I see Gray sit up, look again at the woman in the chair.
“Wait,” says Arthur of the Metals, “are you saying Janis understands the Forgetting, or that she can cause it?”
“Both,” I reply.
Arthur looks at Gray, and then back at me. Gray stands, unsure of what’s required of him.
“I think I should inform the Council,” says Janis, “that Nadia and the glassblower’s son have recently begun an understanding, or something like it.” The tiny note of derision was expertly done. “I’m afraid Gray would do or say nearly anything for Nadia.”
“The glassblower’s son,” I snap, losing my temper, “is covered in wounds you gave him while making him forget.” I see Anson glance at Gray. He would have seen the stains on the back of Gray’s shirt. He frowns. Janis looks at the Council, and then back at me. With pity.
“If Gray is injured I’m sorry to hear it. But everyone knows you’ve been hiding with him over the wall. If Gray was attacked, that can hardly be blamed on me, and only reinforces my position that our city should stay as it is, behind the walls that keep us safe.”
I cannot believe the smoothness, the way she wriggles out of every turn. The truth is here. I’m saying it. And they cannot see it. I dig through the pack and hold up the last clear bottle of Remembering. Gray’s bottle. “I also accuse Janis of knowing how to cure the Forgetting, and withholding this cure from the people. Your memories are hidden, not lost … ”
“The Council knows I study this subject, Nadia, and have had no success.”
“This will bring all of the memories back. It goes beneath the skin … ”
I hesitate, lower the bottle. It sounds fantastic, even to me. Janis doesn’t even respond this time. She lets the Council murmur. There’s a boom from somewhere in the city, up Meridian, though I can’t quite see where, only distant smoke. The sky is lightening.
“How many on this Council has Janis coerced?” I say. “How many have heard Janis suggest that she knows something about you, or someone you love, and that it would be best to vote the way she wants?”
If they have, they don’t want to admit it. Not in front of the rest of them.
“If it’s not true,” I shout, “then why would I be telling you this now, when you’re about to forget it again? I have nothing to gain! No reason to be standing here. Unless what I’m saying is true.”
There’s a beat of silence as the idea is considered. Then Janis says, “Children Nadia’s age often don’t think their actions through. They are impulsive. I’m sure some of you have experienced this with your own—”
“I’ll try it.” The Council looks around, and it takes me a moment to focus on the one who spoke. Anson the Planter is coming down the amphitheater stairs like I did, through the Council, up the steps of the platform, his eyes on the bottle of Remembering still in my hand. “If that’s the cure, then put it inside me and let’s see if I have any memories. You say it goes beneath the skin?”
Lydia the Weaver says, “No, Anson,” but it’s soft, like she knows he’s going to do it anyway. She has my half sisters by the hands.
“If Janis wants her to prove it, then let her prove it,” Anson says to the Council. “Then we’ll know.” He looks at me and says, “I want to know.”
He wants to help me. He wants, I tell myself, to remember me. I could know why he left us. I could know what happened to Anna. To my mother. I blink long. But this dose is meant for Gray. Gray’s arms are crossed, watching me.
“Oh, Anson,” says Janis. She sounds old, sad. The Council’s attention instantly sweeps back to her. “I appreciate your position, and what you’re trying to do. But your feelings of loyalty here are regrettably misplaced.” She turns to the Council. “Anson has become aware that”—she pauses, as if trying to think what to say—“that he is Nadia’s father. I’m sure you can all see the truth of it.”
Because I look just like him. I glance around at the staring Council, their families, then at Lydia the Weaver. I’ve never felt sorry for her before, but I suppose this isn’t exactly what she’d hoped for, either. I also see that she’s not shocked. She knew.
“It doesn’t matter,” Anson says, looking at me, “assuming what she’s saying is true. I’ll try the cure.”
“Oh, but it does matter,” Janis says, voice softening, “because there is the issue of how you have your current identity. I don’t believe Nadia or any of her sisters have books that say Anson the Planter is their father, do they?”
“Which makes me the liar, and not them,” Anson replies. “If I’ve falsified books, then someone write it down quick, before the Forgetting, and I’ll take your punishment after. In the meantime, let’s see if I can remember doing it.”
My eyes are stinging. He’s trying to help me. I look at Gray. This was meant for him. This bottle is his. He deserves it, and without it, I don’t think he’ll choose me. Not again. But his credibility has been compromised by Janis just as thoroughly as my father’s. I sit down right where I am, pull the tube with the needle out of my pack. My hands are shaky.
“Jonathan,” Janis is saying, “the clock is moving and I believe we need to detain Anson. We cannot tolerate rule-breaking or lies in Canaan … ”
She doesn’t want me to put this in Anson, I think. That’s a good sign. I hurry, draw up the fluid into the tube. I don’t know exactly how to do this, and I’m a little clumsy at it. I don’t know how much to give. I’m not even a hundred percent certain that it works. Jonathan is coming across the platform. If this doesn’t convince them, then the Forgetting will happen and nothing will have changed. Only everything will have changed, because Janis will massacre three-quarters of the city with poisoned grain.
I stand, the tube full of clear fluid, sharp end out. Jonathan grabs Anson by the arm. I look up at my father. “Help me,” I whisper.
His brows come down, and I turn and plunge the needle into an upper arm, right through the black cloth. Only the arm belongs to Jonathan. Anson turns and grabs Jonathan quick, holding him in place while he struggles. Janis hisses, stands up, but it’s too late. I’ve pushed in the fluid, and the cure is inside him.
Something booms again in the city, close this time, amplified to an earsplitting noise inside the half hole where we stand. Fire, huge and sudden, shoots upward from the high ground outside the amphitheater, I think near the entrance to the granary. I hear shouts, yelling, a scream of pain. Jonathan doesn’t even react. His eyes have gone wide with fear. I saw Gray afraid of forgetting, but what Jonathan faces by remembering must be beyond belief.
“Jonathan,” I whisper, “I’m sorry. But it’s not for long. The Forgetting is almost here. Help me,” I say, just like I asked my father. “If they don’t believe her, she has no power over them. Or you … ”
“Liliya has to … stay on the list … ”
“There won’t be a list if you just help me end her. All they have to do is believe you. Say the truth. Don’t let it happen to anyone else.”
Anson lets him go and Jonathan falls to his knees. He’s already sweating.
The gathering in front of the speaking platform has shrunk into a tighter knot, some eyes on Jonathan, some on the flames at the granary. We can hear the fighting. Janis doesn’t even look up at it.
“Council members,” she says, pulling their attention back, “let them fight. They will forget soon enough … ” I see Tessa of the Granary frowning at that. “We must get to the Council House so we can wake together and rebuild our city. Arthur, Li, would you help me detain Nadia and her father? And, Deming, if you would help me with the glassblower’s son … ”
“Nadia,” Anson’s voice behind me whispers, “when I say go, you grab the glassblower and you run. Get over the wall.”
I lift my eyes to Gray, standing still, arms crossed. Betrayed. I promised him his memories. Lydia looks stricken, her girls confused. Jonathan pushes himself to his feet.
“I’m not her grandson,” he says. He’s smiling, almost laughing. The
Council falls silent.
Janis says quickly, “Council, what I have been trying to develop, what Nadia has so naively named as a cure for the Forgetting, is the result of my experiments to take away pain. But sadly, all this substance seems to do is bring on hallucinations. Like Nadia’s … ” I look at her in disbelief, but the Council has only paused again, interested.
“She made it all up,” Jonathan says, “because she never had children. Everyone has to have children. The right children … ”
“Jonathan.” Janis says it like a reprimand, still managing to sound hurt. “Like I said, hallucinations … ”
We flinch as a group at another explosion from the granary. They must be using barrels of oil.
“Jonathan,” I say, as gently as I can. He’s sweaty, manic. “Tell them what you remember.”
“Deming, Tessa,” Janis orders, “please detain Nadia and—”
“You,” Jonathan says suddenly. He’s looking at Tessa of the Granary. “How’s your back?”
Tessa’s face goes blank.
“She likes backs,” Jonathan says, “because it’s hard to see the scars. After the Forgetting, you might not even know they’re there unless someone tells you. But at the time, you scream and scream.” Jonathan puts his hands over his ears. I can guess what he’s hearing. Then he looks at Tessa’s husband. “Describe her scars.”
I don’t know Tessa’s husband’s name, but he is not a brave man. He shakes his head.
“Jonathan, sit down. You’re not yourself,” Janis commands.
“Did you know she reads your books?” Jonathan says. “All the time. She gets yours from the room in the Archives whenever she wants, the rest she makes Gretchen bring to her. That’s how she understands how to push you. How to test you. See what you’re made of. See if you’re worthy of the list.” He looks at Emily, wife of Arthur of the Metals. “Describe the scars on the back of Arthur’s thighs.”
Emily glances at Janis, evidently made of stronger stuff than Tessa’s husband. “Long slashes,” she says. “Thin … ”
“Six on one side, five on the other,” says Jonathan. Emily nods, and Jonathan looks sick. I wonder if Janis made him do it, whatever it was.
“Council,” says Janis quietly, “I owe you an apology. Jonathan is seeing things that did not happen. Or … ” She looks accusingly around the half circle. “Or is there a plot here to discredit me?”
“I don’t see any plot and I don’t see any hallucinations,” says Arthur practically. “I’ve had those scars since before the last Forgetting, and I’ve never told a soul except my wife … ”
“Emily,” asks Janis, “is this what you were discussing with Jonathan in private the other day?”
“I didn’t have any discussion with Jonathan!” says Emily. Arthur turns to his wife, a look full of accusation, and I think Janis knew there was mistrust there. Emily lifts up her book.
“Here, you can read—”
“As if you’d write that down.”
Jonathan sinks down to his knees again, meets my eyes. And he is laughing. The bell above us tolls. First hour of the waking. Before the next bell it will be the Forgetting, and none of them will know this ever happened. I see Jonathan’s eyes find the First Book of the Forgetting at his feet. There’s a third explosion at the granary, and someone goes head over heels over the wall at the top of the amphitheater and down the terraced seats, bouncing until they roll to a stop halfway down. It’s a woman, and she doesn’t move.
“Arthur, Li,” Janis begins, “get Nadia and the glassblower to the Council House. We have delayed too long. Deming, you take Anson.”
Deming is already easing his family away from the platform, and Arthur hesitates, but Li starts to come for me, Rachel the Supervisor taking Arthur’s place.
“Run,” Anson says to me. Then, “Lydia, run! Do you hear me?”
Lydia backs away with her girls but I don’t run. I stay where I am. I can’t believe Janis just won. I told the truth, everything I knew that they could possibly believe. I broke my promise to Gray. I made Jonathan remember. And she turned all of it to her advantage. My eyes meet Gray’s, and he is motionless, so still that I know he’s full of rage. I can hear glass breaking, see the orange of the flames, smoke hazing the pink-and-gold sky. How do you stop someone like Janis, when the ropes she uses to tie us are all in our heads?
“She’s not here,” Jonathan is muttering. I look down. He’s turning the pages of the First Book, left sitting on top of my pack, frantic. “She’s not here … ”
Anson is practically pushing my frozen body off the platform, Li coming to take him by the arms. “Get them inside the Archives,” I whisper to my father. “Seal yourselves in and you can escape the Forgetting … ”
“Liar!” Jonathan shrieks, voice echoing, booming, bouncing around our heads. He stands, dropping the First Book to the ground. “You promised!”
He means Liliya, I realize. Liliya isn’t on the list. Then I see that Jonathan has a knife in his hand, the one that says “Kevin Atan.”
“Jonathan!” Janis’s voice is a warning, but she takes a step back.
“You said the Lost were the last ones!” he screams.
“Jonathan,” she says again, soothing.
“Wait,” says Arthur of the Metals, “did she have you burn the Lost?”
“She said getting rid of them saved her!” Jonathan replies. Then to Janis, “You said I was saving her!”
“Let the Forgetting come, Jonathan … ”
“I want to know why we’re standing here talking and not protecting the food supply,” says Tessa.
“Because it’s poisoned, that’s why!” yells Jonathan. “Isn’t it, Janis?”
“How many of us are ready to admit she forced us to vote her way?” asks Anson.
Jonathan screams, “You didn’t write her down!”
“Council,” Janis shouts, and everyone pauses. “The Forgetting is on us. Come! Leave Anson if you must, but I will have the Dyer’s daughter and the glassblower. They are needed.” She smiles as Li resumes his stalk toward me, Rachel heading up the stairs toward Gray. Then she turns to Jonathan, looking for all the world like a grandmother. “Just a little while, and all this will go away,” she says. “You won’t remember any of it. Or her … ”
Jonathan lunges. Janis leaps back, Li grabs for Jonathan, and Jonathan swipes with the knife, catching Li’s forearm, sending him to his knees as blood wells through his sleeve. Jonathan doesn’t even look at him. He just walks toward Janis. No one moves. No one tries to stop him, his footsteps making the platform creak, smiling like he’s tying someone to the bloodstained plaque. Janis watches him come, studies his face as if it were a specimen in a jar, and then she is off the platform, not seeming old or frail at all, sprinting up the steps of the amphitheater.
Jonathan watches her go for a brief second, his smile getting bigger. Then he chases after her, Gray darting across the seats and up the stairs to go after him. And I am running, too. Past my father’s shouts just like the last Forgetting, up the stairs, cresting the top edge of the amphitheater into a fiery chaos.
Smoke blacks the growing light from the sky, and the air is loud with shrieking, shouting, nothing looking as it should. Down the street to my right I see the gates to the granary are truly on fire this time, flames shooting, roaring into the sky, half shapes of dark figures looming over the top of the granary wall. They must be on ladders. To my left a group of ten or twelve people, women and men, hide behind overturned carts, the area between littered with broken pieces of harvest equipment and a pool of burning oil and shattered glass. Another group is using what I think might be a table to ram the flaming gates, trying to knock them in while the figures on the walls drop stones on them. Three or four bodies lie still in the mess. And this, I think, is the Forgetting, and I don’t even have time to fear it.
I can’t find Janis, but silhouetted against the light of the gate fire I watch Gray catch Jonathan of the Council by the back of the robes an
d throw him to the ground, the knife skittering across the flagstones. I run to him. A bottle sails over my head, bursts in a small explosion of yellow fire. I dodge it, stumbling over and through the cluttered street.
“Tell me how to remember!” Gray is yelling. He’s got a knee on Jonathan’s chest, hands around his neck, hitting Jonathan’s head against the ground. “Tell me how to remember!”
“Gray!” I shout. “Stop!”
“Tell me!”
Jonathan is laughing. I wonder if remembering has made his mind snap. “You should let yourself forget,” he pants, flat on his back, arms splayed wide. “We’re all going to forget … ” He’s not even defending himself. His eyes roll to me. “She knows. She knows how to remember … ”
Someone is burned at the gates. I can hear it. A stone or another bottle goes whizzing past my head. I take a few steps more into the battle zone, wave my hands in the air. “Stop!” I scream. “Stop fighting!”
The group behind the overturned cart pauses, as do the rammers in front of the gate.
“The grain is poisoned!” I shout. I wave my hands and the air goes still but for the roar of the flaming gates. “You’re fighting over nothing, do you hear me? Janis poisoned the grain!”
“You tell me!” Gray screams. Jonathan’s eyes bulge as his neck is squeezed.
“Gray, stop! Let him go … ” I look to the fighters, still for the moment. “We can escape the Forgetting,” I shout. “You don’t have to forget!”
“Nadia!” Eshan is coming over the top of the granary wall, dropping down to the clutter below. “Nadia, we thought you were—”
Then he sees Gray throttling Jonathan of the Council and stops short. And in the middle of smoke and fire and violence I look at the expression on Eshan’s face and know instantly that Imogene was right. I did misunderstand at the festival, completely misinterpreted Eshan’s reaction the night he found me at the glassblower’s. And I know why he was on Janis’s list of the Lost, too. It wasn’t me Eshan was looking at across that fire in the blacknut grove. It was Gray.
The Forgetting Page 29
