"But those people could drown!"
He smiled wickedly. "Then you'd better get in to save them. Three!"
And he pushed me into the water.
The old legends say that the River People came from the union of a mermaid who had swum too far inland and a handsome young farmer who rescued her. Though I didn't put much faith in most of the old stories, I believed this one. It explained why I had a singing voice that made people want to drown themselves. It also explained why all River People were excellent swimmers.
But none of that protected me from the foot pushing down on my head every time I tried coming up for air. Whoever was kicking me, they probably didn't even realize it. Their legs were thrashing around so wildly that I wondered if they were fighting just to stay at the water's surface.
Eventually, I swam far enough away that I could come up. I first looked for Weevil, who was already clinging to one of the boats, helping some other Scourge victims get inside.
Della was already in the boat farthest from the shore. The silk ribbons on her pretty dress, I noticed, were ruined. Perhaps if she had been less concerned about them before, she wouldn't have been here right now.
A woman behind me screamed for help, and then her voice gargled in the water. Ignoring the dizziness in my own head, I swerved around and noticed her sinking beneath the surface. I dove for her and heard Weevil calling behind me that he was coming too.
She was one of those who had looked sickest while standing on the docks, and she was bent over in the water as if the swim had sharpened her pain. She kicked me hard as she tried to get to the surface, reigniting my own aches. I gasped too, swallowing a mouthful of water, then raised my head to get more air.
Weevil had one of her arms now, which he wrapped over his shoulder, and I took the other. We raised the woman to the surface and, as she calmed down, helped her float on her back. That position would be less painful, at least for me.
By then, the rest of the victims had climbed into the boats, and the only spot available was in the farthest boat, where Della was still alone. Little surprise. After her standoff attitude on the shore, I understood why no one else would want to share a boat with her. I still reserved the right to dislike her the most.
Della stood as we swam closer. "Look how sick that woman is! She'll make me worse!"
"The other boats are full," Weevil said.
"Ignore her," I muttered.
I gripped the side of the boat, but the woman we were helping was too weak to lift herself into it. Della made it even harder by shifting her weight to the opposite end of the boat, preventing us from tilting it down for the woman.
"I refuse to ride with grubs, or with people too sick to swim!"
I'd had enough. "Have it your way," I said. Then I pushed my end of the boat up, toppling Della back into the water. If she had been able to swim here once, she could swim back again.
The people on the other boats laughed and there was even some applause, but Weevil only frowned at me. "This isn't the place for that," he scolded.
"She deserved it," I told him.
"She's sick too," Weevil said. "She's scared."
Maybe she was, but if anything, sickness had only made her more selfish than before. So I didn't feel any guilt, or at least, not that much. When the boat rocked back toward us, we were able to tilt it down enough to let the woman slide in. She sank to the floor of the boat, unable to even sit on the benches.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Della's head popped up over the side of the boat, though her face was so red I wondered if she'd swum through a patch of dye while underwater.
"My flask of medicine fell off my neck," she screeched at me. "That's your fault, Ani!"
"Has anything in the last day not been my fault?" I countered. "Add this to your list against me."
"There is a list," Della said. "And I will get revenge for every single thing on it."
"Let's just get in the boat," Weevil said. "The others are ready to go."
He helped me in and then climbed in himself while Della rolled in from the other side. As she had said, the flask was gone from around her neck. She began eyeing my flask, as if staring increased her chances of getting it. A part of me sympathized with her plight. I knew how valuable the medicine was and how awful the pain that was coming for her if she didn't get more.
Yet Weevil hadn't been given any medicine, and sickness seemed inevitable for him now. If I gave any medicine to Della, I wouldn't have enough to share with him. So I put my hand on my flask, just as a reassurance that she would not take it from me. Weevil and I needed it too.
Oars were in the boat to help us row toward the island. Although we were all attached to the rope, that only prevented us from getting pulled out to sea by the strong currents or from some desperate victim taking their boat in another direction in an attempt to escape. I took one oar, and Weevil took the other. Della nestled into a spot near the front of the boat and turned her back to us, which was about the best thing I could've hoped for. The woman we had saved was still on the floor of the boat. She had already taken a sip of her medicine. She'd feel better soon.
While we rowed, Weevil began whistling a cheery tune. Every time he hit one of the higher notes, Della shuddered, as if his song caused her pain. For my part, I rather liked it. With the whistling, our fate didn't seem nearly as awful. Some of the people in the boats behind us picked up the same tune, and with that came more chatter and even a little laughing.
Except for Della. She turned around a couple of times, and at first I thought she was glaring at us. But that wasn't it. Tears were running down her cheeks, reminding me again that for all her rudeness and superiority, she was terrified.
When we were about halfway across, the woman in the center of our boat managed to prop herself upright on a bench. Her face was still pale, and she was clinging on to the wood slat as if it were life itself, but at least she was facing the right direction.
"You saved my life," she whispered.
Weevil stopped whistling long enough to say, "You'd have done the same for us, if you weren't busy drowning."
She smiled briefly, and then said, "I will do the same for you. My name is Marjorie. Listen, I've heard things, I know things ..."
"And I know you," Della said. "You're a server at a filthy tavern. You don't know anything."
Marjorie swallowed, looking as if even that caused her pain. I wondered if she was naturally a sickly person, or if not, then how long it would be before I felt as bad as she did. Turning farther away from Della and with a quieter voice, Marjorie said, "I serve drinks to the wardens, both those in Keldan and those who come over from the island. The things they say about the Colony, the things they know, some of it sounds terrible. From what I've heard, you don't want to stay in the old prison."
"Where are we supposed to stay?" Weevil asked.
"I don't know. I don't understand everything they talk about. Most of it makes little sense. I only knew I walked away from them with that warning: Stay anywhere else."
"I can't stay elsewhere," Della said, as if the conversation had been about her. "My father will come for me on the island. He'll look for me in the old prison."
That wasn't possible. Surely she knew that. I bit my lip, and now I did feel the smallest hint of compassion for her. Shaking my head, I said, "When I was in the physician's examination room, your father came in, trying to persuade the governor to let you go."
"You're lying," Della said. "The governor doesn't sit in for Scourge tests, especially not for a grub! My father never would've gone in there!"
My fists clenched, but I took another breath and said, "Why would I lie about this? He did come in, and he tried to get you back, but the governor refused him and threatened to bring in the rest of your family for testing if he didn't leave. He had no choice, Della--he had to let you go. But he asked me to tell you that he loves you."
Loves. Not loved. I couldn't say it to her exactly as her father had done.
Della scoo
ted back in the boat until she sat directly beside Marjorie, facing me. Tears had welled in her eyes again, but her expression was so full of fury, I knew the tears were a sign of her rage, more than of her pain.
To Marjorie, she said, "A friend of mine was sent to the Colony three weeks ago. He was a worker in town about my age, named Jonas Orden. Did you happen to overhear anything about him? Anyone who mentioned his name?"
"I'm sorry." Marjorie shook her head. "Perhaps he will be there to greet you when you arrive."
Della's spine stiffened. "Yes, and then when my father comes, he will take us both back home again, and he will find a way to cure me."
Weevil and I looked at each other. Della, friends with a worker? I couldn't understand that.
She leaned toward me now with a frosty glare, adding, "And then you will pay for your lies!" That Della, I understood.
"Move back," Weevil said more forcefully. "Della, move back to where you were, away from Ani. If you don't, my oar might slip out of my hand and accidentally spank you out of this boat. I'm very clumsy, and my accidental spanks are really quite hard."
Della's glare went from him to me and even to Marjorie before she returned to the front of the boat, where she refused to turn around again for the rest of the journey.
I should have been angry with her. She had caused me nothing but trouble, and even worse trouble was no doubt on the way. And yet, as I searched myself for the proper word for the emotion I felt, it wasn't anger. If anything, it was pity.
For the first time in my life, I truly felt sorry for a pinchworm.
No, not a pinchworm. I felt sorry for Della.
The old prison loomed even greater as we neared Attic Island. The battlements that had once surrounded it were mostly rubble now. Yet the prison itself seemed no less foreboding for their loss. The thick stone walls had been gray once, but time had blackened them. Any trees that might've been there before were long ago chopped down, perhaps to prevent their use as weapons by invading armies. What invading armies? I thought. No one had ever stepped foot on this island who wasn't forced to be here. The prison looked more like the ancient fortress it once was than a place to hold criminals. We were neither invaders nor criminals, but it was home now.
The rope to which our boats were attached ended at a wood post, while a fair depth of water still remained below us. I had only barely dried out from my last swim, and I certainly didn't feel up to another one, but there was nothing else to do. Weevil and I splashed into the water first, then helped Marjorie get safely to shore. She whispered her thanks and promised to repay the service somehow.
Della had gone directly to land. And though I hadn't cared about getting there first, once I arrived on land too, I realized I might've made a mistake. Because Della was at the end of a conversation with the warden waiting for us on the shore, who was glaring at me as if I'd done something wrong. I already didn't like him--oily black hair stuck out from beneath his hat. If I were the governor of Keldan, I'd have sent him here too, as far away as possible.
As I approached, the warden asked Della, "Is this the girl who pushed you out of the boat?"
The sneer on her face was so triumphant I wanted to slap it off. But it was obvious I was in enough trouble already. Slapping wouldn't be the best way to prove I didn't start fights. "She wouldn't let us lift a Scourge victim into the boat," I said.
"Any Scourge victim who can't get into the boat would probably be better off just drowning," he replied.
Thus the reason for the boats departing and leaving in deep water, I guessed. To get rid of the weakest people first. I already hated this place.
"My flask of medicine was lost," Della added. "If it had been a mistake, I wouldn't be complaining now, but this grub meant to do it."
The warden frowned at me. "Is this true?"
The problem was that yes, technically it was true. Even if Della had deserved what happened, that didn't excuse the fact that I had absolutely intended for her to fall into the water. I hadn't wanted her to lose her medicine, though. No more than I wanted to lose mine. I grabbed hold of my flask, hoping the punishment for what I'd done wasn't being forced to give it to her.
So I nodded, but added, "Would it matter if I tell you that she is a genuinely horrible person? Literally, the worst person I've ever met?" That might've been an exaggeration, but not a big one, and I figured it might help my argument.
"No," he said. "It does not matter."
"Where can I get more medicine?" Della asked. "The ride over in the boat was so difficult, I'm already feeling pain again."
"Was it truly difficult, the way you sat there doing nothing?" I asked.
"There is no more medicine," the warden said. "You were warned to take care of what you were given." Then he turned to me. "What is your name, grub?"
"Ani Mells."
He humphed, then called out to the other newcomers, "Everyone report to the food tent at the top of the hill. You'll be given instructions for your new life here, for as long as you have it. Accept what is required of you, and you will be provided with food and shelter in your end days."
I started forward with the others, but the warden put a hand on my shoulder and held me back. His hand felt just as oily as his hair looked. "Not you."
"I haven't eaten since yesterday morning," I said. "If you want to punish me for what happened in the water, that's fine, but could you do it after I've eaten?"
He only frowned. "Follow me."
I glanced back at Della as I followed the warden. She was gloating over her victory and telling everyone around her that I deserved whatever was coming for me next. Maybe she was right about that, because if I were in that water with her again, I'd do exactly the same thing as before.
I looked at Weevil next. He'd been standing near Marjorie until she obeyed the orders to go to the food tent. I knew the determined expression on his face now. The last time I'd seen it, he and I had ended up repairing a big hole in Farmer Adderson's barn roof. It turned out my parents were right--gunpowder was not a toy. To be fair, we had expected a much smaller explosion.
Now Weevil took a deep breath, then suddenly charged at Della, picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder and walking with her toward the water. She screamed and began pounding his back with her fists, but he was strong enough to keep control of her.
The warden turned and yelled, "You, grub--put her down!"
"Yes, sir," Weevil said, and dropped Della into the water. He brushed his hands together as he turned around, then walked back up the beach and faced the warden directly. "I've heard that there are consequences for dumping Della Willoughby into the water."
"This is why we never wanted grubs in the Colony. Your people take a delight in causing trouble--that's how you all are. I tried to warn the governor." The warden sighed. "You'll both come with me, then."
"What were you thinking?" I hissed at Weevil as he walked.
"Did you see how angry she was?" he said, glancing back at Della, who had just climbed onto the shore again.
"Of course she was angry. You shouldn't have done that!"
"Yes, I should have." He took my hand, and this time there were pieces of dried meat in his hand. I couldn't imagine where he had borrowed them from, but I wasn't about to ask. His other hand was in the pocket of his trousers. I also noticed for the first time that his pockets appeared to be full.
I slipped the meat into my skirt pocket, surprised to find a few wheat kernels there. Bothered by that discovery, I withdrew the meat and kept it in my fist instead, eating the pieces as quickly as I could. It wasn't a lot, but in that moment, it was enough. Weevil had given me more than a little food. He gave me hope and friendship, and maybe the feeling that in the end, everything would be all right.
Once I was finished, I took his hand again and gave it a squeeze. Wherever we were going, I'd try my best to lighten the burden of Weevil's punishment. I owed him that much. But I also knew full well that nothing I could do would ever repay what he had just do
ne for me.
We followed the warden past the old prison on our right and saw the food tent even farther away. But instead of going there, which I'd have been perfectly happy to do, we entered a large yard that had been cordoned off by a split log fence. Other than a few crates that probably contained supplies for the care of the people here at the Colony, the area was empty.
Thin grasses were scattered around the yard, but otherwise nothing meaningful was growing here except for a single vinefruit tree, which must've been transplanted here years ago. They weren't native to anywhere but river country, and most townsfolk considered them hugely oversized weeds. I immediately wanted a vinefruit, though they were all out of reach. The meat had taken the edge off my hunger, but it had also whetted my appetite for something more. A swallow of medicine perhaps. It felt like a hecklebird was pecking at my head.
Hanging high in the tree was what could only be described as a round wooden cage, one that'd barely be large enough for me, a painful proposition for Weevil, and an impossible fit for the both of us. It couldn't be our intended punishment.
The warden pointed to two worn dirt spots on the ground and said to each of us, "Stand there, facing each other."
Weevil and I did as we were told. We weren't far apart, but still wouldn't be able to touch even if we had both reached forward. While we exchanged quizzical looks, the warden went over to a crate and opened it, withdrawing a long, stiff rod.
Now the punishment was becoming clear, and I didn't like it one bit.
If I had groveled at Della's feet and begged forgiveness for existing, perhaps Weevil and I could've avoided this fate. It might've saved us from being struck with that rod. Yet even to avoid punishment, I was not that girl. I hated the idea of having to beg, from Della, or from anyone.
"If this is the punishment, they don't know River People," Weevil muttered to me as the warden walked back toward us.
River People were strong, that was true, but this didn't feel like a test of strength. At least, not physical strength. Was my heart equally strong?
The warden stood between us with the rod balanced in his hands. I tried not to look at it, and instead kept my eyes locked on him, daring him to find any fear in my expression.
The Scourge Page 7
