Darkthaw (5 page)

Direct
. Those settlements to the west and south Henderson talked about.

“Henderson said those newcomers are doing fine. How can that be?”

She spreads her hands. “I do not know. I suspect they have not encountered the sickness yet. Perhaps luck is on their side.”

“Like it was for us,” I murmur, but my thoughts race on ahead. If Matisa's people can't be sure which waters harbor this sickness—the Bleed—can they be sure it still exists? Or, worse, suppose our luck runs out. Suppose the sickness finally does come to this river? Kane's family. Tom's. I can't leave, knowing they don't have the remedy. Knowing how close they might be to disaster.

Matisa notices my alarm. She puts a hand on my arm. “It was more than luck that your people survived,” she says.

I frown in confusion.

She hesitates. “If I tell you how I know this, you must never forget how valuable this information is. It is not for everyone to know: I tell you this. Only you.”

“But what about Kane?”

“It is better not to know. Not knowing means you cannot tell.”

“But Kane would never—”

“Whether or not he would, you have to believe me when I say that it is safer this way.” Her face is pained. It's costing her something to share this with me.

What would her people do if they knew? Is it fair to ask her to break her oath twice over? I take a deep breath. “If it will keep him safe, I can keep it to myself.” But unbidden, an image of Brother Stockham swims before my eyes.
You have lifted the burden
, he said, before he put that shotgun in his mouth . . .

“This settlement has always had the remedy,” she says.

I draw back in shock.

“Long ago we observed that animals who consumed a particular plant were not falling sick. We adopted this plant into our diet. It is a plant that grows near your settlement—and as I learned over the winterkill, it is used here nearly every day.”

My eyes widen. “Almighty,” I murmur. After all of these years living in terror of an imaginary beast, we've been protected from a danger that was actually real. By a plant.

I bow my head and rack my brain for which plant she could mean. One we use continually. Might even be one I collected for Soeur Manon . . . the smell of the Healing House, always thick with sage smoke.

I look up at her.

Her gaze is serious. “Your people are safe here,” she says.

It is better not to know
.

“All right.” The unease in my belly remains.

“We will take the remedy as we journey,” she says. “If”—she hesitates—“if you still wish to come.”

“Course I'm coming,” I say, and as I do I remember my dream from this morning—her dying on the Watch flats and me burying her—and a chill wraps around my heart. It's the first time I have dreamt of death. The rest of my dreams, the ones that show life, are about Matisa's home.

Mayhap this death dream was urging me to leave this place; mayhap it was showing me what could happen to Matisa if we stay.

Should I tell her about it?

I look at her worried face, her nervous hands pulling the drawstrings on her pack shut.

No. I'll tell her later—no use adding another worry right now—and I'll make sure she gets home safe to her people.

To the place that offers life.

She pulls her pack off the bed and eyes my bad leg. “Make sure you pack your tincture.”

A rap at the outside door draws our heads up.

We hurry back to the common area. Kane is at the door. His ma, Sister Violet, stands behind him. Behind her, Frère Andre peers at us with watery eyes.

“What is it?” I ask.

Kane rubs the back of his neck. The words out of his mouth are the last I expect: “They want to come,” he says.

I stand outside the gates and wait for him, feeling a dread deep down in my heart. This isn't right, isn't fair.

The rest of the group waits beyond the Watch flats, waiting for me to say goodbye. Giving me space to do it.

His wheat-blond head appears around the wall of the fortification. He looks at me a mite shy as he approaches, worrying something in his hands. A bow? He's been practicing his aim with all manner of things for months—bow and arrow, Andre's rifle—practicing, because he thought he'd be coming with me out into the wilds. He wanted to be able to help hunt and protect us.

An ache starts in my chest.

As he gets close, I see it's a child's bow, made of willow and gut string.

Tom ducks his head. “Give this to Nico,” he says, handing it to me. He shrugs. “He seems nervous. Might make him smile.”

I stare at it and swallow hard. “Course it will.”

He puts his hands on his
ceinture fléchée
like he's not sure what to do with them and nods at the pack on my back.

“Finally, hey?” he says. “Feel like you've been wanting this all your life. Since we were youngsters, surely.”

I force a smile. “Suppose I have.” My voice is thick. “Even if I didn't know it.”

We look at each other. He's trying to look brave for me, I know, but there's a flash of sorrow in those prairie-sky eyes. Sorrow, and longing.

“This is proving Discovery the real way; the way it should be,” he says.

My smile turns real. It's true. Before I found Matisa, Discovery was contained within the walls of this fortification, to things that made our life here a mite easier, without risking the woods beyond. I proved it a new way, bringing her in, showing people there was no
malmaci
. Tom proved Bravery a new way, too: he defied Council and got Andre to open the gates for Matisa and me, even though he was afraid.

He doesn't look afraid anymore.

And thinking on him sitting by his pa's side, spooning him that tea I made, caged in this bleedin' settlement, when he should be with us . . .

My stomach clenches tight. “You should come,” I say before I can stop myself. “You belong out there. You—”

“Em,” he cuts me off. “We'll see each other soon.”

The look on his face tells me he's made his decision. I nod
quick and then, so he doesn't see the doubt, the sadness, in my eyes, I rush forward and bury my head in his chest.

His arms go around me and I press myself tight to him, trying so hard to keep the tears back. Crying does him no good.

He strokes my head with one gentle, scarred hand. I pray to the Almighty he won't scald them on purpose anymore. Pray that he'll be all right here, without me.

He draws back and this time his eyes are determined. Strong.

“Go,” he says.

SOFT WINDS TUG AT ME, PULL ME FORWARD INTO
the dark embrace of the forest. The leaves of the trees are bright, a heartbreaking green that only comes with the Thaw. I stop and take a deep swallow of air. It's like soft, sweet water filling my mouth and chest. It's like breathing in freedom. Life.

This is how I imagined it.

A hot breath blows against my neck.

Well, near to.

I turn and find myself face-to-face with Isi's horse, its soft nostrils speckled with moisture. Above the white blaze on the horse's forehead, Isi frowns down at me. I raise my eyebrows. In response, he looks pointedly behind at the others: Sister Violet and her little boys, Daniel and Nico. Frère Andre with his battered hat and wiry beard. Kane.

They're all walking in the forest with looks of wonderment on their faces. They're all walking . . .

“Too slow,” Isi hisses.

“They're just not used to being out here yet,” I say,
although we've been walking hours at this pace and I'm not used to it yet, neither. Nishwa is scouting way ahead on his beast, doubling back, scouting ahead. Matisa brings up the rear, scouting behind from time to time, on her own horse.

“We do not have time for
getting used
to things,” Isi says, watching them with a frown.

“And how do you suppose we speed them along?”

“I wish I knew. They do not even know how to ride.”

“You wish they hadn't come.”

“Don't you?” Isi turns his eyes on me.

“Course I'm glad they came,” I say.

Isi studies me in that hard way of his, like he's asking me to be sure of my words, be sure of my own mind. I hate that look. It reminds me of how often I used to fail my Honesty virtue. Shouldn't bother me. Ever since I proved Discovery, I've seen the virtues in a new light. They're not so cut-and-dried. Still, I'm relieved when he clicks his tongue and urges his horse back to Sister Violet and the boys. I sigh deep.

Mayhap “glad” wasn't the right word to use. Sister Violet is more determined to keep her family together than I figured. And I know why Isi's irate. When it was only the six of us setting out—Matisa and the boys, Tom, Kane, and me—it was going to take a week, doubling on horseback. Now with so many of us walking, it'll take closer to two. But with Kane showing up like that, all hopeful . . .

A wave of guilt washes me as I remember Matisa's face. She was torn; bringing them wasn't the plan, but she could see Kane didn't know how to refuse his ma.

Isi was unhappy, but she convinced him it would be all right.

And Frère Andre. Well, once Sister Violet was coming with the boys, what was one more?

“Je suis âgé,”
he said.
“Je n'aurai pas d'autre chance de voir le monde.”

It was true: he
was
old. If he wanted to see the world, coming with us was his chance. I feel a pang, thinking about him saying goodbye to his bird-boned daughter and her life mate and youngsters. She clung to him a moment with her tiny arms, but when she pulled back, she offered him a smile.

“Allez-y voir le monde, papa,”
she said. Go see the world.

I watch him stomp along, pack on his back with two rifles strapped across it. We had one rifle in our effects already, and Kane has dead-sure aim, but he hasn't practiced much with a gun, preferring his knives. It's good Andre came.

But it should've been Tom.

I watch Nico drop behind his ma and take Kane's hand. Kane smiles at him and my pang disappears. At least Kane didn't have to say goodbye like I said goodbye to Tom. The relief on Kane's face, though, once Matisa convinced Isi—it made me happy and uneasy at once. And keeping the truth about the Bleed from him is weighing on my mind.

Thing is, telling Kane about the Bleed now, and how we're staying safe from it, means asking him to keep it from his ma. Can't do that. And if he tells her, it's not just one person Matisa has broken her vow for, it's three. No. Matisa will keep us safe until we reach her people.

I shove down a niggle of unease.

Isi leans and scoops up a delighted Daniel, setting the little boy before him on the horse's dappled-gray back. He wheels the horse in an about-face.

“Look, Em!” Daniel calls in glee as they trot past. He's beside himself with the excitement of being out here. His older brother Nico is another story, more wary, but right now his eyes, too, are wide with wonder.

I follow after them,
les trembles
—the tall poplar trees—yawning and rustling above us. I press into the brush, stepping on springy new moss, tiny green shoots of horsetail. As I clamber over a log crusted with moss, my good foot lands on something hard—like stone. I hear a clink as my foot grinds down. The new ferns I push aside to get a look at the source are feathery soft. But my fingers touch something cold and solid.

Bones.

I recoil. Looks like a deer, picked clean long ago, washed white with the wind and snow. I step around it careful, wondering how it died. Predator or old age? Or mayhap the winter was that harsh.

I have a sudden thought for the Jameson family, who passed this way months back, with no weapons but a bow and their few belongings in packs on their backs, right after the first snow-bitten winds coursed through the coulees and around the fortification.

No way they survived.

I swallow. It was the settlement's decision to cast them out like that. Brother Jameson killed Pa. He would've killed me, and Kane, and anyone else who stood in his way if Kane hadn't brought him down with his knife. None of the settlement wanted to trust his kin after that. And I didn't think too much on it when they left, neither.

But I know what it's like to feel cast out; I've endured
plenty-enough wary stares in my day. Imagine that feeling being the one you take with you to your grave?

“What is it?” Matisa has appeared at my elbow, silent as frost.

I start and look around, confused that she's here beside me, off her beast.

She throws her head to indicate behind her. “I gave my horse to Sister Violet for a little while. Nishwa can scout behind.”

I look back. Frère Andre is now leading Dottie, with Sister Violet and Nico perched atop. Kane walks beside them.

Guilt floods over me again. “I'm sorry,” I say. She frowns in confusion. “About this morning,” I say. “Had no idea they'd want to come. I'm sorry for putting this on you.”