Chaos Walking: The Complete Trilogy (129 page)

And
weapons
.

And
sheep
.

And
Prentisstown
.

And
early one morning
.

And then he says–

He says–

Todd
.

I whirl round to the Sky.
But this is
–

Yes
, shows the Sky.

I have seen him in the Knife’s voice
–

Yes
, shows the Sky again.

This man is called
Ben
,
I show, my voice opening wide with amazement.
He is worth almost as much to the Knife as his one in particular
.

And if peace is our outcome
, shows the Sky,
then in payment for all that the Clearing has made you suffer, he is yours
.

I turn back to the man.

Back to Ben.

He is mine, I think. If there is peace, he is mine.

Mine to kill.

[T
ODD
]

We hear ’em coming thru the trees, distant but rising fast.

“Wait for it,” whispers the Mayor.

“They’re gonna come right at us,” I say.

The first misty rays of dawn shine off his face as he turns to me. “That’s the risk of being bait, Todd.”

Boy colt?
Angharrad says nervously below me.

“It’s all right, girl,” I say, tho I ain’t at all sure it is.

Submit!
thinks Juliet’s Joy next to us.

“Shut up,” the Mayor and I say at the same time.

The Mayor grins at me.

For a second, I grin back.

The past week has been almost good, compared to what went before. The food and water exchanges have gone how they’re sposed to, no funny business by either the Mayor or Mistress Coyle, and it’s like a rule of life that yer automatically happier when you don’t gotta worry about something to drink. Things have settled down in the camps, with the town almost seeming like a town again and Viola saying the hilltop’s got calmer, too, almost normal. She even says she’s been feeling better tho I can’t really tell if it’s true over the comm cuz she’s also found reasons every day for us not to see each other and I can’t help but worry, I can’t help but think–

(
I am the Circle and the Circle is me
)

But I’ve been busy, too, with the Mayor. Who’s gone all
friendly
. He’s taken to visiting the soldiers round the camp, asking bout their families and their old homes and what they hope for after the war and with the new settlers and on and on. Doing it to the townsfolk, too.

And he’s also been giving me all kindsa good stuff, like having a grumbling Mr O’Hare make my tent way more comfortable, with a softer cot and loads more blankets against the cold. He always makes sure Angharrad has more than her share of feed and water. And he tells me every day what his doctors are doing to try and cure the bands, to make sure Viola ain’t in any danger.

It’s been weird.

But good.

Tho all this good stuff has only really been possible cuz there ain’t been no Spackle attacks for the whole week. Not that that’s stopped us from planning for ’em. Using the probes, Bradley and Simone picked out a coupla different ways the Spackle might sneak into town and the Mayor set about making those ways good targets. And with the help of our new allies who ain’t got Noise and can’t be heard slinking round the woods at night, they prepared things.

And right now, it’s looking like the preparayshun was a good idea.

We’re facing down a small road that cuts thru the woods south of town and we can hear Spackle coming, right from where we thought they would.

And they’re getting louder.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” the Mayor says to me, glancing up thru the trees to the probe hanging in the sky behind us. “It’s all going according to plan.”

The Spackle Noise goes up a notch, louder and steadier, too fast to be able to read anything in it.

Todd
, Angharrad says, getting more nervous.
Todd!

“Calm your horse, Todd,” the Mayor says.

“We’re okay, girl,” I say, rubbing her flank. But I also pull her reins to the side so we’re a bit more behind the well-digging equipment me and the Mayor are pretending to guard.

I bring my comm up. “Can you see anything on the probe?”

“Nothing clear,”
Viola says back.
“Some movement, but it’s so blurry it could be the wind blowing.”

“It ain’t the wind.”

“I know,”
she says, coughing into her hand.
“Hold tight.”

The Spackle Noise gets even louder–

And louder still–

“It’s happening, Todd,” the Mayor says. “Here they come.”

“We’re ready,”
the comm says but it ain’t Viola. It’s Mistress Coyle.

And then the Spackle are pouring outta the shadows like a flash flood–

Onto the path and running right at us–

Their weapons up and ready–

“Hold,” the Mayor says to me, aiming his rifle–

They keep surging onto the path–

Twenty, thirty, forty of ’em–

And me and the Mayor on our own–

“Hold,”
he says again–

Their Noise is filling the air–

And they keep coming–

Keep coming till they’ve gotta be in weapons’ range–

And there’s a
fizz
as one of the white sticks is fired–

“Viola!” I shout–

“Now!”
I hear Mistress Coyle thru the comm–

The trees on either side of the road blow into a million burning splinters, ripping thru the Spackle, sending the Mayor and me reeling and I’m struggling hard to keep Angharrad from bolting or throwing me off–

By the time I spin back round, the smoke’s already clearing and we can see fallen trees and burning trunks–

And no sign of any Spackle–

Just bodies on the road–

Lots
of bodies.

“What the hell was that?!” I shout into the comm. “That was
way
bigger than you said it would be!”

“An error in the mixture, no doubt,”
Mistress Coyle says.
“I’ll have a word with Mistress Braithwaite.”

But I can see her smiling in the screen.

“A little over-enthusiastic, perhaps,” the Mayor says, riding over to me, smiling big, too, “but the peace process has begun!”

Then we hear another sound behind us. The group of soldiers who laid in wait down the road in case something went wrong and we needed help. They’re marching up to us now, fast and happy–

And they’re
cheering
.

The Mayor rides among ’em in triumph, like he expected it all along.

{V
IOLA
}

“That was slaughter,” Bradley says angrily. “How exactly does that constitute an overture to peace?”

“We overcooked the mixture,” Mistress Coyle shrugs. “It was only our first try. Lesson learned for next time.”

“Next time–” Bradley starts to say, but she’s already on her way out of the cockpit where we were watching everything happen on the main screen. Simone’s outside with the remote projector, displaying the whole thing in three dimensions to the hilltop crowds.

There was a big cheer when the explosion happened. There’s an even bigger one when Mistress Coyle steps outside.

“She did it on purpose,” Bradley says.

“Of course she did,” I say. “That’s what she does. Offer her an apple and she’ll take the tree.”

I stand up from my chair–

And sit right back down again because my head is spinning so fast.

“You all right?” Bradley says, his Noise full of concern.

“Same as usual,” I say. Though it isn’t, actually. Mistress Coyle’s timed treatments have worked okay, but my fever came back with a vengeance this morning and hasn’t left. Six more women have died, too, all older and unwell, but there are a lot of us getting sicker. Sometimes, you can tell who has a band and who hasn’t just by looking at their faces.

“She hasn’t found anything in the information the Mayor provided?” Bradley asks.

I shake my head, starting to cough. “If he’s provided everything.”

“Thirty-three days until the convoy arrives with a full medical bay,” Bradley says. “Can you hold on?”

I nod, but only because I’m coughing too much to talk.

The past week has gone unnervingly smoothly. Wilf rides down the road with tanks of water and rides back with cartloads of food, no problems at all. The Mayor’s even sent soldiers to protect him and engineers to improve the water collection. He’s also accepted Mistresses Nadari and Lawson to help inventory the food and supervise the distribution.

Mistress Coyle, meanwhile, looks happier than I’ve ever seen her. She’s even started talking about how to make the truce. Apparently, this involves a lot of blowing things up. Mistress Braithwaite, who did my soldiering training what seems like a lifetime ago, plants bombs in the trees, hoping to show the Spackle we can outwit them and also hoping to capture one who isn’t killed in the blast. Then we’ll send it back saying we’ll keep blowing things up if they don’t talk to us about peace.

Mistress Coyle swears this is how it worked last time.

My comm beeps, Todd calling with final word after the attack.

“None survived, did they?” I ask, coughing some more.

“No,”
he says, looking concerned.
“Viola, are you–?”

“I’m fine. It’s just coughing.” I try to swallow it away.

I’ve only seen him over the comm the past week since our big meeting by the old house of healing. I haven’t gone down there and he hasn’t come up here. Too much to do, I tell myself.

I also tell myself it’s not because a Todd without Noise makes me feel really–

Makes it seem like–

“We’ll try again tomorrow,” I say. “And again and again until it works.”

“Yeah,”
Todd says.
“The sooner we can get those truce talks started, the sooner this is all over. The sooner we can start making you
well.
”

“The sooner you can be away from
him,
” I say, realizing too late that I’ve said it out loud. Stupid fever.

Todd frowns.
“I’m fine, Viola, I swear. He’s being nicer than ever.”

“Nice?” I say. “When was he ever
nice
?”

“Viola–”

“Thirty-three days,” I say. “That’s all we have to get through. Just thirty-three more days.”

But I have to say, it feels like for ever.

[T
ODD
]

The Spackle attacks keep coming. And we keep stopping ’em.

Submit!
We hear Juliet’s Joy shouting down the road.
SUBMIT!