CHAPTER 25

Non-List

Future

The time that is yet to come

OUT on the ocean, the night had started to give way to the day. Standing at the edge of the sea, Letta listened to the beat of the waves as they hit the shore and wondered what the future would bring. It had scarcely been a week since the confrontation in the water tower. The canister with its lethal contents was in safe hands. They still had to find a way to destroy it, a way to make sure it could never threaten them again.

She had escaped the clutches of the gavvers, crawled through the secret passage Noa had built from the water tower to the basement of his house. She had survived, but many of the Creators had not. Some had died in the battle at the tower. Others had been arrested later and executed. Amelia had taken power. Her aunt Amelia. Even now she struggled with that reality.

Letta herself was on the wanted list, and she knew that if caught, she would be shown no mercy. In the seven days that had passed, Amelia had already proven herself a ruthless enemy. Tonight, Letta would slip into the forest and start again. She was a wordsmith, a colour-catcher, just like Benjamin and Leyla and her parents had been. That knowledge was what she would take with her.

She looked at the parcel in her hands. As Benjamin had promised, Finn had found it in the bottom drawer of the old man’s desk. Brown paper tied with hemp string. She pulled at the knots and they fell away before her awkward fingers. She smoothed back the wrapping. Inside she could see folded sheets, which smelt of beetroot. She tore more of the wrapping until she was able to lift the contents clear.

She opened the first document. It was a map. Hand drawn and a little faded but totally legible. She frowned. What did it mean? The other documents were also maps and charts. Finally she saw the note.

These are the maps and charts your parents took with them. I copied them so that one day you might have them. Go safely, little one.

She almost stopped breathing. Nothing moved. She could hear her own heart, feel the blood rushing through her veins. She steadied herself and wrapped the papers up carefully.

She was the wordsmith. That would have to come first: people needed her and she would not let them down. But somewhere, in her future, she knew that the boat with the silver sail had come just a little closer.

‘Letta!’

The voice made her jump.

Marlo.

She watched him as he walked towards her, her heart quickening. In her mind, she could see the blue-grey eyes and smell the faint hint of sage. With a light heart, she turned and walked towards him.

Behind her, the sea lapped gently onto the sand, and over her head a chattering of starlings wheeled in the air and headed south.

Letta turned and, raising one finger, she saluted the horizon, as she always did, just in case they were out there and could see her and would know that she had not forgotten them. Out on that far horizon, where they now lingered, if not in body, then at least in spirit.

FIN