DOWN, DOWN, DOWN I FALL. I LAND SMACK ON MY BACK. Knock the breath from my body. Sharp pain at my temple.
I plunge to the dark below.
Down to the bottom. Where the dark things crouch. Where the old things wait. Where they crouch an wait fer me.
The darkest depths beckon me down. Black water of pain, it closes over me.
Let go, it’s safe to let go.
Betrayed.
Deceived.
Let go.
I open my mouth.
I let the darkness in. It begins to fill me.
Somethin grabs my wrist. A hand. Strong. No, let me be. I pull away.
Too strong.
Up.
Up.
Up from the dark.
Then.
Cool air hits my face.
I gasp.
Gasp.
Breathe.
No! I says. I start to struggle. Let me be!
Don’t fight me! Hand unner my chin, towin me. I’m hauled from the water. Laid on my side on rocky ground.
Nero, I says.
There’s a rush of air. A splash.
I turn on my back an open my eyes. I’m lookin up at the night sky. Lyin on the edge of the rock pool. The roar of the waterfall from the cliff above.
Nero. The hawk got him. I drag myself to my knees. Nero! I cry.
A dark shape swims towards me, one-handed. It’s a man. He holds Nero in his other hand, keepin him above the water. As he gits closer, I can see who it is.
My heart seizes.
It’s DeMalo.
† † †
DeMalo. The Pathfinder. Master of New Eden. I’m dreamin. This cain’t be true. He climbs outta the pool, gaspin fer breath, his chest heavin. He drags a wave of water with him an it splashes me. It’s cold. Real. No dream.
He’s alive, says DeMalo. Wounded but alive.
Give him here! I take Nero with careful hands, my breath caught in my throat. Nero! I says. His eyes glitter up at me. He gives a feeble croak. He’s bleedin, I says, he’s hurt, we gotta fix him.
I’m camped just over there, says DeMalo. Can you walk?
Yes, I says. I’m already gittin to my feet, my eyes checkin Nero over. There’s blood on his breast an head.
When I saw it was you, I couldn’t believe it, says DeMalo.
I hardly look at him, barely glance at him. Please, I says, we gotta hurry.
This way, he says. As he leads me away from the falls an the pool, he checks the sky. He gives a piercin whistle. It was my hawk, he says. Culan. I was night flying him. Not expecting visitors. I’m sorry.
I’m right behind him. My heart’s racin. I’m coughin. My clothes an hair hang heavy with water, my boots squelch with every step. He’s barefoot, bright in the night in his white shirt an britches. Water drips offa him too. He used to wear his thick black hair long an tied back. Now it’s cut to his collar.
The path’s rough. I stumble an Nero squeaks protest. How far? I says.
We’re here, says DeMalo.
A simple tent among the trees. Nobody around.
Where’s yer men? I says.
I’m alone, he says. This is my retreat. You’re perfectly safe.
I hesitate. He holds open the tent flap. The crow’s wounded, he says.
I follow him inside.
† † †
I hear him movin around. I can jest make him out, a shape darker than the dark. Then the sound of flint an a soft white glow lights the tent.
He sets the lantern on a table. Bring him here, he says.
Simple outside, simple inside too. Big enough to stand up in. A narrow bed, a stove, a chair, the table, a wooden chest. A few other bits. Some books. Good fer one, close quarters fer two.
DeMalo’s fillin a bowl with clean water. He brings it to the table, then goes to the chest an takes out a blanket an a little tin box. He moves silent an smooth. He don’t look to be in no hurry, but somehow everythin happens fast.
Sit, he says. He drapes the blanket around my shoulders as I sit on the chair, huggin Nero close, soothin him. Now, he says as he opens the box an starts takin bits out, we’ll clean him up and take a look. He pours tincture in the water an dips a clean cloth. Move him close to the light, he says.
His voice is low. Deep. Warm. The few times, the few words I heard him speak before—back at Hopetown, in the cells—unsettled me. Chilled me. Not now. Somehow, he don’t seem like the same person. Or maybe it’s me.
I can fix him myself, I says.
You’re in no fit state, he says. He cleans Nero’s head first. Gently.
I don’t dare breathe till I see how bad it is. Jest a scratch, I says.
He dabs cranesbill salve on it. It’s this other I’m worried about, he says. Okay, Nero, brave fellow. He starts to clean his breast. As the water in the bowl turns red, we can see the damage. A tear in the flesh, luckily not near to his heart.
It’s not deep, says DeMalo. Looks like Culan just caught him with a talon. I don’t see any damage to his wings or muscles. He’s okay.
Oh! I gasp out, a sob, or laugh a shaky breath. I kiss Nero’s head. D’you hear that? Yer okay.
It needs a couple of stitches, he says. Can he take it?
He can, I says. I dunno about me, though. I cain’t abide a needle goin into flesh. I bin known to faint.
DeMalo flashes me a smile. A real, proper smile. I ain’t never seen him smile before. His eyes light an crinkle, his teeth gleam, white an straight. He shakes his head as he cleans a thin bone needle. That’s funny, he says.
Funny? I says.
He starts to thread fine gut through the tiny eye. I’ve seen you in action, he says. You’re hardly short on courage.
Yeah, well, I says. We all got our weaknesses.
A quick flick of his eyes my way. Weaknesses, he says, or desires? D’you think it’s important we learn to conquer them?
Jack. Betrayer. Deceiver.
Yes, I says. Nero croaks. Is he really gonna be all right? I says.
I promise, he says. Hold him still. DeMalo moves his hands slowly towards Nero. He slashes out at him, fightin, defendin hisself. I soothe him, hold his beak closed. DeMalo begins to stitch the wound. Nero struggles. He cries piteously.
Tears spring to my eyes. You’re hurtin him! I says.
I’m sorry, it can’t be helped, he says. Try to keep him still.
Jest hurry!
You’re a mighty warrior, Nero, he says. A crow with the spirit of an eagle. DeMalo’s hands work careful an sure. That’s one, he says. One more to go.
Good boy, I whisper to Nero. Brave boy.
He cries in little peeps now. The same as when I found him lyin on the ground, fell outta the nest an his ma nowhere in sight. I’m cryin a bit too. I cain’t stand that he’s in pain. I feel it worse’n if it was me.
There we go. DeMalo’s finished. Keep it clean, he says. Don’t let him worry the stitches.
I take Nero on to my lap an dab the salve on his poor flesh.
How’s that, my friend? DeMalo crouches in front of me. Puts out a finger to stroke him. Nero gives him a sharp nip. I guess I deserve that, he says.
DeMalo looks so different with short hair. It’s wet still. Messy. He smells of somethin green. Fresh. He takes the salve pot from me, dips his finger in it an, before I know, he’s smoothin it gently on the cut on my temple.
An I let him. Fer some reason, I let him. I stare straight ahead, not movin, hardly darin to breathe.
DeMalo. I thought of him so many times. An them dreams I had about him, in the vision lodge an other times too. Always so strange an . . . disturbed me. But here we are. Like we know each other. We don’t. I can count on two hands the number of times I seen him. An we never spoke, not really. You don’t speak with yer enemy.
It’s a long drop down Weeping Water, he says.
I give a little laugh. Weepin Water, I says. That fits.
Were you trying to kill yourself? he says.
I says naught.
When I pulled you out, you said no, he says. Let me be, you said.
I don’t remember, I says. I—I jest jumped. Becuz of . . . Nero.
Now I do look at DeMalo. An he looks at me. Properly, fer the first time ever, we look straight at each other. The lamplight brushes his broad cheekbones, his lips, the smooth gleam of his skin. His face is strong. Watchful. Beautiful. With heavy-lidded eyes, so dark they’re almost black.
I feel this pull towards him, between us. I felt it when I first seen him. Like there’s a thin, tight, invisible thread that runs from him to me. An there’s somethin about him—a kinda stillness inside of him—that makes me wanna tell him the truth. That believes he won’t judge me.
Maybe I did mean to kill myself, I says. I didn’t think it outright but . . . maybe the truth is, I didn’t—I don’t—much care one way or th’other.
To walk alone isn’t easy, he says. What about your friends? Your brother and sister? Where are they?
I left, I says.
You’re not the same as them, he says. You’re nothing like them.
I don’t unnerstand, I says. Why’re you bein nice to me? I killed Pinch. You put a price on my head.
Silence. Then, the sudden patter of rain on the tent roof. A moment later, it’s poundin down. It thunders onto the ground outside, splashes in through the flap.
As if we’re not wet enough already, he says. He gits up an pulls the flap to an we’re closed in. Alone. The air’s suddenly heavier.
I stand up. Nero’s cradled in my arms, already fast to sleep. I gotta go, I says. I’m shiverin. Shakin. My clothes hang chill an wet an heavy. My feet’s numb with cold.
DeMalo’s lightin another lantern. He don’t look at me as he says, Somebody waiting for you?
Emmi. Lugh an Maev. Tommo an Slim. Ash an Creed an the rest.
No, I says.
He says, It’s night, it’s raining, Nero’s been injured, you nearly drowned and you’re suffering from delayed shock. Have I forgotten anything?
Yes. I bin betrayed by Jack. Deceived.
No, I says.
Well, then, he says. He takes Nero an settles him in a little crate next to the stove. I clutch the blanket around me, my teeth chatterin. DeMalo takes a pile of clothes from the wooden chest an puts ’em on the bed. Dry clothes, he says. He moves back to the stove an starts to feed it more wood. He crouches, his back turned towards me.
I scuttle to the bed an skin off my sodden gear. Use the blanket to rub the clammy wet from my body. I’m cold to the bone. I ain’t never bin so cold. My teeth chatter in my head. I fumble into a soft shirt that hangs past my knees, thick socks. They’re clean. They carry a faint smell of him. Now I know what it is. Juniper.
Come, sit by the heat, he says.
I dash to the chair by the stove. Pull my knees to my chest an the shirt down over ’em. I hug myself, shiverin. He goes an strips off his wet clothes. I can hear him. If I turned my head, jest a little, I’d see him. DeMalo. Takin his clothes off, not more’n a few foot away. This has gotta be the strangest thing I could ever imagine to happen.
I ain’t fled. I ain’t run or fought him or tried to kill him. I’d of espected the red hot to kick me in the gut the moment I seen who it was pulled me from the water. But no. Not a sign of it.
This ain’t like me. But I ain’t like myself. I’m . . . a me I never bin before. I feel unfettered. Light. Free. Free of Lugh an Jack an everybody else who especks somethin from me. Who especks me to be what they want. I don’t owe them nuthin.
Right now, there ain’t no world outside of this tent. It’s as if everybody an everythin has faded away. Disappeared. Apart from DeMalo an me. An suddenly I know that this is where I’m meant to be. Right here. Right now.
All roads lead to the same place.
That’s better, says DeMalo. I glance over. He’s jest pullin a dry shirt over his head. I catch sight of a tattoo on the smooth skin of his chest. A red risin sun over his heart. My own heart quickens at the sight of his body.
He scoops up my wet clothes that I left in a heap an hangs ’em, along with his, to dry near the stove. Water’s drippin through one corner of the tent. He sets a tin unnerneath. He pulls the plug from a green bottle an pours dark red liquid into two glass jars. He drags a stool over, sits on it an hands me one of the jars.
To chance meetings, he says.
To chance, I says.
We drink. It slips over my tongue, warm an rich an soft an deep. Like a sad song. I ain’t never tasted nuthin like it. What is it? I says.
Wine, he says. He holds his jar up to the light. Very old, he says, very rare. A whisper from a lost world.
The rain rains. The air’s thick with the storm, heavy.
We drink some more. It’s delicious. I’m startin to feel a bit warmer. A bit bolder. D’you have a name? I says. Besides DeMalo, I mean.
Seth, he says. But nobody’s called me that for a very long time.
Seth, I says, tryin it out. I tip my glass to him. Thank you fer savin Nero.
What about you? he says. No thanks for saving you?
I says naught. I hug myself an drink the wine.
Three, he says.
I look at him.
That’s how many times I’ve saved your life, he says. Once at Freedom Fields, once from Vicar Pinch and just now.
The rule of three. If you save somebody’s life three times, their life belongs to you. No. That ain’t nuthin but Jack’s stupid nonsense. Don’t even think that name. Betrayed. Deceived. I hate him.
The rain thunders onto the tent. Water drip drip drips into the tin. Wood crackles an spits inside the iron stove. I stare into my wine. Why did you? I says. Save me all them times? You shouldn’t of. We warn’t on the same side. We still ain’t.
Whose side are you on these days? he says.
Nobody’s, I says.
Not even your own, it seems, he says.
None of this makes sense, I says. You bein kind to me, fixin up Nero. Why didn’t you let me drown? Ain’t you the one who put a price on my head?
Yes, he says.
So, why all this? I says. What now? What d’you want from me?
We look at each other. I can smell the warmth of him. His skin. His hair. Somethin old starts to thrum in my blood.
The rain’s slowin to a patter. It stops. He gits up, throws back the tent flap an checks the sky.
It’s nearly dawn, he says. I’d like to show you something. Will you come?
What is it? I says.
He’s pickin up a lit lantern. Something wonderful, he says. He sees my hesitation. Do you have to be somewhere?
They’ll all be waitin. Angry with me about Jack, blamin me that he took Emmi, waitin fer me to make things right. I cain’t face ’em. I cain’t take no more of my own wrongness. Always wrong about everythin. Hate fer Jack burns in my gut.
Saba, says DeMalo. Are you expected somewhere?
No, I says. I drain my wine, put the jar on the table an stand up. Let’s go see this wonderful somethin. Oh! I pluck at the shirt. Better put my clothes back on.
They’re wet, he says. Look in the trunk. I’ll wait outside.
There’s only three things in the trunk—a green dress, womanly skivvies an a good pair of pigskin boots. More suited to Molly than me. I ain’t never wore a dress in my life. What’s he doin with gear like this?
I check my own stuff. He’s right, it’s all soppin wet. Nero sleeps in his little box by the fire. I mutter curses as I step into the dress an fumble with the buttons that close it up the front. I block out nigglin thoughts of Emmi as I pull on the boots. I duck outside into the cool air.
I find a pale, pink world. Dawn ain’t far off. DeMalo’s waitin. The hawk—Culan—sits in a nearby tree. He turns his fierce yellow eyes on me an ruffles his feathers. DeMalo looks at me in the dress. It fits well, he says.
He says it like he knew it would.
Nero’s sleepin, I says, I—
We won’t be long, says DeMalo. He’ll be fine. Come, we need to hurry.
† † †
I follow him outta the trees, over a clear-runnin stream an through a lush, grassy meadow damp with rain. DeMalo keeps a check on the sky as he hurries us on.
This is good land, I says. I never seen finer.
This is New Eden, he says.
We come to a little hill covered with blackberry brambles. The air’s heavy with the sweet promise of ripe fruit. There’s a rusted metal door set into the hill, where it ain’t quite so thick with bramble. It stands open.
Here we are, says DeMalo. The brothers will show you in.
What—? I whirl around. Outta nowhere, there’s two Tonton suddenly with us. You said you was alone! What is this?
The two men bow their heads, clenched fists held to their hearts. One of ’em holds a lit lantern.
Everyone’s here, master, he says.
What’s goin on? I says.
You’ll come to no harm, I promise, says DeMalo. They’re an escort, that’s all. I’ll see you in a moment. He holds out his hands to the men. They grasp ’em, eagerly. She’s an honored guest, he says. Thank you, brothers. Then, with a smile an a nod, he disappears around the hill, outta sight.
Me an the two Tonton stare at each other. Me. Two Tonton. I’m sniffin fer danger, on sharp edges, jest in case. The one with the lantern smiles an bows his head. Follow me, he says.
He goes through the door. I hesitate. Please, says the second one. We cain’t be late.
I go through the door. He closes it behind us. In front, the first Tonton lights our way through pitch blackness. We go down some steps, into the ground. It smells dry. Musty. Thick, earthy silence closes around us. I hate bein unnerground, closed in. Sweat damps my forehead. He leads us through a long narrow room with wide shelfs set in the walls, like bunks. We go through a doorway into another room, then another, but there ain’t nuthin in ’em.
What is all this? I says.
A bunker, says the man behind me. From Wrecker times. There was ten of ’em in here when the Pathfinder first come. Ten skellentons, that is. He says it was their hidin place.
What was they hidin from? I says.
Who knows? he says. War, pestilence, some kinda calamity.
We must be close to the center of the hill by now. At the end of a narrow passage, the lantern man opens a closed door an we go through.
Twelve heads turn towards us. Twelve quartered circle brands. Stewards of the Earth. Six boys an six girls. Young an strong, dressed simple. Their right hands fly, clenched, to their hearts.
Long life to the Pathfinder! they says. The two Tonton reply likewise.
I’m paused in the doorway, one foot in, one out. Not only my guide, but a few of the Stewards hold lanterns too, so the room’s well lit. It ain’t long an narrow, like th’other rooms we jest come through. This one’s big, maybe twenny paces across each way. It’s got white, smooth walls, built pretty much square but round in the corners. A white ceilin an floor.
I realize that all eyes is on me. Wary eyes. Starin at my birthmoon tattoo.
The one that the Pathfinder seeks has come, says the lantern man. She’s his honored guest. Please, he tells me, come in.
As I do, noddin at the Stewards, they shift away. Nobody wants to stand too close to the Angel of Death.
If only they knew.
She’s dead.
Auriel said so.
The second Tonton closes the door behind us. It disappears, becomes part of the smoothness of the wall.
It’s time, he says.
Stand around the edges, says the first one. Backs to the walls. That’s it. Now, blow out yer lanterns.
The puff of quick breaths an the light huffs out. We’re all in the dark. The blacker than black.
It’s silent. A deeper silence than any I ever knew before. All I can hear is the beat of my own heart. To my left, where the door is, a sudden waft of cold air. The faint tang of juniper. DeMalo’s jest come in. Silence agin.
Then. The tiniest pinprick of light in the ceilin. Directly in the center of the room. A bird begins to sing. I jump. In the darkness of the room unner the hill, there’s a bird singin. How did it git in here? I dunno what kind it is neether. I never heard this song before. Another bird joins in. A different song. Then another bird, with another song.
The pinprick grows to a weak beam. I start to see DeMalo, standin in the center of the room, right unnerneath it. He lifts a chunk of clear, glassy rock. The light beam latches onto it. The rock starts to glow with a faint pink light. An it ain’t jest the rock that’s glowin pink. It’s the whole room. In front of us, beside us, behind us. Gittin brighter an stronger every moment.
The Stewards murmur an shift. Now the light’s growin, changin to dark blue an red an gold. All around us. I can see now that it’s the walls. They’re changin.
The birds still sing. An somethin’s joined in that ain’t a bird. Sounds like a stringbox. It’s singin along with the birds. I cain’t tell where it’s comin from. It’s jest . . . here. In the room. Slow an sweet. It’s the most lovely thing I ever heard.
The light brightens. Brighter an brighter. Golden, yellow.
It’s the dawn. Dawn grows on the walls, all around the room. The birdsong fades an more stringboxes join in the song. Other musicmakers too. It’s so beautiful, it sends chills up an down my spine.
The music gits louder an louder, quicker an quicker.
Suddenly, green leaps out at us. Fer a moment or two, I cain’t figger out what it is. Then I see. It’s grasslands. But I’m seein ’em like Nero must do. From above. All around me, on the walls, a bird’s eye view of grasslands an blue sky an clouds. I’m movin fast, like the fastest bird that ever flew. The sound of wind weaves in with the music.
I’m a bird! I whisper. I’m a bird! Oh! I turn this way, that way, so’s I can watch everythin, everywhere, all around me. Everybody else is doin the same, exclaimin. I catch DeMalo’s eye. He smiles. I laugh.
Great herds of buffalo thunder over the plains. There’s mountains up ahead. Vast mountains with snow on the top. We fly over ’em, into ’em, past eagles in the sky. We soar on the wind, on the music. There’s animals I ain’t never seen before. Shaggy big-horned creatures leap from crag to crag. I try to touch ’em. My hands go right through to the cold of the wall.
We look down on mighty rivers, swoop low to sparklin clear lakes where fish jump. Great forests of green trees. Then it’s blue. Blindin blue an sunlight dancin on it. Water. Water. Endless water. Not a river. Not a lake. Somethin else.
Is that the Big Water? I says. I’m with DeMalo now, in the middle of the room.
Yes, he says. The ocean.
The roar of waves. Giant fish, smooth black with white bellies, leap high an splash down. Smaller ones, gray an sleek, burst to the surface an leap—six of ’em at once—fer the joy of swimmin free. Then we’re unner the water. Hunnerds of fish swim together. Fast. Movin this way, that way. Other kinds of swimmin creatures. All sizes an shapes an colors.
Some of the Stewards sit on the ground, quiet. Others move around the room. I turn an turn. I gasp. Cry out at one wondrous sight after another. I cain’t take it all in. My heart’s beatin fast, like I’m runnin.
What is this? I says to DeMalo. Where is it? I wanna go there!
It’s our world, he says. The way it used to be.
We’re back on land, flyin over vast plains. Herds of beasts gallop below. Many kinds of springers an horses. Long-neck spotted ones, black an white striped ones. The rumble an dust of their hoofs. Huge, slow gray beasts bellow their long noses. Big cats roar an chase. Jackals chatter an tear at the dead. Birds of all colors shriek an squawk an take to the sky in dancin, rapturous flocks. Funny-faced creatures hang from trees by their long tails, their young clutchin tight. Great waterfalls tumble an roar. Trees. Flowers. Snow. Ice. Insects. Lizards. Butterflies. Strange, marvelous creatures, big an small.
We go to cities. By the sea. On the land. The lost cities of the ancient world. Their tall skyscrapers. Mysterious machines. So many people. Walking an eatin an laughin an playin an dancin. Travelin in cars, on two-wheelers like Em’s from the landfill. They soar in their flyin machines that I seen when I crossed Sandsea.
Pa was right, I whisper. They did go up in the air.
Higher an higher we fly. Higher than any bird could ever go till we leave the wide wonder of the earth an sky behind.
Stars come out, all around us. On the ceilin, on the walls an unner our feet. Then on one wall, a little blue ball floats in a ocean of stars. On the blue ball, there’s bits of green an white.
The music’s slow now. Quiet. Tears track down my face. I ain’t cryin. But I cain’t seem to stop the tears.
Then the stars go out, one by one. The little blue ball gits fainter. The music fades. Till we’re in darkness once more. Silence once more.
† † †
I feel DeMalo slip from the room. As the Tonton an Stewards light their lanterns, nobody speaks a word. It wouldn’t be right.
We make our way back through the unnerground rooms, up the steps an outside. I blink as we step into the clear light of the mornin. One of the Tonton chains an locks the rusted door an pulls the brambles back to hide it.
DeMalo’s waitin fer us in the sweetgrass meadow. The Stewards sit on the ground at his feet. I stand a little ways apart. The mornin breeze plays fresh an gentle. I let it dry my tears. We’re quiet fer a bit. There’s a solid, heavy ache inside of me.
At last DeMalo says, That was our Mother Earth. Our home. Before the Wreckers ravaged her. Desecrated her. Before they crawled over every inch of her body, stripping her, skinning her, gutting her. Poisoning her ground, her water and her air. Could you ever have imagined such beauty? It doesn’t seem possible, does it, that such wonders were the everyday, right here, all around us. I couldn’t imagine it. Until one morning, one glorious, unforgettable dawn, I heard music on the wind. It whispered to me, led me to that door in the hill, down the stairs, into that room. And there, as the new day dawned, I had the vision. It radiated through my body, just as you’ve seen today. Mother Earth revealed to me, through me, the unimaginable glories of our world as it used to be.
As DeMalo’s speakin, he looks from one person to the next, holdin their eyes with his. Like he’s talkin only to them. The Stewards lean towards him, each face shinin tight with hope, with belief. I suddenly realize I’m doin the same.
He goes on.
And she revealed to me my destiny. You are the Pathfinder, she told me. I have chosen you to heal me, starting right here in New Eden. You will choose only the healthiest, brightest, hardest workers to help you in this mighty task. Our Mother Earth chose me at that dawn, and she has led me to choose you. It’s our life’s work to heal her. Mine, yours, our children, our children’s children. It’s the work of many lives and it will take many lifetimes. It’s the greatest work that anyone has ever undertaken. We’ll do right by her this time. We won’t fly too close to the sun, the air is for the birds. The bounty of the earth and the clean waters are enough for us, and those we share in harmony with the creatures, who have as much right to be here as we do. Remember this day—when your body’s tired and your spirit’s weak—remember my words but, more than anything, hold fast in your heart that wondrous vision of the world as it was. The vision that I have shown you. We are the chosen ones, my friends, you and I. This is the dawn of a new day on earth.
The Stewards come up to him, boy with girl, two by two, an kneel at his feet. He touches each one on the forehead, four times, on the point of each quarter of their circle brand, sayin, earth, water, air and fire, we serve the Earth, our sacred Mother. He kisses the brand. Then he joins their hands together an they go off through the meadow.
DeMalo nods at the two Tonton an they follow the Stewards. Then it’s jest him an me, standin in the grass with the blue sky above. The day wraps around us, the cool freshness of the air beginnin to warm.
Did you take them from their families? I says.
We brought them to New Eden to show them this, he says. To teach them, to share with them the good news. That something amazing will be accomplished and they’re going to be a part of it.
Where’re they goin now? I says.
To start their new lives, he says. To work for the common good of the earth and the earth’s people.
Auriel’s camp. The exhausted an unwanted, huddled on the banks of the Snake River. I think of stolen land an Billy Six, spiked through the throat.
Not all people, I says.
Who are the best stewards of the earth? he says. The old and weak? The sick? Or the young and the strong? 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?
I dunno, I says. I ain’t never thought about it before.
Resources are precious, he says, rare. There isn’t enough clean water or good land to go around. You know that.
We sink down into the meadow grass. It tickles my bare legs. He leans back on his elbows. His hair shines like a crow’s wing.
I wish I’d never seen that, I says. All them wondrous things. I wish I didn’t know that’s the way it used to be.
I felt the same when I first saw it, he says. But I couldn’t leave. I kept returning here, dawn after dawn, and the vision would come, over and over, until I was possessed by it.
I cain’t ever ferget it, I says. But it’s long gone. Lost. An there ain’t nuthin I can do.
But there is! He kneels in front of me, takin my hands. You’ve already started, don’t you see? You didn’t just survive Hopetown, you conquered it. You destroyed it and you did the same at Freedom Fields and Pine Top Hill. You killed Pinch. You began to clean the infected wound. That’s what I’m doing here.
I did all that fer my brother, I says.
You and I are willing to make the difficult decisions that have to be made, he says. To act on those decisions.
I think of Epona. Yes, I says.
We have the courage to act in the service of something greater than ourselves, he says. Don’t think I don’t have a conscience, that I don’t constantly question and challenge myself. I do. The consequences of my decisions, my actions . . . I’m well aware of them. I’m awake in the dead of night, thinking about it all. But we—people I mean—we can’t go on as we are. There’s no meaningful future for us or this earth. You do see that?
Yes, I says.
The first time I saw you, he says, I looked into your eyes, just for a moment.
I remember, I says.
And I knew you, he says. For who you really are. Who you can be. You’re extraordinary. Think of what you’ve already done. Now, imagine what you could do. You’ve only just begun to discover what you’re capable of. Tell me. How does it feel? To master your fears and weaknesses. To win in the Cage, time after time, against all the odds. To stand in your own power at the top of the hill.
I cain’t look away from him. The beauty of his face. The beauty of his voice. The way I heat wherever he touches me. The thread between us tightens an tightens.
It feels right, I says. I feel . . . right.
That’s the power that changes the world, he says. If you can do that for your brother, imagine what you could do for the earth. To bring back—even just a little of that wonder you saw in there.
I feel such . . . sorrow, I says. Like somebody I love jest died. I know what I said before, but I’m glad I seen it.
Feeling sorrow is fine, he says. It’s right. But you need to use those feelings, channel them into action. Just as you did with your brother. You have such strength, such courage, such power within you.
I would never have let you drown, he says. I’ve been waiting for you.
Waitin fer me, I says.
My whole life, he says.
He leans towards me. Slow. Real slow, so’s I can move away if I want. I don’t. He kisses me, sweet an soft.
I feel a drop of water on my face. Then it’s pourin. It’s sunny but pourin with rain. I shake my head, blinkin in surprise.
We laugh. Then he grabs my hand an we run.
† † †
We dash inside his tent, shakin ourselfs like dogs, gaspin an laughin a bit. He grabs a cloth an gives his hair a quick rub. He tosses it to me as he pours wine into the jars. He holds one up an I go to take it from him. My heart lurches. He’s so close to me. So warm. The smell of him, damp an green, makes my skin jump all over. There’s three books laid out on a small table.
You got books, I says. I seen one of them before.
Books are very rare, he says. They’re so delicate, not many have survived. Would you like me to read you something? He takes one with gentle hands.
I dunno, I says. I dunno what that means.
He opens it, turns over a couple of paper leafs an starts to speak.
There was a time when meadow, grove and stream,
The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem
Apparel’d in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore;
Turn wheresoe’er I may,
By night or day,
The things which I have seen, I now can see no more.
He stops. He spoke slowly, restin each word on the air like it was precious. My heart ain’t big enough to hold the beauty. It aches from tryin to. He closes the book. He lifts his eyes an looks at me.
You spoke how I feel, I whisper. About what I seen in there. If I had them words in me, that’s jest what I’d say. How did you know?
Suddenly I move, in a rush, an I’m kissin him. His lips, his mouth, the words he spoke. Smooth an warm an rich. His arms bind me. Pull me tight to him. Kisses that burn. Kisses that sear. Feverish an ancient.
I fergit everythin an everybody. Jack. Betrayal. Myself. I lose myself. In the touch of him, the taste of him, the smell of him, till I feel the moment when the edges of me start to blur. I let go. An I melt into the dark, blank heat.
I don’t remember movin, but he’s sittin on the chair an I’ve climbed on to his lap an I’m runnin my hands through his hair, over his shoulders an arms, while we kiss. Feelin the strength of him, the life in him. He drags his lips along the inside of my arm, wrist to elbow. Trailin shivery fire on my tender skin till I’m quiverin head to foot. A rush in my belly, hot an ancient.
The tent’s dim an gray. In the dark of his eyes, I see a tiny reflection. It’s me.
A flush flags his cheekbones. I can see myself in your eyes, he says.
I touch a finger to his lips.
I’m drowning in you, he whispers.
I lead him to the bed. We lie down together.
An the rain, it rains an rains.
† † †
I wake with a start an blink in the bright mornin light. I’m in DeMalo’s arms. In his bed. We’re both bare as the day we was born.
My eyes meet his. I feel a hot tide crawl up my neck. The whispers. The cries in the closeness of the tent. Me. Him. Him an me together. I cain’t believe that was me. What was I thinkin of? I couldn’t of bin thinkin. No, no, that ain’t true, I knew full well what I was doin. I wanted to do it.
Then another thought crashes in. Emmi. I gotta git back to Bram’s, we gotta find Emmi. Lugh’ll be frantic, worryin about both of us, probly searchin fer me.
Seth, I—
You amaze me, he says. We’re perfect together. He turns my head to the side. Touches his lips to the back of my neck. Your first-time mark, he whispers. You chose me to put it there. Above all others, you chose me.
Yes, but I—
You gave yourself to me, he says. And I gave myself to you. Freely. Not just our bodies, it’s more than that. Much more. You felt it too. I know you did. We’re going to be so beautiful together, he whispers. So perfectly beautiful. In our perfectly beautiful, perfect new world.
His eyes is hot as melted rock. He kisses me an I kiss him an I’m lettin go an fallin once more an—
You could be carrying our child already, he says.
A baby, I says.
A cold sweat breaks on my skin. It never crossed my mind. No. No, it couldn’t be. Yes, it could. Easily. It happens all the time.
Think of it, he says, a child, Saba. A son, a daughter. Yours and mine. What could be more wonderful?
I know about the baby house, I says. I ain’t no breeder.
He laughs. Of course you’re not, he says. We’ll raise our child—our children—together. The simple fact is, people are born with different abilities. We were born to rule, you and I. It’s not an easy life, but it’s a meaningful, important one. You and I will change the world. So will our children.
With every word, the panic rises higher. My heart’s beatin madly. Seth, I says, I, uh . . . I’m sorry, I gotta go.
No, he says. His arms tighten around me.
I cain’t breathe. I push him offa me. Shimmy quick into the first things I git my hands on. The girly skivvies. I shouldn’t be here, I says, I dunno what I was thinkin of. This ain’t right, it’s . . . all wrong.
Nero hops outta his box, starts squawkin as he hears the ruckus. I’m snatchin the green dress from the floor an yankin it over my head. Haulin the boots on.
DeMalo’s on his feet too, pullin on his britches. He grabs my arms. What d’you mean, wrong? How? he says. How is it wrong? Tell me.
My breath’s comin fast. I cain’t, I says, I dunno, I—I jest know it is.
You’ll have to do better than that, he says. Have I lied to you? Have I forced you to do anything you didn’t want to do?
No, but I—I’m sorry, I says. This is . . . this was a mistake.
His hands tighten on me. No mistake, he says. We’re the same, you and me. We’re meant for each other, made for each other. I knew you’d come to me and so did you, from that very first moment. The price on your head was just a safety net.
Lemme go, Seth, I says.
Where are you going? he says. Who’s waiting for you?
Nowhere, I says, nobody. Lemme go.
You’ll be back, he says. You won’t get far. Of your own free will, you’ll come to me again. And again and again. I’m a fever in your blood now, Saba. As you are in mine. He lets go of me. Stands back.
I snatch Nero from the table an dive outta the tent.
An I run.
† † †
I scramble around the pool, an start clamberin back up the rocks beside Weepin Water. I gotta let Nero fly. I cain’t run nor climb if I’m holdin him. He breaks away with a joyous squawk an flies free. I’m trapped by my thoughts, poundin in my head over an over.
Above all others, you chose me. Our child, Saba. A baby. No, it won’t happen, it cain’t happen. Yes it can. It could. Ma had me an Lugh when she was my age. Ohmigawd, what was I thinkin of?
I warn’t thinkin. I stopped thinkin. I was so blinded by rage an hurt an hate fer Jack an Lugh warn’t there to stop me an—
You gave yourself to me. And I gave myself to you. Freely.
Freely . . . my gawd. What we did together in the closeness of his bed. The shameless way I was with him. Don’t think about it, pretend it never happened. There cain’t be a baby, there mustn’t be. Back to the rest of ’em as quick as I can. Git Emmi an git the hell outta this place. Lugh’s right. We never should of come.
You’re extraordinary. You’ve only just begun to discover what you’re capable of. Imagine what you could do for the earth. To bring back—even just a little of that wonder.
The sights, the sounds of that lost world. I won’t never fergit. What if he’s right? What if we could go back to that?
I’m hurryin so much that I slip. Fall a couple of times an scrape my knee. The dress, DeMalo’s green dress gits torn an dirty.
It fits well. I knew you’d come to me. He must of got it with me in mind. How long had he bin keepin it in that trunk? I yank at the tear, rip it even more.
I’m hot an sweaty by the time I reach the top. Nero’s nowhere in sight. Damn bird. I whistle fer him as I head in the direction of Bram an Cassie’s place.
A horse’s head pops up in the middle of a wild wheat field. It’s Bram’s horse, grazin peaceably. He whinnies an comes gallopin up. I swing myself onto his back an heel him homewards. As his hoofs tear up the ground, I try to block out DeMalo’s voice in my head.
I’m a fever in your blood now, Saba.
A fever in my blood. That’s almost what Jack said.
Yer in my blood, Saba.
Jack. He deceived me. Betrayed me. This is all his fault.
An Emmi. I ain’t hardly spared a thought fer poor Em an what she might be goin through. I’m the worst sister in the world, the most selfish.
I keep on whistlin fer Nero. He don’t show.
I cain’t stop to look. I cain’t go back. He could be anywhere. But I got this funny feelin. This kinda prickle that he’s somewhere jest outta sight. That if I jest turned my head quick enough, I’d see him.
I don’t. I don’t.
Dammit, Nero.