I was pleased with myself for spotting what the vote might really mean. It was Ember who had taught me to think like that, putting little pieces together into a bigger picture, but she was still way better at it than me. She was better at it than anyone.
“Also,” Georgie said, “it’s the same whether you go or don’t.”
I tried to unravel what that meant. “Are you saying I won’t make a difference?”
“No, Ash! You always make a difference. You are the difference.”
I waited for her to explain more, but her gaze had drifted off across the forest. Georgie had moved on to something else inside her head, and I wasn’t going to get any more out of her right now.
Daniel cleared his throat. “So who goes?”
That was an easy list to make. I counted off on my fingers. “Connor.” If there was trouble, we’d need Connor’s ability to fight, and he wasn’t going to let me walk into this alone anyway. “Jules.” There was absolutely no end to the ways being able to Impersonate someone in authority might be useful in the city. “Ember.” She was the smartest, besides being our early warning system for Terence. Em could sense when another member of her family was approaching. “And me.”
“What about Pen?” Jules asked. “It wouldn’t hurt to have a Mender around.”
“We will have a Mender around,” I answered. “Doctor Wentworth won’t be far from Prime Willis.” Rae Wentworth was the best Mender I’d ever seen, and she was Belle Willis’s personal physician. “We don’t need Pen too.”
“We should take Nicky,” Connor said. “If there’s even a chance he can activate your ability, we might need him.”
I sucked in a breath, considering that. I didn’t want Nicky anywhere near where other aingls might be, because Nicky had once been Ember’s brother Dominic. In his first life he’d died centuries ago, torn apart by people who were scared of him for no better reason than that he was different. They’d used an ability to do it too – that was the source of Terence’s hatred of abilities. Ember had got hold of the few circuits that were left of Dominic about a year back, and rebuilt him as Nicky. She said that this was a good second life for her gentle brother, who’d only ever wanted to love and be loved, but she wasn’t sure how the rest of her family would react. Some of them might try to turn him back into the Dominic they remembered. But Em would warn us if one of her family was near – we’d have plenty of time to get Nicky away.
“Okay. Nicky as well.” I looked over at Georgie and Daniel. “That’ll leave you two in charge of the Tribe while we’re gone. Are you okay with that?”
I expected either or both of them to say “yes” right away – Georgie because she never left the Firstwood anyway, and Daniel because he could always be relied on to do whatever was needed. Instead, Daniel looked to Georgie as if he was waiting for her to decide. But Georgie was still staring into the trees.
Daniel nudged her. She blinked, glancing around like she was surprised to find us all here. “Oh! Yes. We’ll stay. Are you finished talking now?”
I bit back a smile. “Yeah, we’re done.”
“Good. I have to go map.” She rose and took off into the forest, Daniel trailing after her. She hasn’t given up on the map then. But at least she had Daniel with her now, and she was obviously willing to let him stay with her when she mapped. She hadn’t been very keen on me hanging around. Not that she’d come right out and told me to go, but she knew I was scared of spiders and I wasn’t convinced that one of them falling on my head had been an accident.
I stood, holding my hand out to Em. “Come on,” I said as I pulled her up. “You have to tell the Tribe that they might be getting Exemptions.”
“They’ll be all over the forest at this time of day, Ash! I can tell them tonight, when they’re all together for dinner.”
“Why should we wait? We can find them. We’ll start at the food garden. Some of the Leafers at least will be there.”
Jules leaned back against the rock with an exaggerated yawn. “You two do that. I don’t feel like wandering round the forest.”
“Besides,” Connor added, “someone needs to update Jaz on everything that’s happening. We’ll go tell him.”
Em frowned. “Can’t you just mindspeak Jaz?”
I gave her a friendly shove towards the edge of the rock. “He’s out of range. Too far into the grasslands. Eggs, you know!”
My gaze met Jules’s as Ember climbed down into the forest. He knew why I wanted to take Em to the Tribe, and I didn’t even need to look at Connor to know he did as well. Jules understood Ember. Connor understood me. And they were giving this day to the both of us.
“How do you think I should tell them?” Ember asked as we made our way through the towering tuarts. “I mean, should I explain about Reassessments first, or should I start with the Exemptions and then explain, or–”
“Whichever way you pick is fine, Em,” I answered. She went quiet, rehearsing words in her head, and we walked on in silence.
Em had been right when she said the Tribe would be all over the forest. That was the whole point. She was going to get to tell this news many times over, which meant she’d have lots of happy moments, all wrapped up in the one day. Ember needed happiness to counterbalance the weight of the sadness she carried inside her. And the guilt. She’d never forgiven herself for inventing the Citizenship Accords. She’d done it after Dominic had died, when the aingls had been crazy with grief and terrified that people with abilities were coming for them. Now it made her sad and Ember could be sad in a way that was deep and bleak and endless. But Ember, with her perfect recall, would forever keep every moment of this day. And if I didn’t make it through this, she’d hold onto it for both of us.
I trailed my hand along the trees and tried to record the world the way she did, drinking in every detail of the moment. The roughness of the bark beneath my fingers. The lemony scent of the tuarts in bloom.
And two friends, walking in the sunshine of a spring afternoon.
THE LAKE
ASHALA
The sun was sparkling across the surface of the lake in places and casting sharp shadows in others, making it a jagged patchwork of light and shade. I’d been coming here every afternoon for the last few days because I’d be leaving for the city in about a week, and before I went I wanted to see my grandpa. Except so far he wasn’t coming out.
My many-times great-grandfather was an ancient earth spirit, a giant Serpent who lived in the water. He’d made my people back in the old world when “race” had meant something. Then, after the old world had ended in the Reckoning, he’d made the trees and all the other life around here.
I strode to the water’s edge. “Grandpa?”
No answer. But everything surrounding me was just a little too quiet. That was good, because the spookier this place felt the more likely it was that Grandpa was around. He wasn’t always because he went travelling sometimes. I wasn’t even sure how a giant serpent managed to get about without causing a panic, but ancient spirits probably had their own ways of doing things.
I walked into the shallows. It was cold so I stopped, hoping I wouldn’t need to go any further. “Grandpa? Are you here? Come out!”
Still nothing. I heaved a sigh and went striding towards the depths – and stumbled when the pressure of the water on my legs vanished.
The lake was gone. My pants were wet up to my knees, but there was no other sign that there’d ever been water here. For a second I stared stupidly down at the dry earth. Then I looked up and around, my breath coming quick and fast. Everything was gone. No trees. No animals. No anything. Just a bleak landscape of dirt and sky, both so grey they seemed to blur into each other.
I rubbed at my eyes. I’m hallucinating, I’m Sleepwalking, I’m … something! I tried to imagine the Firstwood coming back, recreating every detail of the forest in my mind. If I was somehow Sleepwalking and this was a dream, I should be able to control what happened. But the trees didn’t return. I was alone. My breath c
ame faster still. Don’t panic. Try to think logically about this. But there was no logic to this! Then I heard a sound, coming from somewhere in the distance. A keening noise that went up and down, like a song.
Grandpa sometimes sang.
I turned in the direction of the noise to see a far-off rise in the earth. Grandpa could be behind it. Cupping my hands to my mouth, I shouted, “Grandpa!”
No answer, but the singing continued. He might not have heard me. Either that or it wasn’t Grandpa. Probably best not to call out again until I’m sure. I started to run, pelting along through the eerie, empty landscape. I ran for what seemed like hours, the song getting louder as I approached the rise. Only it wasn’t really a song. It seemed more like … some kind of call? Perhaps the creature behind the rise was shouting out for their family the same way I had been for Grandpa. Or perhaps it was Grandpa, calling out for me. Whatever it was, it was beautiful, because it was the only proof I had that I wasn’t the only living thing in the world.
Then it stopped, and I was surrounded by silence.
For a second, I stopped too. Then I charged forwards faster than before, terrified that whoever had been singing was gone. I reached the rise and scrambled frantically upwards to peer over the top.
Grandpa was on the other side, his big shining blue body piled into a heap of coils and his head tipped up to the sky. I sagged in relief. Everything was going to be all right. Grandpa would get me home. He was facing away from me, and I opened my mouth to let him know I was here. But before I could get a word out the air was filled with a high-pitched warble, only it wasn’t coming from Grandpa. It wasn’t coming from any direction in particular as far as I could tell. It was just everywhere. Then there was another sound, only this time more of a low rumble. And a third sound, and a fourth, and dozens more after that, until the whole world was filled with voices. Somehow they all blended together, becoming a melody that swelled into something vast and powerful that sent tears leaking from eyes and laughter bubbling up in my throat. It was wonderful. Terrible. Painful. I curled up on the sand, digging my fingers into my palms as I tried to cope with a song that seemed to be turning me inside out.
Finally the song ended. I uncurled cautiously. My entire body was tender. I sat up, wincing, and looked over the rise again.
Grandpa had twisted around and was looking back at me. Hello, Granddaughter.
“You knew I was here the whole time, didn’t you?”
I know many things.
In other words, yes. I shifted so that I was perched on the top of the rise, staring down at him. “What is this place? And what was that song?”
This place is the end of the world. And the beginning.
“How can it be the end and the beginning?”
This is the time between the world that was, and the one that will be.
“The world that was? You mean the old world?” I gazed around at the dead landscape. “Have I travelled back in time? Or is this some kind of dream?”
Yes.
Grandpa did like being tricky. I tried another question. “And the song? What was that about?”
You.
“Me?”
And others like you.
“You mean people with abilities?” I stared at him in disbelief. I knew my Grandpa could do amazing things – I mean, he’d once brought Connor back from the dead – but this was the first I’d heard of this. “Grandpa, you’re not saying … you can’t have created abilities?”
I am not saying that I can’t have created abilities.
The colours in his eyes were whirling. He thought he was hilarious. “You know what I mean!” I shook my head. “Me, the Tribe – abilities everywhere – all because of you?”
It was not only me.
“Those other voices? Were they other ancient spirits?” I looked about, like they’d suddenly appear, which for all I knew they could. “Why can’t I see them?”
They are not here. The whirling stopped. I called and they answered from elsewhere. Elsewhen.
That would have totally confused me once. But I’d spent some time with two different ancient spirits now – Grandpa, and the cat spirit named Starbeauty who lived in Spinifex City – and I’d got much better at understanding them. Time didn’t seem to work the same for spirits as it did for us. Or maybe time worked the same for everyone, and spirits understood it better. “They were singing from a different time.”
Yes.
He sounded terribly sad. “Some of those spirits don’t exist any more, do they?”
Grandpa didn’t reply, but he went slithering around the rise, coiling until his huge head was resting at my side. I reached out to put my hand on his scales. “I’m really sorry.”
It did not turn out as we had meant.
“Because they died?”
All things die, and all things live. It did not turn out as we had meant because you were supposed to provide the things that were needed for humans to be. Water. Food. Warmth.
“I don’t see how …” But I did see. Waterbabies could make water out of nothing, Leafers could make anything grow, and Firestarters created fire. And abilities had only started appearing towards the end of the Reckoning, at a time when being able to make fire or water or food could have made all the difference. “We were supposed to make sure that humanity survived?”
Without cost. He let out a breath in a sigh that sent wind rushing across the grey landscape. Humans did not see the connections between themselves and the earth, in the world that was. There was a cost.
And I got it. “You were trying to make humans the resources instead of the earth! So we wouldn’t use everything up. That was clever, Grandpa.” Except that it hadn’t turned out as he had meant. Because thanks to Alexander Hoffman’s solar generators and recycling technology, humans hadn’t needed abilities to survive. Then someone with an ability had killed one of the aingls, and the Citizenship Accords had been created, and it had all gone wrong.
“They’re talking about making more Exemptions,” I told him. I was never sure how much he knew about what was happening in the world. “The Tribe might even get some. Maybe things could be as they were meant after all.”
No.
My heart leaped into my throat. “The Tribe won’t get their Exemptions?”
He tilted his head to one side. The world will not become as it was meant to be unless you become as you were meant to be.
“I don’t know what that is!”
He twisted until I was staring right into his swirling eyes. Do you dream because you are a Sleepwalker, Granddaughter? Or are you a Sleepwalker because you dream? And will you dream of what was meant?
That made even less sense than what he’d said before. I was still trying to figure it out when a voice behind me shouted, “Ash!”
I spun. But there was nobody there, just the endless greyness, so I turned back to Grandpa.
He was gone.
“Grandpa? Grandpa! Where are you? Don’t you dare leave me here!”
Someone put their hand on my arm from behind. I swivelled, flinging it off – and found myself staring into a familiar pair of pale green eyes. “Georgie?”
She let her hand fall. “Hey, Ash.”
I looked around. There was no greyness any more. I was standing in the lake, surrounded by tuarts. Everything was back, or I was.
“Georgie, I didn’t just … appear out of nowhere, did I?”
“No. Can you do that?”
“No, I don’t think I can.” I’d never left the Firstwood. It had all been inside my mind. I shook my head wonderingly. “I was here, and not.”
Georgie took hold of my arm again, and said very seriously, “Ash. This is the real world.”
For a second I stared at her. Then I realised. Here, and not. Georgie knew exactly what that was like, and which words I spoke to draw her home. I smothered a laugh. “Thanks, Georgie. I’m okay now.”
I splashed out of the lake with her following. When I reached the shore I dropped to the
ground, resting my arms across my knees and staring out at the water. Georgie sat at my side. I wasn’t looking directly at her, but I could sense her looking at me, so I turned to face her.
“Did you want me for something?” I asked. “Is that why you came to find me?”
She shook her head. “I came because when you’re standing in the water, this is where I am.”
That was Georgie-logic, and I accepted it. She kept staring at me, an anxious expression in her eyes. “Were you in a future, Ash?”
“No. Yes.” Wow, I was sounding exactly like Georgie herself. “I was in the past, I think. Or I was seeing something that happened in the past. But if things had gone how they were supposed to, the future would’ve been different.” And I could see that future too, at least inside my own head. A world where abilities were respected instead of feared, one where all the people and all the earth really did exist in harmony. A true Balance. I did dream of what was meant. I always had.
“Ash? Are you okay?”
I wiped at my eyes and nodded. “Yeah.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m fine, Georgie. I just saw something that upset me. In the future. Or the past. Or wherever.”
She put her arm around my shoulders. “Do you know how the world turns, Ash?”
“On its axis,” I replied promptly. Ember had taught me that.
Georgie shook her head. “No. It turns on choices.”
Choices. Like Grandpa and the ancient spirits choosing to make abilities. Or the aingls making the Citizenship Accords and the whole world choosing to keep them going. Or the way each of us made real the possibility of who we were. Do you dream because you’re a Sleepwalker, or are you a Sleepwalker because you dream … Something about that struck me as hopeful, because if bad choices and bad ideas could make the world then good ones could too.
“I guess the world kind of does turn on choices, Georgie!”
The Foretelling of Georgie Spider Page 4