Chaos Walking: The Complete Trilogy (145 page)

I stand up quickly to get away from it.
I will get us breakfast,
I show.

Thank you,
he shows as I go to the cookfire.

I do not show anything back.

We have listened to his voice these past months,
the Sky showed me that first night when we woke the Source.
He can only have been listening back, learning to speak our voice, adapting to it, finally embracing it.
The Sky’s own voice changed shape around me.
Much like the Sky hoped the Return would.

I
have
embraced it,
I showed back.
As much as I can.

The Source speaks the language of the Land as if it was his own, but you still speak only the language of the Burden.

It is my first language,
I showed and then I looked away.
It was the language of my one in particular.

I was at the cookfire then, too, making the Source’s first proper meal after months of being fed liquids through shunts down his throat.
And just because he speaks with our voice,
I showed,
does not mean he is one of us.

Does it not?
The Sky asked.
What is the Land if not its voice?

I looked back at him.
Surely you are not suggesting–?

I merely suggest that if this one can immerse himself so far into the Land with such obvious understanding and feel
himself
part of the Land–

Does that not make him dangerous?
I showed.
Does that not make him a threat to us?

Or does it make him an ally?
the Sky showed back.
Does it provide us more hope for the future than we ever thought possible? If he can do it, can others? Is there more understanding possible?

I had no answer and he made to leave.

What did you mean about me becoming the Sky?
I showed.
Why me of all of the Land?

At first I thought he would not answer. But he did.

Because you of all the Land understand the Clearing, he showed. You of all the Land understand most fully what it would mean to invite them into our voice should that day ever come. And of all the Land, you are the one who would choose war most readily. And so when you choose
peace
,
his voice grew stronger,
it will mean all the more.

I take the Source his breakfast, a fish stew unlike anything I have ever seen the Clearing eat, but the Source does not complain.

He does not complain about
anything.

Not about us holding him as a sleeping prisoner for all this time, instead thanking us, thanking
me
as if I did it personally, for healing the bullet wound in his chest, a bullet wound put there, to my astonishment, by the loud friend of the Knife, the same one who put the band on my arm.

He also does not complain that we read his voice for every advantage we could get. Though he is sad that so many of his kind have died in the war, he is happy on the one hand to have done something for victory over the leader of the Clearing and happier on the other that it has led to peace.

I don’t complain because I’ve been transformed,
he shows as I hand him his breakfast.
I hear the voice of the Land. It’s very strange, because I’m still
me
,
still an individual, but I’m also
many
,
part of something bigger.
He takes a bite of his breakfast.
I think I might be the next evolutionary step for my people. Much as you are.

I sit up, startled
.
Me
?

You’re one of the Land,
he shows,
but you can conceal and muddy your thoughts like a man. You’re one of the Land but you speak my language better than I do, better than any man I’ve ever met. We’re the bridges twixt our two peoples, you and I.

I bristle.
There are some bridges which should never be crossed.

And still he smiles.
That’s the thinking that’s kept us so long at war.

Stop being so
happy
,
I show.

Ah, yes, but today,
he shows,
today I’ll see Todd again.

The Knife. He has shown me the Knife, over and over again, so much so it is often as if the Knife is standing in Pathways’ End with us, a third presence. And how brilliant he looks in the Source’s voice, how young and fresh and strong. How loved.

I have told the Source every bit of the story up until his waking, including every action the Knife took and did not take, but instead of disappointment, the Source is
proud.
Proud of how the Knife has come through difficulty. Understanding and grieving over everything the Knife has suffered, every mistake the Knife has made. And every time the Source thinks of the Knife, a strange Clearing melody accompanies it, a song sung to the Knife when he was young, a song that binds the Knife to the Source–

“Call me Ben, please,” the Source says through his mouth. “And the Knife is called Todd.”

The Land do not use names,
I show back.
If you understand us, then you understand that.

Is
that what the Return thinks?
he shows, smiling through a mouthful of stew.

And again, my voice is filled with warmth and humour when I do not want it to be.

You’re determined to dislike me, aren’t you?
he shows.

My voice hardens.
You killed my people. You killed them and enslaved them.

He reaches out with his voice, in a gentle way I have never felt from the Clearing.
Only some of us acted that way. The man you fight killed my one in particular, too, and so I fight him with you.

I stand up to go but he shows,
Please, wait.
I pause.
We, he shows, my people, have done you a great wrong, I know that, and anyone could argue that your people have done me wrong by keeping me here all this time. But
I
personally have done you no wrong. And
you’ve
done no wrong to
me
.

I try to keep my voice clear of when I held the knife over him.

And then I do not. I show him what I could have done to him. What I
wanted
to do–

But you stopped,
he shows.
And surely this here, this understanding between the two of us, one single voice of a man reaching out to one single voice of the Land, surely
that’s
the beginning of real peace.

It is indeed,
shows the Sky, entering the Pathways’ End.
It is the best beginning of all.

The Source sets down his meal.
It’s time?
he shows.

It is time,
the Sky agrees.

The Source lets out a happy sigh and once more his voice is filled with the Knife. “Todd,” he says in the Clearing’s chirps.

And that is when we hear the explosion in the distance.

We all turn quickly to face the horizon even though there is no chance of seeing anything with our physical eyes.

What’s happened?
asks the Source.
Have we been attacked?

“We”?
I show back to him.

Wait,
shows the Sky.
It will come
–

And it does a moment later, the voices of the Pathways’ receiving the voices of the Land from down below, showing us the explosion in the middle of the city, an explosion at the head of a great crowd of the Clearing, though the eyes we are seeing it through are high above the city on the lip of the hill, and all we can really see is a flash of fire and a column of smoke.

Is that the Land?
the Source asks.
Has the Land done this?

It has not,
shows the Sky. He steps quickly out of the Pathways’ End, gesturing us to follow. We go to the steep path where I will have to help the still-weak Source climb down, and as we reach it, the Source’s voice is filled with one thing–

Fear.

Not for himself, not for the peace process–

Fear for the Knife. All his voice can show is how much he fears losing the Knife on the very morning they were to be reunited, fear that the worst has happened, that he has lost his son, his most beloved son, and I can feel his heart aching with worry, aching with love and concern–

An ache I know, an ache I have felt–

An ache that passes from the Source to me as we climb down–

The Knife–

Todd–

Standing in my voice, as real and fragile and worthy of life as any other–