by David Estes
Raja clamps up when we hear the scuff of footsteps off yonder. Not just one pair. Several. We give each other a look and Raja points off toward the entrance to Confinement.
Keep’s door opens and he staggers out, looking like he’s been beaten twice over and then run over by a raging tug bull. “More lifers?” he says to someone we can’t see.
A whiny voice answers and I can picture his lips moving like a burrow mouse’s. Luger. “They got caught doing all sorts of awful behavior. They won’t see the other side of the bars for the rest of their miserable lives.”
Luger comes into view, dragging a rope behind him. A guy appears, staggering. He’s got bloodstains on his shirt, a black eye, bare feet. Then there’s another one, in no better condition. And a third. A fourth. Four new lifers all at one time? Seems hard to believe that many serious crimes were committed overnight.
“Take better care of these ones, will you?” Luger says, handing the rope to Keep. “They weren’t as easy to get and we’re running out of men who aren’t crucial to the village.”
“They’re criminals!” Keep bellows in one of the lifer’s face. The poor guy jumps back. “Whatddya want me ter do? Set down with ’em and have a cup of herby tea?”
To my surprise, Luger grabs Keep by the shirt, shoves him up against his own hut, and holds him there. “Quit killing them,” he says. “Head Greynote Roan orders you to feed the lifers three times each and every day. They need to keep their strength up. Are we clear?”
Keep is wide-eyed and blank-faced, but he nods.
Luger releases him, looks at his hand like it’s covered in blaze, and wipes it on his britches. “Handle them yourself,” he spits, heading back in the direction of the village.
“Handle ’em yerself,” Keep grunts when Luger’s out of earshot. He shoves one of the prisoners, who barges into another one. “I’ll handle ’em alright. Handle ’em right to their graves.”
He stalks off, pulling the wobbly-footed prisoners like Totters behind him.
My heart is beating fast and I notice I’m gripping the bar tightly with my good hand, like I might be able to snap it in half. My knuckles are white.
Raja’s staring at my hand. “Don’t git yerself all riled up. Ain’t nothin’ none of us can do to stop ’em.”
“What were you ’bout to say ’bout my father ’fore they showed up?” I ask.
Raja scratches his head, trying to remember. His eyes light up. “Oh, that’s right. The ’Ssurances. Yer father’s set up border patrols all along the ice country border, so’s the Icers don’t have to. No one goes in, no one goes out.”
“Is that everything?” I say.
“That’s it. The big ’spiracy. Hope you don’t git yerself killed over it.”
I turn away from him, my back against the bars. I need to think. Luckily, I have another six days to think.
Chapter Nineteen
I been thinking for four days, but ain’t nothing come to me yet. It doesn’t help that Perry’s interrupting me constantly with wooloo questions like What’s it like to have legs? and You’d never eat a friendly prickler like me, would you?
Sure to his word, Keep’s been feeding the lifers three times a day to our one, but Raja showed me how Keep also cut the portions by a third, so they end up getting the same exact amount of food in the end. Yeah, Keep’s a baggard alright, through and through. And every night Raja and t’others get forced to go work the trees. I considered following them again, but it’d be a risk and I already know what they’re doing, so I just wait ’round in my cage for them to get back, thinking about everything I know, and worrying about whether Raja’s getting dumped with the bones. But every night he comes back and we look at each other. I see the weariness in his eyes, the defeat, the broken will. “Never give up,” I tell him, and then we both go to sleep.
Every day the winds swirl faster, along with my thoughts. My father. ’Ssurances. The Fire. Keep us out. More meat. More wood. More lifers. Border patrols. It’s all a mess of information and I don’t know how to organize it all. Nor do I know what in the scorch to do with it. My instinct is to rush straight to my father when I get home, demand that he stop making innocent men lifers, stop killing them, come clean with the village ’bout his agreement with the Icers.
What’ll he do? He’ll get out his snapper, add some scars to my skin, and then probably send me back to Confinement until the Call. I need a more subtle approach.
But first there’s an even bigger question I need to figure out. Why is my father doing this? A few days back I thought the answer was obvious—’cause we need more food and wood to survive—but now I ain’t so sure. Why would he kill off good men who can help hunt and protect the village? Even if we get a little extra food and timber it’s still working backwards.
It’s almost like he just wants to control us, keep us all in check, away from the rest of the world. Circ’s question: Have you ever wondered what else is out there? Maybe that’s exactly what my father doesn’t want us to wonder. If we’re too busy struggling to survive, to grow the tribe, to fulfill our duties as Bearers or Hunters or Greynotes or whatever, we won’t be thinking ’bout whether there’s more to life’n all this. Which means we’ll stay. In his control. Under his protection.
He’s always controlled my life, so why not on a larger scale?
But that can’t be it. No matter how lucky he is, the Fire’ll get him in the next coupla years, so what’s the point?
~~~
It’s my last day in Confinement—thank the sun goddess!—and I’ve decided to start by telling Circ everything I’ve learned and then we can decide together what to do ’bout it. I already feel relieved that someone else’ll know—besides Raja and Perry, who ain’t much help.
Circ.
It’s weird how I haven’t seen him since we kissed. I was marched straight home by my bull-headed father and Circ was told to go home, too. That my father would deal with him later. I wonder what punishment he received. I almost laugh at the thought. Probably shoveling blaze. Or hauling water. Something exhausting and mind-numbing. Sort of like Confinement, but in a physical, rather’n mental way.
In any case, surely he wouldn’t be allowed to visit me, so that explains why I been left to my own thoughts with only Perry and Raja to talk to.
It’ll be hard to talk to him back in the village without my father finding out, but we’ll find a way. We’ve always got Learning, too. My father can’t take that away—it’s required for all Younglings.
Yeah, things’ll get better as soon as I see Circ again.
I’m glad it’s not Luger that arrives to take me back. Just some other Greynote, all serious and bored-like. I don’t say a word to him, nor him to me, and we’re both okay with that.
I wave to still-sleeping Raja and still-standing Perry as I leave.
Don’t let the cage hit your arse on the way out, Perry says.
The hike is long and dark, but at least it’s in the right direction. Toward home.
When we crest a dune and the village comes into view, the Greynote extends a hand as if to say, “I’ve done my duty, now get the scorch out of here.” I don’t need a second invitation as I’m already running, feeling the wonderful, delicious burn of my underused muscles as they begin to exert themselves. I’m growing more and more comfortable with only having one good arm to swing while I run. When my wrist is finally healed I wonder if it’ll throw me off balance again now that I’m used to not having it. Knowing my level of clumsy, the answer’s probably yes.
As I pass the tower guards I flash a smile and offer a wave. They just stare at me with heavy eyes, but even they can’t break my mood. Not today. I get to see Circ. Things are bad with the ’spiracy I now know all ’bout, but not so bad that me and Circ won’t be able to come up with something to fix it. Today I have hope. Today I’m free. Maybe not so free that I can run off to ice country and join the Icies, but I’m not behind bars, and that’s good enough for me.
It’s still early, th
e sun barely spreading its light in soft tones across the desert, but I have the urge to run straight to the west tent sector, where Circ’s family lives. Just the thought of it sends bubbles bouncing around in my stomach, a lightness filling my chest. Can’t. I gotta be strong. Patient. Gotta wait until Learning. I’ll see him there and then everything’ll be fine.
So I head for home, hoping Father’s already left for the day.
He hasn’t. He’s sitting outside, as if he’s waiting for me. Pop. Pop! Popopopopopop! The bubbles of excitement explode in my stomach, leaving me feeling ill. Ill that this is the man who raised me, who’s my father, who’d allow innocent men to die for the sake of making ’Ssurances to the Icies. Heat rises in my belly, washing away the sick feeling.
I take a deep breath as I approach. I can’t let him know that I know. Not yet.
I stand ’fore him, shifting from side to side, all awkward-like. It’s a show. I feel more centered’n I ever have ’fore. More sure of myself. More sure of what’s good and what’s bad in this world.
“Welcome home, Youngling,” he says, standing, towering over me. He’s just trying to intimidate me, I say to myself.
“Thank you, Father,” I say, fighting the sarcasm out of my voice. Steady. Steady.
“I asked you this after your previous stay in Confinement, and I hope this is the last time I have to ask you. Have you learned your lesson?” I feel like his dark eyes are staring into the very pit of my mind, where the truth lies. But I can’t tell him the truth or I’ll end up right back in Confinement.
“Yes.” A lie, but a necessary one.
His eyes narrow. “I don’t believe you. But you are going to learn, one way or another.” He strides off, leaving me surprised and confused.
~~~
I try to act natural as I head to Learning, but I know I’m walking way too fast. Most Younglings dawdle, drag their feet, look for anything to distract them. Me, I’m head forward, taking shortcuts, making record time. I’m hoping Circ’ll be early too.
When I enter the roofless structure, my head swivels ’round expectantly. Empty. I was so fast I even beat Circ. No matter. I’ve waited a a quarter full moon—I can wait a while longer.
I sit cross-legged in the back corner, a highly-coveted spot conducive to mischief and whispered conversations.
I hear footfalls and Lara enters. Her hair is even shorter, cut almost to the scalp. Maybe she did shave it all the way to the skin and I missed it, only seeing it now that it’s grown while I been away. I expect her to sit next to me, to start talking my ear off and asking questions ’bout Confinement, but she silently takes her normal seat near the front of the room.
Odd.
Silence.
Teacher Mas enters carrying a bundle of scrolls, glances at me, moves to the front.
Where’s Circ? It must be getting close to Learning time, but it’s still just me and Lara. Dreadfully silent.
The silence is broken when a chorus of voices and scrapes and laughter carry in from outside. Younglings pour into the open-air hut, talking and bumping and shouting. I scan the crowd, my heart leaping as I expect Circ to head for me at any second. I get some curious stares, but no one approaches me until—
“Mind if I sit?” Hawk says.
I curl my lips in disgust. “Keep moving,” I say.
“I got a message from Circ,” he says, cupping a hand over his mouth, as if someone might be reading his lips.
“You’re full of it,” I say, refusing to take the bait. I sense there’s a punchline coming.
“I ain’t lyin’!” he protests. “I owe him, all right?”
Everyone’s inside now. Everyone ’cept Circ. Maybe Hawk does know something ’bout where he is. Even though I may be setting myself up for embarrassment, I’m willing to risk it. “Okay. Sit,” I say.
“Look, I ain’t your friend, or Circ’s neither, so don’t get the wrong idea,” Hawk says.
“Just spit it out, Hawk,” I say, refusing to look at him.
“Fine. When you got drug away to Confinement, Circ got sent on another mission.”
My heart sinks into my stomach. “What other mission?” I say.
“Like the last one,” he says. “A small one. Just a few Hunters.”
My eyes narrow and I glance at him. Teacher starts talking so I lean close to his ear, dropping my voice to a whisper. “How do you know ’bout that? It was secret.”
“I’m a Hunter, remember?” Right. He might know more’n I give him credit for. “Anyway, it don’t matter. Circ left, okay?” I nod. Okay.
“How long ago?” Teacher’s attention is on t’other side of the room. Lara’s answering whatever question he asked.
“That’s the thing. He left the same day you did. The mission was only s’posed to be three days. None of ’em have come back yet.”
~~~
My head’s hot, but not ’cause I’m sitting in the sun.
I don’t have a clue what happened in Learning. It was all a blur. Thankfully, Teacher didn’t ask me any questions, ’cause I don’t know if I coulda spoken, or even understood them.
Circ’s been gone seven days on a three-day mission.
Normally, I’d be worried but I wouldn’t jump to conclusions, but this time is different. He’s in Killer country. And it’s my father that sent him there.
Anger curls my toes and boils in my stomach.
“He did this on purpose,” I growl under my breath. A group of Youngling girls who’re chatting a mile a moment outside the Learning Hut look at me strangely and laugh. I wanna go over and punch them. I stand, seething, consider heading in their direction, but think better of it. Not only would I lose a fight against five other girls, but I’d end up in Confinement again. Now that I know what I know, that’s the last place I wanna be.
I’m lost in a sea of nothingness.
Everywhere I look people are going ’bout their business, washing clothes, cooking food, repairing tents. Kids are laughing, playing, running off all the pent up energy from another boring day of Learning. But none of it means anything with Circ missing.
I don’t know where to go or what to do when I get there, what to say or who to say it to. I’m empty.
My father.
I could confront him, give him a piece of my mind, but not only would that not bring Circ back, but that’s exactly what he wants. He wants to get under my skin, to see that he’s not only the controller of my life, but of my mind too. That he can make me angry and sad and upset. I won’t give him that pleasure.
There’s only one other option then. Something I wouldn’t have considered a year ago ’cause I was just a scared little girl. But now I’m desperate, on the verge of becoming a Bearer without my best friend to talk to ’bout it. My best friend who kissed me, who held me, who changed me. If my mother says I hafta go after what I want, then that’s what I’m gonna do.
I’m going after Circ.
Even as I make my mind up, breathless and scared and excited ’bout the decision, a cry goes up from the tower guards. I’m not that close to the edge of town, but they’re yelling pretty loud. I crane my head, waiting to hear it. Waiting, waiting, waiting: for the bells. The guards’ll shout ’bout pretty much anything—a harmless burrow mouse scampering across the desert, an increase in the winds, a sneaky shilt and her guy out for a midnight rendezvous outside the border tents—but they’ll only ring the bells if there’s imminent danger to the village. Like when the Glassies attacked. Or during the Killer War. Sandstorms and wildfires receive a bell-toll too.
Their shouts grow more urgent, but there’s no bell. No danger. Not for the village. But they keep shouting. I scan the towers that poke like fingers into the air, high above the village. They’re all yelling to each other, trying to get information through the chain, from whichever guard spotted something worth yelling ’bout. Every guard is still in his tower—’cept one. My eyes lock on the empty tower, slide down its ladder, focus on the guard frantically climbing down.
&n
bsp; I run in that direction.
~~~
I don’t know what comes over me, but I run like the wind. It’s gusting at my back and then it’s gone, like I’ve outdistanced it, leaving me sprinting past surprised villagers in a calm bubble.
It’s him. I know it. Circ and t’other men on the mission have returned. Rushing to see Circ’ll not go down well with my father, but I hafta. I hafta see his smiling and dimpled face, hafta hear his laugh, hafta smell the dust on his skin.
Reaching the tower at almost the same time as the watchman reaches the bottom rung, I ignore his shout as I fly past him, out into the desert. If we’re under attack, I’m rushing straight to death. There were no bells, I remind myself. No attack.
I peer across the winter wasteland, feeling the wind catch up to me as I slow my pace, swirling around my feet, swishing my dress back and forth. I see them.
The Hunters coming back from their mission. A small group. Pitifully small considering they might be facing Killers. Five men. Four walking—no, trudging, heavy-footed and on the verge of collapse. And one being carried horizontally across another’s shoulders. Something bad happened to these Hunters.
I rush forward, squinting to make out the faces. When I get close enough to see details, I realize: none of the four walking are Circ.
An exhausted groan slips from my throat. Not him. Please, sun goddess, please, I pray. It’s been sunny all day, not a cloud in the sky, but at that moment, just after my silent plea, the world goes dim. I look up, feeling fear and dread in my heart, as a mountain of dark clouds blot out the sun as completely as if it were dusk.
The smell of death lingers on the air, tangy and metallic.
I reach the Hunters, who’re too tired to be surprised at the sudden presence of a Youngling in their midst. They’re older’n Circ, but not by much, perhaps only on their first Call, or maybe second.
