The Fifth Sacred Thing (69 page)

They put him in a dark room to recover. For a long time his own mistreated neurons fired and misfired at random, carrying on the work of the torturers. The relief when the storms of pain finally quieted was almost worse than the pain itself, for with every moment his fear grew that they would begin again. There was one small blanket and he huddled under it, shaking. I’m in shock, he thought, I’ve got to keep warm, I’ve got to not think about what happened or what will happen. They were subtle experts, this bunch; nothing was broken, there were no outward wounds. Yet. But I’ve got to think what to do. This is only the beginning. They’ll want more from me.

His eyes were assaulted with a brief flash of light, as a door opened and someone was tossed into the closet where he was locked up. The door slammed again. Bird reached out and touched a naked shoulder. A young girl’s voice screamed in panic.

“It’s okay,” he said hoarsely. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Bird?”

“Rosa?”

She began to weep silently. He wrapped her in the blanket and hugged her through its coarse cloth.

“Marie is dead.”

He didn’t know what to say, so he just hugged her tighter. Marie is lucky, he thought.

“Did they hurt you?”

She nodded, her head moving up and down under his chin.

“Did they rape you?” He had to ask it.

“I fought them. But there were too many.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”

“I told them things,” Rosa said.

“Of course you did, honey, I know.”

“I couldn’t help it.”

“No, you couldn’t. I told them things too.”

“You, Bird?”

Somehow that question hurt him more than anything.

The next morning they came for them both. The General himself interrogated Bird.

“Her fate is in your hands,” the General said. “Cooperate with us, and she will be left alone. Disobey, and we send her to the breaking pens for new whores. Which, since she wasn’t bred to it, will be hard for her. And you will watch.”

“How can I believe you’ll do what you say?”

“You can see her every day. Talk with her. Have her yourself, if you like.”

“She’s thirteen years old!”

“For some, a little past the prime. Never mind.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“There are ways we can use you. We need a liaison to your own people, someone who can command their respect and cooperation.”

“They are not used to being commanded in any way.”

“Then it’s time they got used to it.”

He put on their uniform and walked out in the city, flanked by two guards who stayed with him everywhere. They wanted him to wear their uniform as a sign of his defeat, to shatter the morale of the city and say to the people. See, here is one of yours who has turned. He wore it as a warning to them all, a way of saying, Watch out, I am no longer your friend, no longer the one you trusted. Put no faith in me.

Bird walked through the Central Plaza. The market stalls were shuttered, the streambed dry. The city looked like he felt, shattered. Two soldiers walked with him, one on either side. His dog chain, his tether.

They flanked him as he settled himself at the far end of the plaza, near Market Street, beside the old sculpture fountain of upended concrete forms that was dry now.

A woman he recognized was coming toward them: Sachiko, from the Musicians’ Guild. Strange, that she could still walk these pathways, the rainbow reflections on her black hair dancing in the sunlight, while he was ruined and Rosa … Better not to pursue those thoughts. Better just to do what he needed to do.

She averted her face from the soldiers as she passed them, but he called out to her. “Sachiko!”

She turned, saw his uniform, and poised to run. He called to her again.

“Don’t be afraid, it’s me, Bird.”

“Bird!”

The first spontaneous joy that leaped to her eyes froze rapidly into shock as she took in the significance of his uniform. Bird wanted to turn away but he forced himself to meet her eyes, even though the effort sent a tattoo of pain playing over his skin. They’ve done something to me, Bird thought. My emotions are dead; what’s left is this random burst of neurons, my inner firing squad.

“Why are you wearing their uniform?”

He didn’t answer her question. “Will you do something for me?”

“Sure, Bird.”

“I need to speak with somebody on the Council.” The guards would be recording everything he said, and they might get suspicious if he used Sign too overtly. But he turned slightly, to hide his right hand from their view, and
quickly his fingers spelled “Lily.” “Could you find someone from the Council, bring them here?”

Sachiko’s eyes flicked down to his hand, back to his face.

“I’ll try. Bird, are you okay?”

“Thanks,” he said, and closed his eyes, a dismissal. Sachiko’s footsteps clattered on the pavement as she hurried off. Bird leaned back on the bench and sank into the well of darkness that closed over him, an exhaustion so deep that sleep could not touch it, a sensation of falling and falling, endlessly falling, with no bottom to hit, no ground to stand on.

He had no idea how much time had passed when he looked up to see Lily standing in front of him. He hadn’t noticed her arrival. She was dressed in a simple green tunic, her hair pulled austerely back, her eyes kind. He wanted to look away.

“Bird!”

He spoke quickly, to get it out and said before he lost his nerve. “I’m not a very good hero, Lily. I talked to them. I told them everything.”

The kindness in Lily’s eyes did not waver. “No one expects you to be superhuman.”

He wanted desperately to look away from her eyes, but he couldn’t seem to move.

“Maybe I do. Maybe we all need to be, or we’ll lose. Lily, I don’t see how we can win here.”

“You don’t have to see.”

He glanced at his guards, who remained beside him, impassive as the cement seat beneath them. Nevertheless they had eyes and ears and wore recording devices.

“I told them about the weapon,” he said.

“What weapon?”

“They kept asking about the secret weapon. Really, it was Marie who told them, that first day, when she said there was a power here they could never conquer. They—they kept on me until I told them what the power was.”

There was a subtle shift in Lily’s face, a glint of something almost like humor.

“What did you tell them?”

“I told them how we’re pledged to Hecate and can call up the dead, and how the dead will haunt anyone who kills one of us.”

He thought he felt something ripple through his guards, a shiver, stifled before it became perceptible.

“You told them that?” Lily said, her expression unreadable.

“I told them all about it. All the details. I couldn’t help myself.”

“I see.”

“They finally believed me,” Bird said. “I’m sorry.”

“But they want more from you,” Lily said. “What?”

“They want me to be their liaison, to try to get more cooperation out of people. Starting tomorrow, they’re going to issue water ration cards. Everyone has to have one, if they want to get any water.”

Her eyes were dark half moons above a grim horizon. “And what do they have to do to get one?”

“Sign a pledge not to oppose the Stewards, and say the Millennialist Creed.” He paused. Better say it all. “I’ll be handing them out, here in the plaza, starting tomorrow morning.”

“No one will come. Surely you know that, Bird.”

Of course I do, he wanted to yell at her, why do you think I agreed to do it? But the guards were listening, and besides, it wasn’t true. He would have agreed to almost anything, to protect Rosa. No, to save himself more pain. She was staring at him so hard that maybe she could read his mind.

“Will you do something for me, Lily?” he said at last.

“If I can.”

“Put a flower on my grandmother’s grave for me. Tell her I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t stronger.” He hoped to Goddess she would understand what he meant. He’d told the Stewards that his family was dead, that that had been a prerequisite for all members of the Council, so there would be no hostages to hold against them. Please, Goddess, let Maya stay away. If they found her, found out who she was …

“No one’s strength is endless,” Lily said, her voice soft. “I am sure you endured much, and will endure more. I wish you could be spared and healed.”

She was offering him a forgiveness he didn’t deserve and could not accept. Not because he had failed; anyone could fail, but because he was going to go on failing, betraying.

“I should have died with Roberto and Lan. Marie is dead, now, too.”

“Leave the inflicting of pain to the conquerors, Bird. Don’t do it to yourself.”

Bird wished he could read something in her eyes, pity or judgment or compassion. But they were blank as stones.

“There is a place set for you at our table, Bird, waiting for you to come home.” She turned to his guards and smiled. “And for you, and you also.”

She turned and walked away. Her words reverberated in him, like the ripples of pain from a kick in the gut. They made him what he had made himself, an enemy, a stranger.

The next morning, when he arrived at the plaza, a small circle waited beside the fountain: Lily, Sam, Cress from the Water Council, and a woman he did
not recognize. They opened the circle as he approached, making a space for him.

Bird stopped. He was flanked by his two guards. Motioning to them to keep a few paces back, he approached the circle, feeling a great reluctance to enter. How could he sit with them while he wore the uniform of the enemy? But there were certain things you had to do, he knew, that you only could do by closing off, shutting down. Don’t think, don’t imagine what they will think of you, just step in and sit, and do not look into the eyes that turn to you, do not notice too closely how the energy shifts, as they observe you, bought and broken.

“Bird!” Sam said.

“You’re still alive!” Cress said. It sounded almost like an accusation. Cress looked thinner than Bird remembered; gray streaked his dark hair and blue shadows pooled under his black eyes.

“I’m here representing the Fourth Stewardship Expeditionary Force. They’ve asked me to be their liaison.” His voice was still hoarse, he wasn’t sure why. Probably from screaming, maybe just dry from the meager rations of water they gave in the barracks where he had been moved two nights before.

“You’re cooperating with them?” Cress asked. “You’ve betrayed our strategy!”

“I know.” Don’t apologize, don’t explain. Apologies could not help.

“You were the one who made the glorious speeches about nonviolence in Council! You didn’t want to kill, you said, and everybody got so damn offended when I raised questions. And now you’re wearing their uniform!”

“I told you,” Bird said, his voice toneless, “I’m working for them. I don’t defend it, it’s just what is.”

There was a long silence in the circle. Bird’s two guards watched warily from the bench behind them.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked. The lines on his face had deepened; he had aged in the last weeks.

Bird wasn’t sure how to answer him. “They didn’t break anything this time,” he said finally. Except me.

“Did they hurt you?”

“That’s what they do, Sam. They hurt people. They’re good at what they do.”

“You look okay,” Cress said suspiciously.

“So do you,” Bird replied. He was mad, and that was a relief from feeling simply wretched. But he understood now what had puzzled him at the time, why they had been so careful with him, leaving no marks. They didn’t want another visible victim. No, they had cast him as a traitor.

“Lay off him, Cress,” Sam said. “We trust you, Bird.”

Bird shook his head, and let his eyes glance up to his guards. “I’m working for
them
now.” Don’t trust me. That’s why I’m wearing this damn outfit, so you remember not to trust me.

“You’re on their side?” Cress said. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“You heard what I said.”

“They broke you down, and you gave in to them.”

He had to say it out loud, Bird thought. He had to name it, rub my nose in the shit. But it didn’t really matter.

“What do you want, Cress?” he asked.