by Terry Tyler
"None taken."
"Parks, Lincoln and Ward know, but it will continue to be a well-kept secret, and you will tell no one, okay?"
The news that these three were told before me is irksome indeed. I feel a hot flush creep up my neck, as it does in moments like these; it is most unsightly, with my pale colouring. I make an effort to quell this highly inappropriate reaction. "I feel honoured that you trust me with such information, sir―"
"I've also told Ryder Swift."
I know my face conveys my surprise. "Sir―with all due respect―he's a traveller who lives amongst the shackers―"
"I'm well aware of who Swift is. I told him because if he is the person to bring forth a new age to the people of Blackthorn, if I am to trust his word, then I must trust him with my truth, too. Listen. I am never going to have children; you know I'm not the marrying type. For your information, I'm not interested in women, men, sheep or donkeys, these days; this damn illness is fucking with every part of my body."
I don't want to talk about this side of his life. I sense my discomfort is noticed, for he moves swiftly on.
"For most people, their children are their legacy. But I have none, and no nieces and nephews, either; I am the last North." He gives me a wry smile, and looks off into the distance. "A shame that for all our great qualities of leadership, we are not a very fertile lot. But I do have a legacy, and it's called Blackthorn. If Ryder can help make our city a better place, I will be remembered as the last North, who showed his people a new dawn. I may die in five or ten years' time, or it may be much, much sooner―just a few years, even―"
"No!" I can't help it; the word falls out of my mouth. My distress pleases him, at least.
"Yes, indeed, Hemsley, and when necessary I will choose my own time to go. Doctor Khalid can't predict how quickly I will deteriorate, but I will not lose control of my own life―and when it becomes inevitable, I will be in control of my death, too." He holds up a hand to stop me interrupting. "With luck, that won't happen for a while. I am determined to live long enough to see Blackthorn become all it can be. Phoenix let it go to the bad, in the hands of self-serving lieutenants. My grandfather took charge, but my father was a man without vision. I, however, am the best of the lot." He laughs. "I will go down in history. I want schoolkids to be taught my name two hundred years from now."
I nod. "I'd say I look forward to making this happen for you, but―"
"You know, we're like the Tudors, we Norths. Useless when it comes to making dynasties, but we'll be remembered forever."
I join in his merriment, but then his face drops, suddenly.
"There is, though, the question of leadership after I'm gone."
I compose my expression to mirror his. "That is a serious consideration, yes."
"No shit. Can't be an election; the shackers outnumber the rest of us by way too many―something that bothers me quite considerably―and we don't want to see Darius Fletcher making decisions from this very sofa, do we?"
The thought makes me shudder, mentally.
"I've considered all my lieutenants―you included, though you wouldn't want the job, would you?"
"Sir, I'm honoured beyond words that you considered me at all, but my inclination is to serve, not to lead―"
"Quite. Parks is the obvious choice, but I suspect he feels as you do. Ward is a possibility, but that would leave his daughter as heir after him, and she's a silly bitch. Ogg, Lloyd and Wyatt are followers rather than leaders, and Foster is too old. But there is Lincoln, Gregory, Chen, Thomas, Slovis―it's early days," he says. "I'm not planning to hand over my crown for a good time yet."
"I'm very happy to hear it, sir."
"But when I name my successor, I will expect full support from my lieutenants."
"Of course."
"Whoever it is."
"Yes."
He lies back, closing his eyes, and I sense that this interview is coming to a close.
"What do you think of Ryder Swift?"
"He seems like a thoroughly decent man, sir. Honest, and well-intentioned."
"That's what I think." His eyes open, and he stares at the ceiling.
An unwelcome thought pops into my brain.
Ryder Swift looks not unlike Dead Boy.
I stop myself pursuing this train of thought.
He shuts his eyes again, and dismisses me.
I walk.
Our conversation churns up my mind, leaving me unsettled on so many levels, after my earlier euphoria. I am upset by the revelation about his illness; I had always assumed that Wolf would rule on, throughout my lifetime. Then there is the uncertainty regarding leadership, once he is gone.
And something black keeps tap, tap, tapping at my brain.
Ryder Swift. Dead Boy.
Fair, handsome, lively, bright-eyed young men with a zest for life. Though Ryder is a good decade older; I believe he is thirty-two.
Stop.
Stop.
My thoughts disgust me.
I push them out of my head.
I go straight to the south wall and walk it for the rest of the day, up and down. I talk to shackers and guards alike, addressing the minor problems of the day, all in an effort to rid my mind of such evil.
It is only when I get home that I realise I have still not been to the library, but I am in no state to read. When I try to sleep my mind jumps around, active and awake.
Aside from those dark thoughts, my Governor faces the biggest challenges of his life. I cannot fail him. I will not fail him.
I feel my fists clench under the covers, at what lies ahead for him, and thus for me.
Stop.
Stop.
I turn my mind back to the image of Ryder Swift talking to his god amongst the apple trees, and calm flows down to my arms, unclenching my fists, soothing my taut jaw, neck and temples.
Tentatively, I stare up at the ceiling, and tell the Light I accept his presence. I have never prayed and don't know how to, but I want him to know.
As I do so, a sense of great serenity washes over me.
The Light knows me. He accepts me, too.
There is another place, like the one believed in by the old-worlders, where those who are dutiful and serve others may live in peace. Where those who pass from the human world might exist, forever, in the place Ryder Swift experienced in that clearing in the woods.
And where maybe, just maybe, my mother might be waiting for me, to call me her little Gus once more.
Chapter 11
Evie
Ten Days Later
Jay whispers in my ear. "Well, fuck me sideways."
No one speaks as Wolf North walks up the steps of the stage at the front of the Town Hall. He never does owt like this. He only shows himself to us lowlifes once in a blue moon, keeps to the back of the stage and buggers off early.
Not today. Today, he's seated with his lieutenants on the few benches that have been placed at the front, like they're in the audience, same as us.
He bows his head to Ryder, then turns to us all, hand on chest and says, in this big, loud voice, "I accept the Light into my life. I accept Ryder Swift as the one chosen to lead the citizens of Blackthorn down a new path, so we might find a better way forward, and, when we leave this world, live forever in that joyous place he was shown in the clearing in the woods."
That does it. That's what makes it happen. Ryder and his Light have the governor's seal of approval.
He turns back to Ryder, kneels, and Ryder puts his hand on the top of his head.
When Wolf goes to sit down, a couple of people clap―and then everyone joins in.
The clapping dies down, and one of the loggers, Myers, puts his hand up, like he wants everyone to notice him, and he walks up the aisle, up the steps, then kneels in front of Ryder, hand on chest, and says, "I accept the Light into my life."
Ryder smiles and touches his head then, before anyone else can leap forward, he puts his hand up.
"I have had many long talks wit
h Governor North about what faith in the Light will mean for our city; mostly, it is about treating others as you would wish to be treated yourself. Respect for one another. To this end, I have good news for all of you. From this moment on, Governor North will grant every household in Shackers' End not only your free loaf and bundle of logs, but also a pound of either meat, fish or cheese, each week. We are both sorry it cannot be more, but our food situation is somewhat challenged at the moment, as we know you all appreciate."
Fuck me sideways, twice. Wolfie giving out more freebies. I bet the meat is only squirrel or rabbit. They won't give us bacon or beef.
When I look at Mum, Dad and Gale, though, they have the same gormless grin on their faces as everyone else.
"Now," says Ryder, with his big, lovely smile, "would anyone else like to come up?"
They can't get up there fast enough; someone shouts out, "Three cheers for Governor North!"
Mum turns to me and says, "Come on."
I shake my head. I don't want to say I believe in something I'm not sure about.
I don't think Ryder is lying to us. Or seeing stuff that's not there.
But I just don't know.
Okay, so it was my suggestion that Ryder should be taken to see the governor, but I never expected North to totally lap it up.
Apparently he wanted a big show in The Eight, but Ryder said no, 'cause the message should be delivered on a 'more personal' level. So us lot from Logside got called up to the Town Hall on our own, to hear the words of the Light.
I didn't care either way. Meant we got the morning off work.
Ryder started by giving a rundown of what had happened to him since that first day in the woods. Then his face went dead serious.
"Right now, we're standing on a precipice―because it's happening already, isn't it? The bad crops, the fall of Central, people hungry and homeless, the bandits―the country is becoming a more dangerous place, and it's getting worse. What if next summer is as bad as the last two? Despair is coming for us, and it's getting closer every day. In a few years, our world could be just like the years following the Fall, all over again. The Light is our last chance."
I felt like I'd heard this before―and then I remembered. This was what Star said, after Ryder went into that trance. Cheeky bugger. He nicked her words.
I sneaked a look back at her, in the row behind me. She was all pink-faced and pleased, nudging Joe, totally made up. I wouldn't be. He could have added, 'like my friend Star said', or something, couldn't he?
That confused me, 'cause I don't want to think badly of Ryder.
Now he says, "I thought I would be an anonymous, carefree traveller for the rest of my days, but life has sent me on a different journey. The Light asks you to let me lead you to him; I don't know why I've been given this honour, which I will admit to you is pretty damn frightening. I say this because life in the Light is about transparency, about facing our weaknesses and helping each other through them. Being good to each other. I ask you to help me bring the Light into your lives, so we can all live better, longer, happier and stronger."
People shout and cheer. Some are blubbing.
"I tell you what," Dad whispers, "he can't half work a crowd, can't he?"
Governor North goes up to stand by him, and blathers on about how Ryder is educating him on how to make Blackthorn a better place; his next move will be to take in some of the 'poor souls' from the 'devastated communities of Boltwick and Mulgrave'.
Awesome, mate, but most of them have gone. Taken their two days' food and buggered off south, or northwards to Lindisfarne. He gets a big cheer, but I wonder if any others are thinking the same as me: that he's already shut the gate on most of them.
Next, Ryder announces that, once he's spread the good word to everyone in Blackthorn, he will leave us for a short while, maybe two weeks, maybe longer.
He needs this time, he says, to fully understand his life's new purpose.
"I shall walk out of here with no coat, no food, no tools, not even a water bottle, because if I expect you to place your trust in me, and thus, in the Light, I must test my own faith in places less comfortable than Blackthorn. I must prove to myself that I am one hundred per cent committed to our new path."
Well, that nearly brings the roof down. When Wolf North's finished clapping, he announces that, while Ryder is away, work will start on a church, out near the spirit field.
"This will have the added bonus of providing jobs for any outliers willing to do a hard day's work. They will be housed in the travellers' huts, and be assured of three square meals a day, throughout the coming winter. This is the start of the new Blackthorn, in which we all work together to create a better world."
More cheers.
"Looks a bit peaky, doesn't he?" Jay whispers in my ear.
"Eh?"
"Look at him. The governor. He don't look so hot."
I try not to look at that mad perv any more than I have to, but I do. Jay's right; he's got dark shadows under his eyes.
"Y'right," I say. "Hope he dies."
"Evie!" Mum looks horrified, like she always does if you mention death. "That's evil!"
I shrug. "Well, I do. He's an arsehole."
I may be a bit unsure about Ryder, but I am definitely suspicious of our governor's sudden about-turn.
Ryder leaves a week later, and we gather in the Beer Hut the night before, to give him a send-off. The mood is grand, and he's offered a drink about once every ten seconds, but he says he won't be drinking to excess any more, because this isn't what the Light wants of him.
"How do you know?" asks Vic. "Does he appear to you in the clouds? Like, a big white face with a booming voice saying, 'Stop going on the piss. Yes, that means you'."
Ryder likes that. "No, it's not that easy―I wish it was! It's just how I feel. It's like he guides me; my heart tells me what's right, and what's wrong." He frowns, smiles, his head on one side, then the other. "It's about becoming aware of your health and peace of mind, and how your actions affect those around you―and now that so many of you have accepted him into your lives, I bet you're getting the same feelings, aren't you?"
There's a lot of murmuring, while everyone thinks about whether or not some guy they can't see is telling them not to get wankered any more.
"Yes, but this is a celebration," says Jack; I reckon he's fretting in case people stop buying his beer.
"Don't worry, Jack," says Ryder. "We're not going anywhere―in fact, I'll have another small cup of your finest! Seriously, though, I interpret the Light's message as being based around simple living, and generosity towards others, and I've got to practise what I preach, so here it is―I turned down the apartment in Thorn Lodge that Wolf offered me."
"You what?" Darius looks totally gobsmacked. "You could've been our man on the inside!"
Ryder laughs. "We're working towards the end of discord between the different sectors of Blackthorn, Darius, not fostering it! And if I used my gift from the Light to gain material comfort, I'd be the wrong guy for the job. Aside from this, though, I consider Shackers' End, particularly Logside, my home. You're my friends, and this is where I want to live. I just hope that when I come back from whatever awaits me outside these safe walls, you'll continue to support me in the months―and years―ahead."
"Does that mean you're staying?" squeaks Thora. "You're not going away in the spring, like you usually do?"
"I will go wherever the Light sends me," Ryder smiles at her, "but for now, no. I have no intention of leaving. My home is here, with you."
That's nice. But I can't help thinking that it was even nicer when he was just a normal bloke.
A massive group from all areas of the city gathers at South Gate to see him off―it's a bit worrying, seeing him walking off on this dismal, rainy day, hands in pockets, and everything feels a bit flat once he's gone.
What must it be like to be so popular that hundreds of people feel pissed off when you go away? I wonder if you wake up each morning thinking, bl
oody hell, how fantastic am I?
Two days later, it's time for South Gate Market, and it's hardly worth setting up. Most of the autumn and winter trade used to come from Boltwick and Mulgrave, but there's only a few left in Boltwick now, and they've got no money to buy owt but essentials. When we pack the stalls away, Lieutenant Hemsley says he's going to suggest to the governor that we suspend the markets until spring, when there are more travellers passing through.
I feel like we're waiting for something. Maybe just for Ryder to come back. Life carries on; I get up when Joe knocks, I shake Laurel awake, we wash in our bowl―I bound out of bed straight away so I don't get second water―but we don't bother to light the stove even though it's cold in the mornings now, 'cause we haven't got time to enjoy it. Getting up gets harder and harder as the winter goes on. If it snows, we sleep in our clothes. Mum says that's the first step towards being a stinker, but I don't care. We can borrow Mum and Dad's big tub, heat a load of water on the stove, and take a bath. Takes hours to fetch the water and heat it up, pan by pan, so we only do it once every five days or so. From December to February, you see, the showers can freeze up, and anyway you'd have to be some sort of nutter to stand in the shower block with nowt on; it's only got three walls and a roof, so it's like being outside. Jay says you could die of exposure. He hums a bit in the winter, 'cause him and his dad haven't got a bath tub, but we let him use ours; he doesn't mind third water, as long as it's warm.
We go through the same process once a week to wash our clothes, too, then we hang them in front of the stove and keep turning them to dry. Mind you, there's bugger all to do on winter nights, so it keeps us occupied.
Ryder's been gone two weeks now, and it looks like that bloody Light of his must've gone with him, 'cause Jay's having a really shit time. He did the 'I accept the Light' thing, so why isn't it (or him) helping out? That's what I want to know.
