Pandora's Genes (6 page)

“Zach?”

Zach thought again how to answer Evvy’s question. “Your second-father told me you once lived in a town,” he finally said. “What was that like?”

“I was a little child then,” said Evvy. She sounded thoughtful. “My first-father was a fur trader. We had a big store. I remember the cabin, and lots of people. Too many people, and bad smells.”

Zach smiled. “Well, that’s just what the Capital is like, only much bigger. There are people, animals, dirt, and noise everywhere.”

“It sounds wonderful.”

He laughed.

“Is it true there are old buildings a mile high?”

“Not a mile. Very tall.”

“Do people live in them?”

“In the bottom parts, some of them. Some are just ruins, and no one can live there. In the top parts no one lives – at least no one who doesn’t have a reason to hide. It takes too long to climb up them.”

“Why were they built so tall then?”

“Before the Change, there were machines to carry people to the top.”

“How?”

“We can’t really know. But there were machines to do nearly everything, Evvy. I’m sure you’ve heard that.”

“Life must have been good in those days,” the girl said after a moment.

“They had their problems, just as we have ours,” said Zach.

“When I get to the Capital I’m going to climb to the top of the tallest building I can find,” Evvy said.

Zach didn’t answer. Evvy seemed to have forgotten that she was on this journey against her will.

“Zach?”

“Yes, Evvy?”

“What’s the Principal like?”

“He’s a man like other men. I’ve answered enough questions now. Let’s ride.”

Evvy didn’t seem to notice that Zach was keeping each day’s journey short; although he felt well he let her think he was still suffering the effects of fly fever. Inevitably, however, the morning of decision came. They had finished breakfasting on the remains of a large snake Zach had caught, and Evvy was gathering their things into bundles to tie on the mount. Zach watched her a moment, then spoke.

“Stop,” he said. She turned around, surprised. “We’re going to leave some things here.”

She started to speak, then fell silent, looking bewildered.

Zach took stock of the things they had on hand. Very little food; they were living off the land. The drinking horn, his large pouch; his smaller personal pouch and drinking skin; two ragged blankets; Evvy’s own small bag and the clothes that they were wearing. Not much. His pipe – well, he could do without that and another would be easy to make. Likewise his leather pouches. As for the feathered lyre, they were so rare and costly that he could never hope to buy another one. Still, if he wanted his plan to succeed, he must make it as convincing as possible.

“Let me see what you have in your bag,” he said.

She hesitated, then turned the contents of the bag onto the ground. There were three hard green fruits, a comb made out of carved bone, a necklace of dried seeds colored purple, and a small dilapidated doll made of rags and twine. As soon as he saw them, Zach wanted to tell her to put everything away, but he needed some evidence that she had been here.

“May I have the comb?” he asked after a moment.

Without a word she handed the object over.

“You can put the other things back,” he said. “And these with them,” he added, handing her his flint and metal.

He took the comb and the pouch containing his pipe and new-smoke, and dropped them by the fire. His larger bag he ripped open, then shoved into the brush.

“What are you doing?” Evvy sounded frightened.

Zach didn’t answer. He kicked the still-smoldering campfire, scattering coals and stones. With his knife he gouged the bark of a young tree, then broke off several of its branches. He would keep his sword and bow, of course; all weapons were so valuable that none would be left anywhere for long. He thought for a moment to hunt for a small animal and its blood, but it might take more than a day, and he had become very aware of the time that had passed since his journey began. Even now there might be a search party on his trail.

He stood back and looked around the now-ruined campsite. Although the evidence did not necessarily indicate a struggle, it would appear obvious that something unusual had occurred here. Then, realizing that the manmade objects might be picked up by anyone, he took them one by one and scattered them nearby, each partially hidden by rocks or dried leaves. As a final touch he took his feathered lyre and placed it, in its protective case, just under the overhanging edge of a large rock upstream from the camp. It would not be readily visible to anyone who was not carefully searching the area, and if he were able someday to retrieve it, it would be at least partially protected from the worst weather.

“Come on, let’s go,” he said. Evvy, looking distressed but not saying anything, followed him to the mount and let herself be lifted onto it. They had ridden a short distance when she spoke:

“We’re going back the way we came yesterday.”

“That’s right,” said Zach. “And we’ll ride in the water for a while. Get ready for some splashing.” He guided the mount down into the shallow edge of the river and turned her upstream.

Now that it had been done, he felt curiously free.

At last the crossing place came into view, and Zach guided his mount out of the water and onto a pre-Change roadway which was now a mixture of weeds, powdered white rock, and occasional brownish clumps of rotting metal.

“Where are we?” asked Evvy, who hadn’t spoken in all this time.

“This is known as the Northern Ford,” said Zach. “It’s an ancient pre-Change bridge made passable by the Principal’s men.” The ancient stone pilings supported long wooden boards, carefully laid and secured with thick bark rope. “We’ll have to get off and walk across. You go first and I’ll follow with the mount.”

Evvy looked frightened, but didn’t protest, and soon she was across. Zach followed her, the mount behind him. On the other side he looked back across the river.
Good-bye, Will
, he thought.

They had ridden in silence for perhaps two hours when Evvy finally spoke again. “Someone’s following us. That’s why you did that, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he said. It was close enough to the truth.

“Are we going to go back for your things?”

“I hope so,” said Zach. “But not for a while.”

She was silent again. He could see that she was thinking, trying in her mind the various reasons why he might have done such a thing. He knew that she would half guess the truth and knew just as well that he did not want to tell her more; telling even a part would lead to telling all, and he wasn’t yet prepared to do that.

They continued to ride, through sunny days and clear nights. It was early autumn, and though the weather grew milder the further south they rode, their blankets and each night’s fire provided welcome warmth. Evvy could not know, of course, that the Capital lay to the north and east of them, that they were moving farther from it every day.

Three nights after they had crossed the river, they camped in a grassy clearing. Zach felt drowsy and comfortable; he had managed to catch two fish that afternoon, and he and Evvy had eaten both of them. Crickets and new-insects chirped in the trees; the night air in this part of the District was moist and heavy.

“I miss your lyre,” said Evvy.

“So do I,” said Zach. He leaned back with his hands behind his neck and watched as the stars appeared.

“Zach?”

“Yes?”

“Why won’t you tell me the truth?”

For a beat Zach was silent. He didn’t look at the girl but kept his gaze fixed on the dark sky above him. “I haven’t lied to you,” he said at last.

“It can be a lie to tell only part of the truth,” she said.

He looked at her now, sitting cross-legged against a tree. The fire was burning low, and he saw that she was gazing at him calmly and openly. For the first time he realized that she was not, after all, a child, but a nearly mature young woman. He couldn’t think what to say to her, and after a moment she spoke again.

“We’re not going to the Capital, are we?”

He spoke slowly and with relief. “No, we’re not.”

“That’s why you left your things at the camp all those days ago. You wanted the Principal to think something had happened, so he won’t look for us.”

“Yes,” said Zach, wondering what else to add, how much to tell her, how to explain what he had decided when she was nursing him back to health. But perhaps he had unconsciously made the decision even before that, on the day he had reluctantly agreed to travel to the remote part of the District where Evvy’s family lived.

“What will happen if he finds us?” she asked.

“He won’t find us,” said Zach. “Don’t worry.”

“Don’t say that,” she said. “That’s all my parents told me the whole week before you came to our house!”

“Ah, Evvy. Let me put it his way, then. I don’t intend to be caught. Not by the Principal or anyone. And as long as I’m with you, I promise that I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“How long will you be with me?”

“Until I know that you are safe and happy.”

She didn’t speak again for several moments, then: “Will you tell me where we’re going?”

“The name of the place wouldn’t mean anything to you, but it’s where I grew up. I’m very sure that you’ll like it and the people there.”

“When will we get there?”

“In two or three days at the most.”

“What will we do then?”

Again Zach hesitated. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “I have an idea, but I haven’t made up my mind. I’m not lying or hiding anything from you. I just don’t know yet.” The only thing he did know, for certain, was that he could not stay at the Garden, nor could he ever return to the Capital.

Evvy sighed. “All right,” she said, accepting his answers for the moment.

Between them was the knowledge that she had not yet asked the most important question: why.

Now that the decision had been made and uttered, there was no reason to delay, and the next day they rode hard and long. Zach was sure that the girl was as tired as he of constantly living off the land, the daily search for clean water and food, the animals and insects everywhere. Besides, he felt a growing excitement at the thought of returning to the Garden for however short a period, for the first time in nearly twenty years.

The remainder of the journey took just under three days from the evening Zach had admitted the truth to Evvy. Though they often passed the time in talking as before, Evvy seemed unusually quiet, lost in her thoughts, and not once did she mention the Capital or the Principal.

When they approached the large shallow lake which lay near the Garden, at first Zach didn’t recognize it. But as they turned onto the narrow path by the shore, he realized where he was.

“I used to fish in this lake when I was a boy,” he said.

Evvy caught his excitement. “When will we get there?”

“I’d say by nightfall, or at the worst, early morning. It’s just across, on the far side of the lake.” But as they continued to follow the lake south the path abruptly ended, disappearing into a soupy marsh. Either a stream had changed course or, more likely, men or animals had dammed one.

“Looks as if we’ll have to take a detour,” Zach said, feeling unreasonably disappointed. Now that he was almost there, he didn’t want to wait another minute. He turned his mount and began skirting the swampland. It was large and no path was cleared; the area alongside was treacherous and he rode into the woods some way to avoid it.

“Look,” said Evvy. She pointed to a low, narrow wooden bridge, which seemed to lead across the swamp. Beyond it was a red dirt road. Zach turned his mount onto the bridge. Once across he was about to head back toward the lake when a man’s voice cried out, “Halt!”

Zach reined in. “Who are you?”

A short, stout man with a ruddy face and graying hair stood by the path. He was dressed in skins, and on his head was a cap made from the fur of a fox-cat. “You’ve used our bridge,” he said. “Now pay the toll.”

Zach was disgusted. The man had no right to collect tolls; such things belonged only to the Principal. But in a region of the District as ill-patrolled as this, enterprising men could get away with anything their imaginations devised.

“How much?” he asked, deciding to pay rather than risk confrontation.

“Two pieces of metal for you . . . and two for your rider. Four altogether.”

“That’s outrageous! I’ll pay nothing! Get out of my way!” Zach started to turn the mount past the little man.

“Not so fast!” Now another man, much taller than the first, nearly as big as Zach himself, stepped into the road. He was holding a crossbow, its bolt aimed at Zach. The small man had swiftly pulled out a knife and held it in throwing position. Zach sighed.

“All right,” he said. He reached into his boot and removed four metal coins and flung them to the ground. “Take your deena-cursed toll!” he said.

The two men exchanged glances, then the first one shook his head. “Sorry, stranger,” he said. “You should have paid when we first asked. The price just went up.”

Feeling sick, Zach realized that both men were now staring, not at him as he had first thought, but just in front of him.

“What my brother means,” said the tall man, “is that we want the girl.”

Z
ACH HESITATED
. T
HE BIG MAN
ahead of him was blocking the road, while the other cut off retreat to the bridge. If he had been alone, he would have turned his mount quickly into the woods, but didn’t dare take the risk with Evvy vulnerable in front of him.

“Throw down your weapons,” said the little man.

“You’re making a dangerous mistake,” said Zach.

“You’ll be making a bigger one if you don’t do what I say.”

Zach lifted his sword and knife free from his belt and dropped them. Then he spoke again, in a commanding tone: “I am Zach, delegate of the Principal. If anything happens to me or my daughter you’ll be very sorry.”

The highwaymen exchanged glances; then the smaller one spoke again. “Get off your mount.” He had drawn a sword and approached. Zach dismounted, and the little man moved between him and the mount. “Orin,” he said, “take the girl.”