We watch a cloud pass between the two rising moons. "Meant to be bad luck, that is," Mistress Coyle murmurs.
She loops her arm in mine again and we start walking back toward the healing tent. "And so there wasn't another war exactly," she says. "More of a skirmish. And to the delight of everyone, Mistress Thrace was mortally wounded."
There's a silence where you can only hear our footsteps and the Noise of the men, crisp in the air.
"But not mortally wounded after all," I say.
She shakes her head. "I'm a very good healer." We reach the opening of the healing tent. "I'd known her since we were girls together on Old World. As far as I saw it, I had no choice." She rubs her hands together. "They kicked me off the Council for it. And then they executed her anyway."
I look at her now, trying to understand her, trying to understand all that's good in her and all that's difficult and conflicted and all the things that went into making her the person that she is.
We are the choices we make. And have to make. We aren't anything else.
"Are you ready?" she says again, finally this time.
"I'm ready."
We go into the tent.
My bag is there, packed by Mistress Coyle herself, the one I'll carry on the cart with Wilf, the one I'll carry into town. It's full of food, completely innocent food which, if all goes according to plan, will be my entry into town, my entry past the guards, my entry into the cathedral. If all goes well.
If it doesn't, there's a pistol in a secret pouch at the bottom.
Mistresses Lawson and Braithwaite are also in the tent, healing materials at the ready.
And Lee is there, as I'd asked him to be.
I sit down on the chair facing him.
He takes my hand and squeezes it and I feel a note in the palm of his hand. He looks at me, his Noise filled with what's about to happen.
I open the note, keeping its contents out of view of all three mistresses around me, who no doubt think it's something romantic or stupid like that.
Don't react, it reads. I've decided I'm coming with you. I'll meet your cart in the woods. You want to find your family, I want to find mine, and neither of us should do it alone. I don't react. I refold the note and look back up at him, giving him the smallest of nods.
"Good luck, Viola," Mistress Coyle says, words echoed rapidly by everyone else there, ending with Lee.
I wanted him particularly to do this. I couldn't stand for it to have been Mistress Coyle, and I know Lee will take the best care.
Because there's only one way I'm going to be able to move around New Prentisstown without getting caught. Only one way based on the intelligence we've gathered.
Only one way I can find Todd.
"Are you ready?" Lee asks, and it feels different coming from him, so much so that I don't mind being asked yet again.
"I'm ready," I say.
I hold out my arm and roll up my sleeve.
"Just make it quick." I look into Lee's eyes. "Please."
"I will," he says.
He reaches into the bag at his feet and takes out a metal band marked 1391.
33 FATHERS AND SONS
***
[TODD]
"DID HE TELL YOU what he wanted?" Davy asks.
"When would I have talked to him when you weren't there?" I say.
"Duh, pigpiss, you live in the same building."
We're riding to the Office of the Ask, the sun setting on the end of our day. Two hundred more women labeled. It goes faster with Mr. Hammar watching over it all with a gun. With the other teams around town led by Mr. Morgan and Mr. O'Hare, word is we've got nearly every one of 'em, tho the bands don't seem to be healing as fast on women as they do on sheep or Spackle.
I look up at the dusky sky as we move along the road and I realize something. "Where do you live?"
"Oh, now he asks." Davy slaps the reins on Deadfall/ Acorn, causing him to canter for about two steps and then drop back into a trot. "Five months we're working together almost."
"I'm asking now."
Davy's Noise is buzzing a little. He don't wanna answer, I can tell.
"You don't have to-"
"Above the stables," he says. "Little room. Mattress on a floor. Smells like horseshit."
We keep on riding. "Forward," Angharrad nickers. "Forward," Deadfall nickers back. Todd, Angharrad thinks. "Angharrad," I say.
Davy and I ain't talked about my ma's book since he brought it to me four nights back. Not a word. And any sign of it in either of our Noises gets ignored.
But we're talking more.
I begin to wonder what sort of man I'd be if I'd had the Mayor as a father. I begin to wonder what sort of man I'd be if I'd had the Mayor as a father and wasn't the son he wanted. I wonder if I'd be sleeping in a room over the stables.
"I try," Davy says, quiet. "But who knows what he effing wants'?"
I don't know so I don't say nothing.
We tie up our horses at the front gates. Ivan tries to catch my eye again as I go inside but I don't let him.
"Todd," he says as we pass, trying harder.
"That's Mr. Hewitt to you, Private," Davy spits at him.
I keep on walking. We take the short path from the gates to the front doors of the Office of the Ask building. Soldiers guard those doors, too, but we walk on past 'em into the entryway, across the cold concrete floor, still uncovered, still unheated, and go into the same viewing room as before.
"Ah, boys, welcome," the Mayor says, turning away from the mirror to greet us.
Behind him, in the Arena of the Ask, is Mr. Hammar, wearing a rubber apron. Seated in front of him, a naked man is screaming.
The Mayor presses a button, cutting off the sound mid - cry.
"I understand the identification scheme is complete?" he asks, bright and clear.
"As far as we know," I say.
"Who's that?" Davy asks, pointing at the man.
"Son of the exploded terrorist," the Mayor says. "Didn't run when his mother did, foolish man. Now we're seeing what he knows."
Davy curls his lip. "But if he didn't run off when she did-"
"You both have done a tremendous job for me," the Mayor says, clasping his hands behind his back. "I'm very pleased."
Davy smiles and the pink rush fills his Noise.
"But the threat is finally upon us," the Mayor continues. "One of the original terrorists caught in the prison attack finally told us something useful." He looks back thru the mirror. Mr. Hammar is blocking most of the view but the man's bare feet are curling tightly against whatever Mr. Hammar's doing to him. "Before she unfortunately passed away, she was able to tell us that, based on the patterns of the recent bombings, we can almost certainly expect a major move by the Answer within days, perhaps as soon as tomorrow."
Davy glances over to me. I keep looking at a middle point beyond the Mayor on the blank wall behind.
"They'll be defeated, of course," says the Mayor. "Easily. Their force is so much smaller than ours that I can't see it lasting more than a day at most."
"Let us fight, Pa," Davy says eagerly. "You know we're ready."
The Mayor smiles, smiles at his own son. Davy's Noise goes so pink you can't hardly look at it.
"You're being promoted, David," the Mayor says. "Into an army position. You will be Sergeant Prentiss."