The Knife of Never Letting Go

by Patrick Ness

  “Todd!” Hildy shouts.

  And “Todd!” Manchee barks.

  And “Todd!” Viola shouts.

  But there I am, knife out, my heart thumping fast like it’s finally figured out what I’m doing.

  But there ain’t no stepping back.

  Now how do you suppose that happened?

  “Give me a reason, Prentissboy,” Matthew says, hoisting the machete. “Just give me one good reason.”

  “Enough!” Hildy says.

  And her voice has got something in it this time, like the word of rule, so much so that Matthew flinches a little. He’s still holding up his machete, still glaring at me, glaring at Hildy, his Noise throbbing like a wound.

  And then his face twists a little.

  And he begins, of all things, to cry.

  Angrily, furiously trying not to, but standing there, big as a bullock, machete in hand, crying.

  Which ain’t what I was expecting.

  Hildy’s voice pulls back a bit. “Put the knife away, Todd pup.”

  Matthew drops his machete to the ground and puts an arm across his eyes as he snuffles and yowls and moans. I look over at Viola. She’s just staring at Matthew, probably as confused as I am.

  I drop the knife to my side but I don’t let it go. Not yet.

  Matthew’s taking deep breaths, pain Noise and grief Noise dripping everywhere, and fury, too, at losing control so publicly. “It’s meant to be over,” he coughs. “Long over.”

  “I know,” Hildy says, going forward and putting a hand on his arm.

  “What’s going on?” I say.

  “Never you mind, Todd pup,” Hildy says. “Prentisstown has a sad history.”

  “That’s what Tam said,” I say. “As if I don’t know.”

  Matthew looks up. “Ye don’t know the first bit of it, boy,” he says, teeth clenched again.

  “That’s enough now,” Hildy says. “This boy ain’t yer enemy.” She looks at me, eyes a bit wide. “And he’s putting away his knife for that very reason.”

  I twist the knife in my hand a time or two but then I reach behind my rucksack and put it away. Matthew’s glaring at me again but he’s starting to back off for real now and I’m wondering who Hildy is that he’s obeying her.

  “They’re both innocent as lambs, Matthew pup,” Hildy says.

  “Ain’t nobody innocent,” Matthew says bitterly, sniffing away his last bits of weepy snot and hefting up his machete again. “Nobody at all.”

  He turns his back and strides into the orchard, not looking back.

  Everyone else is still staring at us.

  “The day only ages,” Hildy says to them, turning round in a circle. “There’ll be time enough for a-meeting and a-greeting later on.”

  Me and Viola watch as the workers start returning to their trees and their baskets and their whatevers, some eyes still on us but most people getting back to work.

  “Are you in charge here or something?” I ask.

  “Or something, Todd pup. C’mon, ye haven’t even seen the town yet.”

  “What law was he talking about?”

  “Long story, pup,” she says. “I’ll tell ye later.”

  The path, still wide enough for men and vehicles and horses, tho I only see men, curves its way down thru more orchards on the hillsides of the little vale.

  “What kind of fruit is that?” Viola asks, as two women cross the road in front of us with full baskets, the women watching us as they go.

  “Crested pine,” Hildy says. “Sweet as sugar, loaded with vitamins.”

  “Never heard of it,” I say.

  “No,” Hildy says. “Ye wouldn’t have.”

  I look at way too many trees for a settlement that can’t have more than fifty people in it. “Is that all you eat here?”

  “Course not,” Hildy says. “We trade with the other settlements down the road.”

  The surprise is so clear in my Noise that even Viola laughs a little.

  “Ye didn’t think it was just two settlements on all of New World, did ye?” Hildy asks.

  “No,” I say, feeling my face turn red, “but all the other settlements were wiped out in the war.”

  “Mmm,” Hildy says, biting her bottom lip, nodding but not saying nothing more.

  “Is that Haven?” Viola says quietly.

  “Is what Haven?” I ask.

  “The other settlement,” Viola says, not quite looking at me. “You said there was a cure for Noise in Haven.”

  “Ach,” Hildy psshts. “That’s just rumours and speckalashuns.”

  “Is Haven a real place?” I ask.

  “It’s the biggest and first of the settlements,” Hildy says. “Closest New World’s got to a big city. Miles away. Not for peasants like us.”

  “I’ve never heard of it,” I say again.

  No one says nothing to this and I get the feeling they’re being polite. Viola’s not really looked at me since the weirdness back there with me and Matthew and the knife. To be honest, I don’t know what to make of it neither.

  So everyone just keeps walking.

  There’s maybe seven buildings total in Farbranch, smaller than Prentisstown and just buildings after all but somehow so different, too, it feels like I’ve wandered right off New World into some whole other place altogether.

  The first building we pass is a tiny stone church, fresh and clean and open, not at all like the darkness Aaron preached in. Farther on is a general store with a mechanic’s garage by it, tho I don’t see much by way of heavy machinery around. Haven’t even seen a fissionbike, not even a dead one. There’s a building that looks like a meeting hall, another with a doctor’s snakes carved into the front, and two barn-like buidings that look like storage.

  “Not much,” Hildy says. “But it’s home.”

  “Not yer home,” I say. “You live way outside.”

  “So do most people,” Hildy says. “Even when yer used to it, it’s nice to only have the Noise of yer most beloved a-hanging round yer house. Town gets a bit rackety.”

  I listen out for rackety but it still ain’t nothing like Prentisstown. Sure there’s Noise in Farbranch, men doing their usual boring daily business, chattering their thoughts that don’t mean nothing, Chop, chop, chop and I’ll only give seven for the dozen and Listen to her sing there, just listen and That coop needs fixing tonight and He’s gonna fall right off of that and on and on and on, so heedless and safe-sounding to me it feels like taking a bath in comparison to the black Noise I’m used to.

  “Oh, it gets black, Todd pup,” Hildy says. “Men still have their tempers. Women, too.”

  “Some people would call it impolite to always be listening to a man’s Noise,” I say, looking round me.

  “Too true, pup.” She grins. “But ye aren’t a man yet. Ye said so yerself.”

  We cross the central strip of the town. A few men and women walk to and fro, some tipping their hats to Hildy, most just staring at us.

  I stare back.

  If you listen close, you can hear where the women are in town almost as clear as the men. They’re like rocks that the Noise washes over and once yer used to it you can feel where their silences are, dotted all about, Viola and Hildy ten times over and I’ll bet if I stopped and stood here I could tell exactly how many women are in each building.

  And mixed in with the sound of so many men, you know what?

  The silence don’t feel half so lonesome.

  And then I see some teeny, tiny people, watching us from behind a bush.

  Kids.

  Kids smaller than me, younger than me.

  The first I ever seen.

  A woman carrying a basket spies them and makes a shooing movement with her hands. She frowns and smiles at the same time and the kids all run off giggling round the back of the church.

  I watch ’em go. I feel my chest pull a little.

  “Ye coming?” Hildy calls after me.

  “Yeah,” I say, still watching where the kids went
. I turn and keep on following, my head still twisted back.

  Kids. Real kids. Safe enough for kids and I find myself wondering if Viola would be able to feel at home here with all these nice-seeming men, all these women and children. I find myself wondering if she’d be safe, even if I’m obviously not.

  I’ll bet she would.

  I look at Viola and catch her looking away.

  Hildy’s led us to the house farthest along the buildings of Farbranch. It’s got steps that go up the front and a little flag flying from a pole out front.

  I stop.

  “This is a mayor’s house,” I say. “Ain’t it?”

  “Deputy Mayor,” Hildy says, walking up the steps, clomping her boots loud against the wood. “My sister.”

  “And my sister,” says a woman opening the door, a plumper, younger, frownier version of Hildy.

  “Francia,” Hildy says.

  “Hildy,” Francia says.

  They nod at each other, not hug or shake hands, just nod.

  “What trouble d’ye think yer bringing into my town?” Francia says, eyeing us up.

  “Yer town, is it now?” Hildy says, smiling, eyebrows up. She turns to us. “Like I told Matthew Lyle, it’s just two pups a-fleeing for safety, seeking their refuge.” She turns back to her sister. “And if Farbranch ain’t a refuge, sister, then what is it?”

  “It’s not them I’m a-talking about,” Francia says, looking at us, arms crossed. “It’s the army that’s a-following them.”

  “Army?” I say, my stomach knotting right up. Viola says it at the same time I do but there’s nothing funny bout it this time.

  “What army?” Hildy frowns.

  “Rumours a-floating down from the far fields of an army a-gathering on the other side of the river,” Francia says. “Men on horseback. Prentisstown men.”

  Hildy purses her lips. “Five men on horseback,” she says. “Not an army. Those were just the posse sent after our young pups here.”

  Francia don’t look too convinced. I never seen arms so crossed.

  “And the river gorge crossing is down anyhow,” Hildy continues, “so there ain’t gonna be anyone a-coming into Farbranch any time soon.” She looks back at us. “An army,” she says, shaking her head. “Honestly.”

  “If there’s a threat, sister,” Francia says, “it’s my duty–”

  Hildy rolls her eyes. “Don’t be a-talking to me about yer duty, sister,” she says, stepping past Francia and opening the front door to the house. “I invented yer duty. C’mon, pups, let’s get ye inside.”

  Viola and I don’t move. Francia don’t invite us to neither. “Todd?” Manchee barks by my feet.

  I take a deep breath and go up the front steps. “Howdy, mim,” I say.

  “Mam,” Viola whispers behind me.

  “Howdy, mam,” I say, trying not to miss a beat. “I’m Todd. That’s Viola.” Francia’s arms are still crossed, like there’s a prize for it. “There really were only five men,” I say, tho the word army is echoing round my Noise.

  “And I should just trust ye?” Francia says. “A boy who’s a-being chased?” She looks down to Viola, still waiting on the bottom step. “I can just imagine why ye were running.”

  “Oh, stuff it, Francia,” Hildy says, still holding the door open for us.

  Francia turns and shooshes Hildy outta the way. “I’ll be in charge of entry into my own house, thank ye very much,” Francia says, then to us, “Well, c’mon if yer coming.”

  And that’s how we first see the hospitality of Farbranch. We go inside. Francia and Hildy bickering twixt themselves about whether Francia’s got a place to put us in for however long we might wanna stay. Hildy wins the bickering and Francia shows me and Viola to separate small rooms next to each other one floor up.

  “Yer dog has to sleep outside,” Francia says.

  “But he’s–”

  “That wasn’t a question,” Francia says, leaving the room.

  I follow her out to the landing. She don’t turn back as she goes downstairs. In less than a minute, I can hear her and Hildy arguing again, trying to keep their voices down. Viola comes outta her room to listen, too. We stand there for a second, wondering.

  “Whaddya think?” I say.

  She don’t look at me. Then it’s like she decides to look at me and does.

  “I don’t know,” she says. “What do you think?”

  I shrug my shoulders. “She don’t seem too happy to see us,” I say, “but it’s still safer than I’ve felt in a while. Behind walls and such.” I shrug again. “And Ben wanted us to get here and all.”

  Which is true but I still ain’t sure if it feels right.

  Viola’s clutching her arms to herself, just like Francia but not like Francia at all. “I know what you mean.”

  “So I guess it’ll do for now.”

  “Yes,” Viola says. “For now.”

  We listen to a bit more arguing.

  “What you did back there–” Viola says.

  “It was stupid,” I say, real fast. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

  My face is starting to burn so I step back in my little room. I stand there and chew my lip. The room looks like it used to belong to an old person. Kinda smells that way, too, but at least it’s a real bed. I go to my rucksack and I open it.

  I look round to make sure no one’s followed me in and I pull out the book. I open it to the map, to the arrows that point down thru the swamp, to the river on the other side. No bridge on the map but there’s the settlement. With a word underneath it.

  “Fayre,” I say, to myself. “Fayre braw nk.”

  Which I guess is Farbranch.

  I breathe loud thru my nose as I look at the page of writing on the back of the map. You must warn them (of course, of course, shut up) still underlined at the bottom. Like Viola said, tho, warn who? Warn Farbranch? Warn Hildy?

  “About what?” I say. I thumb thru the book and there’s pages of stuff, pages and pages of it, words on words on words on words, like Noise shoved down onto paper till you can’t make no sense from it. How can I warn anybody about all this?

  “Aw, Ben,” I say under my breath. “What were you thinking?”

  “Todd?” Hildy calls from downstairs. “Vi?”

  I close the book and look at its cover.

  Later. I’ll ask about it later.

  I will.

  Later.

  I put it away and I go downstairs. Viola’s already waiting there. Hildy and Francia, arms crossed again, waiting, too.

  “I’ve got to get back to my farm, pups,” Hildy says. “Work to do for the good of all but Francia’s agreed to look after ye for today and I’ll come back tonight to see how yer a-getting on.”

  Viola and I look at each other, suddenly not wanting Hildy to leave.

  “Thank ye for that,” Francia says, frowning. “Despite what my sister may have told ye two about me, I’m hardly an ogre.”

  “She didn’t say–” I start to say before I stop myself, even tho my Noise finishes it up for me. Anything about you.

  “Yeah, well, that’s typical,” Francia says, glaring at Hildy but not seeming too put out. “Ye can stay here for the time being. Pa and Auntie are long dead and there’s not too much call for their rooms these days.”

  I was right. Old person’s room.

  “But we’re a working town here in Farbranch.” Francia looks from me to Viola and back again. “And ye’ll be expected to earn yer keep, even if it’s just for a day or two while ye make whatever plans yer going to make.”

  “We’re still not sure,” Viola says.

  “Hmmph,” Francia hmmphs. “And if ye two stay on past this first cresting of the orchards, there’ll be a-schooling for ye to do.”

  “School?” I say.

  “School and church,” Hildy says. “That’s if ye stay long enough.” I’m guessing she’s reading my Noise again. “Are ye going to stay long enough?”

  I don’t say nothing and Viola don’t
say nothing and Franica hmmphs again.

  “Please, Mrs Francia?” Viola says as Francia turns to talk to Hildy.

  “Just Francia, child,” Francia says, looking surprised. “What is it?”

  “Is there somewhere I can send a message back to my ship?”

  “Yer ship,” Francia says. “This a-being that settler ship way out in the dark black yonder?” Her mouth draws thin. “With all them people on it?”

  Viola nods. “We were supposed to report back. Let them know what we found.”

  Viola’s voice is so quiet and her face so looking and hopeful, so open and wide and ready for disappointment that I feel that familiar tug of sadness again, pulling all Noise into it like grief, like being lost. I put a hand on the back of a settee to steady myself.

  “Ah, girl pup,” Hildy says, her voice getting suspiciously gentle again. “I’m guessing ye tried to contact us folks down here on New World when ye were a-scouting the planet?”

  “Yeah,” Viola says. “No one answered.”

  Hildy and Francia exchange nods. “Yer a-forgetting we were church settlers,” Francia says, “getting away from worldly things to set up our own little utopia, so we let that kinda machinery go to rack and ruin as we got on with the business of surviving.”

  Viola’s eyes get a little wider. “You have no way of communicating with anyone?”

  “We don’t have communicators for other settlements,” Francia says, “much less the beyond.”

  “We’re farmers, pup,” Hildy says. “Simple farmers, looking for a simpler way of life. That was the whole point we were a-trying for in flying all this ridiculous way to get here. Setting down the things that caused such strife for people of old.” She taps her fingers on a table-top. “Didn’t quite work out that way, tho.”

  “We weren’t really expecting no others,” Francia says. “Not the way Old World was when we left.”

  “So I’m stuck here?” Viola says, her voice a little shaky.

  “Until yer ship arrives,” Hildy says. “I’m afraid so.”

  “How far out are they?” Francia asks.

  “System entry in 24 weeks,” Viola says quietly. “Perihelion four weeks later. Orbital transfer two weeks after that.”