As he looked up again at the camera, his arm tightened a notch farther so that he was mock strangling her for an instant, and his smile didn’t reach his eyes.
Leon had looked that cold in Gaia’s earliest days of knowing him, and then again for a brief time after he’d been released from prison in Sylum, but she’d thought that side of him was gone. Now she was shocked at how passionlessly ruthless he appeared. If she didn’t really know him, she might think he was capable of anything.
Genevieve made a gulping noise. “Oh, Miles! I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t talk to me,” the Protectorat said.
Mikey came running into the shot, looking more gangly than he did in person. Leon took a paper out of his pocket, handed it to Mikey, and pointed toward the south gate. Then he looked back at the camera and said something to Evelyn that made her laugh. Together, brother and sister blew kisses to the camera, and then, holding hands, they descended rapidly into the unlake and vanished.
Across the desktop, the Protectorat’s gaze grew hard. “You think you’re running New Sylum?” he asked Gaia, his voice cutting. “Who’s running you?”
Leon is not running me, she thought.
“We just need water,” she said. “We just want to survive.”
“Is that your ransom for my daughter?”
“It’s just the truth.”
“I don’t bargain with animals. Tie her up and take her back to V cell,” the Protectorat ordered Marquez. “Mabrother Iris, call up the captains. We’re getting Evelyn back and eradicating the refugees. Now.”
“You can’t!” Gaia protested, her eyes darting to Mabrother Iris.
“Miles, you cannot put this girl in V cell,” Genevieve said.
“Stay out of this. It’s your fault he’s even alive,” the Protectorat said to his wife.
Genevieve clicked her nails sharply on the desktop. “I will not stay out of this. Let me remind you that I have saved your political neck more than once. They have Evelyn. Would you get that through your thick head? Where’s your diplomacy?” She gestured to Gaia. “You need to start treating this girl properly.”
“Wrong,” he said. “There’s no need to pretend any compassion for her whatsoever. We can move forward immediately, consent be damned.”
“Have you forgotten the consortium entirely?” Genevieve said.
“I am thinking of them. Rhodeski will be delighted.”
“Miles! He will not!” Genevieve said, shock and disapproval blatant in her voice.
The Protectorat controlled himself with visible effort.
“He had his hands on her,” the Protectorat said quietly.
“I know,” Genevieve said, dropping her voice, too. “I saw. It’s going to be all right. It won’t happen again.”
The Protectorat clenched his hand into a fist, and Genevieve moved slowly closer to him.
“It’ll be all right. We’ll get her back,” she added soothingly.
Leon’s move with Evelyn was a mistake. Gaia could see that. It had escalated the Protectorat’s animosity in a way that could only make things worse. She traced the fading red lines on her wrists again, and knew Marquez was hovering behind her with the strap. She glanced at Emily, who stood patiently, regarding the scene as if it hardly concerned her.
“Do you still want me to call up the captains, Mabrother?” Iris asked.
“Hold that order,” the Protectorat said. “We’ll see what his note says.”
“Should I bind her, Mabrother?” Marquez asked.
The Protectorat glanced at his wife. “Hold that, too.”
“Mabrother, you can hardly want me here,” Emily said.
“You’re excused, of course. Thank you, Masister,” the Protectorat said, and Emily slipped out without another glance at Gaia.
“What do you want from me?” Gaia asked. “Why don’t you just tell me?”
She looked from the Protectorat to Mabrother Iris, and then to Genevieve, who was regarding her husband intently. When he moved toward the desk and began talking curtly to Mabrother Iris in low tones, Genevieve turned to Gaia.
“It’s a delicate offer and we’re not going into it while Evelyn’s safety is uncertain,” Genevieve said, and then hesitated. “You won’t be forced into anything,” she added, and turned to join the others.
Gaia was far from reassured. She strode to the window to watch for the arrival of Leon’s note, and the square of the Bastion spread out below with fan patterns in the pavers. The gallows, she saw, had been disassembled and removed. White-clad people congregated near the Bastion, talking earnestly in twos and threes. More colorful groups of merchants and workers gathered farther out, naturally segregating into the hierarchy of the Enclave, like pieces on a game board. Though the adults appeared tense, children played marbles at the base of the obelisk, and a boy rode by with a basket of bread on the back of his bike, weaving sharply around a toddler with a red ball.
Beside Gaia, the piglet made a rummaging noise in its blanket. To her surprise, Mabrother Iris came to stand beside her, and she instinctively recoiled a step from him.
“I haven’t told you about my piglet,” Mabrother Iris said. “He’s the first of his kind, born to a surrogate pig mother via implantation, with a donated egg. Interesting, don’t you think?”
She declined to comment.
Mabrother Iris took a bit of potato from a cup on a shelf and tossed it into the bin. The piglet trod over to start gnawing on it, tail high. “We’ve done a number of experiments on pigs lately,” he added. “It’s safer than experimenting on humans. More humane.”
He took off his glasses and regarded her openly. His black pupils were as dilated as ever, reducing the surrounding irises to the thinnest rings of blue. Now that she was familiar with the effects of rice-flower and lily-poppy, she wondered what drug he took that changed his eyes that way.
“Did it work out for you two, for you and Leon?” Mabrother Iris asked, lifting his eyebrows slightly.
The last thing she wanted to do was talk to Mabrother Iris about her private life with Leon, and she suspected Mabrother Iris knew this. When she didn’t answer, he put his glasses on again and tossed the pig another chunk of potato.
“I would love to see his face when you tell him I had you in V cell,” he said softly. “I promised him that I’d get you there someday. I like to keep my promises.”
Gaia was goaded too far. “You disgust me.”
Mabrother Iris tsked his tongue, but he seemed pleased. “Remember,” he said lightly. “Remember who handles unpleasantness for the Protectorat.”
A soldier came running across the Square of the Bastion, skirted the base of the obelisk, and sprinted up the steps. Mabrother Iris returned to the desk. In the next minute, there was a knock on the door and the messenger stepped in. He saluted and passed over the note, then stood panting audibly beside Marquez.
Genevieve peered over the Protectorat’s arm while he broke the seal, unfolded the note, and read it.
“The rube still can’t spell,” the Protectorat said, passing the note to Genevieve. “Iris, I need a camera on the front steps now. I want you to broadcast us live to the Tvaltar.” The Protectorat pushed a button on the desktop and spoke to the guard at the south gate. “Deliver a message to Leon. Tell him to look for my response in the Tvaltar. Immediately.”
“Yes, Mabrother,” the voice answered.
“Hurry, Miles,” Genevieve said.
“What do you think I’m doing?” the Protectorat snapped.
“Let me see,” Gaia said, reaching for Leon’s note. Genevieve passed it over.
Miles,
Convince me Gaia is alive within the next five minutes or I poisin Evelyn.
You’ll get my sister back when you release Gaia.
Leon Vlatir
Genevieve took the note back, clearly agitated. “What’s this new name?” she asked Gaia.
“Vlatir is his birth father outside the wall,” Gaia said.
“Not even ‘
Grey’ is a good enough name for him anymore,” the Protectorat said. “That would break Fanny’s heart. Come, girl.” He motioned Gaia toward the door and Marquez opened it for them. “Let’s see how good you are at making nice for the camera.”
“I want a guarantee of water for my people,” Gaia said, as they hurried down the hall. “We can strike the deal live on camera. I’ll get my people to register their DNA, like the people of Wharfton did. In exchange, we need our own water pipeline so we’re not drawing off Wharfton’s supply.”
Gaia glanced back at Genevieve, who raced along behind them.
“Out of the question,” the Protectorat said.
“You know you’re going to have to do it,” Gaia said. “You can’t just let us die. Why not save face now? It’ll look like it was your idea, right from the start. Pure diplomacy.”
“No one will buy it, not after they know we had you in V cell,” the Protectorat said.
She thought rapidly. “I’ll tell only Leon about V cell. It won’t get around. I’d keep it quiet so we can appear to be allies. I’ll say I was visiting my scouts in the prison.”
The Protectorat let out a laugh. “Interesting possibility. You’ve learned a thing or two.”
They reached the top of the great double staircases that descended to the entryway of the Bastion, and Gaia could see the white-and-black tiles of the floor below as she quickly descended. Gardenias bloomed in large pots, releasing their fragrance to lightly tang the air, and through open French doors, she glimpsed the lush greenery of the solarium.
“Evelyn’s already gone out to welcome Leon,” Gaia said. “Build on that. People will be happy to see your family reunited, won’t they?”
The Protectorat regarded her shrewdly. “All right. If your people are lined up, ready to register their DNA in the quad tomorrow morning, I’ll see about the water.” He turned sharply to the butler. “Open the door, Wilson.”
“Is that a promise?” Gaia said.
Genevieve dabbed a tea napkin rapidly at Gaia’s face to clean her up, and with a clip taken from her own bright locks, she arranged Gaia’s hair over her wounded ear. Genevieve’s eyes were near and pleading as she gave Gaia a tremulous smile. Then the Protectorat guided Gaia outside.
“Do you promise?” Gaia repeated.
“Just get Evelyn back to us unharmed. Stand there,” the Protectorat said, guiding her to the front of the terrace. “Straighten your blouse. A smile, please.” Putting on an easy, welcoming expression, he pointed to the cameraman. “We’re going live. Now. Yes?”
“You’re on,” the cameraman said, and positioned the large, black lens of the camera in front of her and the Protectorat.
Genevieve hovered behind the cameraman, and though she wore a practiced smile, Gaia guessed she was high-strung underneath. Gaia didn’t want to be like her, faking it and nervous. This is who I am, she thought, and quietly straightened.
“In an unlikely turn of events,” the Protectorat began, “the girl many of you know as the scarred midwife from outside the wall, Gaia Stone, has become the leader of the refugees who are now setting up camp in the unlake. Welcome, Masister Stone. Did you say your people came from across the wasteland? You must have had a long journey.”
Gaia focused past the camera lens to the people in the square. Dozens had stopped to gather near and watch, and on instinct, she addressed herself to them as she would if they were her own people. She picked one stranger, a sober old man, and spoke first to him.
“We’ve been traveling nonstop for four weeks to start a new home here, just outside your walls,” she said. She filled her voice with unhurried confidence and warmth, and focused on more specific faces in the crowd, one by one. “We’re calling it ‘New Sylum,’ and any of you are welcome to come out and visit us anytime. Before I say one word more, I must thank the people of the Enclave for providing us with the water we’ll need. We couldn’t survive without you, and we are so grateful.”
The Protectorat smiled and nodded. “Of course, our plans are still developing, but I can say that we’re equally honored that you appreciate the importance of registering your people in the DNA directory. It should be quite the exciting morning in the Wharfton quad tomorrow.”
She extended her hand to the Protectorat with steady grace. “Will I see you there?”
He grasped her hand in both of his. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it.”
A young woman’s voice called out from the people below the steps: “But I heard the midwife was arrested. What was that about?”
Gaia tried to see who asked the question, but no one stepped forward.
A muscle clenched in the Protectorat’s jaw, but he continued to smile. “As you can see, Masister Stone is perfectly fine. She was never arrested. She wanted to check on her two scouts as a top priority, and since they were being detained in the prison as a precaution, my guards escorted her there first. Her scouts have been released, of course.”
“Who’s going to pay for all that extra water?” called another voice. “Where’s it supposed to come from? Our purification plant is already at capacity.”
“I have a team working on it right now,” the Protectorat said. “There will be no water shortages here in the Enclave. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Masister Stone is needed outside the wall.” He pointedly offered Gaia his elbow. “Let me take you down.”
Gaia slid her fingers over the soft fabric of his sleeve, and this time, she aimed her gaze directly at the camera. “Masister Evelyn, if you’re watching, I hope to see you at the south gate,” Gaia said, and tried for a sisterly smile.
A receptive murmur circulated around the crowd, and then the people backed up to afford them room as Gaia descended the terrace steps with the Protectorat. She glanced back to see Genevieve greeting several of the elite who gathered to speak to her. The cameraman was panning the square. Gaia lengthened her stride to match the Protectorat’s.
“Well played,” he said, sotto voce. “Keep smiling.”
Give me some credit, she thought.
Evening had fallen. As they walked briskly down the cobblestone streets toward the south gate, people who had watched the coverage on television came to their balconies and doorways. The Protectorat kept up an easy patter about the Enclave’s vineyard and how his vintner was experimenting with certain grapes, but Gaia barely attended. She could feel the people watching her with new interest. Some of it was distrustful, but a few people even waved.
When Mace Jackson, in his baker’s apron, appeared with his daughter Yvonne at one corner, Gaia could barely contain her pleasure.
“Mace! Yvonne!” she called.
The little the girl smiled prettily. “Welcome back, Gaia!” Yvonne said. She began to step forward, but her father put a hand on her shoulder.
“Come visit us soon,” Mace said, and nodded respectfully at the Protectorat.
Gaia broke away to give Yvonne a quick embrace. “I’ll come as soon as I can,” she said. “Give my love to Pearl.” She squeezed Mace’s hand before she rejoined the Protectorat.
“You have fans,” the Protectorat observed, offering his elbow again.
“Friends. There’s a difference,” Gaia said.
“He had another daughter, I believe,” the Protectorat said. “One of the hemophiliacs.”
“You know that?” Gaia asked, surprised.
The Protectorat glanced down at her, his expression ironic. “You think I have no concern for my citizens?”
“I just didn’t realize you knew details about individual families.”
“What other kind of family is there?” he said.
Gaia frowned, thinking of how she’d made a point of getting to know as many of her own people as she could, family by family. She’d never guessed the Protectorat made a similar effort.
“Tell me something,” the Protectorat said, as they came within sight of the south gate. “How long did it take my son to find you?”
“A few weeks,” she said.
“So
he’s been with you this whole time, more or less. Has he ever mentioned his sister Fiona?”
“Quite a few times,” Gaia said, newly alert.
“Are you aware of what he did to her? Has he ever had the guts to admit it?”
Gaia tried to pull her hand out of his arm, but the Protectorat caught her fingers.
“I pity you,” she said.
“Me? He molested his sister and drove her to kill herself,” the Protectorat said. “Nothing will ever change that. He should be branded with a warning label. Keep him away from your young girls.” He was still smiling for anyone who might be witnessing the conversation.
She shook her head. “You can’t honestly believe he ever deliberately hurt his sister, not if you know him. Search your own heart,” she said. “You’re the father who neglected to see what poor Fiona really needed. What gave her the idea to come on to her own brother? Didn’t you ever wonder about that?”
His grip tightened and his dark eyes flashed. “You have a perverted mind. No wonder he likes you.”
She pulled away hard. “You nearly ruined him for good, and I don’t mean just the torture in V cell. You should beg his forgiveness for all you’ve done to him,” Gaia said.
The Protectorat closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. When he looked at her again, his gaze was penetrating, attentive.
“Leon never asked you to say that,” he said.
“No,” she said. “But if you did apologize, maybe then you could start to forgive yourself for failing Fiona.”
“Think you’re deep, do you? Think you’ve got us all figured out?” the Protectorat asked. His voice lost its edge and grew softer. “Have you ever dreamed what it is to lose two children at the same moment? Come see what we’re really like, without the frills and Leon’s lies. Your future lies here inside the wall, with us.”
She took a step back, staring at him, while a creeping shiver ran up along her arms. Only one of the Protectorat’s children, Fiona, had physically died, but the Protectorat was implying that he suffered the loss of Leon at the same time. He grieved for his son, too. She shook her head, not able to process it fully.
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