The Wordsmith

by Forde, Patricia; Simpson, Steve;

  When morning came she felt weary but she couldn’t rest. Her head was still teeming with ideas, half-formed plans and desperation. I have to get out of here, she thought. Water! I’ll go and get water. She grabbed her coat and headed out. The day was still young and cold. The snow had disappeared but the air was icy and the wind blew from the north. Her feet found their own way down the little incline into the square where Werber was busy handing out water. What would he say if he knew what John Noa intended for them? An old man was taking his full bottle and walking away as she approached.

  ‘No harm, wordsmith,’ he greeted her.

  ‘No harm,’ Letta responded. She was surprised that he knew her, though already it seemed people were accepting that she was the wordsmith. Still, each time they greeted her, she had an urge to look around to see where Benjamin was.

  Benjamin. She felt the familiar ache as she thought his name but she pushed it aside and walked over to Werber. He smiled when he saw her.

  ‘No harm, Letta!’

  ‘No harm,’ she answered.

  ‘Come for water?’

  ‘Yes.’ She smiled. ‘Thirsty.’

  He pulled a cup from under his table and filled it from a bottle on the ground.

  ‘Drink!’ he said to her.

  She sipped from the cup gratefully.

  ‘Good water,’ she said. ‘Cool.’

  He nodded.

  ‘All water comes from the tower?’ she asked, nodding towards the water tower that stood on the hill behind him.

  ‘Yes,’ Werber said, and she could hear the pride in his voice. ‘Water pumped into tower to be cleaned.’

  Pumped. A specialist word for those involved in water.

  ‘How cleaned?’ she said frowning.

  ‘Chemicals,’ Werber said without hesitation.

  Chemical. Another specialist word.

  Letta gave him what she hoped was an admiring look. ‘You work there, Werber?’ she asked.

  A flush coloured his skin. He looked around to check that no-one was listening. ‘Sometimes,’ he said. ‘Sometimes.’

  He started to fill her bottle with water from the tap.

  ‘You work there this week?’ Letta pushed him.

  ‘This morning,’ he said proudly.

  ‘You clean the water?’

  He nodded. ‘Not allowed talk about it.’

  ‘I understand,’ Letta said and took the bottle from him, her mind racing.

  He wasn’t allowed to talk about it because water in Ark equalled survival. The water tower was heavily guarded and, because Noa feared that the Desecrators could take the water plant and gain control of Ark, everything to do with water was heavily secured. She remembered the basics from school. The dirty water was brought in barrels to the tower, where it was cleaned. The clean water then went into big tanks, where it was stored until it could be piped out to the water stations. That was all she knew, and she was certain it wasn’t enough. She needed to know everything about the water plant. Everything.

  CHAPTER 20

  #493

  Work

  Try hard

  BACK at home, Letta went to search for a word list that dealt with water treatment. When she found it, she was surprised at how long it was.

  Filtration, evaporation, tank.

  She was still lost in her own reverie, when she heard a gentle tap on the back door. She hurried to open it. As she did, two bodies pushed past her, followed by a sharp burst of frigid wind. She closed the door quickly.

  ‘You have to come with us,’ Marlo said, as soon as he entered the shop.

  ‘The gavvers have had a complaint,’ Finn said, checking that the front door was securely bolted.

  ‘About me?’ Letta said, trying to think what she might have done that they could know about.

  Finn nodded. ‘The healer claims you are in league with the Desecrators.’

  ‘Oh,’ Letta said, remembering the hatred in Rose’s eyes.

  ‘It’s serious,’ Marlo said, his brow furrowed.

  ‘Yes,’ said Letta. ‘It is serious.’

  ‘He says you told his wife that you had friends who could help her get her son back.’

  Letta could see the Goddess in her mind, hear herself promising to help Rose.

  ‘Rose is traumatised. Why do they believe her?’

  Finn shrugged. ‘Carver doesn’t trust you. Ever since Marlo was here he’s had his suspicions. He’s building a case.’

  ‘How do you know all this?’ Letta couldn’t stop herself pacing the floor.

  ‘We have people everywhere,’ Finn answered. ‘Even amongst the gavvers.’

  ‘Take what you need and come with us,’ Marlo said, his voice full of urgency. ‘You’ll be safe in the forest.’

  Letta shook her head. ‘No, Marlo,’ she said. ‘I would never be safe again. If I run now, they’ll know it’s true. As it is, they only have Carver’s suspicions and the accusation of a mad woman.’

  ‘Do you think Noa might not believe them?’

  ‘Maybe not,’ Letta said. ‘I don’t know. I think he trusts me.’

  Marlo frowned. ‘And if he doesn’t?’

  ‘He and Benjamin were best friends when they set up Ark. He would find it hard to believe that I, of all people, would betray him.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Finn said. ‘Let’s leave it another day and see what happens. Our informer will let us know if Carver plans to make a move.’

  ‘Can you do some research on the water tower?’ Letta asked them.

  ‘What kind of research?’ Marlo asked.

  ‘I need to know about the gavvers. What are the shifts? How many of them? All of that.’

  Finn nodded. ‘We have a friend who works as a water gatherer. We can ask him.’

  ‘Why do you need to know?’ Marlo asked.

  Letta told them about her visit to Tintown and her conversation with Solam. When she finished, the two men were quiet for a moment.

  Then Finn stood up. ‘We will do anything we can to help you, Letta. You only have to ask.’

  Marlo gripped her hand. ‘We’d better go,’ he said. ‘You don’t need the gavvers to find us here.’

  Letta closed the door behind them, re-running everything she knew about the water tower until her head ached.

  An hour later, she went to lie on her bed, exhausted. She was just about to fall asleep when she heard a noise downstairs. She sat up.

  I didn’t go to Central Kitchen, she thought. Didn’t show up for dinner. It could be Mrs Truckle looking for me.

  She jumped up and ran down the stairs. She didn’t want the old woman to have to come looking for her. Mrs Truckle was getting old and the stairs would tire her out. She opened the door before she realised her mistake. It wasn’t Mrs Truckle. It was Carver. Between his teeth he had a piece of grass and he chewed on it as he watched her.

  Letta eyed him coldly. ‘Yes?’ she said.

  ‘You think me fool?’

  Letta said nothing.

  He spat the grass onto the floor. ‘I know what you are.’

  The words hit her like darts. She opened her mouth to say something but no sound came out.

  ‘Rex!’ Carver clicked his fingers and another gavver appeared beside him. ‘Take her!’

  In a heartbeat, the second gavver had snapped a chain lock on her wrists, and was bundling her out the door.

  She tried to yank her arms away from him but he held her firmly, laughing at her paltry efforts.

  ‘Come!’ he said and shoved her onto the street.

  She was in a cell. Seven strides by three. There was no light. The sky was just visible through two bars high up on the outside wall. The door was big and solid and black. There was nowhere to sit, so she leant against the wall, feeling the cold air through the bars. All about her was the smell of damp and decay.

  She didn’t know how long she’d been there, but it had still been light when they’d thrown her into this cell. She hadn’t seen them since. It was eerily quiet.

&nbs
p; She remembered the day she had spoken to Hugo. Was it through the same window? Her jaw tightened when she thought of how they had treated him.

  Just then a scream rent the air. A man’s scream, she thought, somewhere to her right. Instinctively she rushed to the door. There it was again. Another scream from the same direction. A cold shiver ran down her spine.

  She dropped to the floor and sat there, feeling the cold seep in through her thin dress. She wouldn’t betray Marlo and Finn, no matter what they did to her. She wouldn’t talk. Not one word. If this is how it is to end, let it be, she thought. I will not betray them. She almost wished the interrogation would begin so that she could get it over with. She hated this waiting, twitching at every noise.

  Another scream cut through the air. She jumped despite herself. Torture. She tried to push the word away. Then she remembered Benjamin’s hands, and panic threatened to overcome her. She couldn’t think about it. Wouldn’t think about it.

  Did Noa know she was here? Had he ordered her arrest? How much did they know? That was the thought that worried her. What did they know?

  She was stopped in her thoughts by the sound of boots. A key turned and three bolts slammed back. With a loud creak the door opened. Her heart was beating rapidly. Carver. And another gavver she hadn’t seen before.

  ‘Get up!’

  She didn’t see the kick coming. Carver’s boot crashed into her hip. Pain shot through her. Her stomach lurched. She could taste acid in her mouth. She stifled a cry. She wouldn’t let him see how vulnerable she was. She struggled to her feet, her eyes locked on the black boots. He took another step towards her.

  The second gavver looked away. She braced herself for a blow, but none came.

  Carver smiled. ‘Not so smart now, are we?’ he said.

  In her head, all Letta could register was that he was speaking in the old tongue.

  He leant in closer. ‘Where are they? Your friends, the Desecrators. I know they’re planning something. I want names. I want to know where they live. I want to know it all.’

  His voice was strangely hushed. She had to strain to hear him.

  ‘And you –’ His finger prodded her arm. ‘You are going to tell me.’

  She opened her mouth to speak but he was faster. He caught her hair in his fist. She felt her scalp constrict. Pain. Ripping, burning pain. He pulled harder. She felt tufts of hair come away from the root. Despite herself she cried out.

  Carver laughed. ‘Feel more like talking now?’

  She could feel his spit on her face.

  He put his lips to her ear. ‘We are only starting, only starting.’

  He turned to the other gavver. ‘Close the door, Wallum.’

  Letta swallowed hard. Carver released her, throwing her against the wall. She stumbled but managed not to fall. Carver took off his jacket.

  Suddenly a new voice broke the silence. ‘What is this?’

  At first she didn’t recognise the speaker, and she found it impossible to drag her attention away from Carver. It was Carver’s own reaction she noticed. The way his mouth turned down, how the light went out of his eyes. She glanced across.

  Noa.

  ‘What is going on here?’

  The words fell like icicles from his mouth. Carver seemed to shrink before her.

  ‘Desecrator, sir,’ Carver mumbled. ‘Reason to believe.’

  ‘Get out!’ Noa snapped the words at the men, never taking his eyes from Letta.

  A noise like rats scuttling across the floor and the gavvers were gone. Letta felt herself breathe again. She looked up at Noa but something in his eyes had changed. Gone was the grandfather figure he had presented before. In his place, Letta saw only a shell full of venom, and all of that venom was directed at her.

  ‘So, Letta,’ he said, ‘I understand you are in trouble?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I am but I don’t understand why.’

  He ignored her.

  ‘You have been associating with Desecrators, they tell me.’

  What did he know?

  ‘What do you mean?’ she said.

  He sighed. ‘That’s the trouble with words, isn’t it? So inexact.

  So much room to wriggle and squirm and play with the truth. Don’t you think, Letta?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  He knows something, Letta thought, her mind working furiously.

  ‘So, they made contact with you? What did they tell you? What did they promise you?’

  She had to tell him something that had a grain of truth in it, something he might believe.

  ‘I didn’t know,’ she said. ‘You have to believe me. Someone called to the shop, the day Daniel was taken.’

  ‘The boy?’

  ‘No,’ Letta said. ‘Not a boy. An old man. Hugo was his name.’ He’s already dead, she thought. You can’t do any more to him.

  ‘Go on,’ Noa said, but Letta could see the hesitation in his eyes.

  ‘I was upset about Daniel. He was so young, you see. I was upset, and Hugo said he had friends who could help. I told Rose that and – I promise you I had no idea he was a Desecrator. I hate the Desecrators. I hate everything they stand for. I wanted to talk to you, to tell you.’

  ‘Enough!’ he said, raising his right hand.

  He doesn’t believe me, Letta thought desperately. He knows I’m lying.

  Noa leant in closer. Seconds ticked by. She could almost see his mind working. Then he took a step back.

  ‘I believe you, Letta,’ he said finally. ‘But you took a terrible chance. I know you are young, but you have to grow up fast now. Save your sympathy for the planet. Do not waste it on delinquents like Daniel.’

  ‘Yes, master,’ she said, bowing her head in what she hoped looked like humility.

  Noa smiled, a slow, lazy smile. ‘The gavvers have a job to do. The healer’s wife made a complaint. A serious complaint. That had to be investigated.’

  He stared at her for a second, and she could see that his eyes were no longer focused.

  ‘Come! This is no place for us to talk. Follow me!’

  She watched him stalk out in front of her and then quickly followed him, hearing the heavy door of the cell slam behind her.

  ‘Come!’ Noa said again, putting his arm around her. ‘Come see what we captured.’

  Why was he doing this? Why had he come to her rescue at all? Was this a test?

  She followed Noa, almost running to keep up. For an old man, he was incredibly fit. Before she knew what was happening, they were descending a flight of old stone steps.

  ‘This leads directly to one of our holding cells,’ Noa explained. ‘When I was building Ark, I thought we would keep grain here in this underground bunker, but we soon found a more urgent need.’

  At the bottom of the steps, a narrow corridor led them past a number of doors and finally to the first cell, a small room with a barred door. Letta looked in but it was empty. At the next door, a woman was standing looking in. Her raspy breathing left no doubt as to her identity.

  Noa stopped. Through the bars, Letta could see someone manacled to the wall. Her hair hung down limply about her face and her feet were bare. She was looking at the floor. As they approached she looked up. Letta drew in a sharp breath. She could feel the colour draining from her face. It was Leyla, the saxophone player. John Noa turned to Amelia, who was standing staring into the cell.

  ‘My dear,’ he said, ‘what are you doing down here?’

  Amelia looked up at him. ‘I came to beg you –’ The air rasped through her lungs as if the life force was being sucked from her.

  Noa stroked her cheek with his finger. ‘Stefano has cut some roses for you,’ he said, speaking gently, as though to a child. ‘Roses in winter – think of that! There is nothing the Warriors cannot achieve. Why don’t you go up and put them in water?’

  ‘Please, John.’ Amelia grabbed his hands, clinging to him. ‘Please forgive her.’

  ‘I don’t think you understand,’ Noa said. ‘We can
talk about this later.’

  ‘But John,’ Amelia persisted, ‘she was once my sister. The only one I have left. You have to help her. I will take full responsibility.’

  Her sister! How could Leyla be Amelia’s sister? Did Marlo know this?

  ‘Please, John.’ Amelia grabbed his arm.

  Listen to her, Letta pleaded silently. People said that Amelia was the person closest to Noa. If Leyla was her sister, he wouldn’t let any harm come to her. He loved Amelia and that would make a difference. A weight shifted from Letta’s heart.

  ‘Go now,’ Noa was saying to Amelia. ‘Go. I will take care of everything.’

  Amelia backed away from him as though afraid to lose eye contact, lest he change his mind. Letta stood listening to the gravelly noise of her breathing as she left them. Noa watched her till she disappeared around the corner, his eyes soft, his lips pursed.

  ‘Carver!’

  The word snapped across the hall and suddenly the gavver was standing beside them.

  ‘Sir?’ he said, ignoring Letta.

  Noa nodded in Leyla’s direction.

  ‘Did we get any useful information from her?’

  ‘Not much,’ Carver said. ‘Like all of them, she has nothing to say.’

  Noa nodded and looked at Leyla again, a frown creasing his face. He leant closer to the bars.

  ‘Who are they, Leyla?’ he whispered.

  Leyla looked away from him.

  ‘One name. One name for your life.’

  No reaction.

  ‘The life of your child.’

  Letta watched as Leyla lifted her head and stared back at him. For a second, her gaze shifted to Letta, and Letta could see the pain in her eyes. She’s pregnant, Letta thought. Will she not save her child before all of us?

  ‘One name, Leyla.’

  Noa’s mouth was against the bars.

  Leyla looked up at Letta.

  ‘Be strong, girl!’ she said. ‘Like your mother. Like all the women in your family.’

  She turned to Noa, then opened her mouth and started to sing, her eyes sparking with defiance.

  Down in the valley