"But, Tam… Tam's dead… and I just can't believe it."
"No," the old lady said, so softly as to be barely audible against the crackle of the fire, and bowed her grief-stricken face. "Neither can I."
"Is it true…" Sarah hesitated in midsentence, then asked the question she had been dreading to ask. "Is it true that Seth had a hand in it?"
"Call him Will, not Seth!" her mother snapped, her head jerking toward Sarah, who jumped at the outburst. "He is not Seth, he is not your son anymore," her mother said, her swift anger tightening the sinews in her neck and making slits of her eyes. "Not after all the harm he's done."
"Do you know that for sure?"
Her mother became incoherent. "Joe… the Styx… the police… everyone knows it for sure!" she spluttered. "Don't you now what happened?"
Sarah was torn between needing to know more and not wanting to upset her mother any further. "The Styx told me Will led Tam into a trap," Sarah said, pressing her mother's hands consolingly. They were tensed and rigid.
"Just to save his own worthless hide!" the old woman spat. "But how could he?" Her head sagged, but her eyes remained fixed on Sarah. The anger seemed to desert her for that instant and was replaced with an expression of mute incomprehension. For a moment she was closer to the person Sarah remembered, the kindly old lady who had spent her whole life working so hard for her family.
"I don't know," Sarah whispered. "They say he forced Cal to go with him."
"He did!" In an instant, her mother had resumed the vengeful, ugly mask, hunching her already rounded shoulders in a show of anger and snatching her hands away from Sarah. "We welcomed Will back with open arms, but he'd become a foul, loathsome Topsoiler." She thumped the arm of the chair, her teeth clenched. "He fooled us… all of us, and Tam died because of him."
"I just don't understand how… why he did that to Tam. Why would any son of mine do that?"
"HE'S NOT YOUR SON!" her mother wailed, her small chest heaving.
Sarah recoiled — she'd never heard her mother yell before, not once in her whole life. And she feared for her mother's health. She was in such a state of distress, Sarah was worried that she might do herself harm.
Then, becoming quiet again, the old woman pleaded, "Whatever you do, you must save Cal." She leaned forward, tears streaming down her wrinkled face. "You'll get Cal back, won't you, Sarah?" her mother said, a hard, steely edge creeping into her voice. "You are going to save him — promise me that."
"If it's the last thing I do," Sarah whispered, and she turned to stare into the hearth.
This moment of meeting her mother again, of which she'd dreamed so many times for so long, had been desecrated by Will's duplicity. The depth of her mother's conviction that he was responsible banished any reservations she'd had. After a span of twelve long years, Sarah's strongest connection with her mother was their overwhelming need for vengeance.
They listened to the crackle of the fire. There was nothing to be said, and neither felt like talking anymore, consumed by the pure hatred they shared for Will.
Outside the house, Rebecca watched the horses champing impatiently and rattling their harnesses as they shook their heads. She was leaning against the door of the second carriage, in which Joe Waites sat nervously, hemmed in by several Styx. He stared at Rebecca through the small carriage window, his face taut and strained, a sheen of unhealthy sweat on his forehead.
A Styx appeared at the door of the Jerome house. It was the same Styx who'd been sitting next to Sarah for the coach journey to the Colony and, unbeknownst to her and her mother, had stolen in through the back of the house so he could monitor their conversation from the hallway.
He raised his head high to Rebecca. She nodded back once in acknowledgment.
"Is that good?" Joe Waites asked quickly, edging closer to the carriage window.
"Sit down!" Rebecca hissed with all the vehemence of a disturbed viper.
"But, my wife, my daughters?" he said hoarsely, his eyes pathetic in their desperation. "Do I get them back now?"
"Maybe. If you're a good little Colonist and continue to do as you're told," Rebecca sneered at him. Then, in the clicking, nasal language of the Styx, she addressed his escort in the carriage: "After we're finished here, put him in with his family. We'll deal with them all together when the job's done."
Joe Waites watched apprehensively as the Styx by his side acknowledged Rebecca, then gave her a sardonic grin.
Rebecca strolled back to the first coach, swaying her hips in a way that she'd seen precocious teenage girls do when she'd been Topsoil. It was her victory walk; she was reveling in her success. It was so close now, she could almost taste it, her mouth filling with a gush of sticky saliva. Her father would be so proud of her. She'd taken two problems, two strands, and was setting one against the other. The best outcome would be if they neutralized each other, but even if one remained at the end of the play, she could snuff it out so easily. Ah, the elegance!
She came alongside the first carriage, where the old Styx sat.
"Progress?" he asked.
"She's swallowing it, hook, line and sinker."
"Excellent," the old Styx said to her. "And what about the loose end?" he queried, tilting his head at the carriage behind.
Rebecca smiled that gentle smile she had used to such effect on Sarah.
"When Sarah's safely on the Miners' Train, we'll shred Waites and his family and spread them over the fields in the West Cavern. Compost for the pennybun crops."
Sniffing, she made a face as if she'd smelled something distasteful. "And the same for that useless old crone in there," she added, jabbing her thumb toward the Jerome house.
She chuckled as the old Styx nodded approvingly.
17
"Food… no doubt about it… it's food," Cal said, tilting back his head and flaring his nostrils with a heavy inhalation.
"Food?" Chester reacted immediately.
"Nah, can't smell a thing." Will looked at his feet as they dawdled along, not really knowing where they were going, or why. All they knew was that they had been following the canal for miles and had not yet come across anything that even vaguely resembled a track.
"I got us fresh water, in the old Styx house, didn't I? Now I'm going to find us some fresh supplies," Cal declared with his usual cockiness.
"We've still got some left," Will replied. "Shouldn't we be heading for that light ahead or finding a road or something, not going where there might be Colonists? I say we should try and get down to the next level, where my dad's probably already gone."
"Exactly!" Chester agreed. "Especially if this wasted place is going to make us glow in the dark."
"Now," Will said, "that would be really useful."
"Don't be daft." Chester grinned at his friend.
"Sorry, I don't agree," Cal said, cutting across their banter. "If this is some sort of food store, we may be close to a Coprolite village."
"Yeah, and…?" Will challenged.
"Well, your so-called father… he's going to be on the lookout for food, too." Cal reasoned.
"True," Will agreed.
They walked a little farther, their feet kicking up dust, until Cal announced in a singsong voice: "It's getting stronger."
"You know, I think you're right. There is something," Will said as they drew to a halt, sniffing.
"Hmmm, a fast-food place, maybe?" Chester suggested wistfully. "I'd give my little finger for a supersized Mac Meal right now."
"It's like something… sweet," Will said, a look of intense concentration on his face as he took a further succession of deep sniffs.