“This is something our people will have to know – but not at tonight’s fireside. This will cause panic. We need time to talk and think.” He looks around at his elders and asks, “Do you agree, friends?” And, for all their talk of complete transparency, they all agree to keeping this news secret from the people. But who am I to question? I’ve never had to lead people through a threat like this.
Justus speaks up then, his voice cutting clear through the low, anxious murmur.
“What about Leora?” His eyes are on me. “Are you all so willing to ignore the obvious? Is it a coincidence that this marked outsider joins us at exactly the same time as Longsight decides to starve us out? At the same time that he begins his campaign of hatred against us? The exact moment that security in Saintstone increases – that they know our every movement – and our riders are pursued?”
There is a silence, but I can’t tell whether it is protective or whether they are weighing his words.
I realize that no one will speak for me. I will have to speak for myself.
“I had nothing to do with any of that.” My voice sounds small.
“Of course she didn’t,” Solomon says warmly. “Leora is an exile from Saintstone. Why would she collude with them?”
“Ask her.” Justus is looking at me, and a nasty smile is beginning. “Ask her where she went on Monday night.”
The night I met with Verity in the forest. I feel sick. I don’t know how he knows, but he does. He must have known this for days, and he’s been saving it up to destroy me with.
“She was at home with us, fast asleep,” Tanya says indignantly.
“Was she?” says Justus. “I don’t think so. Oh no, I think Leora was passing messages to someone from Saintstone. A contact who she met in the woods. Telling them our plans. Telling them how hungry we are and how broken. Telling them how to steal through our forest.”
“If this is just conjecture—” Tanya says coldly.
“No conjecture,” Justus says, and his voice is exultant. “She was seen. She was seen leaving your house.”
Fenn. It must have been.
“I…” Tanya begins, her brow clouding with confusion, but she is interrupted by a louder voice. Sana.
“And was she seen leaving the town? Was she seen meeting this imagined contact?”
For the first time a shadow of doubt crosses Justus’s face.
“I— No. But what else could she possibly have been doing at that time? Why leave the Whitworths’ furtively under cover of darkness if she wasn’t spying on us?”
“Perhaps,” Sana says, “Leora could tell us that herself.”
I look at her. Her expression is unreadable.
“I…” I swallow. “I couldn’t sleep for hunger. I haven’t been sleeping well anyway.” I’m stalling and I’m sure they know it. “I took the dog out and … and that was it.” I shrug. “I took her for a walk around the town and had some fresh air, and then I went home.”
To my surprise, my voice sounds utterly genuine – nervous, but honest. There is a pause.
Justus is looking around at everyone. “You believe this?” he asks incredulously.
“There is no reason for the child to lie,” Solomon says gently. “Ruth believed in her. Ruth, our eldest and wisest, believed that she was here to do good, not evil. I trust Ruth.”
Justus gave a short bark of laughter. “So, you are happy for this … this aberration” – I flinch – “to walk around, hearing our secrets, and carrying them back to her own kind? You seem determined to walk into a trap of Longsight’s making!”
“We trust no one mindlessly,” Solomon says firmly. “Leora has been accepted into our community, with the caveat that she should learn from us, and that we continue to test her honesty. Ruth believed that was right, and we shall continue her work.” He looks around. “Who will guide the child?”
I see Tanya open her mouth, but before she can speak I hear Sana’s voice.
“It would be my honour,” Sana says, “if you would allow me to be Leora’s mentor.” Her eyes meet mine, and they are unreadable. “I would consider it a great privilege.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“It’s your birthday soon,” I say later that morning while Gull and I are stripping the beds ready for the laundry. “Are you excited?”
Gull sinks back into a pile of dirty sheets and blankets, her stones clinking as she stretches back. Sighing, she talks to me with closed eyes.
“My tunic is nearly ready.” She runs her hand across her pouch. “And then I have to sew these into the hem.”
“Well, I think you’ll have enough.” I throw the pillowcase at her. “In fact, you’ve got enough to build an entire white house.”
“Oh, don’t.” Gull sounds defeated.
“Am I allowed to help you sew them into your tunic?” I ask.
Gull is quiet for a while. “I don’t know,” she says thoughtfully. “It would save me a load of time.”
“Well, then, if there aren’t rules saying I can’t…” I raise my eyebrows and grin at Gull, and she gives me a hesitant smile.
“You are one weird girl, Leora.” She heaves herself up to stand. “But maybe that’s why I like you.”
Lessons with Sana begin right away. She and I stroll around the village while we talk. People are sorting through the supplies the riders have brought, and there’s a contented, hopeful buzz in the air. They don’t yet know there is more at stake than their next meal. Sana is good-humoured and I notice the way she smiles at and chats with people as we pass. She’s popular, and a little awe-inspiring.
“This must all be quite a shock,” she murmurs to me as we watch a small child chasing after a puppy and giggling. “Coming here, finding out we’re not quite as barbaric as you expected.”
Her tone is challenging but not unfriendly. I give a wry smile. “I’m beginning to see that nothing is ever quite what I expect.”
Sana chuckles and looks at me. I keep my face forward, hoping she can’t see how nervous I feel. “You look so very like Miranda,” she says softly, and I jerk my head to look at her face. I remember Obel saying the same. But then he thought I looked like the White Witch too. I should get used to calling her Belia. “You’ve got such delicate features – lovely cheekbones. Your mum always wore her hair long, and it was a shade lighter than yours but hers had the same tendency to tangle. Maybe it’s your pale skin and blue eyes – always looking curiously at the world. But there’s no question who you belong to. You’re just like her.”
“You said that on my first day, remember – as you were leaving,” I say quietly.
“Miranda and I… We were best friends. I’ve never really come to terms with losing her – and when I saw you that night when you appeared at the fireside, stumbling from the forest…” She stops and catches hold of my hand. “I thought I was seeing her ghost.” Sana’s eyes are shining and she’s softer than before.
“I didn’t know…” I try to sift my thoughts. “No one would tell me anything about her. Only Ruth.” A sigh heaves through my body. “I just want to feel close to her. To understand what I am.”
Wordlessly, Sana opens her arms, and I fall greedily into her hug. She strokes my hair and I feel like she is trying to soothe herself as much as me. When I break away, she looks at me steadily.
“I’m sorry. I never thought I would have this moment; I never thought I would see you again after Miranda left.” She gives a shaky laugh. “And now I am to mentor you and instruct you in our ways. Humour me, let me do my duty: there’s so much I’ve missed. I owe it to Miranda to look out for you.”
We feast together at the fireside that night, sitting in small groups eating blood-red tomatoes and sticky, oozing cheese, and we are even given a piece of dense madeira cake. I could cry at its sweetness.
The elders look anxious when Sana gets up to speak. Anxious because they wonder what she’ll say, or because they know already? I think about Solomon asking them to stay quiet about Longsight’s trou
pe getting closer to the village.
“We give thanks for this food,” she says quietly. “But, my friends – I have to tell you this. I do not know when there will be more.” An uneasy, almost angry hum starts up. People are relaxing for the first time in weeks, and she is telling them they can’t enjoy themselves.
“I know this isn’t what you want to hear. But I believe the threats from Saintstone are real. The tide is rising. The propaganda from Longsight is relentless – they all believe that we are preparing to attack.” She gives a bleak laugh at this. “The opposite is true, but Longsight wants an easy victory. He wants you broken. And indeed, I believe that he has succeeded. I have never seen you so weak, so in need, so starved of hope.” Whispers now, uneasy shifting.
“I want you to hear me clearly: they killed Ruth.” There is a surge of confused chatter at this. “Oh yes, they did. They starved her. She was sick; she needed food and medicine, and they denied her. They have never wanted us to thrive but now they want us gone. Don’t you see?” She looks around at us, our faces fixed on hers. “They are killing you, slaughtering you slowly, so slowly they’re hoping you won’t notice. Yes, they killed her. And this is just a beginning!” There is a call of agreement, a shout of “She is right! We’re treated worse than cattle.” I look around but can’t tell who spoke.
“They want you beaten and broken and frightened,” Sana whispers. “And I do not want them to succeed in making you afraid, for fear will freeze into your bones. It will make you weak.” She casts a look at the elders, who shift uncomfortably. “And now that we are frightened and weary, they will strike. They will annihilate us with one stroke. Why do you think Longsight is impeding our gathering of food and medicine now, after all these years of the leaders of Saintstone turning a blind eye? Why is he suddenly discovering our ways through the forest? Because he intends to attack, at any moment. We need action, and fast.” She lets the words rest and settle once again. “The marked tell their people that we are like a hungry beast, growing bigger and stronger. Longsight has painted himself as the fairy-tale hero. They long to slay the monster and free the kingdom. They will only feel safe again when we are gone. And if any of their own preach tolerance, then they are marked as forgotten.” I lift my eyes. She is right, I think. “Little do they know – they are the monster.”
Fenn stands then, and others join him. Soon many in the group are standing, all stamping their feet.
“Of course, I am only the messenger,” Sana says. “It is not for me to tell you what your next move should be. But know this. Longsight expects to destroy us with ease. He is expecting a massacre.” She lifts up her eyes and her voice. “Let’s give him a war.”
The next morning, fumbling with my boots, with the angry fireside cries still ringing in my ears, I find another note. Neat, cramped writing, summoning me to my next meeting with Longsight’s contact. Verity.
Who is writing these notes?
I breathe deeply and throw it on to the smouldering fire – watching it all burn to ash.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The first person to be taken is the boy I saw at the surgery, the day after I arrived. A small boy with huge eyes and tousled hair.
He hasn’t been well for some time. His fever didn’t break, and so he was taken from his home and looked after by the healers. But he got worse and worse. He couldn’t stop vomiting. And now he is gone.
And he is only the first. That week more and more start to fall ill with cramps and vomiting. Tanya comes home at odd hours, exhausted from caring for the sick day and night.
It is only after the third death that grief turns to suspicion.
The fireside that night is silent. Penny, who is pregnant, leans against Blake, who strokes her hair. She is very pale. Fenn doesn’t sit with us as usual; instead, I notice him prowling the edge of the circle, his fists clenched. And then, when Solomon calls for silence and the nightly tale, Fenn interrupts.
“Their symptoms are all the same.” He looks round at us all. “Do you not understand? This is no ordinary sickness. We are being poisoned.”
I thought I had seen fear before, but this suggestion breeds instant panic.
Sana stands, worry and confusion on her face. “It’s not fair to scare people like this, Fenn,” she says. “We need to be strong, not to panic. What grounds have you to speak of poison? We have had sickness before—”
But Fenn is undeterred. He lifts his chin and meets her eyes squarely.
“This is no ordinary sickness,” he calls. “I suggest that we visit the well at first light.”
The fireside time explodes into angry arguments and accusations. As I watch, it is like ice breaking – families draw together, apart from the group. Fractures. Cracks.
It won’t take much for this community to break.
At dawn, Fenn is at the head of the group as we set out to walk to the well. He has rope over his shoulder and Lago at his heels and a look of determination that makes me unsure whether to hope or fear for the outcome of his search. Sana watches as more join him.
“He is wasting your time,” she calls out, and a few people hesitate. “Go home, do your work. We have sick people to care for. Longsight wants you frightened, paranoid – can you not see that?” A few do fall behind, but I hurry after Fenn. I need to see this for myself.
The walk to the well is a short one. Our breath mists on the early morning air and our faces are grim.
When we reach the well, Fenn and another boy lift the cover, and then a rope is tied around his waist. I hold my breath as he goes over the edge and out of sight. The rope is well tied and is being held by strong arms too, but it feels like when he went under at the lake. We hear his echoing progress and his grunts of effort as he eases himself slowly down. Once he cries out and must slip on the slick wall of the well, but the rope holds fast and he continues down.
And then the sounds stop. No one speaks – they hardly seem to breathe. Each of us waits for a sign that Fenn is OK. All I can hear is my own heartbeat and a buzz in my ears that seems to get louder the longer we wait.
And then, one solitary fly rises groggily from the opening of the well.
The buzzing grows oppressive – it isn’t in my head; it is coming from the well. A blur of flies, like a plague, like a cloud of evil, bursts out from the hole and we scatter, crying out at the terrible swarm. A helpless cry erupts and Fenn’s friends rush back to the rope. They strain and yell as they drag the rope up, inch by inch. The rope still holds Fenn – but his cries have stopped. I can’t look away. Gull screams as a diabolical shape, dark as nightfall, rises up from the mouth of the well, carried aloft by Fenn.
A crow.
A huge crow – we can almost still see past its decay and rot, but it is mostly feathers and bone, beak and claws. And insects. Blowflies, wasps, beetles and larvae ripple over the carcass. The stench is how all your worst memories would smell if they met you at night. I will never get it out of my nose.
Fenn is pulled up and out of the well by the brave souls who can bear to go near. He drops to the ground and retches.
“Who did this?” he gasps. The people are silent – in shock at his terrible trophy and the rage in his eyes. “You know. You all know. Now say it. Who did this?”
First it is just a voice or two, but before long the chant goes up.
“Marked! Marked! Marked!”
I don’t wait to see what they will do next. I run.
“It could have been an accident,” Kasia says that night at fireside, ever the voice of peace. “A terrible mistake. Perhaps someone forgot to replace the cover…” But the majority drown her out and she sits, a look of desperate sadness on her face. When I see Justus glaring at me I stare back, wishing I could shout aloud that I know he as good as killed my mother.
It is only when Sana stands that quiet returns.
“An act so brazen in its cruelty could only come from a singularly devious heart. One who is willing to target the very weakest of our people – a person wh
o wants nothing less than war.” Cheers like battle cries rise up and seem to make the fire wilder and more bright. I shiver as I catch my name in the outcry. Sana holds up her hands for silence again. “But that person is not Leora Flint.”
Sana waits for the jeers to pass, looking absolutely at ease. “On our return from Saintstone, we feared we were followed.” The air is electric with terror. “I thought we had shaken them off. Clearly, I was wrong.” She begins pacing then, walking around the clusters of people, their faces upturned, waiting on her every word. I wonder at the elders allowing this – letting her take charge of the meeting again. “This is but a taste of their depravity, and our dead just the first fruits of the terrible harvest they long to reap. It is only a matter of time, now that they know where we are. We must act now.”
Someone cries out at this.
“Oh, I know – we are not ready yet.” Sana’s voice is rich and clear. “But we will be.” She raises her hands to calm the frenzied cheers. “Do not blame one innocent child.” Her gaze falls on me. “Save your anger for the guilty men who would see our people wiped out. Have patience – you will not be asked to relent for long.”
Gull holds my hand as we walk back to the house. It is just us – Fenn has stayed behind, and Tanya and Solomon are nowhere to be seen. The night is cold and dark, and I am grateful for her warm hand in mine, but all I can think is how I have betrayed her.
Traitor, traitor, traitor.
There are no more deaths.
We carry on as best we can, but there is a feeling like we are at the top of the pendulum swing – that moment when it feels almost like a pause, before it hurtles back with ever-increasing power. These are people waiting to fight, they are brave – but I am sick at heart. They don’t know their enemy – not really – and although they may be brave and resilient, they can never win.
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