel, I says.

Don’t git me started, says Slim. It’s a crime aginst cameldom, pure an simple. So, tell me, what was that dog fight about?

Yer guess is as good as mine, I says. They’re keepin schtum.

Well, he says, my guess would be that you got these young bucks forced to be around each other day after day. We’re talkin high hormonals. Maybe the wonder ain’t that they fought, but that they didn’t have a barney long before now.

You could be right, I says. Creed an Lugh ain’t never bin what you’d call friendly. Somehow they jest don’t jibe. They’re always talkin at cross purposes or doin somethin that annoys the other one. I sigh. The last thing I need is this aggro.

Somebody told you bein a leader was easy? he says. Give ’em somethin to do, Angel. Keep ’em busy. We all need to play our part in this. Every single one of us is jest as committed as you, each fer our own good reasons. You gotta involve us. We gotta see this happenin fer ourselfs. In fact, I’ll remind you that some of us was already up to our necks in this with Bram, well before you come along. That’s right, me an Molly.

An Cassie, I know, I says.

His head goes up. Like he’s caught a sudden whiff of the unespected on the wind. Cassie? he says. You tellin me she was with you last night?

I nod.

She’s a rare ’un, that girl, he says. I’m glad to know she’s okay. You better go git some shuteye. You’ll pardon my frankness, but you look like hell. An no sleep makes fer bad decisions. Here endeth the lesson, amen.

Amen, I says. Thanks, Slim.

We all need to play in our part in this.

Gimme somethin to do, Saba.

In the corner of the shed, with the echo of discord still hangin in the dustbeams, I make a nest in the pile of our packs an curl up, wrapped in Auriel’s blood red shawl. Quiet at last in the shadowcalm, my bones sink deep, my skin slacks with fatigue as I teeter on the cliff edge of sleep. Thoughts an cares, my restless days an nights of star flurry, fall away to the greedy dark of oblivion.

In the darkness of Auriel’s tent, she sits by the fire in her shawl. Her pale wolfdog eyes turn to me. We all got our parts to play in this, she says. Jack. Yer sister. Yer brother. You an me. The wolfdog an the crow. Long before you was born, Saba, a train of events was set in motion. Fer you, all roads lead to the same place.

Bunkers an seedstores an visions in hills. An fall away, fall away to darkness.

Complaints from my body start to drag me awake. It grumbles at the lumpy hardness of my bed. Stiff neck, cramped arm, my back’s got somethin stickin into it. An somethin heavy pins my feet down.

The hands of a dream try to drag me back. A dream of Peg’s birds. Nero had opened the doors of their cages. I followed their skysongs, chased after them to the seedstore, where I found ’em feastin on seed from the spilled jars. DeMalo discovered us there. He made me gather all the birds an put them in the jars. Even Nero. I wept as I closed the lids on their songs. He held me in his arms until the room fell silent.

I squint through gritty eyes. The sun’s moved, but daylight still shifts through the slat window above. I got no idea how long I bin out of it. My dull head tells me too long an not nearly long enough.

The heavy weight on my feet is Tracker. As I sit, I pull myself free an he scrambles up. Next thing I know, his tongue’s swipin at my face. All right, that’s enough, thank you. I shove him offa me. Look at this mess, I tell him.

My bed of packs has collapsed. Between me probly shovellin at ’em in my sleep an now Tracker’s big feet, they’re scattered about. The top pack’s fallen open an some of the gear spilled out. It’s Tommo’s. He’s th’only one among us who’d bother to fold a worn brown shirt so neat. I tuck it back inside, along with the other stuff. Empty trade bag, his flint an steel, a coil of nettlecord.

Nettlecord. My hand pauses. I stare at it a long long moment. No two cords are the same. They speak of the hand of their maker. What Ash said, what I rubbished so quickly, hisses inside of me darkly.

I don’t wanna think that one of our own did it, but I cain’t figger how else to explain it. If it is one of us, we gotta know who. An why.

I didn’t look at the tether closely. It was night-time. I ain’t looked at it since. I’m probly wrong. I should check anyways. I don’t want to, but I must. I need better light. Tracker follows me as I take the coil outside. There ain’t nobody around. I pull the tether from my coat pocket. I hold the two side by side. The coil an the tether. They’re the same. My heartbeat trips. I compare the cut ends. They match. They fit. The same hand made both. Cold stills my skin.

A cord tells its maker as surely as palmlines tell a life. From the loose work of a child’s first cord to the roughness of one made in haste. Pa taught us cords early on, me an Lugh. How to make one. How to read one.

As my heart denies it, as my head decries it, my eyes declare they know who made this cord. I’ve watched him make an mend many times.

Tommo. It’s Tommo’s cord.

I make fer the nutgrove in a numb hurry. Tracker bounds ahead. I’m dizzy, off-kilter, fuddled. Like I git when I’ve drunk too much whisky. When what’s real seems dreamlike an distant.

Tommo would never harm Nero. He couldn’t. Apart from a rare few people, his sympathy lies with creatures. An surely so. They won’t ever misuse him fer his deafness, not like his fellow humans have. He’s always got a soft word, a kind hand. Fer the horses an Tracker an Nero. Fergawdsake, he even thanks the animals he has to kill fer food. He calls ’em brother. But I did wound him with my duplicity. Did I wound him so badly that this is how he wounds me back?

Peg waved a cranky claw towards the grove when I asked if she’d seen Slim. Too busy loadin choice bits of scrap on her junktub to waste words on me. On my way, I do my best to calm myself, smooth myself. I don’t wanna give out that there’s anythin untoward. I’m wrong. It’s a mistake. I must be wrong. I gotta speak to Slim first, before anythin else.

I find him helpin Em with her bow an arrow target practice. They’re a gentle sight, the old man an the girl. Golden an soft in the afternoon sun. Memory kicks in me, falters me mid-stride. Of a gold moment of my own, jest like this one. Wait … no. Not a memory of my past. It’s a memory from the walls of DeMalo’s white room. A old man an a girl, laughin together in a kind afternoon, in a world that was lost long ago.

Still. If I was to secretly patch my own threadbare life with this small, unwanted scrap of memory, no one would know it ain’t mine. I walk towards them, sayin, Fine shootin, Emmi.

She smiles, shy but pleased. I wish Jack was here to see, she says. He always said I had good aim. I still got a long ways to go. But I got the best teacher ever. She leans her head aginst Slim’s arm. He ruffs her hair with affection.

It’s clear he’s bin helpin her fer some time. I had no idea. An I git a heart pang that it ain’t me teachin her. Well, too bad fer me. I had every chance an never bothered. I hand her the tether cord. Is this the tether from the burrow? I says.

You should know, she says. I gave it to you an you put it in yer pocket right away. Why you askin me?

Never mind why, I says. You sure this is it? Take a good look, Em.

She studies it, frownin. Well, it’s dirty enough, she says. It’s bin tied around somethin. It’s pretty worn. I’m sure as I can be, I guess. It was dark, y’know.

I take it back from her. Okay, I says. Git back to yer practice. Keep on like this, you’ll be outshootin me in no time.

Not yet, she says. Maybe one day. She steps her feet into place with particular care an starts firin at the moss target agin. She’s much stronger in her arms an wrists an chest. Jack’s right. She’s got a natural eye. An her aim holds remarkably true. That’s a surprise in a girl made of air.

I don’t hafta give Slim the nod I wanna talk to him. He knows. He falls in beside me an we move among the trees so’s we’re well outta earshot of Em. I unsling the coil of nettlecord from my belt. I hand it to him, along with the tether. Tell me what you see, I says.

He takes his time, compares the two. Our eyes meet an hold. I see that Nero’s tether was cut from this cord. An lookin at yer face, he says, I see you know who made it.

Slim wouldn’t know the work of Tommo’s hand. I don’t s’pose he’s ever seen it close enough. An Em didn’t notice, she was too excited at the time.

I do know, I says. I don’t want to, but I do.

He hands both back to me. I wouldn’t rush to judgement. As you well know by now, things ain’t always what they appear to be, he says. What looks to be guilt could be somethin else.

Such as? I says.

He shrugs. Somebody could of borrowed the cord. Whoever’s guilty could be settin the cord maker up to be the fall guy. Don’t gimme that look like I’m crazy. Yer a straight arrow, Miss Death, not everybody is. In fact, you shouldn’t be talkin to me about this. Fer all you know, I could be to blame.

I’ll take my chances, I says. What should I do, Slim? Help me out here, please.

He ponders the hazel bough above our heads fer a moment, drawin a hand down his bristly jowls. Then he says, Okay, lemme play devil’s advocate. How much does it really matter? Our feathered brother’s safe an well, no harm done, an yer plate’s heaped high as it is.

I says, If we got somebody among us who’s done this, we need to know who an why. They might be up to all sorts behind our backs. This could be a problem, Slim. A big one.

A traitor among us. One of us. These are my only people in the world. The poison I’m talkin burns in my mouth.

I cain’t see it myself but, okay, says Slim, here you go. Do one thing about it. I ain’t sayin what, that’s yer decision. Do that one thing, quick an easy, then leave it, see what happens. Somethin’s bound to. Remember, fer every action, there’s a reaction.

Right, I says.

But don’t jump to no conclusions, he says, an don’t go accusin nobody, no matter what it looks like at this point. Bide yer time.

We ain’t got time, I says.

The words let go their hold. They drop darkly from my lips. We-ain’t-got-time. They land, light-footed, an they’re off. Four words runnin to the four way. North south east west. Never to be caught.

Slim’s dead still. He sniffs the air, the warm kindness of the day. Grizzled old beasts, wily in the world, scent the comin storm while the children play on. I had the idea it might be so, he says. How long we got?

The blood moon, I says. Don’t ask me no more.

Blood moon, he says. That’s four nights from now. If I was you, Angel, I’d gimme somethin to do, pronto.

I sent Ash an Creed to git Auriel an bring her to Nass Camp, I says. I’m countin on her still bein at the Snake with her refugees. You probly know some of ’em.

Most of ’em, he says. Seein how I bin here all my life.

We need the strongest of ’em back here right away, I says.

Nass Camp’s a good call, he says. It’s well offa the beaten track.

If you an Molly could go there an make it ready, I says. Git in some supplies on the way. They’ll be tired an hungry an might well need yer doctor skills.

What’s the plan once you got ’em there? he says.

Accordin to DeMalo, I says, they ain’t good enough to live in New Eden. Accordin to us, they are. We’re gonna smuggle ’em back in. Once they’re spread about New Eden, we’ll have everybody we need in place. Mothers an fathers, brothers an sisters, new babies, old neighbours an friends—

Then we make a big gawdamnn rumble, says Slim. Jest like you said. I take it you know how that’s gonna play out.

Fear slashes through me. I grab his hand. Clutch it tight to my chest. He’s warm. Solid. Wise. I look at him. Sudden tears blur my eyes.

Hey hey, he says. What’s all this?

I don’t know, I whisper. Slim, I dunno what comes next. That’s why I need Auriel, I need her right away. She’ll know what I hafta do, she’ll see it in the stars. We ain’t got long, an it’s gotta work or—

I stop myself before I lose it completely. I let go his hand. I scrub my eyes, swipe my nose, git my breath in control.

There’s such concern, such compassion in his face. He goes to hug me, but I take a step back. Oh my dear, he says. What heavy burden you bear.

Please don’t be kind, I cain’t take it, I says. Jest tell me I ain’t made a terrible mistake. Tell me we can do this.

He takes my hand in both of his. We will do this, he says. We are doin this. It’s all comin together. I got faith in you, Angel. I always have done. An I ain’t no fool, all appearances to the contrary. He kisses my hand. Me an Molly better go, he says.

Hurry, Slim, please, I says.

He’s already on his way to the yard. He calls over his shoulder, with a wave an a smile, We’re halfways there already!

Late in the game. The endgame. I know, I know, I cain’t fergit it fer a moment. The blood moon’s only four nights away. Tomorrow today will be yesterday. I’m fast runnin outta tomorrows.

An there might be a traitor among us.

Me an Tracker find Tommo at the coldwater pond. We find him bathin, his back turned to us. All around him, the still water shatters the sunlight. It dances his hair blue-black. Blazes him to sleek gold smoothness. This is a day to make the heart ache. Such unbearable beauty on the skin of life.

I kneel in the grass at the pond’s edge an wash him a wave through the water. As he feels it, he whirls around. His eyes go wide. He dunks hisself to the neck. Excuse me, d’you mind? he says.

He’s flushed dark red to the tips of his ears. His tone’s so outraged that, despite my worries, my mouth twitches to smile. Like I ain’t seen him shirtless plenty of times. Or, fer that matter, caught a glimpse of his backside more’n once. He’ll of seen the same of me. After all, we bin at close quarters fer months now. But I open my hands in apology. Sorry, I says.

Whaddya want? he says.

I move my lips slowly as I speak. So’s he don’t miss a single word. I want you to come with me tonight, I tell him. We need to check out Edenhome.

Okay, he says. Be glad to.

I feel like a heel. The lowest of the low. To ever think of suspectin Tommo, cord in his pack or no. He’s kind. Gentle. One of life’s good guys. An stout-hearted loyal to a fault. All Tommo’s ever wanted is to belong. He’d never do nuthin to break bonds with us. Even me, no matter that I treated him rough.

It warn’t till he met Ike a few years back that he broke bonds with his father. The man who left his young son at their camp, tellin him not to move from that place, he’d be back soon with meat fer the pot. The father who never came back. Who must of met with some mischance that took his life. We didn’t learn this from Tommo, of course. Ike told us. An that was the full of what he knew. Ike figgered Tommo led a stray’s life till he found his way to the One-Eyed Man stables one winter’s night. Ike found him huddled in the straw, half-starved, an from that moment Tommo belonged with Ike Twelvetrees.

Now he belongs with us.

I realize he’s said somethin. Sorry, I says, I missed that.

A little smile curves his mouth. Was there … somethin else? he says.

My face flushes hot. I bin starin at him all this time an he’s half-naked. He’ll git the wrong idea fer sure.

No, I says. Uh … no no, that’s all. See you later.

I git to my feet an head back to the yard. Aware that he’s watchin me go. If that had bin anybody else, I’d say he was flirtin with me. Albeit in a bashful, not sure of hisself kinda way. But Tommo don’t flirt. He’s way too serious.

An he’d never play such a mean trick. Still. I gotta use my head fer this, not jest my heart an gut. We’ll go to Edenhome tonight. I’ll watch how he is. Drop a few hints. See what happens.

I follow the sounds of a hammer on metal an find Peg bangin some bit of a car into shape fer a washtub. She barks at me she’s busy, she’s promised it to some Steward fer quick delivery. But I ask her anyways. Could she hold off ridin her junk circuit fer a day or two an stay with Emmi while the rest of us go off? I ain’t hardly finished when she’s gabblin, Yes yes, why didn’t you ask me in the first place? Which don’t make no sense, but Peg rarely does. An quick as a wink she’s downed tools an rushed off to the field on top of the hill. Any excuse to mess about with that aircrate of hers.

I fill my tin from Slim’s never-stop stewpot. Then I climb the ladder to Peg’s ropewalk. I sit myself down, hemmed in by birdcages, an look out over the Lanes. I’m dog-hungry. I shovel it down. But fer all my hunger, I’m done with it after a few bites. My belly’s too jittered to eat.

I know not everythin is about me. But, when you git right down to it, I’m a uneasy sun fer anybody to be circlin. Particularly them I depend on most. Creed. Ash. Tommo. Molly. Mercy. Slim. Even Emmi an Lugh. Somehow or other, my actions have scorched the souls of every last one of ’em. So far, I’ve jest about managed to keep ’em with me. But maybe not fer much longer.

Tommo an some nettlecord twine.

Don’t rush to judgement. Things ain’t always what they appear to be. Somebody could of borrowed the cord. Whoever’s guilty could be settin the cord maker up to be the fall guy.

Who’d set Tommo up fer the fall guy? Who’s bin hostile to me all along? Who’d love to see me fail? Who thinks we’d all be better off if he was in charge?

Be who we need or stand aside.

Creed is who. An, after all, it was Creed I sent in search of Nero. Creed who claimed he couldn’t find him, even though a few minutes later Emmi found him in the burrow. Creed could of easily planned it an used Tommo’s cord without his knowledge. An that look he gave me afterwards. Jest a flash an then gone. Like he was holdin a knife to my throat.

Who do I know least of everybody? Creed. Who would I trust least? Creed. Who does Nero go to least? Creed, Creed, Creed.

My thoughts turn an twist. I poke a bit of biscuitroot through the bars of the cage next to me. The little wallafinch prisoner flits about, chirpin.

If Peg’s birds feel dismay at their jail-cell life, you’d never know. They sing jest the same. I got a strong desire to set ’em free, like in my dream. But Peg would boot us from the Lanes an that ’ud be our sanctuary lost. The finch don’t want the food. I lift the latch an open the door. One bird. I’ll chance the flack.

Off you go, I tell it. She’ll never notice.

It hops to the door, then away agin, then back. Its head cocks this way an that. Its bright black eyes consider the new possibility in front of it.

Go on, I says. I’m doin you a favour. Do it. Go.

With a chirp it’s off on quicksilver wings. To blaze out its fire of a life. A bird knows what to do with freedom. It’s born knowin. I watch till it’s gone from sight. Then I stand up an throw its metal prison. Fling it to the air with all the strength of all my hate fer cages. I watch as it tumbles, end over end, to land smash on the nearest junkheap.

One bird. One cage. It ain’t nowhere near enough. But it’s somethin. It’s somethin.