“Or you,” I retorted sharply. “You’re obviously an Illegal, too.”
She held up her hand, displaying a tattoo of three spiky blades of spinifex grass contained within a circle. “Yes, I am, but I have a Citizen tattoo.”
Impressed, I said, “You fooled an assessor? What’s your ability?”
She rolled her eyes, as if she wished I’d stop pestering her with questions. But I was pretty sure, at this point, that she was glad to have someone to talk to, so I wasn’t surprised when she decided to answer. “I manipulate memories.”
“You what?”
“I can take memories from people. And I can share them, change them, and even invent ones that never happened. Only,” she added angrily, “I can’t forget. Not anyone I meet, not anything I see or read or hear. I remember everything in perfect detail.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“Then,” she snapped, “I expect you’ve never lived through anything you don’t want to remember.”
I thought of Cassie and didn’t reply.
Ember went quiet, too. I watched her curiously, trying to figure her out. I’d thought at first she was a bit strange, but now it seemed more like she was angry or upset. Really upset, in the kind of way that made you do crazy things, like climb very tall trees.
“Why are you in the Firstwood?” I asked. “With that tattoo, you could’ve stayed in Spinifex City. Or gone anywhere else in the world.”
She didn’t move or look at me, but she whispered, “My father’s dead.”
“Was it the government?”
“No. He was sick. There was something wrong in his head. The Menders couldn’t help him, and I couldn’t help him, and he died, not very long ago.”
So you came here. I could see now why she’d gone down into those unstable tunnels, not caring if she ever came out again. Expecting not to come out, probably, and being kind of glad of it, because then she wouldn’t have to feel that endless ache of grief anymore. I knew what that was like. “My sister’s dead, too. The government killed her during an assessment.” I understand how you feel.
She shifted closer to me. “I’m sorry about your sister.”
“I’m sorry about your dad.”
“He and I were going to change things for Illegals. He was helping to start a movement, getting Citizens to ask a question about whether people with abilities are part of the Balance.”
My doubts must have shown on my face, because she added defensively, “I know it doesn’t sound like much, but Alexander Hoffman said that all revolutions begin with a question. It’s got people thinking about if there’s a good enough reason to even have Citizenship Accords. We had lots of other ideas, too.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
She hunched her shoulders. “It doesn’t matter now. I can’t do it on my own.”
“You’re not alone. You’ve got us.”
“I don’t even know you!”
“Hey, I climbed this tree for you. Plus, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Georgie’s made you a picture.” Looking puzzled, she peered down to where Georgie had been busily putting a bunch of stones together, making a sprawling pattern on the sand. “I think,” I said cautiously, “that it’s supposed to be a flower. Or maybe a puppy.”
Ember giggled, a pretty, musical sound that floated over the forest. Her face was transformed by that laughter — she looked happy, and hopeful. Georgie squinted up at us, grinning, and I waved at her. Then I cast a calculating glance at Ember. “I’ve had about enough of this tree. I’m going back to Georgie.”
For a second, I was worried that she wasn’t going to follow me. But she started to inch toward the trunk, and the two of us began the long descent to the ground. “So,” I said as we made our way down, “what exactly were the other ways that you and your dad were going to make things better for Illegals? Besides the question thing, I mean.”
“We were going to change how people think.”
I paused, looking up at her. “Wouldn’t it be better, I don’t know, to storm a detention center? Take on some enforcers?”
Her brown and blue eyes blazed with a sudden, ferocious intensity, and when she spoke, she sounded as certain as I had when I’d told Georgie the world was real. “You can’t transform a society for the better with violence, Ashala. Only with ideas.”
SIX MONTHS AGO
I don’t know how long I lay on the grass, sobbing into Jaz’s last footprints. Eventually, Ember and Daniel came and found me. Ember stroked my hair, making soothing noises, while Daniel lifted me off the ground in his strong brown arms and carried me back to camp. I thought, I want to die. For four days, I didn’t move or speak. Then, on the fifth day, the wolves came.
It started with a single howl, a long, eerie wail right before dawn. Then another, at a different pitch. And another, different again, until the whole forest echoed with their cries. It sounded like there were hundreds of them out there, even though it was only a twelve-wolf pack. I tried to ignore them like I’d ignored everyone else, but they went on and on.
Finally, I stood up and stumbled out of the caves where the Tribe was camped. It was icy cold outside, and I wrapped my arms around myself, peering into the gray dawn light until I spotted one of them. I knew which one it would be. The same wolf who had been sitting at my feet when I’d woken up on that first morning in the wood. He’d hardly been more than a pup back then. Now he was big and lean, his orangey-brown coat shining with health and his pale yellow eyes watching me above a toothy canine grin. He yipped once and ran off, clearly expecting me to follow, as any wolf in his pack would. And I did, wanting to do something, anything, other than think of Jaz.
I ran lightly, swerving to avoid trees, racing over rocks and through shallow streams with the rest of the pack, never hesitating and never losing my footing. I ran until there was no Jaz, no saurs, and no Tribe. Just me, the wolves, and the sights and smells of the forest, rushing past me and around me until I was almost dizzy with it. When I couldn’t run any longer, I stumbled to a halt, threw back my head, and howled my grief to the forest.
The wolves slowed to a trot, and then a walk. Pack Leader circled back to where I was standing. I would’ve liked to keep going, but I had a stitch in my side and my legs were shaking with exhaustion. He nosed at my knee, as if he were trying to tell me something, and he was. I couldn’t explain how I understood him, any more than I could explain why everyone in the Tribe developed a bond with one of the forest animals. None of us could communicate with our animals as well as Georgie could with those creepy spiders, but I understood Pack Leader. He thought I would be okay now. The terrible thing was, I did, too, and I didn’t want to be okay. I didn’t want to be able to go on, not without Jaz, not after I’d failed to save him, like I’d failed to save Cassie. And I hated knowing that I could.
I started to pace back and forth, to walk off the stitch and gather my strength for the long, weary trudge back to camp. The wolves faded into the forest, and my heightened senses retreated with them until I could see and hear and smell no better than any other human. I kept pacing long after the pain in my side was gone, wanting to delay going back into the caves. I didn’t want to face the others and see their disappointment. Or, worse still, their approval, since most of them believed I’d done the right thing. They’d be furious if they knew it was me that was meant to die.
“Ash!” A cheerful voice interrupted my thoughts. “Here you are.”
I spun around and saw Georgie approaching through the trees, all rosy and warm in her gray wool coat and carrying my own coat over her arm.
Eyeing her grumpily, I asked, “How’d you know where to find me?”
“You needed me, and when you need me, I come.”
“I didn’t need you, and that doesn’t even make any sense.”
She handed me my coat. “You’re cold. Put this on.”
As I shrugged myself into it, she said, “We have to go to the grasslands now. To see Jaz.”
My hand c
rept up my throat, and I stared at her in horror. “His — his body? But he would have burned.”
She shook her head. “No, Ash! Jaz, as in the actual Jaz. He’s alive. The saurs came to tell us.” She reached for my hand. “Come on! They’re all waiting.”
She started walking, and I stumbled along behind her. I felt confused, overwhelmed, wanting for it to be true that Jaz wasn’t dead but not daring to believe it. We wound our way out of the trees, through the tall grasses, and around the red rocky hills — that’s when I saw them. First, an enormous, yellow-striped saur whom I didn’t know, lounging against a hillside. Then Ember, sitting near another saur who was instantly recognizable. After being born so late, Hatches-with-Stars had never grown to her full size or into her proper color. Her scales were pale blue instead of black, her one stripe was a red line down the side of her neck, and she wasn’t much taller than I was. But what grabbed my attention was the boy standing a few paces in front of them all. Only it wasn’t Jaz. His hair and eyes were black, and he was too thin and way too still. It’s not him. It’s not. I was sure of it. Right up until he grinned triumphantly and said, “I told you they’d be won over by my endearing personality.”
I tore forward and flung my arms around him. “Jaz!”
He hugged me back, his wiry frame seeming to have gained new strength. “Hey, Ash.”
“You’re alive!” He started to wriggle in protest at being held too tight, and I let him go, touching his changed face in disbelief. Even his smile was different. It was a bit snarly, and somehow seemed to have a lot more teeth in it. “Is it really you? It doesn’t look like you.”
“Of course it’s me.” Then he added accusingly, “You never told me the saurs speak with their minds.”
“It was a secret. Hey, how do you know that, anyway?”
“Because they told me.” He puffed out his chest. “I’m one of them now.”
I studied him, noting the darkening of his hair and eyes, which reflected the saurs’ own black scales, and the reptilian elegance to his movements. “You’re a saur?”
“Yep!” He jerked his head toward the lizards. “You see that big one? His name is Tramples-My-Enemies. He was the one who came to get me and took me to the others. They said that since I was an eater of flesh and they were eaters of flesh, I belonged with them. Then they had a ceremony that went on for a whole night and day. Did you know they sing?”
“Yeah. I mean, I’ve never heard them, but I know they do.”
“It’s amazing! The songs have stuff in them I’ve never heard about before, stuff from the old world. Only I’m not supposed to talk about the ceremony. It’s a saur thing, you know? But it joined me to their pack.” He fixed his black gaze upon me, his brow creased in concentration, and words formed in my head. I can speak like this now, Ash.
I gasped. “Jaz!”
“Cool, isn’t it? I can’t do it over long distances yet, like the others. I’ll learn, though.”
“You . . . you’re not coming back?”
“Sorry, Ash. I can’t. I’m not Tribe anymore. You can’t tell anyone else I’m alive, either.”
“Why not?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized why. “If the Tribe saw how you’d changed, they would start asking questions about the saurs.”
“Yeah, and the saurs don’t want anyone to know they can talk, except for you and Georgie and Ember, of course. Also, there’s the pact.” He gazed at me with an un-Jaz-like severity. “We saurs want the pact to be kept, so it’s better if people think something terrible happens if you break it. And something bad could happen, Ash. Not everyone could become saur like me.” Then the seriousness vanished from his face. “Guess what? I have a new name, too! I’m Blazes-with-Fire!”
Tramples-My-Enemies lifted his head, directing a stern look at Jaz. “Okay.” Jaz sighed. “So I’m not Blazes-with-Fire yet. I will be one day, though, when I’ve earned it. Saurs can get new names if they change enough so their old one doesn’t fit anymore.”
“Really? Then how come Hatches-with-Stars is still Hatches-with-Stars and Wanders-Too-Far is still Wanders-Too-Far?”
“Hatches will always be Hatches. She’s special. And Wanders-Too-Far does wander too far! Last week, he went all the way to the other side of the Firstwood until he was almost in saber territory. Tramples-My-Enemies and Gnaws-the-Bones had to bring him back.”
“What do they call you, then?”
Jaz shuffled his feet and mumbled something. I bit back a smile. “Can’t-Be-Still? That’s your saur name?”
“It’s my name for now. But I’m practicing being very still. Then they’ll see that the name is wrong, and they’ll have to give me a new one.”
I looked away so he wouldn’t realize I was struggling not to laugh. Sounds like the saurs have Jaz all figured out.
Hatches rose to her feet, shifting from one clawed foot to another. She seemed kind of anxious. “Jaz? Is she all right?”
He waved his hand dismissively. “She’s fine. She’s just worried I’ll go back to camp with you, even though I’ve told her I won’t. Hatches is my best friend among the saurs.”
“Oh, yeah?” I strode over to the small saur, gazing up into amber eyes that weren’t that far above my own. “I want you to take care of him, okay?”
From behind me, Jaz let out an outraged cry. “Ash! I can take care of myself. I’m saur!”
I ignored him, and so did Hatches. She pranced closer, and pictures started to form in my mind, giving me a view of the world from the perspective of the smallest of the saurs. Trying to join in games with the other saurs and always being pushed away. Having her meat killed for her, even though the other younglings were hunting for themselves. Swimming in the shallows of the seven pools while the others leaped from the rocks into the deeps. Then came images of the new saur who was even smaller than she was. Jaz flinging himself into a saur game, being immediately tossed out, and diving right back in again. Jaz trying to eat raw meat, throwing up, and starting a cooking fire that set the grasses alight and had to be stomped out with tough saur feet. Jaz chattering endlessly — would Hatches help him sharpen very small rocks so he could glue them to his fingernails to make claws? Could Hatches listen to him practice his hissing to see if he had it right? Did Hatches think, if he was extra good, that Tramples-My-Enemies might let him ride on his back? Hatches-with-Stars, the saur who had never quite fit in, wasn’t alone anymore. And she more than loved Jaz. She adored him, with a devotion so intense that it bordered on worship.
The images faded, and Hatches tilted her pale head at me.
“It’s okay. I get it. I know that he . . . that . . . he . . .” My throat closed over, and I stopped, took a breath, and forced out the words. “I know that he belongs to you now.”
She made a high-pitched, trilling noise, and despite everything, I had to smile at the sheer joy in the sound. Jaz came up beside me. “Ash. Are you crying?”
“Only a little.”
“But aren’t you happy for me?”
“I’m very happy for you, Jaz. I’m going to miss you, that’s all.”
“Oh!” His face cleared. “That’s okay. I’ll still come and visit. I don’t know when, though, because I have heaps to learn about being a saur. It would’ve been so much better if they’d raised me from an egg.”
I didn’t even know what to say to that, so I hugged him again and whispered, “I love you, Jaz.”
“Love you, too, Ash!”
“You know, if you ever need me, for anything . . .”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He pulled away impatiently. “I have to go now. Keeps-the-Memories is going to teach me a song. I’ll try to mindspeak it to you over a distance. It’ll be good practice!”
Tramples-My-Enemies rolled to his feet while Jaz swung himself onto Hatches’s back with quick, inhuman grace. He fastened his arms around her neck and grinned at me one last time. Then, in an instant, he was gone, carried away by Hatches with Tramples running along behind. Ember and Geor
gie both came and stood beside me, putting their arms around my shoulders in silent support. I watched as the saurs disappeared into the distance, the landscape blurring in front of me. He’s not my Jaz anymore. But I couldn’t be sad, not when he’d looked so carefree, perched on Hatches’s back.
Wiping at my eyes, I turned to face Georgie and Ember. There was something I had to say to Em, something I’d been thinking about a lot over the past three days. I’d gone over and over that final journey with Jaz in my mind, until I’d understood what Ember had done, what she must have done. “Did you really think I wouldn’t figure it out, Em?”
She went pale. Georgie looked from her to me, and asked, “Figure what out?”
I glared at Ember. “I had a plan, Georgie. I was going to dose Jaz with the sleepy herb, and give myself to the saurs in his place. Except he worked out what I was doing and switched my water flask with his. Only,” I snarled, “Jaz wouldn’t have recognized that herb if he’d tripped over it, and he definitely wouldn’t have known how much to put in the water to send me to sleep. Unless he had help from someone who did know.”
I expected Em to deny it or to start babbling an apology. She didn’t. “I did what I thought was right.”
“What was right? You sent him to his death!”
“Jaz made a mistake, Ash, and he chose to take responsibility for it, and you should’ve let him. Being a leader doesn’t mean always taking the blame for other people’s mess. Besides, Jaz begged me to help him. He knows you’re important —”
“I’m not more important than Jaz!”
“Yes, you are!” she snapped. “I don’t know why you can’t understand it, but you matter, Ash. You transform things in a way that no one else can, and I know you’re going to change everything for Illegals. If everyone has to die to protect you, so be it.”
I stared at her in shock. Ember had always said we’d make the world better for Illegals one day, but I’d never realized how big a role she’d been expecting me to play. Or how far she’d go to keep me safe. “Ember . . . you can’t . . .” I couldn’t seem to put what I was thinking and feeling into words. Then Georgie’s voice broke the silence, sounding angrier than I’d ever heard her. “You got it wrong, Ember.”
The Interrogation of Ashala Wolf (The Tribe) Page 12