by Jen Minkman
The quay close to the left watchtower is a mess. All the gawkers are gone, but people from the hospital are still busy taking care of the people injured in the fight that erupted. I see Peacekeepers watching the main street, their faces grim, while others clear away torn clothes and smashed-up wooden crates from the pavement. The long jetty is covered in ashes that were blown in from the sea.
“Hey, Daryl,” I mumble softly, approaching my boss. He’s talking to the Bookkeeper and looks crestfallen. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
Daryl turns around. “Don’t worry about it,” he replies with a weak smile. “You’ve done more in the past few days than interns usually get to do in an entire year. If you want to make yourself useful, go help Carl and the others to clean up the mess.”
I nod, but I don’t leave just yet. “Nathan,” I quietly address our leader. I used to call him father-in-law. I think he’s the only one who knows that Yorrick asked me to marry him a few days before he was killed.
“Yes, Alisa?” He gives me his best attempt at a smile.
“Ben came up with an idea. He says the people in the east also have a harbor, so maybe our shipbuilders should move their business there. So they can work on our fleet far away from prying eyes.”
He frowns. “Ben?”
“Yes. That refugee from Newexter who works at the harbor.”
“Ah, yes.” He nods. “Well, if that’s really an option…”
“We’ll drop by tomorrow morning to discuss his plan,” I say. “Is half past ten okay?”
The Bookkeeper can’t help but chuckle now. “Well, well. I see you’ve already planned the whole thing. Thanks for your input.” He rubs his face in a tired gesture. Nathan must miss Walt terribly. He’s never been more in need of an assistant, and yet Walt has picked these trying times to be conspicuous by his absence.
“You’re welcome.” I smile. “See you tomorrow, then.”
After our little talk, I stay and help my colleagues by cleaning up the mess our pious Hope Harborers have caused.
The next morning, Ben knocks on my door just before ten. I usher him in to introduce him to my mother. She cuts off a gigantic piece of raisin bread for our guest. “Would you like some peppermint tea?” she inquires, shooting a worried look at Ben’s pale, drawn face. He looks about as lively as I feel. “It’ll wake you right up.”
Ben smiles awkwardly. “Thank you, Miss,” he mumbles. I wonder why he sounds so uncomfortable.
We take our breakfast into the garden and sit silently in the morning sun. “It’s so strange to see your mother still taking care of you,” he finally says.
“I get that,” I nod. “Your mom stopped doing that when you turned ten, right?”
“I didn’t have a mother.” His words sound flat, like he doesn’t much care, but he’s not entirely able to keep a quiet sadness out of his voice.
“At all?” I raise an eyebrow.
Ben shrugs. “Well, once upon a time I did, obviously. My parents worked on a fishing boat and were both killed in a storm at sea. Saul was five years old, and I was only one. He’s been taking care of me ever since.”
“From the time he was five?” I gaze at him disbelievingly.
“No. We had to live in an orphanage. But when Saul turned ten, he took me with him to the manor house. He didn’t feel like leaving me behind in Newexter, and I wanted to leave. The caretakers at the orphanage didn’t like me much. I was too short-tempered for their taste.”
And that ten-year-old boy who had to take care of his younger brother from a very early age made himself leader of the manor house. No wonder Saul turned into a power-hungry dictator. He’d always been powerless against the difficult things life had flung his way.
“So I’m having a hard time looking at your mother being all sweet to you,” he adds softly. “I know I can’t really miss something I never had in the first place. But still.”
I suddenly feel the urge to hug Ben, so I fling my arm around his shoulder. “I think your brother loves you very much.”
“My brother is a criminal.”
I fall silent. “Are you afraid of him?” I ask.
Ben slowly nods. “I think he’s afraid of him, too.”
We eat the rest of our food quietly after that.
After breakfast, we walk to the Bookkeeper’s residence. I don’t have to ring the doorbell, because he’s already waiting for us outside. Daryl is there too, as well as Carl, head of the shipyard in Walt’s father’s absence. Nathan has clearly taken my suggestion seriously if he asked those two to attend our meeting.
“Let’s cut to the chase,” the Bookkeeper opens the meeting, once we’re all seated at his round meeting table. “Ben, you said the easterners have a harbor too, which we can use as a second shipyard. Will there be enough material to work with? Is the place near a forest?”
Ben nods. “Trees galore. You can cut down whatever you need.”
“Why do we need to go all the way east to continue our work?” Carl wants to know. “We built the Explorer in secret too, and we did that near St Martin.”
“Yeah, but everybody knows about that now,” Daryl comments. “So that’s the first place Phileas is going to look once he notices we’re no longer building ships in Hope Harbor.”
“Why don’t we do both?” I blurt out.
All heads turns my way. “What do you mean?” Nathan asks.
I bite my lip. “Well, if we really want to use the eastern part of the island to build our ships, we need to give Phileas a bone to chew on. He won’t look further if he thinks he’s discovered our secret, so let’s give him one to distract him. Carl, you need to assemble a team to start building a second ship at St Martin. They don’t have to actually do a lot, just pretend they’re working on something. It needs to look convincing so Phileas will take the bait. You can keep him busy sabotaging our ‘secret’ project, while another team works on the actual fleet on the other side of the island.”
Daryl starts to laugh. “You devious, brilliant girl,” he grins.
“It’s a solid idea, but I do need to consider carefully who to ask on the Newexter team,” Carl adds, a frown on his deeply tanned face. “We only need one Philean rat to blab to his leader and the whole plan goes bust.”
“In that case, I’d take my sweet time thinking about who you trust the most,” Nathan says. “And the people who give you a bad vibe can be a part of the St Martin work team. That way we’ll know for sure Phileas will find out about that secret location.”
“Why don’t you install border patrol?” Ben suggests. “So you’ll know exactly who travels from west to east? Phileas can’t find out what we’re up to if he can’t cross the Wall.”
“There’s a few guards keeping an eye on the gate as we speak,” I say.
“But you need patrols guarding the entire length of the Wall. So no one can hop over on the sly.”
The Bookkeeper’s face clouds over. “Just when we were so happy about the reunion of East and West.”
“We don’t have to close off the Scilly Way entirely,” Daryl says. “We’ve carried out a number of arrests in the past few days. I can blacklist the Phileans who were involved and make sure they’ll be stopped at the border.”
Everybody pauses to ponder the new plan. “I think it’s a good idea,” Nathan then says. He gives me a warm smile. “Could you and Ben go to Newexter and discuss this with the Eldest? I would go myself, but I’m needed too much here at the moment.”
“I’ll help you,” I reply. “Even better, I hereby offer you my services as acting assistant, as long as Walt is still on the Other Side.”
Nathan nods briefly, a grateful look in his eyes.
Ben clears his throat. “I’d rather stay here, to be honest,” he admits.
“But you told us about this possibility,” the Bookkeeper argues. “Alisa has never visited Newexter before. You’ll be our deputy and travel to your old village with her. Carl, can you select ten shipbuilders who can work on the fleet in Newex
ter as soon as possible?”
Carl nods. “I have eight men who live in the suburbs with their families, close to the farms. If they’re gone, there’s hardly anyone around to notice. And I trust them.”
“Okay. Eight it is.”
The three men at the table continue talking, but I get up and follow Ben when he abruptly jumps up and leaves the room.
“Are you okay?” I want to know.
His face looks anxious. “Well, no. I don’t want to go to Newexter. I guess you can understand why.”
“But I need your help,” I protest, trying to make my voice take on a pleading tone. To be honest, I would probably survive a trip to Newexter on my own, but I suddenly get the feeling that a trip home would be good for Ben. If only to see his brother again. Ben can try to convince me all he wants – he must miss his brother. Even though Saul is a dangerous guy. Or was, anyway. After the revolution in both east and west, nobody is the same anymore. It’s very well possible that Saul has turned his life around, too.
Ben sighs deeply. “Okay, fine,” he grunts reluctantly. “But I am not joining the shipbuilders’ team in Newexter. Carl needs people for his mock team at St Martin, so I’m going to stay in Hope Harbor.”
“Of course you can. Nobody’s forcing you to go back.”
“Uhm – I think the Bookkeeper did just that,” Ben says sarcastically.
I smile briefly. “Fair enough. But I meant for good.”
“Good.” He stares at the floor. “When do we leave?”
“Right now,” Carl’s voice pipes up behind us. When I turn around, I catch the serious look in his eyes. “As soon as you get the Eldest’s permission, you should let me know so I can send my workers on their way.”
“Will do.” I pull Ben along, through the hallway and outside, to pack some food and drinks for our journey into the unknown.
8 – Alisa
The first part of our trip isn’t too hard – we hitch a ride with a farmer, who is returning home with an empty carriage after delivering some grain and wool in town. His farm is in the suburbs close to the forest.
“Where are you lot going?” he asks curiously when we have almost reached his destination. Apparently, he has noticed our bulging backpacks.
“We’re visiting my brother,” Ben replies. “He lives in Newexter.”
“Ah, yes.” The man gives him a pondering look. “You came to live with us after the reconciliation. Weren’t you a part of the team working on a second ship?”
“Yes, but I quit,” Ben gripes. “I don’t think there’s much point in going on. All of our work was destroyed.”
“Yeah, well.” The farmer pulls over and lets us get off. “You might be right.”
“We have to trust in the Force within,” Ben continues. “And whatever’s waiting across the Waters should come to us, not the other way around.”
When we take the footpath leading to the forest, I can still feel the farmer’s gaze on us. What could he be thinking – is he a supporter of Phileas, or is he more inclined to listen to Samuel Senior?
“Well acted,” I compliment him once we’ve disappeared into the woods. “I don’t think that man suspects we’re going to set up a secret shipyard on the other side of the island.”
Ben smirks. “I’m a good liar.”
Sometime later, the path gets so narrow that we can’t walk beside each other anymore. I picked this neglected track on purpose. This way, hardly anyone will notice us cross. Walt told me where he jumped the Wall the first few times, and it seemed like a good idea to use his sneak route.
“What was it like in Hope Harbor, before everything changed?” Ben inquires, making his way uphill behind me.
“Quiet,” I answer. “Peaceful. But restrictive, too. It used to choke Yorrick.”
“Who’s Yorrick?”
I close my eyes for a second. “My fiancé,” I quietly respond.
“Aha, so you are tying the knot soon,” he teases me. “I thought you said you weren’t ready for that yet?”
I come to a stop and turn around to face Ben. “Yorrick’s dead. That’s why I’m not ready to get married yet.” It’s the truth. Even though it’s been three years since Yorrick crashed to his death on the rocks. Even though I have said goodbye to his beautifully decorated funeral barge, seeing it off as it floated away toward the horizon. I can’t let go. It would feel like betrayal if I did.
Ben’s eyes widen. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. What happened to him?”
“He was killed by our priests,” I whisper. “Because the horizon couldn’t stop him.”
“Dark Father,” he mumbles, distressed, as he reaches out for my hand. His fingers touch mine and he squeezes them consolingly. “I’m really sorry for you.”
I smile bitterly. “See? The criminals don’t just live on your side of the Wall. We used to have them too.”
After this, we don’t speak for a long while. In my head, I go over the directions Walt has given me to get to the stretch of Wall he could easily scale. Like he said, there’s an old chestnut tree whose branches droop down over the edge of this bit of the Wall. “We need to climb this tree,” I explain. “Walt crossed here the first time.”
Ben follows me. Fortunately, he turns out to be as good at climbing trees as I am. In no time, we are on the other side. My gaze drifts to a set of flat stones on the ground forming some kind of road. Thoughtlessly, I trace the cracks in the surface with my big toe. “Shall we follow this path?” I suggest.
“How do you know where that’s going?” Ben asks.
“Well, I take it you know.” I give him a sideward glance. “We’re on your turf, aren’t we?”
“Just follow me,” he snaps, taking off so hastily that I need to scamper after him just to keep up. I roll my eyes. Why exactly did I think it was a good idea to drag Ben along to this place?
It’s not until we leave the woodland and end up at a large meadow that I understand the reason for his black mood. A giant building looms in the distance. The manor he lived in most of his life – the place where they executed Henry. He would probably have preferred to steer clear of this house.
Ben slows down more and more as we get closer, and finally comes to a full stop. “What is this?” he mumbles, completely stunned.
Teenagers are sprawled out on the lawn in front of the house, lounging in the sun and eating sandwiches. The main doors are wide open. A few elderly ladies are sitting on the terrace enjoying fresh fruit from a bowl on the table they’re sitting at. And a big sign above the entrance proclaims this building is a ‘Youngster School’.
“Looks like lunch break to me,” I say flippantly.
“They teach here?” Ben’s eyes almost pop out of their sockets. “To youngsters?” He dazedly shakes his head. I don’t think he is even aware of doing it. It’s clear he’s completely weirded out by the idea of his old home being a place for education now.
“Maybe the Bookkeeper suggested it,” I continue. “We have a similar kind of school in Hope Harbor. People in our town attend school until they’re eighteen. And these people need to learn new things about what the world looks like now. Survival is no longer the most important subject of the curriculum, I think.”
My words don’t seem to help him cope any better. “I can’t believe they accepted this,” he says at last. “That girl over there always hated the house.” He points at a red-head under a chestnut tree. “She loathed this place.”
“I guess it had more to do with Saul and you than the manor itself,” I reply. When I see him cringe, I add: “Look, I’m sorry, but that is the truth. At least now she has the chance to build some better memories of this place.”
Ben closes his eyes. “Let’s just go to the village,” he mutters. “I don’t want to go in here.”
“Fine with me.” Though I wouldn’t have minded taking a look around. After all, this is the first time I’m visiting Unbeliever territory. It might not be as exciting as sailing to the World across the Waters, but it
’s still a huge step.
A well-kept path runs from the manor house to Newexter, the village where all the older easterners and their children used to live. When the first houses appear through the trees, I see that nearly all of them are made of wood. Ben is right – there must be enough timber in Newexter. Most houses in Hope Harbor are made of stone and consist of two floors. For the first time ever, I wonder if our ancestors even built those houses themselves. A few months ago, both lighthouses had to be repaired, and that was quite a tough job – so hard, in fact, that the builders marveled at how our forefathers had ever managed to build them in the first place. The priests claimed Annabelle had put them there as a gift to us, so we could look out for her Fleet. But that doesn’t explain why all of Hope Harbor looks far more structured and neatly-ordered than Newexter. If we all descend from little children who were stranded here, it is far more likely that the bigger group of children who decided to stay near the harbor started living in dwellings that were already there.
Newexter is an entirely different story. Every house looks different. Some have beautiful wooden carvings along the rooftops, while others are mostly decorated with brightly-colored paint that is probably made from the same plants that we use to dye our wool. And in the middle of the village square is a gigantic building that looks more beautiful than all the others: dark-red, with fanciful yellow and green stripes running up the walls like flower vines.
“That’s the village hall,” Ben says. “If you want to talk to the Eldest, that’s where you’ll find him.” To my utter amazement, he then turns away from me and stalks off without saying another word.
“Hey, Ben!” I call after him, but he doesn’t listen. The path he takes runs up the hill behind the village hall. I have no idea where it leads. “Where are you going?”
When Ben doesn’t reply or come back, I pace toward the entrance of the hall, fuming inwardly. Ben dodging off like that means I will have to talk to the Eldest all by myself, and I don’t feel that confident all of a sudden. I’m a nobody. I have no clout in this village. The old guy doesn’t even know who I am. How Ben can possibly think it’s a good idea to let me do all the work is beyond me. What a jackass.
