It was a sad story, but all Ross could think was, At least no one hunted down the Changed people who’d tried to leave. Like my family. He cleared his throat. “And now no new Changed are welcome, huh?”
“Not by Mr. Preston.” Mia looked uncomfortable. “When I was about ten, we had a terrible drought. But Catalina got hit worse. A boatful of Changed people came to Las Anclas and asked for help. Some of them used to live here. They went to the Rileys’ house first—Jennie and I were having a sleepover that night. Mr. Preston showed up with the Rangers and told them get back in their boats. He said they’d made their bed and they could lie in it. Mrs. Riley was crying. It was awful. And no one from Catalina has come here since. They used to visit a couple times a year and put on plays and concerts. We all looked forward to it so much. Now we’ll never see them again.”
Mia fiddled with the screwdriver. Ross suspected that the real question was coming. Her expression was half worried, half hopeful. “How about the rest of the stuff that man said? He said you jumped a claim. Was that another lie?”
“Yes.” That was easier to talk about. He took a sip of tart hibiscus tea. A few shreds of the flowers floated in the purple liquid. “Well, in a way. Voske’s guys jumped my claim, so I jumped it back. All I managed to grab was the book, but it was probably the most valuable thing there. I guess Voske thinks so too.”
“So the bounty hunter’s really after the book, not you?”
“He’s after both. Voske wants to prove that nobody crosses him and gets away with it. Voske’s lieutenant told me that anyone who steals from him gets his head cut off and stuck on a pole. He wasn’t kidding. I saw them on the city gates.”
Mia grimaced. “I think we’d better talk to my father. Is that okay?”
He fingered the jar. Weird, how ready he was to say yes. It was as if Mia was mind-controlling him. He tried to think of reasons to say no, but all he could come up with was habit. “Okay,” he finally said.
As they crossed the road, an object came whistling through the air. Ross tackled Mia to the ground, shielding her body with his own. He grabbed for his knives, and found only empty belt loops. But he could throw back the knife that had been thrown at him . . .
A small rock rolled along the road. It wouldn’t have done more than bruise him.
“Ross?” Mia squeaked.
He scrambled off her. “Sorry. Someone threw a rock at me.” She stared at him. Feeling like a fool, he muttered, “I thought it was a knife.”
Mia glanced around wildly, though whoever had thrown the rock had to be long gone by now. “Was it the bounty hunter?”
Though his heart was still pounding wildly, he almost laughed. “No. Some of the boys have been doing stuff like that. Throwing rocks when I collect the oil. Giving me practice crossbows with damaged strings so they snap in my face—”
“Who?” she demanded, outraged.
Ross shrugged. “I don’t know all their names yet.” It was mostly true, and he didn’t want her trying to fight his battles. That Tommy Horst was twice her size. One-on-one, Ross could take care of himself—he just had to make sure a gang of them never caught him alone. “Forget about it, okay? Let’s go talk to your father.”
In the kitchen, Mia locked the door and shuttered the windows. Her father paused in the act of dishing out the kimchi fried noodles. “Do my noodles smell so bad you have to protect the neighbors?”
“No!” Ross said. “They smell great.”
Mia laughed. “It was a joke, Ross.”
He didn’t want to say that he never joked about food. Especially when it smelled as good as Dr. Lee’s noodles. They both took plates and began to eat.
“Dad, we need to talk to you. Ross—”
Ross hastily tried to swallow.
She flicked her fork in his direction. “I’ll tell him my part first. You go ahead and eat.”
He was halfway through a plate of noodles when she casually repeated Tom Preston’s remark about having worked for Voske. He almost spat out a cabbage leaf. “What?”
“It’s common knowledge,” said Dr. Lee, and Mia nodded. “It’s just not talked about much. About eighteen years ago, Voske sent Tom Preston to Las Anclas as a spy, in preparation for a takeover. He lived here for a month, and at the end he went back, told Voske all the wrong things, and then warned us. He brought two of his friends—Sera and Omar—who’d been Voske’s bodyguards too. When Voske attacked, the three of them fought on our side.” At Ross’s incredulous look, he added, “It has been eighteen years. It’s old history.”
“So about the book . . .” Mia began.
“What’s in it?” Dr. Lee asked. “I see why it’s valuable in general, but why does Voske need it?”
Ross pushed aside his empty plate. “People say a couple years ago, one of his prospectors found an artifact that lets Voske know everything that happens in his town, and even other places.”
Dr. Lee nodded. “Yes, we’ve heard that.”
“They say that’s how he’s been able to take over all those other towns. He knows their weaknesses. Maybe it’s true. When I found my claim, there was no sign of anyone else. I didn’t blast my way in, or even build a fire. But Voske’s people were there the day after I made my first find. How did they know?”
“Good question.”
“People say he even knows what’s said in closed rooms.” Ross glanced at the adobe walls and timbered ceiling. He lowered his voice. “If he wants my book that much, it might have something in it that’s just as useful to him.”
“But what is in it?” Dr. Lee repeated.
“Weapons!” Mia cut in excitedly. “There aren’t many drawings, and the writing’s in Japanese, but it has schematics for weapons we can build ourselves. And you know how hard it is to make gunpowder, Dad—this is a manual for weapons that don’t need it.”
“Imagine what Voske would do with that,” Ross said grimly.
“This is quite interesting. And also dismaying,” Dr. Lee said. “I’m glad you two filled me in. There would definitely be people here who’d keep the book and throw out both you and the bounty hunter. Especially since it’s impossible to disprove a mind-control accusation. A lot of folk will be only too ready to believe that you can force people to like you.”
Ross laughed, but not happily. “I wish!”
“So where is this book?” asked Dr. Lee.
“Hidden,” Mia assured him. “Once the bounty hunter showed up, I designed a special hiding place. If he wants to steal it, he’ll need hours and hours of searching. And a welding torch.”
Ross frowned. “I wouldn’t put it past him. I should move it. I’m sure he’s seen me go in your cottage.”
“It would be quite difficult for him to get in without being seen,” said Dr. Lee.
“He’s not just a thief. He’s a killer.” Ross rubbed the scar on his side, sick with the idea of bringing danger to the Lees. “Maybe I should take the book and go.”
“You have to stay!” Mia exclaimed. “We’re having a dance for you! I already started airing out my mother’s pink dress.”
Ross had no idea how to respond. Luckily, her father rescued him.
Dr. Lee smiled at Mia. “I think she’d like that. Ross, there’s no point in leaving now. The bounty hunter will catch you outside of town, and then the book will go straight to Voske. Let me handle this. Mia, I’ll have to tell Tom Preston you were eavesdropping.”
“Go ahead. It wasn’t like I meant to,” she said. “But when they started talking about Ross that way—well, too bad for them.”
Dr. Lee’s smile turned grim. “I imagine the rest of the council will be interested to hear that Defense Chief Preston—formerly employed by Voske—recognized a current hireling and let him into town without telling us. The bounty hunter will be gone by morning. You can rest easy, Ross.
“As for you.” He patt
ed Mia on the shoulder. “Get out your dancing shoes.”
Ross must have made a face, because as soon as her father left, Mia said, “Dances are fun! Everyone wears their best clothes, and families decorate tables and cook their best recipes, and some people go as couples. But you don’t have to,” she added hastily.
Ross studied his borrowed shirt.
“We can get you a nice one.”
He wondered if Mia was trying to suggest that he go with her. He wondered if Jennie was going with anyone. It wasn’t clothes that worried him. Dancing! Another thing he didn’t know how to do. Another way for him to feel stupid. Like he didn’t belong anywhere around people.
Mia seemed to be waiting for an answer, but he couldn’t remember what question she’d asked. The room was too hot, the ceiling too low, and he was suffocating.
He pulled at the door. It wouldn’t open. He shook the handle.
Mia reached over and flipped the latch.
He threw the door open and bolted.
He didn’t know whether he was sorry or relieved that she hadn’t followed. Trying not to think of dances and couples, he ran across the town square toward the darkest buildings. I’ll take the book and leave, he thought. He’d seen Mia’s face when he ran out of the kitchen, and it made him feel even worse.
Dr. Lee was right. He couldn’t evade the bounty hunter a second time. He could burn the book and then leave—if he could bring himself to destroy such a marvelous artifact.
But if he left, he’d never see Mia again. He’d never spar with Jennie. He’d never get the chance to learn more of the science that explained why things worked, or read more than short and simple words. He’d never eat any more of Dr. Lee’s delicious cooking. Even little things like hot baths and clean clothes would be hard to give up.
If he stayed, he’d have to face all of those people every day. Half the town seemed to hate him, and even the ones who liked him were overwhelming when he had to deal with them all the time. He’d have to live under ceilings. Even when he slept outside, nightmares about the singing tree followed him. Each left him more tired and edgy than the last, until his bones ached from exhaustion and every sudden movement felt like an attack.
He wanted to keep running, but he was surrounded by walls.
At the far side of the town hall, he came to a stop, breathing hard. The sentries were on wall patrol, lanterns swinging rhythmically above him. The generator had broken down again. He knew what Mia would be doing tomorrow.
Maybe he should apologize. But he had no idea how.
He pushed off the wall and ran until he ended up in the empty yard of the darkened schoolhouse. The sky was a canopy of blazing stars pierced by the black spear of the bell tower.
He remembered the pretty redheaded girl at his last trade fair, who’d flirted with him and invited him into her caravan. He’d been glad when she asked, but once he was inside, alone with her, he’d felt trapped and fled. Later, lying alone under the stars, he’d wished he’d stayed, and promised himself that next time he would.
Here he’d had a next time, and he’d done the exact same thing, all the way down to regretting it afterward. What was wrong with him?
Ross paced back and forth, trying to sort it out, until he heard footsteps. He spun around, reaching for the knives that weren’t there. He couldn’t hold one in his left hand anyway.
Sheriff Crow’s yellow eye glowed like a cat’s in the darkness. “Come with me.”
21
Felicité
THE PARTY WAS GOING PERFECTLY. EVERYONE Felicité invited had come, including Jennie and Indra, wrapped around each other in a slow dance. Carlos Garcia was happily waltzing with Faviola Valdez.
Nasreen Hassan, who had been watching them, tipped her punch glass to get the last drops.
“I’ll get you more,” said Felicité.
She joined Brisa and Becky at the punch bowl.
“Maybe I should switch to rat training.” Brisa gestured with her glass; Felicité stepped out of the line of fire. “I know, I know, I’ll be twenty-five before I stick with an apprenticeship long enough to finish. But I like so many things! And I love watching Trainer Koslova. Did you know that she talks to the older rats in Russian?”
“Sheriff Crow speaks Russian,” Becky murmured. “She learned it from her mother.”
“I didn’t know that until yesterday.” Brisa squeezed Becky as if she’d said something clever. Then she turned, her pink ribbons swinging. “Felicité, where is Wu Zetian? It’s funny how she runs around town so much on her own. Kogatana sticks to Yuki like a burr.”
“Wu Zetian is a free spirit,” Felicité said airily. “I could never cage her in. She loves to explore, but she always comes back to me.”
“I wish I had a pet who loved me,” Becky said enviously. “Neither of our cats will come indoors.”
Felicité handed Nasreen a glass of punch as the slow song ended.
“Your votes, please,” Felicité called, standing at the small table that held two dishes of stones and a decorated box. “Green stones if you liked the song, red if it was boring.”
Her guests lined up. Felicité counted the votes in the box: eighty percent red. She returned the stones to their dishes as the band struck up a fast tune, with a strong, steady beat. Everyone ran to dance. Brisa did a backflip, narrowly missing stepping on her own hair ribbons. Felicité winced, wishing she hadn’t had to invite Brisa. But Becky was so happy.
Felicité had promised herself to stay away from Indra unless he approached her first, but she couldn’t help eyeing him and Jennie. There was something about the way they were dancing . . .
Indra grabbed Jennie’s hand and spun her toward him. Before they could collide, she twirled away, laughing—and Felicité had it. Jennie moved and laughed exactly the same way when she sparred with Ross Juarez. As if they existed in an intimate bubble of space.
Felicité’s mother came in quietly and drew her aside. “Felicité, I am sorry to interrupt your party, but you are required to record a meeting. The sheriff called it. And that is all I can say.” She beckoned to Sujata. “Sujata, how lovely you look tonight. May I request you to take over as hostess? Felicité will return as soon as she can.” Her mother gave a gracious smile, and the door closed behind her.
Felicité let out a sigh.
“It’s got to be about that claim jumper,” said Carlos, mopping his forehead.
“Or the bounty hunter,” Faviola suggested.
“My cousin said she heard someone at the stable say that the bounty hunter can turn into a ghost and walk through walls. That’s how he gets people.” Nasreen gave a dramatic shiver.
“I haven’t heard anything about ghost powers,” said Felicité. “And if I haven’t heard it, it can’t be true.” And Daddy would never be that friendly with a Changed man, she thought. “But I’ll know more soon. Sujata, here’s the list of songs. Remind people to cast their votes, and keep track, will you?”
Felicité found both of her parents in the parlor. “I’m ready.”
Her mother shook her head. “You’ll be going alone, darling. Elizabeth Crow claimed sheriff’s privilege to hold a closed interrogation, and I claimed mayoral privilege to have it recorded.”
This was the first time she would serve as scribe at a meeting that her parents didn’t attend. Felicité didn’t know what to think.
Her daddy patted her hand. “You’re there to make sure the sheriff doesn’t beat a confession out of anyone.”
Her mother tsked. She was not amused by jokes about council business.
“You can come back to your friends afterward, Felicité,” her father said. “I’m glad to see Jennie Riley among them. That’s a good friendship to cultivate.”
He had never talked about the Changed like that before. He always added, “for a Changed person . . .” and occasionally, “for one of those m
utants . . .” He was talking about Jennie as if she were a Norm.
Her mother nodded. “Having a solid friendship eases a working relationship.”
“I see a bright future for that girl,” said her daddy. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she ends up defense chief.”
Felicité kept strict control over her face, but the urge to shudder was so strong that she had to bolt to her room to conceal it. She fetched her writing materials, put on her second-best walking shoes, and hurried to the sheriff’s. The backup generator hummed and the electric lights were on, which meant this meeting was even more important than she’d realized. Making sure her hat was tilted perfectly, she opened the door.
“Here’s the scribe,” Sheriff Crow said. “Let’s get started.”
Ross Juarez and the bounty hunter sat at opposite ends of the table. The bounty hunter loomed over Ross, sinister and grim. Ross eyed him with that intent expression Felicité had seen when he sparred or practiced throwing knives. How could anyone who fought that well be scared of parties?
The sheriff gave Felicité a nod to begin. “According to new information I’ve obtained, both of you lied to me. Ross, you’re still on probation. If I say you go, you go.”
As she recorded that, Felicité pressed her lips together to hide her smile.
The bounty hunter said calmly, “I told you I worked for a private individual.”
“Kings are not private individuals.” Sheriff Crow pushed her hair back so Felicité was forced to see the stretched skin and jutting bone of her face. “The fact that you’re working for Voske is good reason to kick you out of town. But if you have a legitimate basis to take the boy, let’s hear it.”
“Ross Juarez is a claim jumper.”
Ross’s head snapped up. “I am not!” His voice cracked.
Stranger Page 19
