She sees my furrowed brow and leans forward. “Oh yes – it’s war. That stunt with the crow convinced any doubters that the marked know where we are and plan to attack. The question is … whose side will you be on?”
I stare at her. She seems so angry, almost contemptuous.
“I don’t…”
She stands with a gesture of frustration. “You have all this power, Leora – more than you even know.”
“I don’t have power!” I laugh.
“Open your eyes, Leora. See yourself for what you are. You know: born blank and yet marked. Both Belia and Moriah.”
I remember Mel saying the same – that in some mysterious way I link the two worlds. She spoke of an old story where the sisters united everyone. Somehow I don’t think this is what Sana wants.
“I really believe that you have been sent for such a time as this. Show the marked that you reject their ways. Show your allegiance to us, Leora. We need you. These people need you. And now that Longsight is dead…”
“You think he’s dead?” I ask.
“I think so,” she says quietly. I remember – all that blood.
“I want to help,” I tell her. And I do – the crow was just a warning; it wouldn’t take much for Saintstone to destroy this village and I can’t let that happen. But if I have learned one thing these past few weeks, it’s that no one side is right. I can’t turn my back on everything I have believed in my whole life – on everything that I still believe. That would be as wrong as what has happened here today.
“Then trust me,” Sana whispers, and I close my eyes. “Leora – I have been fighting for these people longer than you’ve been alive. I have been getting Featherstone ready for this. Sometimes I’ve had to make difficult choices, take dangerous paths – but it’s all so we reach the right destination. I don’t like seeing my people starve. I don’t like seeing them in need. But sometimes it’s only when you’re hungry enough that your appetite for justice really grows. Sometimes—”
That’s when Justus bursts into the room. His face is pale and for once there is no complacent smile on his lips.
“It’s Rory.” He swallows. “He’s back. You must come, quickly.”
Chapter Forty-Six
They took his hand.
They bound it just enough to stem the gushing blood and they let him leave, so he could pass on a message. He gasps it out to us right there in the square, as Tanya calls for hot water and bandages.
“He’s dead. Mayor Longsight is dead.” He coughs. “Minnow said to tell you … to tell you that the crow was just a warning. Get ready, he said.”
Sana nods as though satisfied.
I push past her.
“What about the others?” I ask urgently.
He looks at me, his eyes dark with despair.
“I know nothing specific. Except that he has them. He has them all. Minnow. He has them all.” And then his eyes close, exhausted, and he slumps back.
“Why don’t they just kill us all now?” Justus is asking at the fireside that night. “If that’s what they mean to do. Why taunt us with these … games?” He has been scared by the latest attack, I think. But he is not so afraid that his thirst for blood has been sated.
Oscar is next to me, and he reaches out and clasps my hand. I feel as though he’s reconnected me to something I had lost.
“They are warning us,” Sana tells us. Her eyes are bright, feverish in the light of the fire. “They want us to see that they could destroy us so easily. They could have killed every one of us – but instead they leave a crow. They could have killed Rory but instead they took his hand and had him relay a message. They are playing with us and at any time they could stop the game – they have the power to end it.”
We are eating together again: mostly bread with mould spots on it that I pick away, and some vegetables in a watery stew. There is enough, for now. But hunger is a memory I cannot forget, and I can’t be the only one who fears it.
“We have been warned, not just by this crow.” Sana looks at Gull. “You saw Gull’s ritual. It was a failed absolution, a sign that we are not honest, not whole. We need to destroy the poison that creeps at our borders. We need to cleanse the land that belongs to us and claim it as our own.”
Tanya stands. “Those are strong words, Sana. I do not know what happened at the lake. But look at us: we are weak and tired and few. We have no weapons. We have nothing on our side but passion and belief. If you lead us to war, then I fear you will lead us to destruction.” A number of people clap and call out their agreement.
Sana shakes her head. “We are not as isolated as you think. We are not the only enemies of Saintstone.” She looks around, taking in the reaction to her statement. “Saintstone creates its own enemies. You’ve heard of the forgotten?” Some nod. “The forgotten are those marked who have been judged to have committed crimes so heinous that they forfeit their right to salvation. These rebels are marked with a crow.” She looks over at me and I feel my heart start to race. “Leora’s own father, Joel Flint, was marked in such a way. Many of us can remember him showing us that mark. Punished for saving one of our own.” There are murmurs of assent. “But do you see?” She stops and lets the silence swell, looking at each of us in turn. “In marking its own, in driving them away, rejecting them from the community, Saintstone has created its own enemies.” She laughs mirthlessly. “Its own people. People who know the ways of the marked but hate them with all their soul.”
I look at Oscar, thinking of Connor locked in his cell. He must be angry. But is he angry enough to turn on his own people? I squeeze Oscar’s hand more tightly.
Solomon speaks. “What are you saying, Sana?”
“We can work with them,” Sana says.
“You want us to ally with Saintstone’s worst criminals?” a mocking voice calls out. “You’re mad.”
“They are only criminals in Saintstone’s terms. These people are no different to us. Soldiers of conscience.” The crowd is quiet. “I believe that if we rise up to fight, they will join us.”
I turn to Oscar in shock and he looks as astonished as me. Some of the forgotten are good people like Connor, victims of Longsight’s cruelty, but others have indeed done terrible crimes. Featherstone should think carefully before we ally ourselves with them.
Solomon speaks and his voice is heavy. “You would risk our lives to ally with the worst of Saintstone. Destroy us all in a war we cannot win.”
“A war we can win,” Sana whispers, her face aglow. Justus turns to Fenn then, expecting to see the light of agreement in his eyes, but Fenn shakes his head and edges closer to Gull. “Do not forget our secret weapon, Solomon.” And she steps towards me and I know what is coming and I shiver. She takes my hand in hers and pulls me to my feet. “Leora Flint!” She holds my hand and raises it with hers. “Half marked, half blank. She will be with us, and that will be like a knife to Jack Minnow’s heart. She will stand with us, as Belia risen, as Moriah, as the child born both marked and blank. Do you not think the superstitious will turn and flee at the sight? The tide is changing,” Sana urges, and for the first time this evening the murmurs that rise around her sound excited. “Longsight is dead – Minnow is using that to his advantage. Well, let’s use it for ours. Jack Minnow will not be expecting an attack, not now. He knows us only as weak and broken. Now is our chance to prove him wrong. For too long, the marked have underestimated us. For too long we have been grateful for the rotten scraps from their table. For too long we have been kept meek and passive. No more, I swear it. Together, we will fight. And if we stand together, we will win. A victory not just for us, but so that our children and our children’s children do not have to know the privation and the indignity that we have suffered. Who is with me?”
They don’t even have to vote. There is no doubt that the people are behind Sana. Justus leads the crowd in cheers and applause. She is lifted on to their shoulders and the jubilant cries drown out even the loudest doubt. As I look around I see only a h
andful of worried faces. Kasia, holding her head in her hands. Fenn, his dark brows drawn together. Solomon and Tanya, who have a son held captive across enemy lines. And Oscar, his eyes thoughtful as his gaze locks with mine.
All around us, the cries of vengeance rise.
And that is how the war begins.
Chapter Forty-Seven
The Box
There was once a woman called Trickster, who spent her time thinking up extravagant cons that she could play on the people of the land. She had intellect and humour, creativity and courage, but she would disguise those qualities using the cover of her beauty. For she had learned that when people saw her beauty, they would never think she might also be cunning. And that was just how she liked it.
One day, Trickster was bored. Humanity had become wise to her tricks. Things were too peaceful – dull, she thought. There was not enough deception and strife in the world for her liking. She yawned.
“I suppose I will have to create a diversion myself.”
She walked the land, thinking and thinking, and a plan came to her. Her beautiful mouth spat out a gleeful laugh. It was perfect.
There were four brothers in the land and each was king of his own kingdom. For a long time the brothers and their peoples lived peacefully; but peace is terribly dull. So, Trickster invited the brothers to a ceremony. Each came at the appointed time, each wearing their best cloak and shiniest crown. The brothers were happy to see each other. They embraced and chatted and joked as they reminisced about their happy childhoods. But each went quiet when Trickster entered the room. She wore red robes and her milk-white skin gleamed as she walked slowly towards the men. In her hands she held a box. She placed the box on a table and smiled at the brothers. Each man secretly felt that she was smiling particularly at him. Each brother wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips.
“You brothers have been toiling,” Trickster said, her brow knitted in sympathy. “You sacrifice yourselves for your people and what do you get in return? Nothing but complaint and conflict. You have done faithful work, maintaining peace and caring for the land. I want to reward you.” Her delicate fingers stroked the box and the men shivered with longing.
“In this box are gifts – prizes, if you will. I will open the box and, oldest to youngest, you will each choose one of my treasures. When you return to your land, that treasure will be constantly bountiful in your kingdom. Choose well, choose wisely – eternal riches are to be found within.” And she eased a key into the lock, turned it gently and, with a sigh, the box opened. Beautiful light shone from within.
The eldest brother stepped forward and his eyes were saucers when he looked inside the box. He took a long time choosing, umming and ahhing until the rest of the brothers grew impatient. At long last he reached into the box and pulled out a great diamond. The other brothers grudgingly congratulated him.
After much deliberation, the second brother put his hand into the box and pulled out a perfect gold nugget. The third brother chose for himself the most splendid of pearls.
While all this was happening, the fourth and youngest brother had been watching carefully. He watched as his kind-hearted brothers grew hungry with greed and more selfish with each new treasure. He watched their eyes narrow and their expressions turn sour. He watched as Trickster goaded them and urged them on. And he saw beyond the glamour to the heart of the woman. He saw her glee at their division and he waited his turn.
When he reached the box, he did not look at Trickster, for he knew she had the power to put him under her spell once again. He gazed into the box and saw two treasures left. One was a bottle filled with purple potion; the label on the bottle read “power”.
The second treasure was small and hard to see in the dark corner of Trickster’s box. It was a wrinkled, speckled seed: the type you would reject from a packet if you were planting a garden. But the youngest brother took the seed, paying no heed to his brother’s laughter or Trickster’s suggestion that he choose again.
Each brother went home to his kingdom and Trickster’s promise came true. The first king’s land was a paradise of diamonds; the second king’s land produced so much gold that even the merest beggar became rich; the third king found that the beaches around his land had more pearls than grains of sand.
And the youngest king? His land provided plants, trees, and produce of every kind. There was never a bad harvest and there were always flowers on the table and food in the belly.
Trickster watched the brothers and waited. She didn’t need to lift a finger – for soon the fights began. The king who had gold longed only for diamonds and the people whose pockets were laden with pearls begged their king for gold. The king refused, hoarding it like a miser. At night, he would send men to steal pearls and diamonds. And from that day those three kingdoms have been fighting, backbiting, envying and stealing, moaning and murdering. All because of Trickster’s gift.
But Trickster knew she had been outwitted by the youngest king, whose land quietly prospered; she even came close to respecting him. And so she let him and his people live in bountiful peace, happily ever after.
Gull tells me this story through tears as we lie in our beds that night.
“So you see,” she whispers, “there will never be peace. Not while we can never understand each other and never share.”
But all I can think of is that seed. Because it sounds like hope.
Chapter Forty-Eight
“We can’t lose again,” Sana whispers in my ear, her breath hot and quick.
I wake with a start. For a moment I think I have dreamed her. She doesn’t look like she’s slept or washed. Gull sleeps soundly in the bed beside mine. Everyone around us is preparing to fight. Weapons are being collected. Houses are put in order. Everyone’s wits are sharpened too. Food is scarce again, and this time it’s like the hunger is salt on an open wound. I have never seen this community so sharp-eyed, so quick to argument. Even now everyone is at the elderhouse, thrashing out plans of attack.
“Every time it is us who lose,” she goes on, talking feverishly, as though picking up a conversation we were already having. “We lose homes, land, mothers, fathers, children, limbs. Every time it is us who are hungry, us who are cold and poor and sick. We could never win. And your mother knew it.”
I put a hand out to calm her. I take her wrist and ease her to sit on the bed. “This isn’t to do with my mum, Sana.”
She pulls away from me and her brow furrows, as though she’s working out some horrible sum. “But it is. It’s why she left us. Betrayed me – us – with that man.” She pushes back her chair. “She picked her side when she picked him over us. She claimed you were born marked. Ridiculous, heartless, deceiver.” I am not sure Sana even sees me, whether she knows I’m here. “I was sick when I found out about them.” Sana spits her words out. “I couldn’t eat again for days – just the thought of her and him and you. Disgusting.” I want to put my hands over my ears but I don’t. Something tells me I need to hear this.
“I would have stopped her leaving, of course. If I had known.” I frown my confusion; didn’t Sana help my mother leave? “She didn’t deserve to escape so freely. I would have done to her what your people did to our ancestors. The treachery can’t be forgiven. You can see that, Leora?” She is calm now, her voice almost soft as song – a dangerous magic. I take a step towards the door. I need to get Tanya, I think. Get help.
“My people have spent too long under the yoke of the marked. I had to make them angry. Hunger helps.”
Her eyes on mine are, I realize, wild.
“What can I do?” I ask her, stalling for time. “I am who I am, the way I was born. I can’t change that now.”
“Well, that’s true. I’m in an awkward position, Leora. You see, in spite of everything, people believe in you.” I edge nearer the door, ready to run for help, and suddenly she is beside me, her hand closing around my arm. “They’ve heard too many fairy tales, perhaps. For them, you are a sign that in the end we win –
that the marked can’t stand in opposition for ever. If you speak, they will listen to you.” She smiles, a very sweet smile. “We need you in battle. You are the spark that will ignite the powder. We need you on our side through the fire.” She finally lets go of my arm and turns towards the door.
“Through the fire, Leora.”
That night I dream of a box and a knife and a figure dressed in black.
Chapter Forty-Nine
A knife and a box.
I am woken by stifled whimpers but my dream will not fade. There is something, something I need to grasp … but my thoughts are silenced when I see Gull. She is in bed but awake and weeping, writhing in pain.
Gull is clawing at her skin, tears dripping off her chin. When she sees me, she looks in my eyes with such complete terror I can hardly bear it.
“I’m being judged,” she whispers urgently. “I’m guilty and the punishment is here.” I hold her hands still, fighting against her strength, and I look closely. Beneath the scratches are blisters. Burns, in perfect constellation formation. Livid, raised stars.
It’s where I marked her, with the ash from the fire.
“But I don’t understand,” I whisper, staring at the marks in horror.
“I didn’t want them to fade,” she tells me.
“Gull. What did you do?”
“I couldn’t sleep and I kept thinking how if only I could mark myself I might feel … lighter. Like that day in the forest. So I got some stuff from the fire in the sitting room and I mixed it with water and I…”
My heart sinks. She made lye, I think. She has poisoned her skin. “Wait here. We need to get help.”
Oscar is asleep on a pallet by the fire, Fenn in the rocking chair. I shake Oscar awake.
“Wake up. I need you.”
I lead him into the bedroom. He looks at Gull’s arm in horror and when he touches it she cries out in pain. Fenn appears in the doorway, rubbing his eyes.
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