Guardians (17 page)

The two girls watched him disappear down the stairs. In a moment, only the soft tread of his sneakers could be heard fading into nothingness.

Once she was sure they were alone, Esther turned to Skar. “That boy. He—”

But Skar gave a brusque shake of her head and held a finger to her lips. Then she pointed upward, indicating that they should talk on the roof.

The garden was silent and still warm from the day's heat. Esther waited until the door was closed behind them before she told her friend what had just happened.

Skar listened, her head down. “Gideon.”

“I'm afraid so.” Agitated, Esther could not keep her voice as low as Skar's as she frantically paced back and forth. Kai, who was dozing off in her arms, awoke with a start.

“It sounds like this boy was trying to win your confidence.
To see what you were up to.”

Esther's voice grated with frustration. “But why
now
?”

Skar didn't say anything at first. To Esther's surprise, her friend, whom she had once thought incapable of lying, averted her eyes as if hiding something. Then she looked up with an expression that seemed almost defiant.

“I have something to tell you.”

Astonished, Esther could only listen as Skar told her about Silas: how she had approached him late at night. How she had asked him to infiltrate the lower levels of the District. How he had managed to trick his way down to the lowest level, to see what Gideon was hiding.

“You asked him to spy on the mall? Without even talking to me first?” Esther wasn't sure if she felt more shocked or outraged.

“I tried to talk with you,” Skar retorted. By the light of the torch, her eyes were bright. “But you did not listen.”

“I always listen to you!”
Again, Esther forgot to keep her voice low. Yet instead of backing down, Skar grew as stubborn as her friend.

“Gideon is doing terrible things,” she said. Unlike Esther, Skar kept her voice down, yet her words were relentless. “In the basement. There are special rooms down there. You do not understand what he is selling to people. To boys—”

“I don't have time for this.” At the thought of Gideon, Esther grew even angrier. “I asked him for help, and he turned his back on us. So I don't care what he does.”

“But you do not understand. He—”

“No,” retorted Esther. “Let him just do things his way. That's the only way we can get along, him and us. I'm not going to judge him.” She drew a shaky breath. “After all, variants used to be judged, too.”

As soon as she said it, Esther realized her mistake. Skar's eyes flared dark with anger. “You cannot compare us! Variants are nothing like Gideon . . . nothing at all!”

She had already whirled around. “I'm sorry!” Esther called, a pang in her chest. “Come back!” But Skar was already halfway across the roof, heading for the door.

Esther exhaled. She could feel her fury dissolving; now all she felt was regret for having lost her temper, as she had done a hundred times before . . . but never at Skar.
The variant girl,
Esther knew,
was a careful and deliberate person; she always had a good reason for doing and behaving as she did
. If she had gone behind Esther's back, that could only mean she felt she had had no choice. And that said far more about Esther than it did about her.

Full of contrition, Esther took off after Skar.

In the moonlight, a lone figure wrapped in a blanket watched as Esther disappeared down the stairwell.

Saith had not intended to eavesdrop. She had been sleeping, as she often did, in the guards' lookout. The narrow piece of roof had been empty ever since the District opened its doors to Outsiders, and once she had discovered it, the little girl took refuge there since she found she couldn't bear sharing a room with others. Yet she had been awoken by Esther's voice raised
in what sounded like anger.

By instinct, she slipped behind a row of greenery and listened intently as Esther and Skar argued. She stayed there long after Skar left and Esther ran after her, pondering what she had heard.

At first, the quarrel had given her hope that the friendship between Esther and the variant was at an end; both girls had seemed so angry. Yet the moment it was over, Esther seemed full of self-reproach, calling after the other girl. Disappointed, Saith realized that the two had a stronger bond than she had hoped.

She would never get as close to Esther as she wished
.

And so Saith abandoned that plan as easily as she had formed it; her thoughts now turned in a new direction. What Skar had mentioned about the District seemed far more promising. Although Saith did not quite hear all that was said, it seemed clear there was action downstairs: desperate people coming in every day, things being sold for glass. And it sounded like there was one person in charge of it all: someone named Gideon.

Saith made up her mind.

There was no point in flattering and manipulating Esther any longer. It would lead nowhere, and frankly, Saith was already tired of the farm, the hall of sick people, and all that was upstairs.

She gently laid the blanket down on the ground. Then without looking backward, she turned to the stairwell and headed down into the inky blackness.

T
HE NEXT DAY,
T
REY SAW THE LITTLE SPY AGAIN
.

It was apparent that the child had neither heeded Trey's warning nor appreciated the fact that the older boy had deliberately chosen to spare him. Instead, he was even more brazen than the first time, weaving his way in and out of people who filled the basement of the District. Trey watched him with disbelief mixed with pity.
If the boy had learned anything,
he thought,
it was only to disguise himself a little better and blend more into the crowd
.

Still, he ran right into Trey.

Silas looked up and recoiled. Skar had told him not to spy anymore, but he had done so anyway; being told not to do
something had always had the opposite effect on him. Yet this time he realized he had pushed it too far.

He saw Trey freeze, unsure how to proceed.

Then Trey gripped Silas by both scrawny arms under his billowing robe and half lifted him in the air, pulling him close. Silas didn't bother to fight back; he prepared himself for the worst.

Trey leaned in and whispered, his voice low and urgent.
“This the last time.”
Then Trey released Silas, nearly flinging him to the floor.

The boy gazed up at him, shocked. As relief swept over him, he scrambled to his feet and took off, racing for the nearest stairs.

Trey watched him go, uneasily. He hoped the boy would bring Esther the message, so she'd hold off from spying. Gideon wouldn't let it go about Esther, Trey knew; it was only a matter of time before he realized that nothing had changed. And although he wasn't sure why, Trey felt he had to protect the girl. He had always served anybody, no matter how cruel or corrupt; he had taken no sides, as long as he was paid. Now that seemed unacceptable. Trey had a few minutes to get his story straight before reporting back.

Then he turned and found himself staring into the face of Gideon.

His employer had clearly witnessed what had just happened. His eyes flickered back to Trey in a question. Trey felt himself blush, the first time he could ever remember doing so.

“Why you here?” He hoped his belligerent tone would put
the other boy on the defensive. “You checking up? You don't trust me?”

Gideon shrugged. “Should I?”

“You hire somebody, you let them do their job. And since you open that other room, my job is two times what we agreed on. Maybe it should cost you more.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Trey saw Eli, who was staring at them in open curiosity; Trey shot him a harsh look, and the drunken boy glanced away.

Gideon ignored Trey's words. “That little one name Silas. He Esther's boy.” Gideon was following Trey through the basement, raising his voice to be heard. “He the one you see before?”

Trey stopped. It was unavoidable; they had reached the small rooms near the end of the hall, where the girls were sold. Here the crowd was so great, it was hard to get by; Nur and her guards had a hard time policing them. Gideon was at his back, his mouth nearly pressed against Trey's ear as they squeezed past.

“You let him go again? After you seen her?”

“I do what I think best.” Trey couldn't help it; his voice shook a little.

“That right?”

“That right.”

They were now alone, their footsteps echoing in the dark and barren end of the food court. Trey felt sweat prickle at the back of his neck, another new sensation. He craned his neck to see how far they were from the others:
Too far,
he thought.

That the other boy had caught Trey letting Silas go was bad enough. But what made it worse, much worse, was that Trey had all but guaranteed Gideon that the spying would end. And he had already lied to him. He claimed to have charmed and seduced Esther, sweet-talking her into not only confessing her forays into the District but also promising to call them off.

Trey knew that Gideon wasn't stupid, and it took no great leap of the imagination to surmise that Trey had let Silas go just now because of the girl. Still, Trey couldn't come out and confess his unexpected feelings for Esther and her child; he could barely admit them to himself.

He had always liked little children because they were innocent. They said what they meant and believed what you said; they loved without motive, without guilt. Esther was no child, yet she had the same kind of honesty and openness. He had learned that, upstairs, she helped the sick and desperate. She did it without gain for herself, not because she thought she could get something from it. Trey had met good people before, yet they had been invariably weak or foolish. Esther was neither; and the idea of betraying her bothered him more and more. But to tell Gideon this, he sensed, would be a fatal mistake.

“So it ain't true, what you say?” Gideon pressed.

“What I tell you?”

“About Esther. It all a lie.”

Trey started to make something up, but before he could speak, Gideon spat on the floor. “Never figure you as soft.” His voice was full of contempt. “Maybe you think she sweet. But she ain't.”

Trey glanced up. From the tone of his voice, Gideon seemed more a spurned lover than anything else.

“You get out,” Gideon said. “Hear me?”

Although he said nothing, Trey couldn't keep from sneering. Gideon was short for his age and bone thin, with no muscles to speak of; his neck was like a barren twig. It would have taken Trey no great effort to kill Gideon where he stood, and for a moment, he was tempted. But as the idea flickered across his mind, he could hear in the near distance the clamor of the boys outside the rooms.

What Gideon provided was not merely popular; it had become the very life and blood of the District. He had grown too powerful to kill and get away with it.

“I hear you,” Trey said in an even voice.

Hours later, Gideon stood in his tiled office, his eyes closed to ease his throbbing head.

He couldn't bear to think of what might have happened between the assassin and Esther. Instead, he concentrated on what he knew for sure: that Trey's departure had left him two very real problems. There would be no one taking care of order in the District. And his enemy was still upstairs plotting against him.

Was it his imagination, or were there fewer people buying proof and girls ever since Esther had started caring for the sick and teaching others to read? Were people turning against him and what he offered, siding with her?

He was so preoccupied, he didn't hear the knocking at the door.

“Go away.” Gideon assumed it was Eli. He had little patience for the boy and his pathetic needs and was in no mood to hear his drunken questions about Trey.

But the knocking came again and was more persistent. Gideon sighed and turned around. When he unlocked the door, he saw no one at first. Then he glanced down. He was astonished to see a child standing before him.

She was no older than eight or nine, and tiny for her age. With delicate features and pale skin that seemed almost translucent, she had dark curly hair that framed her face like a halo. She looked like an expensive doll or a toy, and as finely made. Yet she stared up at him with eyes that were shrewd, fearless, and strangely knowing.

Gideon let out a bark of incredulous mirth. “What you want?”

“I want to talk,” the creature said.

Again, the boy laughed. He started to close the door in her face, but she had already slipped inside.

“Out,” he instructed. She shook her head, even as Gideon reached forward and gripped her by the bony shoulder. “I told you, out.”

“I'm Saith,” she said. “And I can help.”

Gideon hesitated. Then with an abrupt move, he released her. “What you mean?”

She shrugged. “Depends. You need sellers?”

“No.”

“Gleaners?”

“Every day, I got more than I need.”

“I see.” She glanced around the Spartan room, at the white tiled walls and metal stalls. “You need someone count that?” She nodded at a heap of green glass that glittered in the corner.

Gideon was impressed. “You count?”

“No. But someone teach me, I learn.” Saith looked back up at him with a cool gaze. “I learn anything.”

Despite himself, Gideon was amused by the child's arrogance. “That nice. But I ain't needing anything.”

He had already taken her by the shoulder again, to push her out. But Saith held back, her pretty brow furrowed in a frown.

“Ain't nobody don't need things.” She slipped from his grasp and moved out of reach. “Even the ones got everything.”

“What
you
know about that?”

“Plenty. I watch it all my life.”

Gideon hesitated. The girl's weird confidence was impressive. Still, what could he do with her? “You ain't strong enough to help. 'Less you got a gun and can use it.”

To his surprise, the little girl smiled.

“Oh,” she said, “it ain't about guns. Who can fight, can kill. It about who knows things.”

Gideon grunted. “How you mean?”

Saith took a step closer. “There other ways to control folks,” she said. “I see what Esther do. I been upstairs.”

The boy paused a minute.

“You interested now,” Saith said.

“Yes,” Gideon had to admit.

“I seen her baby. The mutant. You know it's a mutant?”

“Yes,” he said, taking a seat.

She came close. Gideon was aware she had even placed her hand, a tiny, slim paw, on his arm. He didn't shake it off. Her voice was soft, insinuating. “I know how to make her do what you want.”

Gideon didn't scoff; her manner forbade him. He studied the little girl again. “I listening,” he said.

Saith was gazing off, her eyes clouded in thought. When she smiled, the boy noticed that her teeth were white and a dimple flashed in one cheek; her innocent appearance was strangely at odds with her knowing words. “I hear what you do . . . downstairs.”

At that, Gideon felt a new flare of rage at Esther and her spy, the boy Silas. He leaned forward.

“I think,” she said at last, “we give them something even gooder.”

And with that, Saith winked.

Several days later, there was a commotion on the main floor of the mall.

Like the other information he had conveyed, Gideon had arranged to release a rumor in a judicious way. At first, he told only his favorite vendors, whom he instructed to provide hints to just a few key customers. At every step, people were urged to keep the news strictly confidential . . . and so naturally, it soon spread throughout the entire building.

Most people were both too suspicious and too stupid to trust anything resembling an official announcement. Yet overhearing something from people you didn't trust or even know was a completely different matter. Gossip made even the most scurrilous report believable.

A girl had come to the District who was either witch or prophet
.

She could see the future
.

She had visions of an afterlife
.

Watching from the fourth floor, Gideon could almost
see
the exciting news fly from one person to the next. It fascinated him, this glimpse into the strange workings of the ignorant mind, the avidity and glee with which people hoarded then shared what was to them precious: the promise of something better than this short and painful life.

Saith had told him this would happen. She was right.

She spent the entire time hiding in his office. Because no one could know of her, Gideon was the only one who slipped her food and water. He also procured for her clothing: a fine silken robe of white, a silvery scarf that she draped over her hair. She gave specific instructions, and he fulfilled them to the letter. Then she spent the remainder of the time resting and preparing herself for her first appearance.

Soon it would be time.