The List

by Patricia Forde

Letta could hear the anger in her own voice, but she couldn’t hold the words back.

  Leyla looked at her and smiled. “Music comes in all colors, Letta, just as we do. Before I knew the word for Creators, I called us color-catchers, the musicians, the painters, the dancers. That’s what we try to do, catch the colors in our own hearts and share that with other people. Color-catchers. I think I still prefer that word,” she said. “One of my colors is sadness, my friend.”

  Letta looked back at her, uncomprehending. Leyla sighed.

  “That last piece I played is full of regret for loved ones I have lost, things I have seen.”

  “But,” Letta managed to say, “you should try to forget those things. They are not things you want to remember.”

  Leyla shook her head. “I need to remember them, child. I need to remember how much I have lost. We all do, despite what Noa says.”

  Leyla reached out and touched Letta’s hand.

  “Have you seen him recently?”

  “Noa?”

  Leyla’s voice was so low, Letta could barely hear her.

  “Yes, I have,” she said.

  “And Amelia?”

  Letta nodded. “She lives with Noa. Why do you ask?”

  The woman hesitated for a moment.

  “You are Freya’s girl, aren’t you?”

  Letta felt something shift inside her.

  “You knew my mother?”

  Leyla nodded. “A long time ago. The song I sang earlier was her favorite.”

  Without another word, Leyla stood up and went to talk to the dancers. Letta wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold. She had seen something in the older woman’s eyes. Something so deep, it frightened her.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by Marlo’s voice. “You seem upset?”

  “No. I mean yes. No, I’m not exactly upset. Not really. It was just Leyla’s music. That’s all. It was sad.”

  Marlo nodded. “You are not used to music, Letta, and it affects you deeply. Before the Melting, people heard music all the time, and they became used to it. It had no effect. It lost its power. That’s what Finn says.”

  “I’m not sure it’s a good thing,” Letta said, the words out before she could censor them.

  “You don’t think music is a good thing?” Marlo narrowed his eyes, and she could see he was trying to understand her. “Why?”

  “Well,” Letta said, “it is unsettling. It makes you think of things, feel things. It’s fine when it’s happy, but when it reminds you…”

  She couldn’t continue. Her throat felt tight, and she was afraid she would cry.

  Marlo took her hand. “John Noa banned the arts because he didn’t want us to be unsettled. He didn’t want us to think for ourselves. He didn’t want us to be any different from the sheep in the fields. But we are different, Letta.”

  Letta looked into his eyes.

  He continued, “Music calls to that bit of us that is different. There are lots of words for it. Soul. Spirit. Heart. Music makes us feel like we are not alone. That is its power.”

  She nodded but didn’t offer any of her own ideas.

  “Come,” Marlo said, taking her arm. She followed him across the floor, her mind in chaos. She wanted to ask Leyla about her mother, to find out more, but Marlo was walking purposefully, and she knew she couldn’t go back. On the far side of the vast room, there was a door, and as they approached it, it opened and a woman came through.

  “They are ready,” she said to Marlo.

  Letta’s stomach tightened. She had almost forgotten why she was there.

  “We should go in,” Marlo said.

  Letta took a deep breath and followed him.

  She was in a corridor. Beyond her, somewhere in the distance, she could hear raised voices.

  “Wait here.”

  Marlo went ahead to a door toward the end of the corridor. Letta waited. She tried to imagine what was happening behind that door. Had he told them anything? Were they torturing him? She reminded herself that this was all for the greater good, but the uneasy feeling wouldn’t go away.

  She jumped when Marlo suddenly reappeared beside her.

  “Put this on,” he said, handing her a black hood. As she watched, he pulled one over his own head. A black hood with two holes cut into it for his eyes. He was like something from a nightmare, a stranger. Even the blue-gray eyes looked cold and vengeful.

  “Put it on,” he said again. “You don’t want him to recognize you.”

  She pulled the hood over her head. All at once, she was plunged into darkness, the smell of the cloth suffocating. She pulled it around till she could see through the eyeholes. The world was telescoped into a narrow band.

  Marlo led her into the room, the hood warm and cloying, a pulse beating in her throat. Smith Fearfall was sitting on a chair. Around him stood Finn and two other big men, all hooded. The room was small and entirely empty except for that chair. Fearfall’s head snapped around when Marlo and Letta entered, eyes wide like a startled hare.

  “What you want from me? Where my boy?” His voice was high and taut, fear bubbling from his lips and making his pupils dilate.

  “No harm will come to the boy.”

  Letta recognized Finn’s voice, though it had a hard edge to it that she hadn’t heard before.

  “I’ve told you we don’t speak List here. So speak as you wish.” Another voice, one of Finn’s colleagues.

  “What do you want?” Fearfall spat the words at them. Letta recoiled, despite herself.

  “Information,” Finn said. “Answer our questions and you can go home. You and your boy.”

  The boy? Was the boy here? Letta tried to catch Marlo’s eye, but he was staring at the scavenger.

  “I know nothing,” Fearfall said. “You have the wrong man.” But his eyes darted around the room as though following invisible shadows.

  “I don’t think so,” Finn said. “You found the body of the wordsmith. Isn’t that so?”

  “Yes,” Fearfall said, focusing on Finn.

  “Where?”

  “In the forest, near the river.”

  “And he was dead?”

  “Yes.”

  There was silence for a moment.

  Then Finn sighed. “Now, Smith, I need the truth.”

  “That is the—”

  “No!” Finn banged the wall with his fist.

  Fearfall jumped in the chair.

  “No,” Finn said again, more calmly this time. “That is not the truth. We know it is a lie, and so do you. So we will start again. You didn’t find the wordsmith, did you?”

  “I did. I did find him. By the river.”

  Letta felt her own anger stir. Lies. All lies.

  Finn dropped his voice a tone. “Do I have to remind you that we have your son?”

  The scavenger’s face drained of color. Letta felt cold all over. They were holding the child.

  “You wouldn’t…” he began but seemed unable to finish the thought.

  Finn walked over to him and bent down till their eyes were level. “We will do whatever we have to do. Tell me the truth and no harm will come to your son.”

  “Desecrator!” The word was barely there, and yet it pulsed with anger and hatred.

  Finn ignored him. “Why did you lie?”

  There was silence in the room. Letta watched Smith Fearfall clench and unclench his hand. No one dared breathe. Finn didn’t move.

  Finally, Fearfall spoke. “John Noa,” he said.

  “Noa told you to lie?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me!”

  Finn walked away from him.

  Fearfall dropped his head to his chest. “He told me to say I found him in the forest. He said to say he was dead. That’s all.”

  Letta felt as though
a fist had hit her. She remembered how she had felt when she heard that news: savaged by wild animals. He’d said that about Benjamin.

  “Did you see the wordsmith at all?”

  “No,” Fearfall answered.

  “How did Noa know you?”

  “I am a scavenger. I bring him things.”

  “Things?” Finn stopped pacing and looked at the man.

  “Things that are of interest to him.”

  “What was the last thing you brought to him?”

  Fearfall looked away.

  Finn waited a second. “Smith?” he said, and this time, his tone was laced with menace. Fearfall jumped as though he had been struck.

  “I don’t know. A canister. I found it just off the beach. I thought the Green Warriors would want it.”

  “And did they?”

  The question was asked casually, but Letta could feel the tension in the room.

  “Yes,” the scavenger said.

  Finn paused. He looked at Letta. In the distance, she thought she heard a child cry.

  The interrogation continued.

  “Now, Smith,” Finn said, “you are doing very well. A few more questions and you will be on your way home.”

  “May the Goddess curse you,” Fearfall said glaring around the room.

  “The canister. What did it look like?”

  “I’m not telling anymore,” Fearfall said sulkily. “I’ve said enough.”

  Letta wanted to scream in frustration. Why wouldn’t the man just tell the truth? As though reading her mind, Marlo put a restraining hand on her arm.

  “What a pity!” Finn said. “I had hoped to avoid unpleasantness. Dean!” Finn turned to the man beside him. “The boy is outside. Get him. You know what to do.”

  Letta felt as though her heart had stopped beating.

  “Yes, sir,” the other man said, and turned to leave.

  “No!”

  The word came out more like a groan from Fearfall. Letta saw tears in his eyes.

  “Leave him,” he said. “What do you want to know?”

  “Tell me about the canister,” Finn said.

  Fearfall shrugged. “It was silver. About a stride long.”

  “Did it have markings?”

  Fearfall shrugged again. “Letters,” he said. “It had a string of letters written on the side of it. Now give me back my child!”

  “What were the letters?” Finn pressed him.

  The scavenger shrugged. “I don’t remember,” he said.

  “Try!” Finn’s voice was cold.

  Fearfall’s eyes darted around the room like those of a trapped animal.

  “I don’t remember,” he said again. “N, I think.”

  “N?” Finn said. “What else?”

  Fearfall shook his head.

  “We will find out one way or another, you know that,” Finn said. “You might as well tell us.”

  Again, Fearfall shook his head.

  “Do you want to see your boy again? Do you?”

  “N-I-C-E-N-E.” Fearfall coughed the letters out as though they were barbed hooks.

  Finn hesitated. “Nicene?” he said.

  Fearfall nodded.

  “Very well. You shall have the boy back, and you will leave here unharmed. However, next time you lie for Noa, it will not go easy for you. Or the boy. Remember that, Fearfall. One word to Noa and it’s all over. Now let’s go over your story one more time.”

  In the distance, Letta heard a child scream. The scavenger froze.

  “No harm will come to him,” Finn said evenly.

  The child screamed again.

  No! Letta thought, her heart pounding. I can’t do this. She turned and left the room, not looking back.

  Once she was outside the door, she could hear the child clearly, sobbing now. She followed the sound, and it led her to a narrow room farther along the corridor. She flung the door open, not knowing exactly what she expected to find. In the room, Fearfall’s son, the small boy she had seen in Tintown, was crouched on the floor, looking up at a young woman wearing a hood.

  “We won’t hurt you,” the girl was saying. “Please stop crying.”

  But Letta could see the terror in the child’s eyes.

  “Bad people! Bad people!” he screamed, the words like pellets flying around the room, his voice taut and full of fear.

  Letta pulled off her hood. “It’s all right,” she said, kneeling down beside him. “It’s all right now.”

  “Keep your hood on,” the girl said urgently, but Letta ignored her.

  Instead, she put her arms around the child and held him close.

  “Don’t be afraid,” she said to him. “Don’t be afraid. Your father come soon.”

  The child looked up at her, big brown eyes stained red from crying.

  “Bad people,” he said again, but Letta could see he was calming down.

  “Hush!” she said. “All well now. All good.”

  Just then, the door opened and a hooded man stood there.

  “Put on your hood!” he said to Letta. “Give me the boy.”

  She recognized his voice. It was the one Finn had called Dean.

  Letta stood up. “Let me take him,” she said.

  “Hood!” Dean said sharply.

  Reluctantly, she pulled on the hood. The little boy didn’t seem to mind. He clung to her hand and followed her.

  In the corridor, Fearfall was being watched by two more hooded figures. The boy pulled away and rushed toward him. Fearfall picked him up, holding him tight, kissing his head, murmuring words of comfort.

  “Go!” Finn said, appearing behind them. Marlo was at his side.

  The small group moved on. As they passed Letta, the scavenger stopped, and Letta felt he was looking right at her despite the hood.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “But—”

  “Desecrators!” He spat the word at her. “Vermin!”

  With that, Dean pushed him on, and they all disappeared through the door. Letta pulled off her hood. She took a deep breath of fresh air. She barely noticed Finn and Marlo coming to her side.

  “Nicene,” Finn said. “Any idea what that is?”

  Letta shook her head, finding it hard to look at him.

  “Something from the old days?”

  “Certainly,” Finn said. “Gas or a chemical most likely. And it may be nothing, but—”

  “I might know someone who would know,” Letta said, thinking about the old man she had met in Tintown. He’d been a scientist in the old days, she remembered.

  “Will you stay here tonight?” Marlo asked her.

  “It might be safer,” Finn added.

  Letta didn’t want to stay. She felt very uncomfortable about all that had happened. She wanted space to work it out. Her own space.

  “That is kind of you,” she said. “But I think I should go home. I might be missed.”

  “Very well,” Finn said. “Marlo will take you.”

  Finn seemed exhausted now that the questioning was over. He walked past her slowly, touching her arm as he did so.

  “Go safely,” he said.

  Chapter 19

  #192

  Scavenger

  Person who collects old things, rubbish

  There was no light in Tintown. Letta walked hesitantly, terrified she would miss her step and fall. She tried to remember her route that last day she had been here. This time, there were no children running about, but she could sense people in the shadows watching her. She hurried on. Was there someone following her? She strained to hear, but her own heart was beating so loudly, she couldn’t be certain. She stopped. A stone skidded somewhere behind her, tapping her ankle as it passed. Someone blocked her path. A man. She couldn’t make out his features, but she could hear h
im breathing.

  “Who you? What you want?” she asked, trying to make herself sound confident.

  “You here again?”

  The voice was low, menacing. She tried to remember where she had heard it before. “Who you?” she said again.

  “Go home,” the man said. “Don’t come back. You hear?”

  He took a step toward her. Now she could feel his breath on her face. She had to get away. From behind her, a hand grabbed her shoulder.

  “Trouble?”

  She turned. A man stood behind her, tall and broad.

  “Well, Smith?” His voice was low but firm.

  Smith! That is how she had known the voice. Smith Fearfall. The scavenger.

  “Girl no business here,” Fearfall said. “No business.”

  “That true?” The man squeezed her shoulder.

  Letta looked up. She could see him now.

  “Kirch,” she said.

  It was the son of the old man she’d met the last time, the scientist. She could scarcely believe her good fortune.

  “Yes,” he said. “Kirch. Have you business here?”

  “I come see your father,” Letta said.

  “Does that answer question, Smith?”

  Kirch Tellon’s question to Smith Fearfall was a challenge. Letta was sure of that.

  “Girl is trouble,” Fearfall said, but he turned and walked away.

  “Come.” Kirch Tellon took her hand. “Follow me.”

  Letta followed him, in and out, past huts piled one on top of the other, through the rank smells, the misery, and the sense of hopelessness. Kirch stopped at a hut at the end of a row.

  “Smith Fearfall not bad man,” he said, turning to her. “Desecrators took him and his son. Boy frightened bad.”

  She could hear his screams still. Bad people! Bad people! The terror in his eyes.

  “Why you talk to father?”

  Tellon’s voice woke her from her stupor.

  “I want ask him…,” she stammered, “about something before Melting.”

  Kirch frowned.

  Letta pressed on. “And I bring healing herbs.”

  Kirch ducked under the low door into the hut. Letta followed. The house was not in complete darkness. A small candle glowed in one corner, enough to let Letta see the old man, slumped in a chair by the far wall.