Spark

by Alice Broadway

  I look round at Minnow, who is smiling, eyes fixed on Longsight, as though he were a saint. They are both enjoying this moment so much and I’m worried – because I think they might have got me.

  “I will tell them,” I say. “I will tell everyone here in Saintstone the truth. That the blanks fear us as much as we fear them. That you keep them starved and weak. That you deceive your own people just to gain control.”

  “Oh, my child! And what if you do? Do you think our people will believe you when you whine to them that the poor blanks are sad and hungry? Do you expect them to show compassion?” I take a breath. “Or will they trust their leader: whose marks are so exemplary, who always acts for their good and fights their corner?” I shift in the chair. He is right, I know he is.

  “I have a much better idea, Leora. Something that I’ve been planning for some time. The whole reason you were sent to Featherstone, in fact. You were never meant to be my spy; what you are, Leora, is the spark that will ignite a war.”

  I stare at him.

  “What do you mean?” I whisper.

  “What will happen is this. I call a town meeting, first thing. The good people of Saintstone know something is brewing.” He smiles, and I shiver. “I introduce you as our little informant and tell the people all that you’ve risked to find out the truth about those vile blanks. And then you will tell them that truth. The shocking things you’ve discovered: blanks champing at the bit, hungry for war, filled with hatred, desperate to destroy our ways. Those children who went missing last year – the blanks got them, didn’t they? That poor boy who never came home last month, whose body was found in the quarry – the blanks. Those crops that were burned to the ground – well, I could go on. They’ve been particularly active this month.” He actually laughs. “You’ll enjoy it. The prodigal returns, our hero; the poster girl for the new campaign to preserve our culture. Of course, you’ll have to tell them yourself. So that it has a real ring of truth.”

  I have no words. Because he’s right, he’s right. His word will always drown out mine. It’s not truth that matters; it’s power. It’s telling people what they want and expect to hear.

  “I will never lie for you.” But my voice quavers.

  “Oh, you will say exactly what you’re told to say. And do you know what the best thing is, Leora?” I feel myself shaking my head. “The best thing is that you can’t go crying back to the blanks.” I grip the sides of the seat so that I don’t fall. “Because when they hear the truth – that you were in Featherstone as my spy – well, I don’t suppose they will be counting down the days until you return.”

  My arms are shaking and I don’t know if I can hold on. Gull, Tanya, Solomon, Fenn – they will all hear this version of the tale, and it’s exactly the storyline they expect. That I am Nate, the Saint, come again to undermine them from within. And, worst of all, it’s the truth.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  They’ve erected a little platform, big enough for me and the Mayor to stand on. It’s right in the centre of the square, next to the statue of Saint.

  I’ve been given my lines and told in no uncertain terms what will happen if I fudge them. Jack Minnow holds out a waistcoat and Longsight slides into it, brushing his hands over his chest and stomach.

  “This morning isn’t about me and my marks.” He winks at me as he does up the buttons – only his strong arms and his striking face are on show. “We’ve sent word that you have returned. I don’t want to distract from the main event.”

  We wait in the shadowy foyer of the government building, looking out at the crowd that is gathering. I can see Karl by the podium, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. He looks sweaty and anxious; probably keen for this big public meeting to go to plan; to look good in front of the boss. His eyes meet mine, and I look away.

  I stand with Jack Minnow horribly close to me and Mayor Longsight a step behind, feeling dread build more and more as the scatter of people swells to a crowd. People are chattering excitedly. Fear and lack of sleep keep me dizzy and sick. I scan the crowd, frantically searching for Mum. I’m torn between being desperate to see her, to see if she’s OK, and horror at the idea that she will be present to witness my betrayal. Can I do it? Can I be Longsight’s mouthpiece? Or can I, at this very last, be brave and refuse to speak his words?

  How many will suffer if I don’t?

  As I look out at the crowd I see a flash of red and I look closer, hoping that it might be Mum wearing her red shawl – but it’s a child wearing a red coat, carried on her father’s shoulders. I nearly cry then, because just seeing the kid’s face wide open with joy makes me feel all the lost hope that is just beyond reach. Another glimpse of red, and I turn – but it’s not her; just someone else.

  One of the government heavies who has been out there controlling the crowd as they arrive comes to the doors and nods. Minnow takes the cue and steps forward, opening the doors for Longsight and me to walk through. Jack Minnow leads the way, and we walk right through the crowd.

  The message is clear, as it always has been; Longsight isn’t untouchable and remote – he’s with them, one of the people. The platform is closer with every step, and I can hear people say my name, whispering it through the crowd. Leora Flint. The steps leading up to the platform seem like a mountain.

  Longsight climbs on to the platform and I put one foot on the steps, but Minnow’s hand lands heavily on my shoulder.

  “Not yet,” he murmurs in my ear. “Let him warm the crowd up for you first.” I shudder under his touch.

  The chatter dies down and Longsight holds out his hands. His smile is warm, as always, but he lets it fall away and then his face is serious.

  “People of Saintstone. My friends.” He doesn’t need to shout; his voice carries widely. “I brought you here to share urgent news – and it is news that you will find hard to hear.” He stops, and any whispers or coughs in the crowd stop too. People’s faces are anxious. Fear is always close to the surface here.

  “As you know, our policy with the blanks has long been one of peaceful segregation. We have allowed them to live according to their ways and beliefs, on the condition that they do not interfere with ours. It was how my predecessors wished things to continue” – he pauses – “even when the blanks did not always maintain their side of the bargain. Their nature is violent and, as you know, soon they began to encroach on our way of life. Small things at first. Livestock going missing. A poisoned dog. Our convoys waylaid and food stolen.”

  I think of the run-down band of blanks back at Featherstone, too weak with hunger to stand.

  “My predecessors chose to look the other way. To live and let live.” He gives a small, sad smile. The smile of someone who knows better.

  “And, my friends, that just made them bolder. More daring. Our children went missing. To swell their numbers, no doubt.” A sob breaks from the crowd. “Rumours began to reach my ears of a mass uprising being planned, of an attack that would leave us broken. That they had weapons and strength beyond what we imagined. And so I made the decision to send one of our own into Featherstone.” He glances at me. “One of our own, who had strayed but was willing to atone for her sins, not just through marks but through deeds. One who was willing to risk her life to bring us valuable information about the blanks and what they are planning.”

  He pauses and drops his voice, just a touch, but the crowd draw nearer, a surge, all eyes fixed on him. “Because what they are planning, friends, is terrible indeed. We will need all our bravery and all our nerve to rise up – and quash this attack on our values and our liberty. But I will let you hear that from the woman herself.” He turns to me again, and his gaze is full of compassion. “I will let her tell you everything. Friends, please welcome with love in your hearts – Leora Flint.”

  He holds out his hand to me.

  And then two things happen. The first thing is, I see Mum. On the other side of the square I see her. She’s not even wearing red; she has a purple shawl and her
hair is down.

  The crowd draws in tightly; they press in on us as though more people have joined it, and the square seems as full as on that awful day when Connor Drew was marked. But I pay no attention to them – all I see is Mum. She is just metres away, and I watch as she picks her way through the people. She hasn’t seen me and I don’t shout – my voice would only be lost and for this moment I want to soak up the sight; the sight of my mother coming for me. She loves me, she must still love me.

  Then the other thing happens.

  There’s a weird breath of silence, as though everyone has inhaled at once. And then it’s like I am twenty people seeing it all. A figure in black clothes, black cloth wrapped around the face, is on to the platform next to Longsight, and they raise their hand up with something in it – it’s shining, but I can’t understand what I’m seeing. The person shouts something.

  “Our time has come! Watch us arise. We blanks fear you no longer!”

  Their voice is hoarse, and for a moment I think I know it. And then I hear a man’s voice shout, “The Mayor!”

  I see it – I see the blade penetrate the fabric of Longsight’s waistcoat, plunging deep into his belly. The blood comes at once. More than I would have thought possible.

  Longsight drops to his knees. It’s his eyes that scare me more than the blood – surprise, turning to horror.

  Minnow hurls himself at our broken Mayor with a howl, covers his bloody torso with his own body. Someone close to me screams and I look around, but the person in black has gone already.

  The crowd is pulsing like a murmuration; following each other in every direction as though someone knows where they are going, but they’re going everywhere all at once and the figure in black is gone, lost in that crowd. Have they been caught or have they escaped?

  And then it’s as though someone flicks a switch, because in one breath everyone has the same idea. Everyone runs, but they all go in different directions. Some, perhaps, chasing the person with the knife, some going towards Longsight. And I look at him again. He is lavish with blood; it swims from him as though he has plenty to spare. Minnow’s hands are on him, stained and filthy with the carnage, his face a mask of rage.

  I back away – stepping down from the platform. Now is my chance, I think numbly. But I’m not sure whether to run – or where to run. Where is Mum? Wherever I go people roar towards me, and I’m stretching my body, my head, looking everywhere for her. Where did she go, my mum? Someone clips my shoulder as they pass and I am taken down in the tide. I can’t predict the rapids or the rocks, and I feel myself sinking. Hands, feet plunging me down in their desperation to get past. A foot hits my jaw and a foot is on my back, on my ankle, on my hand, on my head, and I feel I know what it must be like to be a grain of sand running through the timer, being pushed down and squeezed from every side. I taste blood, feel it rush from my nose, and I know this is it.

  Until I find I am rising again. Strong hands grasp me under my arms and my feet hit the ground, pain sizzling through me. I think that death isn’t much better than life and I hear the words, “Stay with me. Stay with me.”

  I look across the crowd for what seems like miles and she’s there, blood trickling from her head, and she sees me. Her eyes widen with shock and her arm reaches out to me, her mouth open in a howling cry.

  And I am taken away. Broken from her grasp and from her view. An umbilical wrenching that separates us into two once again and I am being dragged, limping, crying, begging, by Oscar. Oscar, whose face I want to touch and whose eyes make me sad and safe all at once and I follow and I keep up and I run run run with my lungs begging for me to stop time. I’m hardly thinking when we reach the woods.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  We’re clear of the town and I try to make Oscar stop, but he tells me we can’t, not here. Blindly, we make our way deeper into the wood until, stumbling and slipping, we almost fall into a clearing and Sana is there, holding two horses, her eyes wide, a spot of colour in each cheek. She gasps when she sees us.

  “What – what happened?” Her voice is like a sob.

  Oscar is bent double, catching his breath.

  “The Mayor was attacked. Someone with a knife – killed maybe, I don’t know.”

  “I don’t understand…” She looks between us. “Who…”

  “It wasn’t one of ours,” Oscar gasps.

  “And it wasn’t one of us…” Her breath is slowing and evening out. She looks at me, dawning realization in her eyes. “Minnow. This is him. He persuaded Longsight to bring you in, back from the blanks, summon a crowd, and then… I was so stupid. I should never have let you come. We’ve been set up.”

  “It wasn’t you?” I can barely get the word out; my teeth are chattering with shock. “It wasn’t you?”

  “No! I’ve been here the whole time.” She is almost wailing, and the horror on her face saps the final bit of courage in me. “Why would we attack Longsight? They made it look like one of us.” She paces furiously. “It will have been one of Minnow’s people. For years the rumour has been that Longsight is just his stooge, that Minnow used him to get to power but he’s been biding his time, trying to turn the people against us…” She groans. “Longsight is a politician; he used hatred of the blanks to come to power – but he doesn’t care about us, not really. Whereas Minnow wants us gone. Longsight has served his purpose.” She smiles grimly. “And now Minnow will get his wish. He can wage war with impunity. That fool Longsight will be a dead figurehead for war.”

  “The blood…” I whisper. “There was so much blood.”

  Sana passes round a canteen of water and we all take greedy glugs.

  “How were you there?” I ask Oscar. “How did you know to come and find me?”

  “It was Karl,” Oscar says as he breathes deeply, trying to calm himself. “He’s been working with us – with the crows.” He catches my eye and grins. “I know – but we came to believe we could trust him. He’s changed since you knew him. Anyway, he listened to your conversation with Longsight, and came for us. Sana sent me ahead to see what was going on and I arrived just as the attack happened.”

  “We need to go,” Sana says abruptly. She gestures at the horses. “I sent Helina and Rory ahead of us, back to Featherstone. Hurry, we can’t stay here.”

  In silence, we begin the journey back to Featherstone, back to the place that felt like home for a moment. Sana sets a brisk pace.

  I shiver as I imagine our return. The truth that will have to be told about what I was doing in Featherstone and what horror I have brought to them now. The horror of war. I imagine Fenn’s dark, angry face. I imagine Tanya’s: the shock and betrayal. I can’t even bring myself to think about Gull.

  It’s too much to bear. And so, while we keep moving, I decide to pretend I’m not here. If I’m not here then I don’t have to think; I don’t have to feel the pain or the tiredness or the coldness that creeps ever deeper with each new rain shower. I hold tight to the reins, eyes fixed on the path ahead, and imagine I am in the treetops. I imagine I am Gull, sitting in a tree watching all this happen. I imagine I am a bird, flying over and seeing our destination and singing not far now not far now. I imagine I am just the wind and that I can pass through it all, that there is nothing behind me, nothing ahead and I don’t have to worry any more.

  A bird calls, harsh in my ears, and I see a flash of black and white darting through the trees. I try not to be brought back to earth, but the floating feeling of being above and around everything has gone, and there is nothing to do but to go on.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  I’ve never known it to be so quiet at the fireside. We stumbled in just as it was beginning and now Sana is relaying the awful truth. She starts with my betrayal – she told me there was no other way – and she ends with Longsight’s death.

  “It must have been their plan all along,” she finishes. She is exhausted and her voice sounds at the edge of breaking with each word she says, but she forces herself to reply to the questi
ons that come from the frightened community.

  “He’s dead?” Ben calls out. “Is Longsight dead?”

  “I didn’t see,” Oscar says. “But there was a lot of blood.”

  Silence. Then Sana continues, her voice rough. “Oh, it sounds like they orchestrated it very nicely, Minnow and his goons. From what Leora said, it sounds as though they created a perfect storm of panic and confusion in the square and pinned it all on us. Helina says that she and Rory were pursued; Rory has still not returned.”

  Justus speaks up. “You betrayed us,” he says quietly, his eyes on mine. “I knew it all along.”

  There is a long pause and I close my eyes for a moment.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say wearily.

  I have no choice now but to be honest.

  To lay myself bare.

  “Yes. I betrayed you. Mayor Longsight sent me to Featherstone in the first place.” I look at my hands folded in my lap. I can’t look up and see their faces. “He asked me to bring him information.”

  “And you did?” Solomon’s voice is so quiet I could cry.

  “I had just one meeting with my … contact.” I risk a glance up and wish I hadn’t; they all look so stern and so sad. “I told her the truth,” I continue. “I told them you could never muster an army; that you had so little—”

  “You snake!” cries Justus. “You revealed to them just how little fight we could put up!”

  “She also told them about the plan to raid the hospital.” Sana speaks slowly, as though each word hurts.

  “Ruth’s blood is on your hands, traitor!” An angry voice calls out and I sink lower, shame overtaking me.