“YOU SURE IT’S A GOOD IDEA TO HEAD STRAIGHT for them?” Kane whispers to Nishwa.
Isi shoots him a look.
We’re looking at the cabin from the top of the north hill. There’s a Councilman standing outside it with a rifle—looks uneasy. I wonder how Stockham explained this cabin. A device of the malmaci? Built by people plotting to harm us? Another Councilman paces the ridge of the hill on the far side. He’s being none too secretive, but I guess Councilmen aren’t exactly trained in tracking and hunting. They’ve only ever had to tie up people for the Crossroads. My stomach lurches.
“We need to draw them as far from the settlement as we can,” Nishwa says.
“I know. It just seems a mite . . . dangerous.” Kane rubs his bare head and draws his hood.
“Isi checked the woods from here south to the fortification. The Councilmen are here or farther out,” Matisa says.
“What if they find the horses?” I ask. The beasts are tied to poplar trees a half-mile back.
“We hope they do,” Isi says.
I frown.
“It is part of the plan,” Matisa explains. “We left the horses in a perfect spot to ambush your Council.”
I don’t know exactly what she’s speaking on, but I decide I don’t want to. They said they wouldn’t kill the Councilmen, just restrain them. But what they’ll do to get to that part . . .
“You should go,” Isi says. He’s been looking at me different ever since we made a plan to get back to the fort. I can feel a blush on my cheeks. I clear my throat and nod.
Matisa steps forward and presses her forehead to Nishwa’s and Isi’s in turn. Then she turns to Kane and me. “Come on.”
“Wait. You’re coming with?”
“Yes,” Matisa says.
A spike of fear pierces me. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Why?”
“It’s just not. I had a dream—”
“I had one too. And it told me to come with you.” She looks at me, not angry but impatient.
“Matisa—”
“I’m going.” She starts ahead of us, then pauses and looks back. “Are you?”
I swallow. I can tell by the look in her eye she won’t be talked out of it. I think quick. It’s not how I planned it, but mayhap her coming along is a good thing. At least if things go bad, she can get Kane back here safe. I turn to Isi and Nishwa. “The Councilmen have guns.”
Nishwa nods. “They will not see us to shoot us.”
I don’t know how to thank them, so I put a hand to my chest in the Peace. Kane clasps their hands, each in turn. Then we start down the hill after Matisa.
When we get near the bottom of the hill, I hear that fluting whistle. It’s the boys, talking to one another as they move into position. I send a quick prayer to the Almighty to keep them safe. We reach the bottom of the hill, skirt the gully, and head southwest through the rows of bare poplars. It starts to snow: tiny flecks dancing on the cold wind. Matisa and Kane set a steady pace, crossing through the ravine and up the other side. They’re far quieter than me. I know Matisa would be even if I could walk normal. When we near the grove, I start to favor my bad foot and fall several strides behind them. They’re out the opposite side before I enter it.
Kane turns back and watches me a moment. “You all right?”
“Fine,” I say, then make a show of biting back a cry of pain.
“Your foot’s troubling you.”
“The river swim didn’t help, but I’ll be fine,” I say.
Matisa frowns at me, saying nothing.
We press on until we get to the dead scrub. Snow coats the top of the brush in a fine powder and the wind is quieter here. I take the lead but go excruciating slow on purpose, pushing aside bare branches careful-like and wincing with every other step. I’m heading east, toward the river. Finally we reach the willows just south of the Cleansing Waters. I labor onto my stomach on the cold forest floor. Matisa and Kane sink beside me, looking at my leg.
“If we head straight east in these willows, we’ll come to a part of the riverbank that’s hidden from the Watchtower. Get over the edge and hug close to the bank until we can see the fortification. We’ll wait for Watch to start their shift change. When they do, we make a break for the wastewater ditch. We’ll have to move fast.”
Kane chews on his lip. His eyes are worried. “Emmeline, hate to say it, but you might be too slow, with your foot and all.”
My blood thrums in my ears and I bite my lip, pretending I’m thinking hard.
“How’s about you wait here in the willows? We’ll do exactly as you say—over the ridge, along the bank, and head for the wastewater ditch when Watch starts to change. Once we get inside, we’ll come back for you.” His eyes are so sincere it near undoes me.
I look at Matisa.
She nods. “It is a good plan.”
I feel a wash of relief that she doesn’t offer to stay with me. I pretend to think on it some more. “All right.”
Kane and Matisa raise themselves on their elbows to peer at the fortification. Then they flatten to the earth. He jerks his head forward. She crawls off through the willows.
“Kane,” I say suddenly. He turns back with a questioning look. Tears are springing up and I wipe my eyes quick, hoping he thinks it’s the cold wind biting at them. “I love you.” I crawl forward and push my face into the space between his shoulder and neck. Breathe him in one more time. Woodsmoke, warmth.
He puts a hand on the nape of my neck and presses a kiss to my forehead.
Then he’s gone, disappearing through the willows on his belly, and I’m alone, listening to the whistling wind. I roll onto my back and watch the flat sky crying little flakes of snow.
But there was one young girl with a bad leg; she couldn’t walk fast like the others.
The snow drifts and brushes my face—soft feathers that hint at the blistering ice coming on the wind.
That story’s about paying what’s due, that’s plain, but I’ve always thought it’s also about curses being secret blessings.
I swallow the guilt that threatens to choke me right there. I didn’t want to lie, but I need to pay what’s due and my secret blessing will make sure of that. Mayhap it was always meant to.
I tell myself I’m not afraid. My hands are shaking, so I tuck them under my arms. The snow whispers down onto my face.
I count a few beats in my head. Kane and Matisa are surely at the edge of the willows by now. In a few moments they’ll be along the riverbank and waiting for Watch to change shifts. I roll over, crawl back toward the trees and stand. Listen to the woods a moment.
Silence.
I draw my cloak aside and put a hand to my ceinture, feeling the bulge of the Elephant Man mask beneath. If this plan goes bad, if I’m detained once I get inside the fort, at least I have the mask: people will start asking questions. Andre, surely. And if Tom hasn’t turned in my pa yet, he can get help reading the book.
And if I’m shot on sight . . . well, same thing.
My throat gets tight. Regardless, they’ll need to open the fortification to come out for me. There’ll be a ruckus and Kane will be able to get away. Go with Matisa and the others, mayhap come back when it’s safe—
I stop my thoughts there. That’s only if it goes bad. And it won’t. I got back inside the fortification once; I’ll do it again.
I limp as fast as I can, pushing through the brush and heading for the west side of the fortification. By the time I’ve skirted the Watch flats the snow is swirling heavier, goose down landing on my eyelashes. I blink. The sun is hidden behind the great blanket of gray sky and I’m too far inside the trees to see the fortification, but I know I’m nearing the corner Andre patrols.
I told Kane and Matisa there was a Watch shift change in the afternoon. I said Frère Andre had told me that—said it was the best time to break for the wastewater ditch. But they’ll be watching for that shift change forever, because it’s not coming.
The wind whistles in my ears, the air is bitter cold; La Prise is showing her hand. And if I don’t make it inside now, I might never have to take shelter again.
I crouch at the edge of the woods, inside the first line of trees.
There are two Watchers on this side of the fort. One of them looks like Andre, but I’m not certain. The glint of a spyglass flashes and I shrink back against the trees.
Fear riddles my chest.
I close my eyes, listen to my heart beating wild, the wind whistling through the stripped trees. I hear a new sound. Faint. A thump, thump, thump coming from inside the fortification. Part of the virtues commitment ceremony.
Need to move.
I stand and push aside brambles, moving for the Watch flats.
I stop when I’m hidden by the last screen of scrub. The second Watcher has turned, and the first—Andre, I’m sure of it now—has the spyglass out again. It’s my chance.
I push off my good foot to pop up above the brush but am stopped dead. A strong hand hauls me back down into the bramble. I land on my knees and scramble around.
A Watcher looms over me.
I shrink back, my eyes raking over him, over the long scar cutting down one cheek. It’s the Watcher always hanging around Andre, around the weapons shack.
“Je ne peux y croire! Il a dit que tu étais ici!” He launches into a stream of French, speaking so fast I can’t understand. He’s breathing hard, his eyes wild. “Viens!” He lurches forward and grabs me by the wrist. I jerk backward, but his grasp is a steel trap.
“Wait!” I say. “There are people. Les Perdus. They’re here!”
He’s not listening; he presses through the scrub, hauling me behind him as I scramble to my feet. “Viens!” he repeats.
“S’il vous plait—please!”
He stops for a heartbeat and wraps one meaty fist around both of my wrists. Then he turns and continues, pulling me like a man possessed by the Almighty Himself.
He’s dragging me back to the flats. Back to Council.
My dream floods in. All of those Watchers, standing on the wall, just as I find Matisa . . . Almighty.
I tug backward, but I’m held fast. I try to calm myself so I can remember some French—so I can stop him, explain. But we emerge from the line of scrub out onto the flats and the fort comes into view.
They’re up there, standing at attention. And now that my dream is bursting hot and bright in my mind, I realize something that makes my knees go weak.
That instant, in my dream, it’s not Matisa they’re staring down as they reach for their weapons.
It’s me.
The wind is keening. Sounds like the song my mother used to sing. My mind is going to shatter from fear, and all I can hear is that tune.
Sleep, little one, with your secret heart,
We’re well out on the flats; just us and the wind and the snow.
Take to the night like the swallow.
Two of the Watchers have gone dead still on the wall.
When morning time brings what your secret heart sings,
Set your feet to the same path and follow.
The Watcher is dragging me now; my legs are locked stiff with terror. It’s too late. Can’t get my tongue to work and I can’t break free. The Elephant Man mask burns into my side, under my ceinture. I have a fleeting thought for Kane’s warm hands—
Three Watchers are still.
Thump, thump, thump. The drums from the ceremony beat louder. In my head, in my heart. Four, five, six; they’re all facing us.
We’re close now—can see their faces. None of them is Andre.
One of them puts his hand to his opposite shoulder. Grabbing for his weapon. The rest do the same, raising their hands to their shoulders. Just like in my dream.
We stop. The Watcher releases my hands and steps away.
I could run, but I’d never make it. We’re too far out onto the flats and I’m too slow. My mind blanks and my body turns to syrup—slow, slow. I drop my eyes to the snowcrusted prairie grass at my feet and wait for the shots. Wait for the buckshot to pierce my heart through.
Thump, thump, thump.
Silence.
I look up, blinking away snowflakes.
All six are standing at attention on the top of the wall, looking down at me. But they don’t have their rifles trained on me.
They have their hands across their chests in the Peace of the Almighty.
My heart stutters.
And then the west gates swing open and Frère Andre is standing there, wide-eyed. We stare at one another through the blowing snow. He’s holding the journal.