I jest need to see Jack, talk to him, have him explain everythin. Then we’ll figger out what to do, how best to git away. The longer I’m in DeMalo’s country, the more I feel things slip away from me.
Saba? says Molly.
Okay, I says. Here we go.
The band plays on a raised platform in the middle of the barn. All around it, bodies twirl. There must be fifty dancers in here. Their damp heat thickens the air. Smells crash together. Sweat. Soap. Earth on boots. The corn in the loft where Emmi hides. Roasted pig on the spit in the yard. Arms fly. Feet stomp. There in the beat, there in the bodies, somethin throbs an growls. Urgent. Rough. Dark. There’s chaos in it. Wildness.
It’s the masks. They’re excited by ’em. They’ve unleashed somethin inside these young Stewards. Three girls, well on with child, sit on stools aginst the wall. Them an the band’s th’only ones not wearin masks. One tune finishes an the players start another. It’s a slow one, heavy on drums an bone shrillie. The dancers pair up. From the shrieks an laughter, not with their rightful mate.
Bram’s back. He gives the tiniest of nods. That means Emmi’s up above us, safely outta sight in the corn. We join in the dance. Molly an Creed. Me an Tommo. Lugh an Maev. Bram an Cassie.
It’s easy enough to catch on. It’s a tease of a dance. Slow. Shoulder to shoulder, hand to hand, back to back, oh-so-close but never quite touchin. Two steps forwards, two steps back, move in close an circle each other. Eye to eye through the masks.
Lugh an Maev talk, all intent, their heads close together. Creed talks to Molly. Molly pretends he ain’t there. I keep lookin towards the open doors an the night outside. Not wantin to be here. Feelin trapped. It’s too hot. I cain’t breathe.
I need air, I says to Tommo.
We make our way outside. There’s a few people standin around the pigroast pit. We hurry into the shadows. Outta sight, outta earshot. We rip off our masks. I close my eyes. Feel the cool air brush my hot face. Take in a deep breath.
With a rush, outta nowhere, Tommo’s holdin me, kissin me, pressin tight up aginst me. Clumsy, urgent, unsure. Soft lips. A boy’s lips.
I grab his hands. I move him away from me. Gently. Firmly. We stare at each other.
He says, I’m true an constant. Not like Jack. I love you, Saba. I love you.
He means it. He feels it. It’s in his face. His voice. His eyes. What’m I gonna say? Whatever I say, it’s gonna hurt him. I cain’t bear to do that. He’s bin hurt too much in his life already.
Tommo, I says, you . . . you an me—
Saba! Ash’s voice. Hissin at me from the field nearby. I go towards her an Tommo follows me. She’s crouched in the corn stubble.
Tonton comin! she says. Six riders. One cart. They’ll be here any minute.
As she disappears, me an Tommo’s pullin on our masks. We run back inside to find Bram an Cassie. Cassie’s tappin her toes an watchin. Bram’s takin a breather.
Tonton comin, I says to him.
Probly jest droppin by to check the party’s all above board. Oh, he says, lookin at the pregnant girls, an it might be their time to be collected.
We look out over the dancers as we speak, pretend we’re havin a casual conversation. Tommo’s gone to stand with Cassie. Collected? I says.
They go to the baby house to give birth, he says. They leave the child to be wet-nursed an raised to be a Steward of the Earth, jest like them. Weak or surplus babies git left out in the open overnight. By the mornin, it’ll be dead from cold or some animal will of took it.
Harsh, I says.
Only the strongest an best fer New Eden, he says. Molly spoke to you.
I nod. I unnerstand, I says. I won’t make no trouble fer you.
Go dance, he says. Stick with yer friends. There’s a door in the corner if you gotta make a quick exit. Head fer the fields.
He casts a quick glance at the ceilin. The cornloft’s overhead. Emmi’ll be watchin through the gaps. Yer sister, he says, will she have the wit to hide if they decide to search up there? You never know.
Of course, I says.
As he goes off, I take Tommo’s hand an we slide back in among the Stewards.
We gotta talk, he says.
Not now, Tommo, I says.
As we move past Molly an Creed, she whispers, Where you bin?
Tonton comin, I mutter. Keep dancin.
Me an Tommo dance our way across the barn, with Molly an Creed right behind us. As we do, I see Lugh an Maev. Slippin through the little door. Hand in hand. Unseen by anybody but me. Where the hell’re they goin?
Jest as I clock ’em, a ripple goes through the room. All heads turn to the main doors. A Tonton patrol. Six men, like Ash said. My heart seizes. Is Jack with ’em? Did he find my message at the Lost Cause?
The music falters, feet start to slow. But the patrol commander signals to the players an they keep on playin. The dancers keep dancin. There ain’t hardly bin a pause. The Tonton move towards the three pregnant girls, clenched fists over their hearts, the sign of the Pathfinder. The girls salute quickly, as they stand up an start fussin with their clothes. They’re giddy with excitement.
I can barely see the back of the Tonton’s heads. They all got short-cropped hair, clean, fine-lookin robes an gear. Nuthin like the grubby Tonton scum I know from Hopetown an Freedom Fields. I cain’t tell if Jack’s one of ’em.
I drop Tommo’s hand. My bootlace, I says, it’s broke. I drop down an pretend to tie it. I lose myself in the swirl of dancers, duckin, keepin low, movin bit by bit towards the door in the corner.
Lucky girls, says a girl nearby. They’re off to the baby house.
I cain’t hardly wait till it’s my turn, says another.
My belly’s tight, my heart’s racin. I’m at the door now, pressin myself into the shadows. The Tonton patrol’s movin towards the main doors, two by two, with the pregnant girls between ’em. The dancers nearby clap an cheer.
I gotta find out. I gotta know if Jack’s with ’em. If he is, I’ll follow.
Nobody’s lookin. I lift the latch. I slip through the door.
I’m outside the barn. A big open shed stands opposite. I can make out tools, planks, bits of wagon, a plough. Stubbled fields to my right. The farmyard an house to my left.
I can hear a voice. Loud. Sure of hisself. The patrol commander. You two men, he says, split up, take a quick check around the barn, then we’ll be on our way.
I dive into the shed. Hide behind a stack of planks. Suddenly, I feel it. The heartstone around my neck. I touch it. It’s warm. The heartstone knows.
Jack’s here.
He’s here.
Right away, I’m tremblin. My breath comes fast an tight. Somebody rounds the front corner of the barn, holdin up a torch to light his way.
It’s Jack. In his black Tonton robes an armour. Short hair. Clean shaved. He makes his way slowly along the side of the barn. Movin his torch high, then low, checkin that all’s clear.
As he moves towards me, I watch him from the shadows. Time shudders. It stops. It waits. I take in the sight of him. His face, his lips, his crooked nose. His silver grey eyes like moonlight.
The heartstone burns, fierce an true. I bin wantin him so long. I bin missin him so deep. It hurts my heart to see him agin. I open my mouth to call his name. I stop myself. His head snaps in my direction. Like he knows I’m here. Did I make a noise? He lifts the torch. At the same time, there’s a rustle overhead. I look up. Jack does too.
Saba? says Molly.
Okay, I says. Here we go.
The band plays on a raised platform in the middle of the barn. All around it, bodies twirl. There must be fifty dancers in here. Their damp heat thickens the air. Smells crash together. Sweat. Soap. Earth on boots. The corn in the loft where Emmi hides. Roasted pig on the spit in the yard. Arms fly. Feet stomp. There in the beat, there in the bodies, somethin throbs an growls. Urgent. Rough. Dark. There’s chaos in it. Wildness.
It’s the masks. They’re excited by ’em. They’ve unleashed somethin inside these young Stewards. Three girls, well on with child, sit on stools aginst the wall. Them an the band’s th’only ones not wearin masks. One tune finishes an the players start another. It’s a slow one, heavy on drums an bone shrillie. The dancers pair up. From the shrieks an laughter, not with their rightful mate.
Bram’s back. He gives the tiniest of nods. That means Emmi’s up above us, safely outta sight in the corn. We join in the dance. Molly an Creed. Me an Tommo. Lugh an Maev. Bram an Cassie.
It’s easy enough to catch on. It’s a tease of a dance. Slow. Shoulder to shoulder, hand to hand, back to back, oh-so-close but never quite touchin. Two steps forwards, two steps back, move in close an circle each other. Eye to eye through the masks.
Lugh an Maev talk, all intent, their heads close together. Creed talks to Molly. Molly pretends he ain’t there. I keep lookin towards the open doors an the night outside. Not wantin to be here. Feelin trapped. It’s too hot. I cain’t breathe.
I need air, I says to Tommo.
We make our way outside. There’s a few people standin around the pigroast pit. We hurry into the shadows. Outta sight, outta earshot. We rip off our masks. I close my eyes. Feel the cool air brush my hot face. Take in a deep breath.
With a rush, outta nowhere, Tommo’s holdin me, kissin me, pressin tight up aginst me. Clumsy, urgent, unsure. Soft lips. A boy’s lips.
I grab his hands. I move him away from me. Gently. Firmly. We stare at each other.
He says, I’m true an constant. Not like Jack. I love you, Saba. I love you.
He means it. He feels it. It’s in his face. His voice. His eyes. What’m I gonna say? Whatever I say, it’s gonna hurt him. I cain’t bear to do that. He’s bin hurt too much in his life already.
Tommo, I says, you . . . you an me—
Saba! Ash’s voice. Hissin at me from the field nearby. I go towards her an Tommo follows me. She’s crouched in the corn stubble.
Tonton comin! she says. Six riders. One cart. They’ll be here any minute.
As she disappears, me an Tommo’s pullin on our masks. We run back inside to find Bram an Cassie. Cassie’s tappin her toes an watchin. Bram’s takin a breather.
Tonton comin, I says to him.
Probly jest droppin by to check the party’s all above board. Oh, he says, lookin at the pregnant girls, an it might be their time to be collected.
We look out over the dancers as we speak, pretend we’re havin a casual conversation. Tommo’s gone to stand with Cassie. Collected? I says.
They go to the baby house to give birth, he says. They leave the child to be wet-nursed an raised to be a Steward of the Earth, jest like them. Weak or surplus babies git left out in the open overnight. By the mornin, it’ll be dead from cold or some animal will of took it.
Harsh, I says.
Only the strongest an best fer New Eden, he says. Molly spoke to you.
I nod. I unnerstand, I says. I won’t make no trouble fer you.
Go dance, he says. Stick with yer friends. There’s a door in the corner if you gotta make a quick exit. Head fer the fields.
He casts a quick glance at the ceilin. The cornloft’s overhead. Emmi’ll be watchin through the gaps. Yer sister, he says, will she have the wit to hide if they decide to search up there? You never know.
Of course, I says.
As he goes off, I take Tommo’s hand an we slide back in among the Stewards.
We gotta talk, he says.
Not now, Tommo, I says.
As we move past Molly an Creed, she whispers, Where you bin?
Tonton comin, I mutter. Keep dancin.
Me an Tommo dance our way across the barn, with Molly an Creed right behind us. As we do, I see Lugh an Maev. Slippin through the little door. Hand in hand. Unseen by anybody but me. Where the hell’re they goin?
Jest as I clock ’em, a ripple goes through the room. All heads turn to the main doors. A Tonton patrol. Six men, like Ash said. My heart seizes. Is Jack with ’em? Did he find my message at the Lost Cause?
The music falters, feet start to slow. But the patrol commander signals to the players an they keep on playin. The dancers keep dancin. There ain’t hardly bin a pause. The Tonton move towards the three pregnant girls, clenched fists over their hearts, the sign of the Pathfinder. The girls salute quickly, as they stand up an start fussin with their clothes. They’re giddy with excitement.
I can barely see the back of the Tonton’s heads. They all got short-cropped hair, clean, fine-lookin robes an gear. Nuthin like the grubby Tonton scum I know from Hopetown an Freedom Fields. I cain’t tell if Jack’s one of ’em.
I drop Tommo’s hand. My bootlace, I says, it’s broke. I drop down an pretend to tie it. I lose myself in the swirl of dancers, duckin, keepin low, movin bit by bit towards the door in the corner.
Lucky girls, says a girl nearby. They’re off to the baby house.
I cain’t hardly wait till it’s my turn, says another.
My belly’s tight, my heart’s racin. I’m at the door now, pressin myself into the shadows. The Tonton patrol’s movin towards the main doors, two by two, with the pregnant girls between ’em. The dancers nearby clap an cheer.
I gotta find out. I gotta know if Jack’s with ’em. If he is, I’ll follow.
Nobody’s lookin. I lift the latch. I slip through the door.
I’m outside the barn. A big open shed stands opposite. I can make out tools, planks, bits of wagon, a plough. Stubbled fields to my right. The farmyard an house to my left.
I can hear a voice. Loud. Sure of hisself. The patrol commander. You two men, he says, split up, take a quick check around the barn, then we’ll be on our way.
I dive into the shed. Hide behind a stack of planks. Suddenly, I feel it. The heartstone around my neck. I touch it. It’s warm. The heartstone knows.
Jack’s here.
He’s here.
Right away, I’m tremblin. My breath comes fast an tight. Somebody rounds the front corner of the barn, holdin up a torch to light his way.
It’s Jack. In his black Tonton robes an armour. Short hair. Clean shaved. He makes his way slowly along the side of the barn. Movin his torch high, then low, checkin that all’s clear.
As he moves towards me, I watch him from the shadows. Time shudders. It stops. It waits. I take in the sight of him. His face, his lips, his crooked nose. His silver grey eyes like moonlight.
The heartstone burns, fierce an true. I bin wantin him so long. I bin missin him so deep. It hurts my heart to see him agin. I open my mouth to call his name. I stop myself. His head snaps in my direction. Like he knows I’m here. Did I make a noise? He lifts the torch. At the same time, there’s a rustle overhead. I look up. Jack does too.
