Chaos Walking: The Complete Trilogy (64 page)

I stare at the dirt in my hand. “Why?”

“So that she’s been buried by the efforts of all of us.” She directs me to a place with her in the line of healers gathering by the graveside. We pass by the hole one by one, each of us throwing our handful of dry soil onto the wooden box where Maddy now rests. Everyone stands as far away from me as they can.

No one but Mistress Coyle will even speak to me.

They blame me.

I blame me, too.

There are more than fifty women here, healers, apprentices, patients. Soldiers are spread out in a circle around us, more than you’d think necessary for a funeral. Men, including Maddy’s father, are kept separate on the other side of the grave. Maddy’s father’s weeping Noise is the saddest thing I think I’ve ever heard.

And in the middle of everything, I can only feel even more guilty because what I’m mostly thinking about is Todd.

Now that I’m away from it, I can see the confusion in his Noise more clearly, see how it must have looked to find me in the arms of the Mayor, how friendly we must have seemed together.

Even though I can explain it all, I still feel ashamed.

And then he was gone.

I throw my dirt on Maddy’s coffin, then Mistress Coyle takes me by the arm. “We need to talk.”

“He wants to
work
with me?” Mistress Coyle says, over a cup of tea in my small bedroom.

“He says he admires you.”

Her eyebrows raise. “Does he now?”

“I know,” I say. “I know how it sounds, but maybe if you
heard
him–”

“Oh, I think I’ve heard enough from our President to last me a good while.”

I lean back on my bed. “But he could have, I don’t know,
forced
me to tell him about the ships. And he’s not forcing me to do anything.” I look away. “He’s even letting me see my friend tomorrow.”

“Your Todd?”

I nod. Her expression is solid as stone.

“And I suppose that makes you grateful to him, does it?”

“No,” I say, rubbing my face with my hands. “I saw what his army did as they marched. I saw it with my own two eyes.”

There’s a long silence.

“But?” Mistress Coyle finally says.

I don’t look at her. “But he’s hanging the man who shot Maddy. He’s executing him tomorrow.”

She makes a dismissive sound with her lips. “What’s one more killing to a man like him? What’s one more life to take? Typical that he should think that solves the problem.”

“He seemed genuinely sorry.”

She looks at me sideways. “I’m sure he did. I’m sure that’s exactly how he
seemed
.” She lowers her voice. “He’s the President of Lies, my girl. He will lie so well you’ll believe it’s the truth. The Devil tells the best stories. Didn’t your mama teach you that?”

“He doesn’t think he’s the Devil,” I say. “He thinks he’s just a soldier who won a war.”

She looks at me carefully. “Appeasement,” she says. “That’s what it’s called. Appeasement. It’s a slippery slope.”

“What does it mean?”

“It means you want to work with the enemy. It means you’d rather join him than beat him, and it’s a sure-fire way to stay beaten.”

“I don’t want
that
!” I yell. “I just want this all to
stop
! I want this to be a home for all the people on their way, the home that we were all looking forward to. I want there to be peace and happiness.” My voice starts to thicken. “I don’t want anyone else to die.”

She sets down her teacup, puts her hands on her knees and looks hard at me. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” she says. “Or is it your boy you’ll do anything for?”

And I wonder for a minute if she can read my mind.

(because, yes, I want to see Todd–)

(I want to
explain
to him–)

“Clearly your loyalty doesn’t lie with
us,
” Mistress Coyle says. “After your little stunt with Maddy, there are those of us who aren’t so sure you’re not more of a danger than an asset.”

Asset,
I think.

She sighs, long and hard. “For the record,” she says, “I don’t blame you for Maddy’s death. She was old enough to make her own decisions and if she chose to help you, well, then.” She runs her fingers across her forehead. “I see so much of myself in you, Viola. Even when I’d rather not.” She stands to leave. “So please know, I don’t blame you. Whatever happens.”

“What do you mean,
whatever happens
?”

But she doesn’t say anything more.

That night, they have something called a wake, where everyone at the house of healing drinks lots of weak beer and sings songs that Maddy liked and tells stories about her. There are tears, including my own, and they’re not happy tears but they’re not as sad as they could be.

And I’m going to see Todd again tomorrow.

And that’s as close as I can feel to all right about anything just now.

I wander around the house of healing, around the other healers and apprentices and patients talking to one another. None of them will talk to me. I see Corinne sitting by herself in a chair by the window, looking especially stormy. She’s refused to speak to anyone since Maddy’s death, even declining to say something over the grave. You’d have to have been sitting right next to her to see how many tear tracks were on her cheeks.

It must be the beer working in me, but she looks so upset I go over and sit down next to her.

“I’m sorry–” I start to say but she stands up before I can even finish and walks away, leaving me there.

Mistress Coyle comes over, two glasses of beer in her hands. She hands one to me. We both watch Corinne as she leaves the room. “Don’t be too bothered about her,” Mistress Coyle says, sitting down.

“She’s always hated me.”

“She hasn’t. She’s just had a hard time of it, that’s all.”

“How hard?”

“It’s her place to tell you, not mine. Drink up.”

I take a drink. It’s sweet and wheaty-tasting, the bubbles sharp against the roof of my mouth but not in a bad way. We sit and drink for a minute or two.

“Have you ever seen an ocean, Viola?” Mistress Coyle asks.

I cough away a little of the beer. “An ocean?”

“There’s oceans on New World,” she says, “big as anything.”

“I was born on the settler ship,” I say, “but I saw them from orbit as we flew in on the scout.”

“Ah, well, then you’ve never stood on a beach as the waves came crashing in, the water stretching out from you until it’s beyond sight, moving and blue and alive and so much bigger than even the black beyond seems because the ocean hides what it contains.” She shakes her head in a happy way. “If you ever want to see how small you are in the plan of God, just stand at the edge of an ocean.”

“I’ve only ever been to a river.”

She puffs out her bottom lip, regarding me. “This river goes to the ocean, you know. It’s not even all that far. Two days on horseback at most. A long morning in a fissioncar, though the road’s not that great.”

“There’s a road?”

“Not much left of it any more.”

“Is there something there?”

“Used to be my home,” she says, shifting in her chair. “When we first landed, going on twenty-three years ago now. Meant to be a fishing settlement, boats and everything. In a hundred years’ time, it might have even been a port.”

“What happened?”

“What happened all over this planet, all our grand plans just sort of falling by the wayside in the first couple of years in the face of difficulty. It was harder to start a new civilization than we thought. You have to crawl before you can walk.” She takes a sip of her beer. “And then sometimes you go back to crawling.” She smiles to herself. “Probably for the best, though. Turns out New World’s oceans aren’t really for fishing.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, the fish are the size of your boat and they swim up alongside and look you in the eye and tell you how they’re going to eat you.” She laughs a little. “And then they eat you.”

I laugh a little, too. And then I remember all that’s happened.

She looks at me again, catching my eye. “It’s beautiful, though, the ocean. Like nothing you’ve ever seen.”

“You miss it.” I drink the last of my beer.

“To see the ocean once is to learn how to miss it,” she says, taking my glass. “Let me get you another.”

That night, I dream.

I dream of oceans and of fish that will eat me. I dream of armies that swim by and of Mistress Coyle leading them. I dream of Maddy taking my hand and holding me up from the water.

I dream of thunder making a single loud
BOOM!
that almost breaks the sky in two.

Maddy smiles when I jump at the sound of it. “I’m going to see him,” I tell her.

She glances over my shoulder and says, “There he is.”

I turn to look.

I wake but the sun’s all wrong. I sit up, my head feeling like it’s a boulder, and I have to close my eyes to make everything stop spinning.

“Is this what a hangover feels like?” I say out loud.

“There was no alcohol in that beer,” Corinne says.

I snap my eyes open, which is a mistake as black spots form everywhere in my vision. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you to wake up so the President’s men can take you.”

“What?” I say, as she stands. “What’s going on?”

“She drugged you. Jeffers in your beer, plus bandy root to disguise the taste. She left you this.” She holds out a small piece of paper. “You’re to destroy it after you read it.”

I take the paper. It’s a note from Mistress Coyle.

Forgive me, my girl,
it says
, but the President is wrong. The war is
not
over. Keep to the side of right, keep gathering information, keep leading him astray. You’ll be contacted
.

“They blew up a storefront and left in the confusion,” Corinne says.

“They did
what
?” My voice starts to rise. “Corinne,
what’s going on
?”

But she’s not even looking at me. “I told them they were abandoning their sacred trust, that
nothing
was more important than saving lives.”

“Who else is here?”

“Just you and me,” she says. “And the soldiers waiting outside to take you to your President.” She looks down at her shoes and for the first time I notice the anger, the
rage
burning off her. “I expect I’ll be interrogated by someone less
handsome
.”

“Corinne–”

“You’ll have to start calling me Mistress Wyatt now,” she says, turning towards the door. “That is, in the unlikely event that both of us get back here alive.”

“They’re gone?” I say, still not believing it.

Corinne just glares at me, waiting for me to rise.

They’re gone.

She left me here alone with Corinne.

She
left
me here.

To go off and start a war.

[T
ODD
]

“Fission fuel, sir, soaked into clay powder to make a paste–”

“I know how to make a bush bomb, Corporal Parker,” says the Mayor, surveying the damage from his saddle. “What I do not know is how a group of unarmed women managed to
plant
one in full view of soldiers under your command.”

We see Corporal Parker swallow, actually see it move in his throat. He’s not a man from old Prentisstown, so he musta been picked up along the way.
You go where the power is,
Ivan said. But what about when the power wants answers you ain’t got? “It may not have been just women, sir,” Parker says. “People are talking about something called–”

“Look at this, pigpiss,” Davy says to me. He’s ridden Deadfall/Acorn over to a tree trunk, near where we’ve stopped across the road from the blown-out storefront.

I chirrup to Angharrad, using my one good hand to tap the reins. She picks her feet lightly over the bits of wood and plaster and glass and foodstuffs that are scattered everywhere, like the store finally let go of a sneeze it was holding in. We get over to Davy, who’s pointing at a bunch of light-coloured splinters sticking straight outta the tree trunk.

“Explozhun so big it rammed ’em straight into the tree,” he says. “Those bitches.”

“It was late at night,” I say, readjusting my arm in the sling. “They didn’t hurt no one.”

“Bitches,” Davy repeats, shaking his head.

“You’ll turn in your supply of cure, Corporal,” we hear the Mayor say, loud enough so Corporal Parker’s men hear the punishment, too. “All of you will. Privacy is a privilege for those who’ve earned it.”

The Mayor ignores Corporal Parker’s mumbled, “Yes, sir,” and turns to have a short, quiet word with Mr. O’Hare and Mr. Morgan, who then ride off in different direkshuns. The Mayor comes over to us next, not saying nothing, face frowning like a slap. Morpeth stares viciously at our mounts, too.
Submit
, says his Noise.
Submit. Submit
. Deadfall and Angharrad both lower their heads and step back.

All horses are a little bit crazy.

“Want me to go hunting for ’em, Pa?” Davy says. “The bitches who did this?”

“Mind your language,” the Mayor says. “You both have work to be getting on with.”