Rebel Heart (27 page)

Em’s still gogglin. Don’t stare, I says, as I seize her rag an attack the back of her neck.

Ow! she says.

That friend of yers, says Molly, Creed. He’s crazy, right?

No more’n any of us, I says. You better look out.

He better look out, she mutters.

Hold still! I scrub Em’s face an ears. I says, Nobody believes me about Jack. Not Lugh, not Tommo. Maev says she does, but . . . I don’t think so. Ash wants to kill him, probly Creed does too. It’s jest you an me an Em.

I love Jack, says Em.

Do you now? says Molly.

Uh huh, an so does Saba, essept she’s too—

I dunk Em’s head in the basin. She splutters an squawks as I soap her hair.

I know how it is between you an Jack, says Molly. The moment I seen him, I knew he’d met somebody. I could see you in his eyes. Then he showed me the heartstone.

I feel myself flush. I set Em free an git to work on myself. Tonight’s the full moon. An I don’t care what Slim says, when Jack finds the message at the Lost Cause, he’ll come straight here. I’m gonna see Jack agin. My stummick does a nervous flip at the thought. I scrub an rub an rinse till my skin’s tinglin.

I tidy my wet hair with my fingers. It’s grown good since they shaved my head fer the cage fights in Hopetown. One day, it’ll hang down my back the way it used to. Then Lugh an me’ll have hair the same, an nobody’ll ever cut it off agin.

Molly holds up her bone comb. Let me, she says. She combs rose oil through my hair. Here, she says, rub it in yer skin, it’ll make it soft.

I gotta talk to Bram, I says, about Jack.

Leave it to me, she says. Before I can say nay, she’s gone in a swish of skirts.

I oil myself an git dressed in a pair of plain britches an shirt that I find in Cassie’s chest. They come a bit short on me, but not too disgraceful. Then me an Em join everybody else.

Slim’s bin doctored an put to bed in a secret hidey hole in the wall. I look in on him, but he’s already fast to sleep. Tracker lies at his feet, on guard duty. There ain’t no sign of Creed an Ash. But Maev sits by the fire, silent, starin into the flames.

Molly’s in a corner, talkin to Bram. Their heads lean together, her hand on his arm, her voice low an urgent. He nods his head from time to time.

The door from th’other room opens. Lugh an Tommo come out. I gasp. Their hair’s bin cut short. Lugh’s long, golden plait. It’s gone. He’s had it since we was little. My heart clutches.

Why’d you do that? I says.

No long hair in New Eden, says Cassie, not fer men.

Lugh holds up his plait. It gleams, thick an golden, in the firelight. His eyes meet mine, a bit defiant. I was sick of it anyways, he says. Glad to see it go.

Bram turns back into the room, to the rest of us. Molly’s eyes meet mine. A tiny shake of her head. I frown. Later, she mouths.

What now? says Tommo.

Nuthin, says Bram, this ain’t the time. We cain’t talk, cain’t even be seen all together, it’s too dicey. We gotta wait till everybody leaves. There’s a lot to discuss – what to do about Slim, an you lot too. Fer now, Cassie an me better git out there before we’re missed.

The two of ’em hand out masks to everybody but Emmi.

What’s all this? I says.

Sometimes, the best way to stay outta sight is to be in plain view, says Bram. Tonight, it’s the lone light in the woods that’ll draw attention. Nobody’ll notice a few more dancers in a crowded barn.

Why cain’t we stay in here? I says.

It ain’t safe, says Cassie. People’s bin in an outta here all day. I don’t s’pose any of yuz fancy crammin in the priesthole with Slim.

Don’t take yer masks off fer nuthin, says Bram. Remember, you ain’t branded. An everybody’s on the lookout fer Saba an her tattoo. It’ll be a great honour to hand her over to the Pathfinder.

If anybody asks, says Cassie, Saba an Tommo, you bin paired a month. You farm in Sector Seventeen. Lugh an Maev, the same. There ain’t no Sector Seventeen, but none of these know that. They won’t wanna look stupid, so they’ll pretend they heard of it.

Sorry, Tommo, but it ain’t safe fer you to speak, says Bram. Best to make like yer painful shy.

Dark colour flags Tommo’s cheeks. He nods.

How should we act? says Lugh.

Like them two at Billy Six’s place, I says. Like you own the world an everybody in it.

We’ll climb Emmi up to the corn loft, says Bram. Everybody’s had enough of the damn stuff after today, so it’s the last place they’ll go.

Cain’t I watch the dancin? she says.

You can look through the boards at what’s goin on, he tells her, but you gotta keep schtum, okay? Not a footstep, not a squeak, nuthin, you unnerstand?

Emmi nods. Cassie an Bram put on their half-masks. We do the same. In one moment, who we are is hidden. We’re unknown. Strangers, even to each other.

What about me? says Molly. What’s my story?

Oh, I’m sure we’ll think of somethin, says Bram. C’mon.

Molly’s story turns out to be Creed.

He slips from the stables next to the house.

I thought he might turn up, says Bram.

Ohmigawd, I says, he’s gone respectable.

So he has. Clean clothes, tattoos covered by long sleeves an a collared shirt, hair cut short an neat. He’s even wearin boots. He looks completely different.

Yer positively handsome, Creed, says Emmi. I could never tell before.

He puts on his mask an falls into step beside Molly. He smiles at her. You look beautiful, he says. She says naught. You smell beautiful too, he says.

She don’t even look at him as she says, Lemme set you straight, Sunny Jim. I ain’t available. Even if I was, I wouldn’t be available to you.

Ouch, he says.

You don’t wear boots, Creed, I says.

Special occasion, he says. They ain’t mine, they’re Ash’s. She’s on lookout duty.

Bram takes Em to run her up the outside ladder to the cornloft above the barn. Cassie leads the rest of us to the open doors. Inside, by the light of a dozen lanterns, everybody’s dancin. Stewards of the Earth. Young. Strong. Workers. Breeders.

Everybody starts to go in.

Molly! I grab her hand an pull her to one side. What did Bram say?

I’m sorry, Saba, she says. If Jack shows up, you gotta stay outta sight. You cain’t make contact with him.

My stummick drops. What? I says. Why not?

Bram’s well set up here, she says. It’s took him a long time to make connections – with Slim an me, one or two people around an about. Nobody would ever suspect he’s anythin but a loyal Steward of the Earth. He cain’t jeopardize that. You got a price on yer head, it’s dangerous fer him to be harbourin you like this. He’ll help you git outta New Eden, but that’s it.

But . . . you told him Jack’s a friend of yers, right? I says. It ain’t jest me, you know he’s in trouble, Molly. You know Jack.

I sure do. She sighs. Listen, Saba, Jack’s bin tanglin with trouble his whole life, she says. He gits hisself into it an somehow he always gits hisself out agin. I know what Bram says don’t seem fair, but you gotta look at the bigger picture. We gotta respect his wishes. This is his place. We cain’t go puttin him an Cassie, all of us, in danger. Promise me you’ll do as he says.

Jack sent fer me, I says. I ain’t come all this way fer nuthin.

Once you leave, she says, you can do what you like. Take chances on yer own account. Promise me you won’t do nuthin while yer here.

On my own. Once more, it’s down to me, on my own, to do what I gotta do. That’s fine. It’s what I wanted all along. Bram’s right, I cain’t put everybody at risk. I don’t want to. If Jack shows up here, I will stay outta sight. But I’ll go after him, even if he’s with other Tonton. I’ll follow ’em till we’re away from here. Wait fer the moment to make contact with him.

Promise me, Saba, says Molly.

I promise, I says.

We better go in, she says. C’mon.

My stummick’s flutterin, like a butterfly caught in a spider’s web. Right now, there’s too much that’s outta my control. Not jest tonight, but ever since we crossed the Yann Gap into New Eden. My hand’s bin forced over an over. I ain’t bin makin my own decisions.

Long before you was born, Saba, a train of events was set in motion.

You mean fate. I don’t believe in it.

Not fate. Destiny. Fer you, all roads lead to the same place.

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.