The Tablelands are steep. The few plants clinging to the slopes rapidly fall away until we are climbing a broken pavement of powdery orange rock. It is like nothing I have ever seen before. The exertion makes Marrella pant and then begin to wheeze. We stop so she can take medicine. “Just a bit farther,” the Master says. “I wouldn’t push you, Marrella, but there is a campsite.” Soon after, we reach a place where some boulders make a natural windbreak for the tent. Erica and William set up camp quickly, falling into the rhythms established in their days as outlaws, I’m sure. Then William hands Marrella a small homing beacon. “When you are ready, activate this.”
“But how will I know?” Marrella asks, her voice desperate. William smiles. “You’ll know.” He turns to me. “Blake, take good care of her.” Care for her and do her work, as well. I try to return his smile, but cannot. Erica gives me a swift, questioning look. I am glad there won’t be time for her to talk to me alone.
William and Erica are swallowed by the fog almost immediately. Then we have only the howl of the wind for company. I layout our bedding. The tent is damp, our clothes are damp, the bedding we slept in last night is damp. The fog swirls by until I feel light-headed. I retrace our path to a small brook that runs through the naked stone, get some water, run it through the purifier, and heat it for tea.
“This is miserable,” Marrella says by way of thanks when I hand her a steaming mug. “It’s so uncivilized.”
“Yes, it is,” I say, for who could disagree? What we can see of the landscape looks as it might have millions of years before man. But once more, unexpected joy leaps up like a small, warm flame in my heart. No wind will blow it out. No dampness can dull it.
After we eat our evening meal, I clean the dishes and tidy the camp. Then, although it’s early, there’s nothing left to do but crawl into the tent. Outside and busy I could ignore Marrella’s bad mood, but it fills this small space until I feel I will suffocate. I must say something. “You did read the book, didn’t you?” I ask her. “I saw you reading on the boat.”
“Most of it. Boring, but the trip was worse. When I am bio-indicator, no one will ever hide me away like that again.”
It’s difficult to have a conversation with someone who will only talk about herself, but I try once more. “I think the answer lies in the books,” I say.
Finally I have Marrella’s attention. In the gathering darkness, the light through the tent casts strange colors over her face. “What do you mean?”
“I read the books the Master wanted you to read. Plant Life: A Natural History for Bio-Indicators before the first test; Bio-Diversity for Bio-indicators before the second test. Both times I knew what to do. As if someone had already told me the answers. I don’t think there’s anything special about me. I think it’s the books. And now, you’ve read the right book. Maybe the dream will come to you.”
Marrella brightens. “Do you think so? I just wish this were over. It isn’t what I imagined at all. Ordeal after ordeal. It’s not fair. Do you have any idea why they’re doing this? I used to think they were trying to get rid of me, but they’ve gone to so much trouble, I don’t know what to think anymore.”
I wonder how much I should tell her. Maybe it’s okay to let her know. “I think some of it has to do with politics,” I begin, my heart pounding.
She waves my words away. “Oh, politics. The Commission hates us. Who needs to know more than that?” She lies down with her back to me. The conversation is over. So she misses her chance to learn what I know. She did not sleep last night and today’s hike was exhausting, even for me. I’m not surprised that she falls asleep right away. It’s too dark to do anything but follow.
I wake abruptly in the middle of the night as if someone has called my name. Something has changed. At first I don’t know what it is, but then I realize-the wind no longer howls and tugs the tent. Everything is still and cold. I want to go back to sleep but I know I won’t until I empty my bladder. Silently, I slip out of my sleeping bag and out of the tent, grabbing my heavy coat.
I am totally unprepared for what I find. The fog is gone.
Above me, millions of stars press down as if I could reach up and catch a handful, the radiant spine of the Milky Way arching over my head. The beauty of this place fills me like water rushing into an empty space. I raise my arms to the sky and circle slowly, drinking in the dance of the universe. I could be the only living creature on this planet and yet I feel surrounded by life. As if the rocks beneath me could breathe. As if the sky above contained all the thoughts and feelings ever thought and felt, every breath ever taken, every wish ever made, every life ever lived. And I am part of all this, now, in my short life, and forever. I do not know how long I stand there, lost in wonder, caught in the web of being, but, finally, the moment passes and I remember why I’m outside.
In the tent again, I fall into a deeply peaceful sleep, and last night’s dreams return like wild animals made tame by my happiness. The earth spreads before me like the cloths of heaven and I dream in geological time. I see a single, great landmass on the planet, a flat, bland, featureless desert. The globe of the earth is transparent. Through seas that shine like clear blue ice, I see the huge plates the landmass rides upon, and below even that, the molten red rock that floats them. As I watch, the plates break apart and crash together again. Sometimes there is one great continent, sometimes many small ones. Sometimes most of the land lies beneath the sea. Huge mountain ranges rise where plates fold into one another; volcanic chains spill out of the sea where the plates pull apart. Heaving waves of land flow like water in a great, monstrous dance, each figure taking millions of years. Then, I am drawn to one area where an ancient tropical ocean expands, creating pretty volcanoes on its floor like a glowing necklace. Gradually, it contracts again and, in the pinch where plate meets plate, a small portion of the glowing rock beneath thrusts up and cools.
Over eons it is worn away and exposed to the harsh, dry light, smoothed by glaciers and weathered into powdery orange rock. Forests spring up around it, but the rock remembers its molten self far below the earth and never accepts the gentling green of life. Even in the dream, I recognize the Tablelands.
I wake at first light to the raucous cawing of crows, knowing it is over. The dream hidden in this place has come and it came to me. Beneath the churning doubts and confusion on the surface of my life, I feel a liquid mantle of contentment. It no longer matters whether I wanted this or not. This, whatever it is, has claimed me. I wonder if Marrella could have had the dream, too, but when I see her sleeping face, I know she did not. From this day, I will always know the ones who have dreamed as I have dreamed. This bit of information arrives fully formed. If someone had tossed it into my lap, it could not surprise me more. There must be more to this than the books, but I can’t imagine what.
The Blake who walks out into this morning is not the girl who left the tent in the middle of the night and never will be. I breathe the cold air deeply. To one side, flat-topped hills reach away, row on row, green and gray toward distant horizons. On the other, I see the fjord and the open ocean, not too far away. If I did not look down, I would not suspect this barren rupture in the landscape. I take the kettle for water to give myself time to think.
I am the person William has been looking for but I won’t tell anyone. Marrella wants to be the bio-indicator and I do not. She wants the role for power and status, things that mean nothing to me. So I will give her my dream, not for her sake but my own, a purely selfish act. To allow me to keep my secret until I decide what to do. But I will not give it to her yet. I’ll give her tonight to have a dream of her own. I tell myself this is kindness. But I know this isn’t true. The goodwill I offered Marrella has been used up and thrown away. I will not make life so easy for her now. The thought of giving and withholding brings me back to Carson’s note, still safely tucked in my pocket. Unwilling to witness the pleasure that will light her eyes when I give it to her, once again I thrust it from my thoughts. I return to the campsit
e and heat water for Marrella’s green tea. Oddly, the idea of serving her does not bother me. I do not serve her with my heart.
Broken Bonds
The fine weather holds and next morning, while we break camp, we watch Erica and William approach from far across the barrens, responding to the beacon we activated at dawn when I finally decided it was time to tell her the dream.
“What should I do next?” Marrella says. Until today I could not imagine her helping me.
“Empty the water purifier. You’d better recite the dream again,” I tell her while we work, “just to make sure.” Her memory of my dream is good. She learns quickly when she wants to. “That’s fine,” I say when she’s finished. “You’ll pass for certain.”
“And you won’t tell?” she asks. I shake my head but I cannot say the words. I do this only for myself.
When William sees our half-packed campsite, he smiles.
“You must be very certain of yourself, Marrella. Tell me your dream.” When she finishes, he claps her on the shoulder. “Excellent. Perfect. The Tablelands were once part of the earth’s mantle, just as you dreamed. You pass your final test. This is wonderful.” Erica goes to congratulate her and I am forgotten. I watch them celebrate, wondering if I have done the right thing. William pushes back his sleeve and touches a device on his wrist. “There,” he says. “That will activate the beacon at our campsite in Green Gardens. Someone will come from Woody Point in a few hours.”
When the boat arrives, everything is packed and waiting on the beach. The sea is calm and we board easily. This is a larger, faster boat crewed by a man from Woody Point named Chesley Barnes and his brother David. Their community is not led by a Weavers’ Guild, so the taboo means nothing to them and William and Marrella do not have to hurry below.
The trip should be relaxed, but Captain Barnes looks worried. “We’re going straight back to Kildevil,” he says. “I want to see you home as quickly as possible.”
“What’s wrong?” Erica says.
“The Commission guard came without warning and took the youngsters. Most are gone.”
My heart gives a lurch. “Even in Kildevil?”
“They hit Kildevil first. The story’s told all up and down the coast. The weavers stood their ground, demanding their apprentices remain at home. The standoff lasted hours. Finally the Commission relented. I have to admire the Weavers’ Guild. Even the Commission is reluctant to tangle with them.” He chuckles, then adds more seriously, “Everyone looks to Kildevil for guidance now. I guess the Commission knew there’d be an uprising if the weavers were crossed. In the end, they left the apprentices. But they took all the young fellows, anyone over fifteen.”
I think about the boys. Gone? Surely not Fraser. He’s so small, they’d think he was younger. But Carson and Mark must be. And how dangerous will this be for someone like Carson? I feel sick.
Marrella has gone pale. “I think I’d like to go below now,” she says quietly.
“We both should. I’ll see to her,” William says to Erica. “Learn as much as you can.”
Captain Barnes tells us everything he knows about the movements of the Commission, which is a great deal. I realize it’s no accident he came for us. He’s part of the resistance.
As we travel, we pass Commission vehicles moving up and down the shore. I am glad we don’t have to stop. Late in the afternoon, a boat full of uniformed people comes toward us. But it sails right past. “I thought they were Commission guards,” Erica says.
“No, that’s the military,” Captain Barnes replies. “We don’t think the military is involved in this. But surely the Commission wouldn’t interfere with you. The Way is like the Weavers’ Guild, too powerful for the Commission to challenge.”
Erica sighs. “I used to think so. I’m not sure now.” She puts her hand on my head. “I’m so glad you were tucked away on the Tablelands when this happened.”
The captain looks at me and laughs, but not unkindly.
“She’s small to be of use to them yet, Erica. I think you’ll get to keep her.” But her concern touches me.
It’s late afternoon by the time we reach Kildevil. Captain Barnes sent word of our coming, so the town seems as deserted as when we left. Thankfully, no reception party of warders awaits. The thought of the warders brings a question to my mind.
“What about the workcamp?” I ask Captain Barnes. “Did they go there, too?”
“Oh, yes. People are saying that the workcamps were nothing more than holding tanks for Commission recruits. Everyone of age was taken, even some warders. The place is half empty. And Warder November has been appointed chief representative of the Commission in these parts. The conscripts were taken to St. Pearl.”
“Will we hear from them?” Erica asks. She must be thinking of Carson, too.
Captain Barnes shakes his head. “I don’t know. I’m glad I’ve no young ones of my own. You’re sure I can’t see you home?” he asks.
“It’s best if you’re not seen with us,” William says.
“I’ll keep in touch,” Captain Barnes tells Erica. Who will pick up all the things at the wharf in the morning with Carson and Mark gone? We shoulder what we can and leave the rest. I half expect we’ll take the back path to the house, but we set out along the road. The workcamp is already shut down for the night. Even though we left the house only three days ago, I have never been so happy to be anywhere. After a quick meal, I help Marrella unpack then fall into bed leaving my own bags unopened.
It’s late when I wake in the morning but Marrella’s room is silent. I rise and quietly take the dirty clothes from my pack. Cleaning my pockets for the wash, I find Carson’s note. Tears fill my eyes. I should have given it to her for his sake. Will we ever see him again? When I make Marrella’s morning tea, I place the note on the tray.
“What’s this?” she asks.
“Something I should have given you days ago,” I say, leaving without another word.
I’m surprised to find Clara and Donna in the kitchen with Erica. This emergency must override their fear of the taboo. Donna’s eyes are red from crying, and I know for certain Carson is gone.
“We were just talking about the investiture,” Erica says.
“Clara and Donna feel we must proceed as soon as possible to make a political statement.” They shouldn’t be talking like this here. My eyes travel involuntarily to the control panel. Erica reads the alarm in my face. “Don’t worry, Blake. The cloaking device is enabled permanently now.” She sits straighter in her chair. “Let the warders ask why if they dare.”
“This is war,” Clara says. “We hope it will not come to blood and bullets but if it does, we will not back down. Erica, the others are frantic to hear from you.”
“At least the new encryption code is in place,” Erica says.
“It’s best to vary the transmission sites. Can you find a place for me to work this afternoon?” The women nod. “Good. Blake, will you take a basket of food up to Lem later?”
“I’d be happy to.” It may be selfish, but this is all I really want to do.
“Thank you, dear.” Erica rises and puts some food onto a tray for me.
“Have you heard from the boys yet?” I ask. The women shake their heads.
“I’m sure they will soon,” Erica says. “Now we have to plan for the investiture. Just boring details. Why don’t you take this into the dining room where you can eat in peace?”
It seems odd to eat breakfast alone in the dining room.
The thought of seeing Lem, finding out what he knows, makes me too restless to sit. I walk over to the window, bread in hand. The big dining room window looks down on the workcamp where the land slopes gently to an almost level lawn. What I see there this morning almost makes me drop my bread. The children, mostly little ones now, march in rows to Warder November’s commands. They look like tiny soldiers. “What on earth . . .” I say to myself.
“Quite the sight, isn’t it?” William says behind me.
T
his time, I do drop my bread. “I didn’t hear you come in.” I fumble to the floor.
“Sorry, Blake, I didn’t mean to startle you.” William comes to stand beside me. “I was watching this lovely scene from my study when I heard you. I wanted to make sure you saw it. What do you make of her?”
“Warder November isn’t like the last chief warder. This is more than a job to her. It’s her life. Her name means she was a street kid, you know? Like the rest of us.”
“Yes, I know. I’ve wondered why she embraced the Commission with such fervor.”
“If you wanted power, maybe becoming a chief warder would be a start.”
“Do you think that’s what she wants?”
I shake my head. “I can’t imagine what she wants.” Then I remember the look on her face when William rejected her the day we set out for the Tablelands. “Maybe she’s just looking for a place to belong, like the rest of us.”
There’s a long silence after this, and I wonder if I’ve said the wrong thing. “Well,” William finally says, “you’ve certainly found your place here.” His voice is warm. “I thought Marrella was sure to fail her tests until you started helping her study. She is doing so well now.”
We are on dangerous ground. I need to get away as quickly as I can. “I’m always glad to be useful,” I say. “And speaking of useful, Erica probably needs me.” I don’t look back. In the kitchen, I gather the empty cups Donna and Clara left, happy to fall back into our usual routine.
When Marrella comes down for breakfast, I avoid meeting her eyes, working around her until she has gone to study with William. Only then do I remember the UV readings. “Don’t worry,” Erica says when I ask. “William set up a small robotic device to do the readings while we were away. He says Marrella’s readings have improved so much, she doesn’t need to do them while they prepare for the investiture. She only has a week. And you and I have lots of unpacking to do,” she adds. It pleases me to finally put away the equipment we’ve packed and unpacked so many times. Erica gathers our dirty clothes and bedding. Mountains, it seems. The morning goes by quickly.
The Secret Under My Skin Page 14
