The Dirt Eaters (22 page)

Water for the rafts, Roan realizes.

“If it was anyone else, Miss Alandra...”

“And how could I forget? I've brought you more of the vervain I prescribed.”

A look of embarrassed relief crosses Vorn's face.

“Oh, thank you, Miss Alandra, thank you. Just give me a few minutes to get the water ready.”

As soon as he's gone, Alandra slips over to the big output pipe. She locates the opening, a small hatch on the pipe that allows a dropper to be inserted for water quality testing. She pulls a wrench from her satchel and twists the nut.

Roan watches helplessly as the overseer returns. But it seems Alandra's heard Vorn's footsteps, for she's quickly covering her activity.

“Sorry, ma'am. Bottles or containers?”

“Bottles, please.”

“I'll need some time to load the wagon.”

“I don't mind waiting, Master Vorn. I've always enjoyed contemplating your remarkable waterworks.”

His face flushing, Vorn leaves. And with one more twist of the wrench, the hatch is open. Alandra pulls a pouch from her pocket and tips its contents into the water supply. She replaces the lid and secures the nut seconds before Master Vorn returns.

Thanking the overseer for his diligence, Alandra covers the large-wheeled water wagon and heads home. Roan knows the lake road's a slow downhill all the way to her house, so it's no surprise when she doesn't even pause before moving on.

“Alandra, my love, how are you?” Mrs. Fligg extravagantly intones.

“Thank you for your concern, but everything's fine.”

“Who would have guessed? Such a nice boy, that Korr. My darlings just loved him. And you had him there the whole time, living under your own roof.”

“I know,” sighs Alandra. “People can be so deceptive.”

“Well, let's think of happier things, shall we?”

“The Jabberwocky Wagon's driver has requested that the children be given no liquids before the trip this time.”

The matron nods. “That makes a good deal of sense, the body fluids and all. It's a wonder they haven't thought of it before. I'll follow his directions to the letter.”

Behind her courteous veneer, Alandra clearly wants to shriek. If they make it out of this alive, maybe she'll teach him some of her self control.

When Alandra arrives home, Lelbit's bent over the stove, stirring an herbal potion that bubbles in a large pot. Once the liquid cools, Alandra helps Lelbit submerge big white sheets, then hang them on the rafters to dry.

Alandra pulls up the floorboard revealing Roan's pack and other belongings. She draws out the hook-sword, and light cascades along the finely honed blades.

“Make sure he gets this.”

As Lelbit nods gravely, Roan feels his fate and the hook-sword's join once again.

Evening is approaching by the time Alandra makes her way to the raiders' barracks. The lights are off in many of Fairview's homes, and people are snoozing on their porches. Hovering above as she opens the door a crack, Roan spies the mercenaries, half-empty mugs of wine still in their hands, sprawled everywhere, snoring. Whatever Alandra put in their drink has worked well. Satisfied, she closes the barracks door and moves toward Brack's house.

“Alandra!” calls Brack, when he sees her. “Dinner's being served!”

“Sorry, an emergency with one of my patients.”

“You look ravishing,” murmurs the Bird Man. As he bows to Alandra from his seat, his head drops, snoring.

“Forgive Brother Raven,” Saint apologizes, taking Alandra's hand. “He nipped into the warriors' wine.”

Raven's defection leaves Brack, Saint, and ten Friends at the table. No one's poured any water from the pitcher, though. Yet Alandra remains composed throughout the meal, even managing to seem charmed by the small talk.

When the last plate is cleared, she ventures flatteringly to Saint, “I've heard so much about you. Your accomplishments are legendary.”

“They are not my accomplishments, Alandra, they're the Friend's. Everything I do is on His behalf. I am only His messenger.”

“And when you are offered the famous flan of the great chef Yasmin, do you eat it on His behalf as well?”

Saint stares at her. Brack turns white. All are silent, wondering what the Prophet's reaction will be to this sacrilege. After a tense moment, he bursts into laughter, and everyone in the room joins in.

“No, my young beauty, I eat for myself, but with thanks to the Friend!”

Alandra smiles and rises. “Then excuse me while I go into the kitchen to see how the dessert is coming.”

Yasmin and all four of Brack's kitchen staff are asleep at the kitchen table. A tray filled with small dishes of flan sits on the counter. Alandra takes a small vial out of her pocket and swallows the contents. An antidote to the “vanilla” she put in the flan, Roan guesses as she whisks the tray away.

“I've been given the honor of serving dessert to you fine gentlemen,” Alandra announces, placing a dish in front of each man with an affable smile. “The chef made this especially for the Prophet.”

But neither Saint nor any of the Brothers touch the dessert.

Saint smiles a little sheepishly. “I mean no insult to your fine chef, but I've found lately that such rich foods don't agree with me. My men abstain out of respect.”

Alandra smiles demurely. “I admire their loyalty, but it will break Yasmin's heart to see her attempt to serve you refused. Such a delicacy is an honor to the Friend. At least have a little, so that all may enjoy.”

Saint relents, eating a spoonful. Brack and the Brothers each have a spoonful too. Saint sniffs at his bowl. Smacks his lips. And takes another few bites. Now all are free to dive in, and their bowls are emptied in short order. But Saint leans back, patting his belly. “Forgive me, I mustn't continue.”

“Please don't apologize. You've well honored Yasmin's efforts,” Alandra tells him. Roan wonders if the Prophet has eaten enough. How long will they have?

Brack slumps forward, drugged by the flan. Saint looks at him, then at Alandra. “The Governor must have been sharing that nip with the ambassador,” she says with a wink.

Before she can finish speaking, one Brother after the other falls forward in his seat, snoring. Saint, confused, scowls at Alandra. He jolts up from his chair, knocking it down, and lurches for her. But the drug takes him as well, and he falls in a heap at her feet.

Lelbit waits in the shadows. Alandra sees her and nods.

FLIGHT

THIS IS THE RIDDLE OF HIS COMING. THOUGH LONGLIGHT HAS PERISHED, HE WILL BE HER SON. AND HE WILL SEE CLEARLY WHAT HE HAS NEVER SEEN. AND THOSE WHO WALK WITH HIM WILL SHARE HIS VISION.

—
THE BOOK OF LONGLIGHT

A
DOOR SLAMS. FOOTSTEPS.
A jangle of keys, and the cell door bursts open.

Roan smiles. “Lelbit!”

Intent on her purpose, Lelbit unlocks Roan's bonds, hands him his hook-sword, and leads the way.

In the front yard of the Children's Home, they find Alandra at her wit's end.

“We're not goin' to go with you. We're goin' with the Jabberwocky Wagon!” shouts Jaw.

“I thought we were getting ice cream!” wails Lona.

“We're not going nowhere except with the Jabberwocky Wagon that's taking us to our new folks,” Bub states with finality, and he sits down on his pack, just to the right of the snoring Mrs. Fligg.

Once they spot Roan, however, all of the children leap up, begging him to play.

“Quiet!” he shouts over the din, and they instantly fall silent. “First of all, you should know my real name is Roan.”

“I like that name!” Lona squeaks.

“I'd like to take you somewhere else, and not in the Jabberwocky Wagon.”

“Does that mean no ice cream?” Bub wonders.

“That's right. Because what you were told about the Jabberwocky Wagon wasn't true. It was a story made up to capture you. My friends and I want to leave here forever and find a new place to live. It won't be easy. There might be trouble along the way. Some of us might get hurt. But if we stay here, we'll be hurt for sure. Would you be willing to come with us?”

For a moment, no sound. Roan feels the force of their eyes on him, feels their collective power.

Then “Yes!” the children cheer. “We want to come! We want to come!”

“Good. We have to hurry. And remember, be very, very quiet.”

The children pick up their packs, and Roan leads the silent procession through the eerily deserted town. They walk with care in the bright moonlight, alert for any movement, any sound. A pair of raiders snore on the sidewalk, and the children stare fascinated at their scarred faces. Lelbit, pushing the supply wagon she's fetched from Alandra's home, wordlessly shoos them along.

Ahead, the gate is barred, the gatekeeper fallen beside it. Roan extracts the iron bar that locks it shut. While the others wait, he and Lelbit cautiously push open the massive doors. With his finger over his lips, he motions the children to follow him through. The group begins to move, but they freeze at the sound of a man's voice.

“Alandra!”

A hand grips her wrist. Alandra goes pale.

“It's late to be going out,” the gatekeeper mumbles, his eyes half shut.

She bends low, her face close to his.

“I know,” she murmurs, “but I'll be alright. You should rest now. Rest.”

The man lets out a deep sigh, and his chin falls to his chest. Alandra nods to Roan, who guides the children out.

Once through the gates, the group walks as quickly as the children can manage.

“We don't have much time,” Alandra whispers to Roan as they near the lake.

Roan turns to face the children. “We're almost there,” he says. “See my friend down by the water? Who's going to get to him first?”

“Me! Me! Me!” the children shout as they bolt toward Lumpy. At the shore, where Lumpy has set out the rafts, Alandra wraps treated sheets around each of the children, while Roan, Lumpy, and Lelbit load the vessels with food, water, and supplies.

“The sheets will stop the lake gas from burning your skin,” Alandra explains. “You need to stay wrapped up, even your faces, until Roan tells you it's safe to take them off.” She gives Roan a worried look.

They turn back to Fairview, scanning it for movement. A light flickers in the distance.

“Everybody on board now!” Roan orders.

Lumpy takes the first group of children, Alandra and Lelbit the second. Roan follows with the last group of children. Poling through the shallow, bubbling water with long oars Lumpy's fashioned out of splayed tree trunks, they push furiously, propelling the rafts out onto the lake as fast as they can.

They haven't gone far when they hear an ominous sound. The roar of an engine: Saint's motorcycle. Roan turns to see him, with the Brothers on horseback galloping behind. Within moments, the Friends have reached the shore.

“Come back!” bellows Saint, his voice thundering over the water. “Come back, Roan. You endanger them all!”

Roan hears Lona whimper, and he calls out to the children. “Don't worry. Stay wrapped up tight and everything will be fine.”

The children fall quiet, comforted, but Roan wonders if he can keep his word. A slew of spears hurled by the Brothers are sailing over the water at them. The weapons fall short, sizzling in the acid waters.

Before the Brothers can launch another wave of spears, Lelbit raises her bow and lets a few arrows fly. One Brother falls. Another clutches his chest. Two more go down before the rafts float out of range.

Roan observes the Brothers' movements. Saint and his men are hacking down branches. In half a day they'll have constructed their own crafts and be in hot pursuit.

“We've got to put as much distance between us and them as we can,” he tells the others. “They won't be far behind.”

Rounding the point, they get a full view of the lake. It's a sea of toxic, stinking water. No shore in sight. Roan feels the snow cricket wriggling in his pocket. He sits it on his flat palm and waits patiently. Within moments, the cricket positions its head north.

“According to the cricket, that's the way we go,” Roan announces, pointing to the watery horizon.

The rafts are sturdy and hold their loads well. The paddlers keep their strokes even and steady, and labor without pause. But the vessels are far from streamlined and the paddlers must take care not to splash, so the going is slow.

By the time the moon sets, the wind is quiet and the lake still. The three rafts pull closer, and Lelbit lashes them together. Bread, cheese, and water are passed around, the children eating and drinking under their protective sheets. The four leaders decide on alternate shifts, two of them sleeping while the other two keep the craft moving on course.

The children, however, do not rest easily. Excitement wakes them, and one by one they peek out of their protective covers.

“You should be sleeping,” Roan advises, but his attempt at sounding stern fails miserably. In a moment, all of the children's heads have bobbed out of their sheets.

“I can't sleep.”

“Me neither,” says Bub.

Roan sings a lullaby to soothe them, something he's almost forgotten how to do. It's one his mother sang to him many years ago.

Far beyond sea, the waters run deep.

Far beyond hill, the mountains are steep.

There you will find

in Earth and in mind

Your dreams never sleep

where your heart can keep them.

As he sings, Roan looks up into a night sky thrilled with stars. He ponders the galaxies within galaxies that brought back his mother's song. And he wonders if his mother ever imagined where he'd find himself this night.

“Breakfast!” calls Lumpy, who's been paddling with Lelbit since taking over the shift.

While the children eat, Lumpy teaches them finger games. They're fascinated by his scars, asking endless questions of him and Lelbit. Jaw, in particular, adopts Lumpy as his special friend. During her rest time, Lelbit takes bundles of cloth from her pack and ties small pieces of the material around some of her arrows. Roan catches her eye. They share a foreboding, and he's glad she's found some way to prepare.

Their short respite over, the travelers separate the rafts and the paddling begins again in full force.

The most startling revelation on the journey is the children. Huddled together on the tiny rafts, forbidden to take off their protective sheets, unable to run or jump, they could easily explode in frustration. But whenever they grow restless, a calming word from Roan is all it takes. He draws their attention to the dappling of moon and sun on the water, the faces of ferocious beasts in clouds, the drift of a seabird soaring in the wind, and they're instantly content.

For three days they paddle, the rafts separate by day, lashed together by night. On the afternoon of the fourth day, Lona's the first to notice the change in the water.

“Can you sniff it? It's smelling kind of nice.”

Lumpy leans close to the surface, then looks at his friends. “I wouldn't risk drinking it, but I don't think it has the power to burn.” He breaks off a piece of bread and throws it in the water. The bread doesn't disintegrate; it simply bobs on the surface.

“Look! A fish!” Jaw shouts with glee.

The children crane for a look. Sure enough, a carp is nibbling on the bread. There's life in the water here. Roan and Alandra share a look of relief and anticipation. It confirms what they saw in the dream. In the distance, they make out a shoreline backed by a cascade of hills.

Alandra's call of “Sheets off!” is met by cheers as the kids take in the sun and stretch out their limbs. But their celebration is short-lived.

Behind the group, a craft's approaching fast. As it draws closer, Roan makes out eight men, paddling in unison and achieving great speed. One of the men stands, raising a heavy crossbow horizontally across his chest. A sharp whine accompanies his arrow as it blasts through the air, straight at Roan. Roan's eyes focus on the missile. He pivots, but too late: he is hit. Lelbit replies with an arrow of her own. It's a long way to the Friends' raft, but the shot hits its mark. The crossbowman and his weapon fall overboard.

The children gawk at Roan, the arrow stuck straight through his bloody arm.

He smiles faintly at them. “I'm alright, don't worry. Just think good thoughts, okay?”

Lelbit dips one of her cloth-wrapped arrows into a jar containing a tar-like substance, then lights it with a spark from her fire stone. Drawing back her bow, she sends the flaming arrow hurtling at the approaching raft. It hits the sap-laden sticks, which ignite instantly. As the Brothers frantically attempt to douse the fire, she shoots one arrow after another, until the raft explodes in flames. Their clothes on fire, the Friends have no choice but to leap into the water.

Lumpy lashes the rafts together so that Alandra can attend to Roan while he and Lelbit paddle toward the shore, which is now clearly in sight.

Alandra's fingers hover over the wounded area. “It's missed the bone.” Tearing a strip from the bottom of her shirt, she ties off Roan's arm at the shoulder. With a warning look, she commands, “Hold steady.” Roan controls his breath as she cuts off the feathered end of the arrow, each small movement a jab of pain. There is a searing tug as she extracts the shaft.

“It pierced cleanly,” Alandra says. Giving Roan a quizzical look, she shifts his attention to the children. He sees that each one of the boys and girls is focusing on his wound. He'd asked them to think good thoughts, but they seem to have taken him at more than his word. “Roan,” Alandra says, awestruck, “the wound's already begun to heal.”

The children are the first to step out onto the warm, white sand. They scramble over each other to cast off their four days of captivity in an eruption of running, jumping, wrestling, tumbling, and mad digging in the sand. While the other three leaders unload the rafts, Roan keeps vigil over the lake. He knows the water alone would not have killed the remaining Brothers, and those who survived are certain to follow.

Once they've unloaded, Roan calls out to the playing children. “I need you!”

Every child instantly rushes over. Lona's a step behind, having buried herself in the white sand.

“What do you want us to do?” Bub and Jaw ask together.

“First we have to put our packs on and fill up our water sacks from the big bottles.”

The children bolt into action, and within minutes they are ready for Roan's next instruction. “See those hills? We have to get over them. Whoever finds the trail first gets to ride on my shoulders.”

The youngest ones screech with delight as they charge to the hillside. Clambering through the brush, the little horde runs back and forth until, gathering together, they sit, all eyes on the puzzle.

Little Lona is the one who finally stands up and walks along the edge of the stone. When she stops, she begins to bounce up and down. Bub and Jaw join her, taking her hands, and they jump together, over and over, until the three of them disappear.

Lumpy anxiously runs to the spot, followed by the others.

“We're down here!” Bub yells up from the bottom of a gaping cranny in the rock. “You can get to the other side from here!”

Lumpy eyes Roan. “Did you know they'd find that?”