Finding a pear that suited him, Yoen grasped it in his palms and gave a quick tug. The fruit held on stubbornly, but the shaking of the branch dropped another one softly into the grass. Yoen smiled down at it. “This one doesn’t want me; that one does. I can take a hint.” Dariel moved as he began to bend, retrieving the fallen fruit for him. “Thank you,” Yoen said, taking it.
A little farther up the hill, the two men moved off the trail and sat down on simple stools, with a tree-stump table between them. Yoen sliced the fruit with agile motions of a slim knife. The skin of the fruit was brilliant yellow, smooth to the touch; and the flesh inside had a pinkish hue.
“Dariel, it’s a miracle that any of the People remain whole. They were taken as children. You know that, of course, but can you imagine what it means for an entire nation to share a common trauma? All of us. Whether we are now young or old, all of us were made orphans. All of us were taught we were slaves to the whims of the world. It may be that all people are that, but most don’t learn it at seven, eight years old.”
Birke and Anira came up the trail. Dariel nodded to them. They saw him but did not return the gesture. They stayed near the path.
Yoen went on. “So, what would happen to a nation of people deprived of the love of their parents? If nobody taught them morality, what sort of adults would they become? What if their captors told them time and again that they deserved their slavery-that they caused it somehow, or that their parents sold them or simply gave them away? A child can believe great lies, especially the ones that hurt him. You see the problem.”
“Yes,” Dariel conceded. He felt sick to his stomach, unable to eat the fruit Yoen had sectioned for him. “Yes.”
Tam and several of the elders also came into view. Behind them, Mor walked by herself, her head averted as if she did not want to make eye contact with anyone. Dariel almost said something, but from the determined way Yoen managed not to acknowledge them, he knew he should not. As the elder talked on, several more of the villagers and a few elders just arrived from farther-flung settlements joined the procession.
“Each of us had to reckon with the fate the Giver abandoned us to. So I-and many generations before me-did what we could to remain whole. We had to invent a semblance of a nurturing culture by trial and error. We treat one another with compassion. We teach the young that they are loved, that the world has done them a great wrong, but they own no fault for it. We tell them stories, dream with them of a better world. We ask them to believe in the possibility of a hero, a champion. Mor and the others think that the elders have organized resistance and prepared them for the fight facing us. We have helped with that, yes, but the young own that more than we. No, our true work for many generations has been in teaching the young how to grow into human beings. It hasn’t been easy. We haven’t always succeeded. We can only do so much from here, but we’ve done our best. I want you to understand that. Do you?”
Dariel nodded. Following Yoen’s example, he did not watch as the others moved from the path and proceeded toward them. “I think so. I… in my own way, I was an orphan, too. I had to learn how to be a man from people other than my family or siblings. I understand the gift that is.”
“I’m glad to hear you say so. I’m afraid I don’t have any more time to explain it, even if I needed to. The other elders think I’ve taken too long with you already. Has anyone spoken to you about the news from Avina? The last messenger brought much news, none of it good. Confusion. The People breaking into factions. The league crawling over Lothan Aklun sites like scavengers. The unity that kept us tight around a single cause broke apart when the Auldek left. We out here are not powerful enough to control the People in Avina. We need them united with us, not as enemies. But you knew that already, didn’t you? We are walking on the sand when the tide has drawn out. The moment won’t last. The wave will come crashing in soon. Don’t you agree?”
He did. Even though he had not spent as much time thinking of Avina as he should, he did agree. He had seen enough of war and of power struggles to know that the paradise Mor so wanted would not come easily. He could not help glancing at her. She stood a little distance away, one of the loose circle that surrounded Yoen and him. Her gaze was on him, frank and at the same time unreadable. “Yes,” he said, answering Yoen’s question.
“Good,” Yoen said. “Then you will understand that we must move swiftly now. Dariel, had I my way, you and I would spend many more days talking and walking in these orchards. Seeing as how I killed you, I feel some obligation to explain more about what you’ve become after that death. I cannot have my way on that. I can’t explain more because I don’t know any more. What you are to be to yourself-and to us-you must figure out yourself. And, as time is short, I must put all other things aside to ask you a question. More than just a question, really.”
Ask it, Dariel thought. Ask it. He had his answer ready.
Yoen straightened and looked around at the gathered company, finally taking them all in. “I don’t just ask for me, of course. It’s for all of us.”
“Yes,” Dariel said.
“But I have not asked it yet.”
“My answer is yes.” Dariel looked from face to face around the circle, at friends he felt he knew well and others he had only just met. It didn’t matter that he had not known any of them a few months ago, or that he didn’t know exactly what Yoen was going to ask. It didn’t even matter that Yoen had thrust a knife into his belly. If anything, that act had just brought Dariel closer to them. He had already decided. For each of them he had the same answer.
“Yes.”
And then a question of his own. “When do we start?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
H igh, high above, looking down at the patchy view allowed through the layers of clouds, Mena and Elya flew the length of the invading army. The Auldek force crawled across the frozen world, a slow-moving stain on the white landscape, with wheeled structures the size of large buildings; dots that were people; and numerous animals of varying sizes, beasts she feared would be entirely new to the Known World. The trail of trodden snow and debris that marked their progress stretched behind them in a wavering line that had no end. She and Elya turned and circled back.
“I didn’t want to believe it,” Mena said, more to herself than to Elya, who sailed on, her wingbeats a steady rhythm. “All the time and training, the work of opening Tahalian, hearing the Scav’s story… beneath it all I still hoped it was for nothing.”
That possibility had just ended. The tiny figures below her, which were as small as ants from her height, confirmed this. She felt uneasy above them. It was unlikely that any would see her, hidden as she was among the banks of cloud, the gray sky dull above her. Still, she felt watched each time she passed through a clear patch. She remembered to keep her eyes scanning the air around her. If the Auldek really did have flying creatures, she saw no sign of them.
She tried to estimate their numbers. She could not do so with precision. Thousands. Tens of thousands, enough to fill the Calathrock with more to spare. Enough to fill all Mein Tahalian. She wondered how many of them were Auldek and if it was true, as the league had claimed, that they carried extra lives within them, making them almost impossible to kill. She circled a third time, aware that she was delaying but also using the extra moments to plan her next move.
And what might that be? What if she flew down and landed in the middle of the war column, announcing herself with one of Maeben’s screams? Or she could touch down before the army and brew a pot of tea as she waited for them to draw up to her. She rather liked that idea. Let them see she had a sense of humor. Let them know that Acacia was not afraid of them. Only that would not be true, and she was not confident she could pull the deception off.