Raging Star

NIGHT FOUR

I SET EMMI TO WORK CLEANIN AN OILIN OUR WEAPONS. IT ain’t necessary. We keep our gear in good nick. It’s jest what you do. What everybody does, unless you got yer attic to let. But, keepin in mind what Slim said, it’s good fer Em to feel useful somehow. She sure cain’t be trusted with no more than this. I tell her to count our stock, oil the shooters, try makin a few new arrows if need be. I don’t intend us to hafta use none of it, but better to be ready than not.

I leave her settlin into her task with good cheer. Peg keeps her company, warmin her gnarled root toes by the stove an puffin on a long clay pipe. Tracker’s mad keen to come with us, but he’s the best patrol fer the Lanes while we’re all away. Slim an Molly made a quick start to Nass Camp.

As night begins to gather, me an Lugh an Tommo prepare to ride fer Edenhome.

I’m convinced now that Creed’s to blame fer that trick with Nero. He was angry at me fer the mess at the bridge. Wanted to shake everybody’s confidence in me jest that bit more. Look, she runs a sloppy ship, she let her sister off guard duty an the Tonton got that close to us we could of all bin dead. She ain’t no leader. I am.

It all makes sense. It all fits. But I’ll test Tommo. Jest once, jest a little. So I can say I did if Slim asks. Do one thing an see what happens. Action. Reaction.

I pretend I’ve mislaid my cord. I ask Tommo to borrow his. He hands it over with a smile. The very coil that a piece was cut from to tether Nero. I put it back in his pack right away. Tommo cain’t ever hide how he feels. His big dark eyes always tell all. As he hands me the cord, they tell me that he’s honest an true. That he ain’t got nuthin to hide. Tommo didn’t do it.

Creed did.

We ain’t gone more’n a league from Starlight Lanes when a caw caw cracks the dusktide. It’s Nero. He’s a wide-winged blackness, coastin down towards me. My heart drops to my boots. I completely fergot. I sent him with a message fer Jack to meet me tonight. I bin frettin an thinkin about who might of tethered him an never gave a thought to my crow hisself. There’s bin so much gone on, with the fights an all, an I’m so used to him bein around but not always seein him that he went right outta my mind. He’s bin gone fer ages.

He surfs in to land on my shoulder an I hustle him into my arms. I quickly slip the bark roll from his leg. I shove it in my shirt without lookin. No need. Jack’s returned the roll I sent him, but tied to Nero’s left leg. That means he’ll be there. At Edenhome.

My stupid stupid head. I don’t believe it. I got Lugh an Tommo with me an Jack’s gonna show too. The three of ’em. Together. With me. At Edenhome. No way, no no no. They mustn’t find out about Jack. Slim was right. I was too tired. I must still be. No sleep means I make mistakes. Bad mistakes.

I’d stop right now an send the boys back if it wouldn’t make ’em suspicious an cause ructions. What to do, what to do, what the hell am I gonna do?

Brazen it out. That’s what. Or, as Jack would say, I hafta wing it.

Emmi had to move quickly. If she didn’t hurry, the songs of their passing would fade and she’d lose them. She was going after them. She didn’t have a plan, not yet. But she would.

So far, she’d been nothing but a trouble and a let down. A child when they needed a warrior. More than anything, she wanted to be worthy of being Saba’s sister. She needed to honour the sacrifices of Pa and Maev and Epona. And Ike and Bram and Jack. Auriel’s grandfather, Namid the Stardancer, was a warrior and a shaman. That’s what she wanted to be.

Warriors proved themselves in the fight. She had everything to prove. She’d been working with her bow till she couldn’t lift her arms for tiredness. Between that and the earthsongs to ground her feet, she was on her way to becoming a good archer. But Saba said they weren’t fighting with weapons anymore. They were fighting with cool heads. Thinking, then planning, then taking action. There had to be something she could do that nobody else could. That would allow her to stand tall among them, the living and the dead.

She and Peg were cosy sitting next to the stove, with the stack of shooters to be oiled and all else Saba asked her to do. Enough work to keep them busy into the great beyond, said Peg. We’ll have a song, a song to sing us along.

She wound the key of the magical music cage. They watched and listened as the tiny finch sang. Then she told Peg she couldn’t keep the cage. With a shrug, Peg gave her back what Tommo had traded for it. He’d be hurt, but not surprised. They’d argued back and forth since the night of her party. He knew what she thought and she was right. He couldn’t give away something so precious. He’d thank her for it one day.

She started yawning. Not too much, just enough. Peg soon said, nighty night little bird. The old gal was yawning herself. With any luck, she’d doze off. She surprised her with a goodnight hug.

She went to the boys’ sleepshed and left Tommo’s bracelet inside his pack. On top of his things where he’d be sure to find it. He’d kept it hidden away for too long, like his memories. He should wear it. If you bring a hurt into the light, in time the light will fade it some.

Then she hurried to the girls’ shed. She’d made her scanty arrangements earlier. As soon as she heard that Lugh and Tommo would be going with Saba to Edenhome. She didn’t think Peg would check on her, but still. In the shadows, the blanket over her pack would pass for a girl curled up asleep. She’d packed the pockets of her coat with the necessaries, nothing more. Flint and steel, red gizmo knife, her birthday comb from Molly and a lump of nettlecake. She grabbed it and ran to the stables.

She’d be in serious trouble when they found she was gone. So she’d have to prove herself big. She couldn’t fail.

Tracker stuck to her. He could smell adventure. He wanted desperately to come. But with everybody gone, he had to stay and be watchdog for the Lanes.

She woke Bean. She slipped a rope bridle on him and they rode through the sleeping junkyard. She moved quietly now, thanks to the songs. They sang her along the silent ways. Tracker saw them off, quivering nose to tail tip with desire.

Once she was outside the gates, she paused for a moment to listen. The ground still hummed of their passing. Good. They’d left a clear trail for her to follow. With sure hands, she guided Bean along it.

She was learning from the songs—earthsongs and stonesongs—spending her days with them, listening and studying, but there was so much she didn’t understand. She needed to find her teacher. With all the messages she’d been sending Auriel, surely, surely she’d come soon. She was the only one who could help her.

The first starfall of the night caught her eye. Burning bright, some starsoul racing back to earth on urgent business. Or maybe, just maybe, it was Auriel. She could be travelling to her the quickest way possible. Hitching a ride on a shooting star. Streaking across the sky to land in New Eden in a perfect dazzlement of light.

No one could stop a shooting star. No one. Not even the Pathfinder or the Tonton.

We leave the horses in a mossy dell an move in on Edenhome by foot. As we softpad through the trees, my whole body’s tuned fer any whisper of Jack. The skin an the blood an the bones of me listen. To the creak of a branch. The pass of a breeze. The sigh of the ground unnerfoot. Is he nearby? Is the heartstone slightly warm? No, jest wishful thinkin.

All the way here, I kept two bark rolls curled in my fist. In the hope that I might git the chance to send Nero with ’em. One of the rolls we ain’t never used before. All it’s got scratched on it is X. Which means we gotta axe our meetin. The other tells him to meet me at noon at High River Gorge in Sector Six. It’s our closest meet spot to Starlight Lanes. A V with waves in the bottom. A small square box perched at the top of the V’s right leg. Full sun directly overhead. But Nero never touched down. He kept to the sky. I couldn’t call him to me without suspicion.

I’m desperate to find out how Jack’s gang is doin. To hear that everythin’s rollin out fast like it needs to. It ain’t that I don’t trust him to hold the line. He will. He’ll do the right thing, he won’t blow no chances. So I do trust him an I believe, truly, that this is the only way we can possibly win, but …

But. This whole thing sits uneasy in my nature. So little in my control. So much to go wrong. So much to lose. An not usin bows or guns. The fact is, we live in a sticks an stones world. It’s the only way that any of us knows. I fear that if we come unner pressure, somebody’s gonna pull a trigger an that’ll be it. Endgame over.

Nero plays the night sky above the treetops. He lofts an banks an scoops the chill winds, always circlin back to keep track of us.

Saba! hisses Lugh.

We bin halted by a fierce corral of barbwire. It hems in the grounds an buildins of Edenhome. A high, weak fence. The worst kind. Impossible to climb, even if you padded yer hands to the barbs. Only way through would be to cut our way.

Lugh’s scopin the place with the long-looker. Guards, he mouths, an holds up two fingers. In a moment, two Tonton come into view. They approach from opposite directions. Must be on a loop patrol. They each got a armoured boar-hound strainin on a short chain leash. They pass each other with a nod an continue around. Me an the boys look at each other. Their eyes a white gleam in their night faces. There ain’t no gittin in there. Fence, guards, an dogs bred to kill with snap-trap jaws. We’re stuck on this side.

Follow the fence along, I says. Check it out. Meet back here. Don’t let them hounds catch wind of you.

Lugh splits right into leafy darkness an Tommo sifts away to the left. I prowl along the centre bit, back an forth, takin in the lie of the main buildins, the sheds, workshops, little barns an so on. It’s tidy an clean an well-kept. The kids livin here—every single one of ’em stolen from their families—they’re set to be Stewards of the Earth at fourteen. This is where they learn to not remember who they come from. Where they learn to believe their only family is the Earth, that the Pathfinder has chosen them to heal her. Where the stream of who they are is stemmed to carve another channel. An who they were dies to a trickle, then dries to dust.

Here, they’re learned the kinda things Pa learned us. How to build an mend an cobble together, how to plant an tend an grow. An all the other day-to-day you need to know to git along. There’s a junkbarn half built. The silent gleam of a duckpond. Patches of ground set aside fer crops. I wonder if they’re usin any seed from the seedstore or if DeMalo’s savin it all fer the tide of numbers on his great maps. Pushin outwards from New Eden to beyond an then beyond. They oughta be usin these woods fer a forest garden, but they’d never be able to keep tabs on the kids. Blink an they’d be lost to the shadows.

Gawdamnmit, Jack, where are you? My skin bristles, waitin fer the sound of a nightpip. If he came now, right now, I could hotfoot it, have a quick word with him an be back before the boys pitch up.

I tuck myself tight behind a tree an stare through the fence at the quiet dark of Edenhome. That woman from the Snake River camp. Her name’s gone from me. The one half-mad with grief, who wouldn’t give the body of her dead child to be burnt. Her older girl, Nell, the ten-year-old stolen by the Tonton, she might be asleep inside one of these huts. I remember sayin to the woman, to Ruth—that’s her name—I told her that wherever Nell was, she was bound to be watchin an thinkin an plannin how to git away. How to git back to her family. An she wouldn’t give up till she did. I hope I was right.

C’mon, Jack, c’mon, c’mon. Where are you?

Suddenly, I smell DeMalo. I look panic about me, breath trapped, heart caught. Where is he? Where? I flatten myself deep to the tree, not breathin. Then I’m cursin myself fer ten kinds of fool. I’m only huddled aginst a juniper. That’s the scent of DeMalo’s shirt, his skin. I found sprigs of it in the chest where he keeps his clothes. I crush a needly twig. The cool dark smell fills me. But no warmth of his body to soften its bite.

The boys steal back. Lugh first, then Tommo. Still no Jack an we cain’t do nuthin more here tonight. How we git these kids outta Edenhome is gonna be a harder nut to crack than stealin babies or slippin Skeet into a slave gang. The setup here, with the fence an the dogs an the guards, it gives us a whole different problem to solve. An not much time to do it. We’ll need to come back in the daylight.

Fer now, we need to go. The chill wind’s bin blowin in our favour all night but now it’s restless, twitchy, on the change. I don’t fancy our chances with them boarhounds if they catch our smell. We turn around an start to head back to the horses. Once we’re at the Lanes, we’ll talk it through. Lugh’s good at unpickin complicated situations.

Nero’s bin flyin guard duty above the woods all this time. He suddenly dives. Disappears into the trees. A few moments later, a bird calls. It’s the krik of a nightpip. My heart jumps. Jack. At last. Lugh ticks his head towards the sound. It comes from forty or so foot to the left of us. The heartstone’s faintly warm. I sign to Tommo that it’s only a bird, an we carry on. A nightpip callin in the dark ain’t nuthin untowards. Nuthin to give rise to second thoughts.

Jack calls twice more. Nero caws an makes a fuss. Good. It sounds like he’s tryin to flush out a smaller bird to make a meal of it. Agin, no cause fer suspicion. So. Jack sees Nero, he knows I’m here, but I ain’t sendin no answer. By now, he’ll know fer sure somethin’s up. I hope he don’t think I’m in trouble an come in search of me. Can I ditch the boys? I only need a few minutes. Jest long enough to find him an set another meet.

Nero lands on a branch by my head. A bark roll’s tied to his right leg. I catch Lugh’s notice with a click of my tongue. As he glances back, so does Tommo. I kneel an gesture that my boot’s come undone. That they should go on, I’ll be jest a moment.

I wait till they’re outta sight. Then I seize Nero an check out Jack’s message. He’s sent two rolls. One with X to abort this meet. The other says to meet him at Deepwell Tower. That’s our nearest meet spot to here. Not far, jest beyond two leagues northeast. An he’s marked it as urgent. Urgent. He’s never done that before. My heart stumbles over all the possible urgencies as I quickly retie both rolls to Nero’s left leg. That’s my reply. Unnerstood. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Then I throw him in the air an he flaps off to deliver it.

I pull the unused bark rolls from my pocket an tuck ’em into my little leather bag. I won’t be needin ’em now. I could of spared my poor nerves all this frazzle. I know better than to fear that Jack might reveal hisself to the boys by mistake. He’s far too canny a fish to go blunderin into a net.

He’d been waiting and watching since the day at the bridge. Hoping she’d make a mistake. But through all her shadowy travels, her comings and goings, and the secrets that hollowed her night by night, she hadn’t made a slip, not one. Until today. When Nero showed up just after they’d left the Lanes, she gave a little start of surprise. Barely noticeable. But he felt a tug on his line. She took Nero in her arms, held him close for a moment, then let him go. Nothing unusual there. Apart from a one-handed fumble. She was quick about it. Most people wouldn’t have noticed. But he did, waiting and watching as he was.

In the woods, she was edgy. Tension tightened her, crackled all around her. Then the sudden flurry in the trees with the birds. Then the stopping to tie her boot, telling them not to wait, just as Nero landed on a branch above her.

The blood roared in his head. She was up to something. Was Jack here? He had to find out. Time was short. He might never get another chance. As they headed back to their horses in the mossy dell, he cracked a few twigs to mark the way.

They’d mounted up, were just about to move out.

He jumped down, checking the ground all around, his pockets, his bag. Oh no, it must have fallen. He thought he knew where. He had to find it, couldn’t leave it, he wouldn’t be a moment.

He hurried back the way they’d just come.

He moved quickly, quietly, following the trail he’d marked. To the spruce where she’d knelt to tie her boot. Easy to spy its twisted stunt among the other, straighter trees, its paleness in the darkness. He didn’t know what he was looking for. He didn’t expect to find a thing. But he couldn’t leave without checking the spot. Just in case. On the off chance that she’d left a clue. Anything. That she’d made a slip, a mistake.

He crouched low. He dared to light a pocket spill. Dangerous. But just for a moment, just long enough to play it over the ground where she’d been. Just in case on the off chance. And there it was. A curl of cherry bark. Gleaming. On the dark of the woodland floor. There weren’t any cherry in this wood.

She had. She’d made a mistake.

As his heart drummed a warning of new darkness, his fingers unrolled the barkscroll. It had markings on it. A deep V. A small square. A full sun. He’d suspected. Now he had the proof. They were using Nero as a go-between. That little leather bag she’d started wearing at her waist, the one she never took off. It was perfect for carrying a stash of messages.

He doused the spill. He tucked the scroll deep inside his pocket. Carefully deeply safely in his pocket. As he stood up, a sweat of fear seized him. Weakened him. He leaned on a tree till it passed.

Then he hurried back to rejoin them. He’d study the message later. He’d figure out how their code worked, what it meant. Then he’d use it against Jack. And his deal for the future would be done.

From the top of a grandmother fir, Emmi watched them to-ing and fro-ing. She’d slung her boots around her neck and cat-climbed to the highest boughs to get a view. Reading its rough skin with her bare feet, like Creed would.

Nero found her right away, but she shooed him off. When he started dipping in and out of the trees, she inched even higher to find out why. She clapped her hands to her mouth. Her shout would have shattered the sky. His name leapt from her as he raised his head and the moon snatched the silver from his eyes. Jack. Not dead at all, but in New Eden. He must have been helping them in secret all this time. Probably nobody knew but Saba. She wouldn’t breathe a word. With him on their side, they were bound to win. Jack always made everything okay. Oh, to be able to rush to him, to hug him. She hugged herself. Tears heated her eyes and fierce joy ached her heart. Just to know he was alive, that was enough.

And she knew this too. This was the place of the something. The something she could do that no one else could. That would let her stand tall among the living and the dead. She’d find out what it was in the morning. She’d work it out. Then she’d do it.

After they’d all gone off, she pulled her coat tight around and snugged into her sweet bough cradle. Nighty night, little bird. She whispered goodnight to her mother and father. The two bright stars above the Hunter’s sword. Side by side, they’d shine guard on her till morning. Then she let herself sink to the nightsongs of the wood. The root-tangled, deep brown murmurs of long memory. They hummed her eyes shut and wove her to sleep and sang her through to the dawn.

We’re nearly across the Slabway. A flat plain of granite open to the sky. Our horses begin to whinny an shy. Nero dives at us, screamin. A sting pricks my face. Then another. A salt-sleet’s about to hit us.

We’re on the ground. It’s a drill we know well. Grab the stormsheet, shake open an throw. Cover the horse, nose to tail, cords through the loops, pull an tighten. Nero, c’mon! He flies to my arms an we duck unnerneath. I grab the bridle. Hang on, I gotcha, I tell Hermes. I bury my face in his neck. An brace myself fer the hit.

A saltsleet comes with short warnin. It slams us with a shriek from the belly of hell. The world explodes all around. It’s the bone of fury, the white eye of rage. A screamin madness of winds that whip. They batter the stormie. Snatch an savage it. In no time at all, we’re soaked. Despite our covers, wet through. My clothes hang heavy, clagged with salt. Hermes quivers. I rub his neck with my cheek to soothe him, soothe myself. Nero trembles aginst my heart.

A saltsleet never lasts long. It’s over in minutes. Gone as quick as it came. We creep out, white-faced an breathless an amazed. Hell’s left some kinda heaven behind. The sky rises clear to the moon an beyond. Stars of salt, millions upon millions, glitter the cold body of the granite. Like a carpet of tears, flung from edge to edge of the night earth. Our feet crunch as we turn an turn. As we stare an stare in silence. A warm wind brushes our skin.

Then on we go. At the Shingle Cut crossways, jest shy of middle night, I part company with the boys. They’re used to my to’s an fro’s at all hours, but I tell ’em I got somewhere I need to be. That I’ll see ’em back at the Lanes.

We go our separate paths. Them to the west an me northeast. Deepwell Tower lies a half league from here.

She was meeting Jack. She’d gone with the hurry of a secret lover.

He only just stopped himself from going after her. His hands twitched the reins. His horse responded. He had to pretend the mare had missed her footing.

He’d follow no longer. Now he would lead. With the help of the scroll in his pocket, he’d lead Jack straight to DeMalo.

He rode on. And he thought. And he planned.

Jack an me ain’t never met here before. Deepwell Tower rises lone an lonely from a rubblefield. A crumbled brick finger that points to the sky. As I draw near, my stummick twists in disquiet as I draw near. We parted so badly last night. With so much unsaid. Was it really only last night? Every day seems a lifetime right now.

Nero calls to warn of our approach. Jack’s pony, stands patiently by the wreck of a doorway. I leave Hermes with Kell an duck through the shattered arch into a round room. It’s twelve foot by twelve, no more. Mossy brick walls circle high to meet the night. To gape open-mouthed at the sky. To let the moon softly wash them with its light.

Mind yer step, says Jack.

There’s a well hole in the middle of the room. Lit by the shaft of moonbeam, it yawns widely, darkly deep. He leans on the wall the other side. Lookin like hisself fer a change. His own worn-out clothes on his back, his battered old hat on his head, his down-at-heel boots on his feet.

Yer message said urgent, I says.

There’s a certain stillness in a person’s body. A tightness, unmistakeable, that comes from once more knowin how all our stories end. When you see that, you know somebody’s dead. An Jack ain’t so much as glanced at me. He stares into the blackness of the well.

Who is it? I says. My voice barely comes out.

Skeet, he says.

A brief spark of thanks. I was braced fer him to tell me it was Mercy. Skeet, I says. How?

He looked a Tonton straight in the eye, says Jack. Man to man. Standin tall an proud.

Like I told him to, I says.

They shot him, he says.

I slump aginst the wall behind me. Skeet. Dead. I git a flash of him at the mill that day. As he clasped hands with Mercy an the fearsome mask of his scarified face softened to a smile while he told her of his life that used to be. The cart with yellow wheels an a horse called Otis. Another life—his—added to my scorecard. How many is that now? I’m losin count.

It’s my fault, I says.

Now, at last, Jack does look at me. His moonlight eyes caught in the moonlight. Stop blamin yerself, you do it every time, he says. Give us some credit. We all know the risks an we choose to take ’em. Skeet lived on the edge fer a long while. It’s sad. He’ll be missed. He was a good man an we need good people. But he eether made a mistake or jest ran outta luck. That’s how it goes. We all accept it.

I shake my head.

Yes, says Jack, an if he could, I know he’d tell you it was worth it. Listen, I managed to slip him in an outta two slave gangs. He started the whisper that change is comin. That the Angel of Death is back an they should be ready to move when you send word. An about the baby thing … a couple of ’em was jest too weak, they didn’t make it. But the rest though, we bin real careful an, so far, that’s gone okay.

It has, I says. How many?

Seven, he says. We’ve took every one they left out.

It ain’t enough, I says. Did you git Mercy back into the babyhouse she was at? What’s happenin there?

That plan her an Cassie cooked up, says Jack. Smugglin out babies they report as stillborn? Mercy did two. That’s all we figgered was safe to do in such a short time without drawin notice.

We need more, I says. We gotta roll this out fast to the other babyhouses. You gotta move her on to another one.

He starts to speak, but hesitates. Like he don’t wanna say what’s gotta be said.

I straighten up, the skin of my hands pricklin trouble. What? I says. What is it? I hurry around the well an take hold of his sleeve. C’mon, Jack, tell me.

My urgency wakes the old echo in the stones. Jack waits fer it to settle before he speaks.

Mercy took Skeet’s place, he says.

You should of stopped her, I says.

Why? Becuz she’s yer friend?

She’s lame, Jack. She’s weak.

She wanted to, he says. She insisted. Said now that Skeet’s gone, she’s the only one who can do it an she’s right.

We need her fer the babyhouses, I says.

That’s all in hand, he says. The midwife Mercy worked with, I’ve moved her to Sector Seven now. It’s rollin out, like you wanted.

I lean aginst the wall. Tip my head back aginst the cold stone. I’m blind to the night sky above. All I can see is Mercy’s poor back. With its shiny white shawl of whip scars. I don’t want her in the slave gangs, I says.

Too bad, she’s there an there she stays, he says. We’re all committed to yer plan. This is what it looks like. Losses an wins an riskin our lives fer what we believe.

I know, I says. Well, I cain’t say I’m surprised. I’d be more surprised if she didn’t. Good thing she kept that raggy old tunic.

Speakin of raggy, what happened to you? He feels the salt-heavy wet of my coat. Yer soaked.

Oh yeah, I says. A saltsleet caught us out on the Slabway. Guess it didn’t make it this far.

A shiver runs through me. I’m suddenly chilled.

C’mon, take that off. Here, have mine, he says. He shrugs from his coat an wraps it around me. It’s warm from his body. It smells of him. There, that’s better, he says.

Earlier … I says, at Edenhome, I—I’m sorry, it was my fault the boys was there. I was tired, not thinkin straight. It could of bin bad.

No harm done, he says.

I need yer help. I cain’t think how to git in there or even if we should. If you got any ideas, I could sure use ’em.

Later, he says. You do look tired.

It’s this place, New Eden, I says. It’s closin in on me. I feel it. Circlin me, tighter an tighter. All these trees an roots an neat patches of land an tidy parcels of sky. There ain’t no long views. That’s the worst of it, I think.

There’s some of us set our course by the horizon, he says.

Lugh likes it here, I says. I’m quiet fer a moment. Then I says, If you could go anywhere, Jack, right now, where would you go?

Somewhere I ain’t never bin, he says. I’ve had too much of land, I’ll tell you that. Did you notice at the top of that map in the seedstore? Nuthin but a big stretch of open water. Ran right off the edges. There was a river marked. Flowed north into it. I’d find that river an follow it along till I reached that big stretch of water. Once I hit it, I’d find me a boat an jest keep on goin.

He pulls the coat collar around my neck. His reluctant hand lingers. Then it strays up my throat to wander my face. I watch him watch me as he touches me. As we stand in the pale light of moongrace. As I drown myself deep in his silver-lake eyes.

Don’t look at me like that, he says.

Don’t touch me like that, I says.

I told you how it stands, he says.

You did, I says. I remember.

I press him to the wall, gently. I undo his shirt an smooth it away. An I bless my lips to his heart. To the red risin sun crudely inked on his flesh. His Tonton blood tattoo, that he earned servin justice on two wicked men. My lips crawl the scar road on his chest, hard won in the service of friendship. He was safely away but turned back to save Ike. Got flayed near to death by a hellwurm’s claws. The tattoo, the scars, they’re beautiful to me. They confess the man that he is. I cain’t see the wounds inside of him. So I honour the ones I can see.

His skin shudders an jumps beneath my mouth. Stop, yer gonna kill me, he whispers.

I ain’t even started, I says.

I won’t ask why he stays, why he touches me. What’s changed in his mind since his coldness last night. I cain’t risk runnin up aginst my shames, my lies. I’ll jest take this fer the moment, fer the gift that it is. The heartstone burns fer him, strong an fierce. Like it did from the start. When it seared him fer always to who I am.

Our shadows move together in the starfired night. But we’re gone to sunlight, him an me. We’re gone to sweet grasslands beyond the horizon. To high skies an merciful days of gold. Where, fer one bright moment, I truly am what he once told me I was. Somethin good an strong an true.

We’re skin to skin. Breath to breath. My sins roll away to the beat of his heart.

There’s now. There’s here. There’s him an me.

In this broken world that’s enough.

As the red line of dawn bleeds blue night into mornin, Jack halts Hermes by the blasted thorn. Here, we’re a safe distance east of the Lanes. I press myself tight to his back. Kell stands quietly, tied on behind. From a birch copse nearby, a blackbird spills a full-throated welcome to the light. Somehow it knows that each dawn’s a rare wonder to be praised. That’s the only sound. A hush lies deep in the bones of the world.

We’re still. To move would break this shimmer on the edge of time. I beat my heart with Jack’s heart. I breathe my breath with his breath. The morn blooms slowly, silently around us.

He speaks, softly, An behold, this day I go the way of all the earth.

We ain’t said a single word from the tower to here. Like we might be able to slip past our lives unnoticed.

The woman who raised me, he says. Sometimes she sat night-watch on the dyin. That’s what she’d say when she closed their eyes.

It’s beautiful, I whisper. Say it agin.

An behold, this day I go the way of all the earth. This ’ud be a fine moment to go, he says.

We listen to the blackbird. The air tastes sweet, like a pineforest stream. Nero croaks from his perch on the thorn tree. A humble crow song to the sunrise. No less heartfelt fer bein so plain.

The day starts to wrap around us. Jack slides down from Hermes an unties Kell. I take off his coat an hand it to him. Our moment outta time is done.

That’s the first he’s made mention of his childhood. I’d like to know about the woman who raised him. Her name, if she still lives, if she was kind to him. I’d like to know what happened to his folks. He knows so much about me. I know so little of him. No matter. What difference would it make?

He lays a finger on the heartstone at my neck. He smiles his crooked quirk of a smile. The one that makes my knees weak. Surprised it ain’t burned itself out, he says. So. Edenhome? Tonight?

I think so, I says. I’ll send Nero.

I reach down my hand. Fer what, I dunno. A last touch, a last kiss, a last word.

He takes it in his. He bows his head to rest his lips on my palm. G’bye Saba, he says. Then he swings onto Kell an turns fer the north. An I head to the Lanes, where time awaits me.

Before first light, Emmi climbed the tall bull pine next to the fence. A garden patch stood just the other side. She hid herself deep among its branches, tucked herself close to the trunk. She’d watch and listen and learn. To find out what the something was that only she could do. Then she’d wait for her chance, for the right moment to do it.

She watched the boys and girls stream from the bunkhouses in silent single file to the long, low building. She counted at least fifty kids. All ages. The littlest looked about four. The biggest ones, twelve or thirteen. Some of the girls had chests. She’d never seen so many children together before. Every one had been snatched from their family. She knew what that felt like. She heard the clatter of spoons on eat tins. Breakfast time. She ate her nettlecake while she waited for them to finish.

Then they filed back outside and a man—not a Tonton—blew a shrill blast on a tin whistle. He shouted at them to get into their work groups. After they all did that and cried, Long life to the Pathfinder! they were soon busy with their chores. Tending beasts, climbing ladders to mend roofs, checking for eggs in the duck house by the pond, filling buckets of water at the well to wash floors, working on the half-built barn. There were black-robed Tonton moving about, but she didn’t see too many of them. There were other grown-ups, too, like the man with the whistle. Working with the kids, showing them how to do things the right way.

One group headed for the garden patch below her, carrying hoes and shovels, rakes and buckets. Without a word, they set to work. Hoeing and pulling weeds. Digging the earth, turning it, raking it smooth.

After a bit, she watched one girl in particular. Studied her closely. About her age, strong and sturdy, with numbers tattooed up her arm like all the others. Fiery red hair in a long neat plait, and dark eyes that kept looking, looking around her while she worked. Looking for what? Maybe her chance?

The girl paused, frowning. Her head turned towards the woods and she scanned the trees. As if she knew she was being watched. Slowly, she hoed her way right to the fence. Making sure nobody was looking, she picked a clod of couchgrass from her weed bucket and tossed it through the mesh of barbwire.

It landed with a thud beside the bull pine. In the safety of its branches, Emmi held her breath. Was this the right moment? Or a trap? She twisted off a pine cone and held it to her chest, clutched it to her hammering heart. What would the Hopetown Emmi do? That smart survivor of hard knocks and fear? She tossed it to land at the girl’s feet.

The girl stared at the cone. Her eyes flicked up to the tree.

Emmi tossed down another cone.

Who’s there? the girl whispered.

Me, said Emmi. My name’s Emmi. I’m here to help you.

I’m Nell. The girl started hoeing again, talking quickly in a low voice. There ain’t nobody lookin. They won’t hear if we’re quiet. I gotta git outta here, Emmi, she said. I gotta try an find my folks. Can you really help me?

I’m gonna help all of yuz, said Emmi.

She looked along the fence. A cage for the kids, that’s what it was. High and tight and wicked barbwire to rip anybody climbing it to shreds. In Hopetown, Saba climbed the bars of the Cage to escape. She fought her way out from the inside.

That arm tattoo, said Emmi. Did it hurt when they did it?

Not so bad I couldn’t stand it, said Nell.

Okay, she said. Spit on the devil an swear me yer true. That you won’t say nuthin to nobody. No matter what.

Nell spat. I swear, she said. What’re you gonna do?

You’ll see, she said.

Emmi shinned down the pine and slipped a silent way through the trees, staying out of sight but always skirting the fence. It landed her at the road. She walked its cheerless song to the front gate of Edenhome.

There she stopped, her boots still hanging around her neck. The Tonton on guard duty was walking the fence, away from her. She grabbed the gate bars and rattled them. As he came running, shouting, with his firestick aimed, she raised her hands in the air. They were trembling a bit. Her stomach had the jitters. She was only a kid, they’d expect her to be afraid. She wasn’t afraid. She was nervous. And excited.

She’d been a prisoner of the Pinches at Hopetown. A prisoner of the Tonton at Resurrection. She’d survived, become stronger and escaped, both times. She wasn’t just the sister of the Angel of Death. She was a Free Hawk. A warrior for freedom and justice.

As the guard pulled the gate open, she held her clenched fist to her heart. Long life to the Pathfinder, she said.

And, just like that, she was in. She was in. She was doing the something that no one else could.

There’d be another something soon. The big gawdamnn rumble. Saba had promised. She would listen and learn. She’d watch and wait. And when Saba gave the word, she’d be ready to move.

It’s all strangely quiet at the Lanes. Tracker comes runnin to meet me. But not a soul answers my calls of hello. Every shed’s empty. No sign of Peg. Jest her jailbirds twitterin in their cages. Lugh! I call. Emmi!

There ain’t nobody down none of the alleys between the junkhills. The piles of wreckage see all the comins an goins, but they ain’t inclined to say what they know.

Where’ve they all got to, huh? I says to Tracker. Emmi! I yell. Lugh! Gawdamnmit. Lugh!

I rattle the rope of the yard bell. It yelps awake in a splash of white clatter. Nero’s sailin about fer a bird’s-eye view. He caw caws jest as Lugh ambles into sight, whistlin an sloshin a pail of water at his side. What’s the panic? he says.

I bin callin fer ages. Where is everybody?

I dunno about nobody else, he says. I was seein to the horses. You must be starved. I’m gonna cook a big pot of root mash. Hot an wholesome, jest like yers truly.

I thought you gave up yer life of crime, I says.

It don’t hardly seem possible there could be a worse cook than Molly. But Lugh is it. You let him near a cookfire at yer peril. His root mash is especially vile.

Ungrateful brat. You’ll eat it an thank me nicely. He grins wickedly as he pecks my cheek in passin. We can talk plans fer Edenhome, he says. I got a few ideas.

Yer cheerful, I says. Where’s Em?

He walks backwards to answer. She was gone by the time I got up, he says. Must of headed out early fer one of her wanders in the woods. She’ll show when she’s hungry. You better go give that coat of yers a wash, git the salt out. I did mine first thing. It’s a good dryin day.

Yes, Mother, I says.

Hot mash in a flash, he says. I’ll ring when it’s ready.

Spare me the pain, kill me now, I mutter.

He heads fer the cookhouse, almost trippin over Tracker. Any sniff of a tidbit, he’s windin between the cook’s legs like snakevine. A taste of Lugh’s root mash outta cure him of the habit.

Me an Nero make our way to the washpond. Halfways there, we meet Tommo comin towards us. He’s on his way back to the yard, eyes fixed on the ground, hands stuffed in his pockets. Frownin like he’s got a heavy load on his mind. Nero buzzes him to catch his attention. He starts when he sees me. Colour patches his cheeks. We stop, a couple steps apart.

Yer deep in thought, I says.

I bin lookin fer Em.

She won’t of gone far.

After that awful night at Resurrection, Tommo made sure him an me never found ourselfs alone. He was that hurt an angry. An I was so ashamed of myself, I steered clear of him too. But this makes two days in a row that it’s bin jest us on our own. An somethin’s changed in him. In fact, he’s bin changin ever since the bridge.

He stands his ground in front of me now. His gaze meets mine steadily. No uncertainty. No resentment.

I’ve owed him a real apology since that night. Fer far too long. I might not git another chance like this one. I planned an practised in my head what I would say. I take a deep breath an set off. That night at Resurrection, I says. Kissin you like I did. I knew what you’d think. That it meant I cared fer you like you cared fer me. It was selfish an mean. I can be like that. It ain’t somethin I’m proud of an I’m tryin to improve my character. I would like to say that I’m sorry, Tommo. Yer a fine person. I should never of done it. I apologize most sincerely.

You told me sorry then, he says.

It was too soon, I says. The hurt was too raw. It’s simmered between us all this time. I’d like if we could lay this to rest. I hate that I hurt you. That I lied to you. I care fer you.

Lemme guess, he says. Like a brother.

A dearly loved brother, I says.

I love you like a man loves a woman, he says. He jest says it. So simple. Like he carries the words in his pocket, jumbled up with a clasp knife an string an other oddments.

I didn’t plan fer this. A wave of heat crawls my neck. Please, don’t waste yer love on me, I says. I lied to you, Tommo, treated you wrong. You only think you love me. I’m th’only girl you know. If you met some other ones, you’d change yer mind, you would. You jest need to meet other girls.

Think what you like, he says. I know my heart.

He steps in close an before I realize his intent, his warm lips is on mine. He kisses me. A slow, tender melt of a kiss. In no way clumsy or unsure. Not like the twice he’s kissed me before. If I desired him, craved him, such a kiss would slay me. As it is, it takes my breath away. Our lips part.

Jack’s gone from our lives, he says. He was never good fer you. You only did what you did becuz he’d hurt you so bad. I’m constant. I ain’t goin nowhere.

I’m dumb fer a moment. Then, not knowin what else to do, I stumble on with my pathetic little piece. If I could go back, I would, I says. I’d do it all different. I’m ashamed every time I think of that night.

A ghost of a smile lifts his eyes. His mouth. Are you done? he says.

Yes, I says.

Whaddya want from me, Saba? He says it patiently. Like I’m a fractious child.

I want you not to love me.

That ain’t how love works, he says.

All right then, fergiveness, I says.

He shrugs. I fergive you.

Three words. I asked fer them. An they weigh me down like a drowninstone. Serves me right fer thinkin I’m so smart. That I can have everythin on my terms. It’s only Tommo, that’s what I thought. I’ll say the right things, I’ll apologize, an we’ll be back to where I want us to be. Friendly an easy. But I didn’t reckon with him. With him bein different, that is. This new purpose in him, this new strength. This toughness that never was there before. Tommo’s eyes always looked inwards to his past. Shaded, clouded by all he that won’t, or cain’t, speak of. But there’s a sharpness in his gaze now, a clearness.

He says, There may come a day when you look kinder on me. We won’t talk of this agin. Unless you change yer mind.

The boy that he was is gone fer sure. His dignity slaps me with my own smallness. With a bow of his head, he carries on past.

I stand there, dismissed, feelin worse than I ever did. I wish I’d kept my mouth shut. I handled that so badly. I want you not to love me. I am a fractious child. Stupid an clumsy. When it comes to Tommo, I jest cain’t git nuthin right.

Damn damn damn, I says softly. I don’t want the burden of his love. It weighs me down far more than my guilt ever could. I wish Molly was here. She knows about men. She’d tell me what to do.

Then Tommo hisses, Saba! an Tracker’s suddenly, outta nowhere, streakin circles around me, silent with raw wolf urgency. Warnin there’s some badness afoot. He races back towards the yard an from a standin start, we’re runnin, me an Tommo, tearin up the trail behind him. The red hot slams in to speed my feet. Lugh. It must be Lugh. He’s in trouble.

I grab Tracker’s collar an we duck behind a junkpile near the cookhouse. We catch our breath. Our bodies burn the fierce heat of sudden fear.

A Tonton points a gun at a man on the ground. He lies face down, hands behind his head. Black hair, stocky build, dusted with the red of New Eden roads. There’s a strange horse, travel stained, must be his. Somethin flickers in me. Do I know this guy? Two horses, shiny with polished kit. Tonton mounts. So where’s the other Tonton? Then Lugh walks outta the cookhouse. He’s got his hands in the air. Behind him another Tonton, proddin Lugh’s back with a firestick. Two Tonton. Present an accounted fer. What the hell’re they doin here?

Then the guy on the ground’s bein yanked to his feet. Shock kicks my stummick. It’s Manuel. The Steward I met at the mill. He must be here to see me. Somethin so important that he chanced the roads by night an broke curfew. The Tonton patrol must of spotted him an followed him here.

My eyes meet Tommo’s, my hands open in panic. I ain’t got no weapon. He shakes his head. Nor does he. Think, Saba, think. Any second now they’re gonna be rakin up Lugh’s sleeve, checkin fer a arm tattoo that ain’t there. An when they don’t find it, they’ll shoot him, no questions.

I look around us. Junk. Nuthin but junk. Useless, worthless—I stare at the pile next to my head. No, no good, not that one neether—yes! That’ll do. I take hold of a sheet of battered metal, some bit of a car I think. I signal Tommo to do likewise. They’re jest big enough to give us decent cover. We hurry, hurry but make no noise as we loop bits of string into rough handholds. A shield each.

We got surprise on our side. Nuthin else.

I point Tommo to his man, the guy with Manuel. We raise our scabby shields. I count us in silently. One. Two. Three. Then we charge, shriekin wild mayhem. High pitched an crazy. I go straight fer the Tonton with Lugh. He’s off balance, startled by the racket. Tracker streaks past me, leaps an bowls him over. His gun goes sailin. As he’s scramblin up, I hit him at top speed. He flies backwards. I crash land on top of him, shield first. That does him. He’s out.

Lugh’s grabbed the gun. Help Tommo! I yell at him.

It’s a messy scrum on the ground with Tommo, Manuel an the other Tonton all strugglin an kickin. The Tonton clings to his gun like grim death. Then, somehow, he’s scrabblin free an on his feet. His gun swings towards Manuel. Jest as I yell, Look out! Peg comes harin outta nowhere. She scuttles up behind him, swingin the yard bell by its rope. She sledges him such a body whack he goes spinnin around full circle. Then she belts him to blankness with one clonk to the head. He hits the ground like a tree.

I reach down a hand an help Manuel stand. He’s a little bit dazed an a lot outta breath.

What is it? I says.

I got a message, he gasps. Fer you. He rummages in the pouch at his waist. It was left in a safe drop, he says. One of our lot picked it up late last night.

Fer me, I says. How d’you know?

He hands me a folded piece of cloth. There’s a shootin star marked on it in charcoal. That’s you, he says.

The rumpus in the sky’s down to me, huh?.

That’s the word goin round, he says.

I unfold the cloth, a torn off bit of shirttail or somethin. There’s a single star an a circle with a tiny circle on top of it. I study it a moment. Then I tuck it in my pocket.

Okay, we’re on the move, I says. Lugh, Tommo. Strip these two jokers an put on their gear. I need a Tonton escort. We’re goin by road.

We leave Peg an Tracker to hold the fort. Wherever Em’s sloped off to, she ain’t gone far. All of her stuff’s here. It’s in a fine old mess. Tracker’s pawed through it. He was after a stale bit of jerky she had stashed, but sicked it up after a few chews. She helped herself to a chunk of Peg’s nettlecake, so she must plan to be gone fer most of the day. No doubt she’ll be moochin about the woods, singin to herself like she has bin of late. Molly puts her oddness down to growin pains.

Manuel’s still callin his grateful humble endless thanks to Peg fer savin his life as we ride through the gates of Starlight Lanes.

We dump the two Tonton along the road a ways an empty a keg of Molly’s hooch over ’em. The best use ever fer the vile stuff. If they’re lucky, they’ll come to an run off before one of their comrades stumbles on ’em. They’d be hard pressed to explain. Where their horses an gear went, fer one. Fer another—an a damn sight more awkward—how they come to be lyin in each other’s arms, wearin nuthin but lady dresses, an stinkin of rotgut drink.

I’ll probly git it in the neck from Slim fer stealin two of his late mother’s frocks. But from what he’s told us, Big Doe was a rakehell in her day. I figger she’d approve an then some.

So we dare to ride the roads in the daylight. It’s the fastest way to where we gotta go. The northwest corner of New Eden. It was Slim sent the message. The circle with the tiny circle on top. That means one of the lethal pinballs that we used to blow the Causeway an Resurrection. They come from the arms dump at Nass Camp. The single star is Auriel Tai, the star reader.

Auriel’s there, at Nass Camp. If Ash an Creed found her so fast, she must of bin on the doorstep of New Eden. The question is, did she come alone? Or did she bring her people from the Snake River? An if she did bring ’em, how many?

They asked Emmi a lot of questions. Where she was born and when. Who her parents were, how they died. Things like that. She only had to lie a bit for most of those. Did she have a brother? No. A sister? No. In a little room on their own, a woman who reminded her of Mercy called her dear and looked her all over.

Teeth, ears and eyes. Hands, feet, hair, and skin, strength and straightness of limbs. Her height was checked to a mark on the wall. She had to say if she’d ever had this fever, that sickness, quite a list.

Then they tattooed the numbers on her arm. It hurt. It took a long time and burned like fire and bled and hurt a lot. She didn’t cry though. She wouldn’t let herself. She screwed her face tight and thought about Saba. How she never cried after that first time they made her fight in the Cage. Never, no matter how much they hurt her. How she didn’t cry when the hellwurm ripped her shoulder and Jack stitched it. This was nothing compared to all that. To shed even one tear would be shameful. So she didn’t. Not one single tear.

Today our boldness works. Tomorrow it might not. Today the weather’s set to unsettle. Uneasy nights give birth to uneasy days. The sun rises to brood darkly red. Not long after we leave the Lanes, a cold fog rolls in from the north. But the sun will not have its power denied an burns the mist red, like a thin blanket of fire.

There’s a spare few rigs on the road. Otherwise, the land’s silent as we roll our way northwest. Tommo an Lugh ride up front. Manuel an me follow behind. He drives a little cart of Peg’s, with Hermes tied to the rear. I sit on the bench beside him, muffled in Auriel’s shawl. Unner Molly’s green dress, my belly billows with its pad of corn husks. We’re Stewards of the Earth. Our Tonton escort of two’s bin charged by the Pathfinder hisself with makin sure we git back home as soon as possible. I’m a precious cargo, pregnant with the first set of twins in New Eden. Nobody’ll dare to ruffle us.

A sudden thought has me grabbin Manuel’s arm. Don’t say a word about Jack, I whisper. Not to nobody, okay? It’s important.

He slants me a look of dark-eyed closeness. I ain’t no talker, he says.

Despite the risks of road travel, it beats crawlin through the backwood trails. We make decent enough progress, so far as caution an conditions allow. I should be champin at the bit to go flat out. But we’ll be there soon enough. Too soon.

At a few of the checkpoints, the Tonton go through the right drill an want the right password. Lugh’s ready with it, all thanks to Jack’s network, if he only knew. Mostly, though, the day makes them careless. Not keen to leave the warmth of the guardhouse stove. Single guards run out at the last moment. A quick glance at the brand on Manuel’s forehead, at my swollen belly, an they’re liftin the gate an wavin us through. Strange nights of starfall an ghostfear followed hard by strangeweather days means people stick close to their fires. Even DeMalo’s Tonton. A reminder, if I need one, that yer only as strong as yer weakest man.

An I think of the young Tonton at the babyhouse. His heartsickness at leavin the baby out to die. Freedom, brother. That raw flare of hope in his eyes. I won’t tell on you. I promise. It cain’t only be him that’s got a conscience. There must be other Tonton who feel the same. But enough of ’em to make a difference when the time comes?

What time though? When? An where? Auriel will tell me. Auriel will know.

All my roads lead to the same place, she said. It’s my destiny. That’s what she said. Well, I bin walkin my roads, takin one step at a time since that terrible day I left Silverlake. An I’m still walkin an I still don’t know where all of this is leadin me to. The babies, the slaves, the seedstore. DeMalo’s false visions. The blood moon’s comin. I hafta finish this somehow. If I put one foot wrong, it’ll be the end of us. But I cain’t see what to do next. I ain’t got no certainty. I won’t till I can speak to Auriel.

My destiny. Is that what this is? What I’m doin? I didn’t choose it, but that ain’t how destiny works. Auriel said that long before I was born, a train of events was set in motion. Auriel said … Auriel said. Destiny or no, one step at a time has led me here an will lead me on. An this is happenin an will be, an whatever will be I mustn’t fear. Jest like Pa told me.

They’re gonna need you, Saba. Lugh an Emmi. An there’ll be others too. Many others. Don’t give in to fear. Be strong, like I know you are.

The lack of him suddenly knifes me in the chest. Not the hollowed-out man he was after Ma went. But my handsome young father, so strong an steady. I’d crawl into his arms as nightfall came. An I’d listen to his heartbeat an feel him breathe an know I was safe in the world. Now all I can do is hold fast to his words. Hold fast to myself. An go forwards, step by step, on this road that only I can walk.

No matter what comes. Whatever will be.

My time ticks away. Only three nights to go.