Prairie Fire (24 page)

“That was Emily's idea,” I said.

“Good call,” Courtney said. “Still, he's angry and can't officially do anything about it. I'm glad the orders for BC had already come down by the time he saw it, or we'd probably never again see what the totem poles look like from outside the walls.”

“Sorry, guys,” I apologized to the room at large.

“We all knew what it meant when we drew Owen in the first place,” Laura reminded me.

“Also, now half the planet knows that we nabbed a Singe'n'Burn before we left Gagetown,” Annie added. “I swear, we've been getting better desserts all week because of that.”

“Well, as long as there's dessert.” I pulled out the bugle and wondered if I should bring it. The trains in the A to Z Tunnel were different from regular trains, because they shipped so many necessities to BC. Space was key, and Peter and his comrades were moving a good portion of their lives. I didn't want to be the reason one of them had to leave something important behind.

“That counts as an essential,” Courtney told me. “I made a list.”

“Don't ask about the lists,” Laura said in a desperate stage whisper when I opened my mouth to do just that. “Just pack exactly what she tells you to, and we might get to bed before midnight.”

“I'm efficient,” Courtney pointed out.

“That's one way of putting it,” Laura replied.

The Americans laughed along with us. It was well before midnight when we turned the lights out, and well before winter-sunrise when the train slid away from the platform at Fort Calgary and headed for the mountains. It was a tense ride at first. Owen, Nick, and Porter took turns looking out the windows and fretting, but we reached Hinton without so much as a candle's worth of flame spotted. The sun was just starting to rise when we reached the mouth of the John A–Zuò Tunnel, and before it had fully cleared the horizon, we had already gone back into the dark.

STRONG FEELINGS ABOUT RAISINS

The John A–Zuò Tunnel was a remarkable feat of engineering, but it wasn't very interesting to look at, even if the meagre glow from the far-spaced lights had allowed for a close examination of the hewn walls. Courtney, Aarons, and Nick's two engineer-smiths clustered together near the rear of our car, poring over the schematics Courtney had brought with her. I had to admit, their enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself listening to what they were saying and composing without even meaning to.

It would be a dark song, obviously, with spots of light to match the panels we passed at regular intervals. It should feel safe, or at least safer than the alternative, and yet there should be something to account for the feeling of having all those metres of rock above our heads. Annie, far less sanguine about the trip than I was, had taken a Gravol and was doing her best to fall asleep as quickly as possible. I noticed that Ilko and a couple of the American firefighters were uncomfortable too, but they'd been too tough to follow Annie's commonsense example. That would be where the strings came in, I decided, to give that uncomfortable edge to the dark.

“The American tunnels were laser-cut,” the American sapper was telling Courtney. I didn't for a second doubt that Courtney already knew that. “So they're much straighter than this one.”

“True,” Courtney allowed. “A couple of our northern tunnels were made that way, and so was the tunnel that connects Montana to Cascadon. This one is older though. And they had dynamite. It's not like they carved it out with their teeth.”

“I can't believe they managed the whole thing with only six cave-ins,” said the smith. “And even those were the result of blasting, not of striking blind and hitting a flaw.”

“Can we not talk about cave-ins?” Annie requested. She didn't even sound groggy.

“I was about to tell you that this area of the Rockies is very stable,” Courtney said. “So don't worry. I can explain to you how it works, if you like.”

“I'd rather not,” Annie said. It might have been the pale light, but I thought she looked a bit green. “Understanding it just means I can think more creatively about things that might go wrong.”

“Go to sleep,” Owen said. “We'll be through it soon enough.”

“I heard from Caroline before we left,” Laura said. “She said to tell you that we will be seeing all of the terrible parts of the province, and that she can't recommend any places to eat in Port Edward, because she's pretty sure the only thing they eat there is fish.”

My confusion must have been apparent, because Laura sighed.

“Caroline is the name of the dragon slayer from Chilliwack we lived with for fourteen weeks,” she explained. “Seriously, Siobhan, aren't you supposed to be the one who remembers these things?”

“There were a lot of people at Basic,” I told her. “And many of them were kind of jerks to me.”

“Fair enough,” Laura said, and then raised her voice to be sure that Courtney overheard her. “I'll make you a list, if you need it.”

“Efficient!” Courtney called back, without looking up from the discussion she was having, which had become so technical I'd stopped trying to follow it. For a moment, I just listened to the train.

“So,” Owen said, leaning towards me across the aisle. “My name's Owen. Who are you?”

I laughed—quietly, in case Annie was making any headway. It had been a while since we'd really had a chance to talk in person. I missed him. It was one thing to write songs about a dragon slayer, and quite another to remember the boy who'd stood so awkwardly through the national anthem the day we were both late for English.

“Your mother says hello, and your aunts send their love,” I told him. “Aodhan too, obviously, but I didn't want to overwhelm you with all their admiration at the same time.”

“Good plan,” he replied. “I'm feeling very unadmired these days. It's probably best to break me in gently.”

“Was Hinton that bad?” I asked.

“It was kind of nice, actually,” he said. “Nobody cared that I was a Thorskard. Porter was a bigger deal than I was, and I could just sit in the background and not worry about living up to Lottie for a while.”

“Laura seems to think that Hinton is the rear end of the universe,” I told him.

“Oh, that it is,” he said. “Cold, grey, full of trees. But the people weren't so bad, once they got used to us. A 'Bascan Long attacked one day while we were patrolling in the forest and burned down ten buildings in town before we could get to it. I thought for sure the locals would be angry that we were more concerned with the forestry zones than with their houses and shops, but there wasn't even a sarcastic editorial in the newspaper afterwards. Our billet didn't have much of a kitchen, so we ate out a lot, and I don't think Porter paid for a meal or a beer the whole time we were there. After your song went up, neither did I.”

“Yeah, Porter's surprisingly popular. Peter's friends all like him a lot. I spent my first week as their liaison ferrying their complaints about his reassignment back and forth.”

“He's actually kind of fun, once he managed to relax a bit,” Owen told me. I tried to imagine Porter relaxing. It didn't work. “I get why Courtney likes him, anyway,” he continued. “And he seemed interested in how Lottie's arrangement with Trondheim works.”

“You think he's eyeing retirement?” It wouldn't be too surprising. I got the impression that the Watch envisioned Porter leaving Alberta one of two ways, the first of which involved a body bag.

“He misses his support squad more than he lets on,” Owen told me. “Not that he said as much, obviously.”

“He did a good thing protecting them, but I can see how it would be lonely,” I said. “Did you give him the food Sadie sent?”

“Oh, yes,” he said. “He was very happy. And then I had to try something called spotted dick, and I may never forgive you.”

“Apparently it's a perfectly legitimate form of cake,” I told him.

“It has raisins.” He wrinkled his nose. “I have strong feelings about raisins.”

I realized that Nick, who was sitting in the window seat next to Owen, had yet to interject himself into the conversation. I looked over Owen's shoulder, wondering if he had fallen asleep. He hadn't, and was instead looking out the window with a mournful expression on his face. I very nearly asked him what was wrong until I heard a voice in my head that sounded a lot like Sadie's, reminding me that I might not want to know.

“What about Grande Prairie, Nick?” I asked. Work was probably a safe topic.

“It's not a prairie, really,” he said. “I was disappointed. It was barely flat at all.”

“I mostly meant the dragons,” I told him. “We already know that Owen didn't see much action in Hinton, but you must have seen something up there.”

“Wapitis, for the most part,” he said. “Blue and Red, though we managed to kill one before we found out which. I gather that's something of an accomplishment. And there were a lot of eggs.”

I couldn't help the shudder or the way I curled my hands into my lap. Dragon eggs were such a stupid thing to be afraid of. Most of the time, you didn't get close to them because of the adult population, and if you did get close to them, they were absolutely harmless and easy enough to break. But every time I thought about them, I thought about fire, and then I couldn't stop.

“It's okay,” Owen said, so quietly I wasn't sure Nick could hear him.

“Did you get to shoot any of them?” I asked.

“What, like you think some magic bird is going to tell me about the magic place where I can shoot a dragon the size of a Wapiti with a magic arrow?” he said, grinning. “No, I used a lance.”

“Are you over your fear of horses, then?” Owen asked.

“I was never afraid of horses,” Nick said in a grandiose tone with all the wrong parts of Lieutenant Porter's accent. “I merely hold them in the highest regard.”

“Sure you do,” Owen said. “And do you have the same feelings for chickens?”

“Hell no,” Nick replied. “Those things are terrifying.”

My hands uncurled as they talked, and the fire dimmed behind my eyes.

“I thought the prairies were boring,” Gratton said from the seat in front of us. “But this.” He looked out the window into the dark. “This is extremely tedious.”

“I bet you it's nice and exciting if you try to go over the top,” Laura replied.

“Did you know that fewer than fifty people have ever survived going that way?” Gratton said, a morbid grin on his face. “Officially, anyway? I'll take my chances with the cave-ins.”

“Stop. Talking. About. The cave-ins,” Annie growled.

“Someone go and get that Peter guy,” Parker suggested. “I want to hear the Singe'n'Burn song played properly—no offense, Siobhan.”

“None taken,” I assured him as Wilkinson got up to go see if Peter wanted to come back and sit with us for a bit. “It's meant to be sung with live accompaniment. The synth can do a lot, but there's something to be said for live performances.”

Peter was interested, it turned out, because he was just as bored as we were, and his fellows just as claustrophobic. Porter left the door open between the cars, because we couldn't all fit in one even if everyone stood. Owen gave up his seat and moved forward to sit with Ted, and Annie stopped pretending to sleep so that she could listen. I didn't blame her. As the foreman of the fire crew, she'd been fairly central to the Singe'n'Burn fight, and the song reflected that.

I'd written it without a percussion part, but the sound of the train on the rails below us provided one anyway, and both Peter and I followed it without discussion. The song and the tracks were the only sounds; even the engineers quieted to hear us. This was different from singing in the barracks or in the mess when the refugees requested it. This was performing, and it had been a very long time since I'd done that for an audience I could see.

It was a happy song, the Singe'n'Burn, and so it was fitting that I couldn't stop smiling as I sang it. Peter was smiling too, adding all sorts of little flourishes that hadn't been a part of the original arrangement, and joining in to harmonize during the chorus. I didn't mind. This song was as much his as it was mine or Owen's, because he'd been the one to help me piece it together.

Beside Peter, Nick had gone back to looking out the window into the darkness. I was worried that he was moping, mostly because I had no idea what I was supposed to do about that, even though Sadie had told me it wasn't my problem. I could see his reflection in the window, though, between the lights that flashed past as the train sped by, and he was smiling. I sang until we got to British Columbia and the sun was high above our heads. I sang until the dragon dropped out of the sky and landed on the railway tracks right in front of us.