Winterkill (34 page)

There are two Watchers on this side of the fort. One of them looks like Andre, but I'm not certain. The glint of a spyglass flashes and I shrink back against the trees.

Fear riddles my chest.

I close my eyes, listen to my heart beating wild, the wind
whistling through the stripped trees. I hear a new sound. Faint. A
thump, thump, thump
coming from inside the fortification. Part of the virtues commitment ceremony.

Need to move.

I stand and push aside brambles, moving for the Watch flats.

I stop when I'm hidden by the last screen of scrub. The second Watcher has turned, and the first—Andre, I'm sure of it now—has the spyglass out again. It's my chance.

I push off my good foot to pop up above the brush but am stopped dead. A strong hand hauls me back down into the bramble. I land on my knees and scramble around.

A Watcher looms over me.

I shrink back, my eyes raking over him, over the long scar cutting down one cheek. It's the Watcher always hanging around Andre, around the weapons shack.

“Je ne peux y croire! Il a dit que tu étais ici!”
He launches into a stream of French, speaking so fast I can't understand. He's breathing hard, his eyes wild.
“Viens!”
He lurches forward and grabs me by the wrist. I jerk backward, but his grasp is a steel trap.

“Wait!” I say. “There are people.
Les Perdus
. They're here!”

He's not listening; he presses through the scrub, hauling me behind him as I scramble to my feet.
“Viens!”
he repeats.

“
S'il vous plait
—please!”

He stops for a heartbeat and wraps one meaty fist around both of my wrists. Then he turns and continues, pulling me like a man possessed by the Almighty Himself.

He's dragging me back to the flats. Back to Council.

My dream floods in. All of those Watchers, standing on the wall, just as I find Matisa . . .
Almighty.

I tug backward, but I'm held fast. I try to calm myself so I can remember some French—so I can stop him, explain. But we emerge from the line of scrub out onto the flats and the fort comes into view.

They're up there, standing at attention. And now that my dream is bursting hot and bright in my mind, I realize something that makes my knees go weak.

That instant, in my dream, it's not Matisa they're staring down as they reach for their weapons.

It's me.

The wind is keening. Sounds like the song my mother used to sing. My mind is going to shatter from fear, and all I can hear is that tune.

Sleep, little one, with your secret heart,

We're well out on the flats; just us and the wind and the snow.

Take to the night like the swallow.

Two of the Watchers have gone dead still on the wall.

When morning time brings what your secret heart sings,

Set your feet to the same path and follow.

The Watcher is dragging me now; my legs are locked stiff with terror. It's too late. Can't get my tongue to work and I
can't break free. The Elephant Man mask burns into my side, under my
ceinture
. I have a fleeting thought for Kane's warm hands—

Three Watchers are still.

Thump, thump, thump.
The drums from the ceremony beat louder. In my head, in my heart. Four, five, six; they're all facing us.

We're close now—can see their faces. None of them is Andre.

One of them puts his hand to his opposite shoulder. Grabbing for his weapon. The rest do the same, raising their hands to their shoulders. Just like in my dream.

We stop. The Watcher releases my hands and steps away.

I could run, but I'd never make it. We're too far out onto the flats and I'm too slow. My mind blanks and my body turns to syrup—slow, slow. I drop my eyes to the snowcrusted prairie grass at my feet and wait for the shots. Wait for the buckshot to pierce my heart through.

Thump, thump, thump
.

Silence.

I look up, blinking away snowflakes.

All six are standing at attention on the top of the wall, looking down at me. But they don't have their rifles trained on me.

They have their hands across their chests in the Peace of the Almighty.

My heart stutters.

And then the west gates swing open and Frère Andre is standing there, wide-eyed. We stare at one another through the blowing snow. He's holding the journal.

“VITE!
” HE SNAPS AND WAVES ME INSIDE.

I force my legs to move. What—?

He hurries me inside the gates. As they bang shut I'm surrounded by a dozen Watchers. They're looking at one another, at me, back at one another. Some of them are muttering and crossing themselves. The other walls are bare of sentries; everyone but the west-side Watchers have left their posts.

Andre reaches forward and claps my captor on the shoulder.
“Bien,”
he says.

The Watcher nods back at him. My legs are weak. I look around at the crowd again, back to Andre. My eyes are so wide they're drying up in the wind.

“I think I see you in the woods,” Andre says, looking pleased. “And I send Luc down the wall to find you.”

Luc takes a deep breath and smiles. At me.

I stare at him. Then I blink and point to the journal in Andre's hands. “Where—where did you get that?”

“Your friend from the east—
le blond
.”

Tom
.

“I keep it safe for him today. Yesterday he find me, say if you return from the woods today, I let you in. That you bring a gift from the Almighty. I tell my Watch.” He frowns. “But this morning Frère Stockham tell us you are gone. Crossroads.”

“Then why—” I look around at the Watchers. Afraid as the settlement is right now, how is it possible at least one of them didn't shoot at me?

“Your
mémère
.
Elle est une gentille dame
.” It takes me a minute to realize he's saying that my grandma'am was a good woman. “I think the Almighty does not allow the same death two times.” He points to the key ring on his
ceinture
. “I keep the weapons locked.” He nods to the Watchers. “
Parce qu'ils sont effrayés
—they are afraid. Councilmen go to
le bois,
but nobody know why.”

My knees give out in relief and I sink to the ground. I take a deep breath. Tom went and got the journal after I was taken away. Even though it was no sure thing I was coming back, he did it.

“Do you know what's written in there?” I point to the journal.

Andre shakes his head.
“Non. Mais”
—he leans close—“Tom say it tell of your family innocent. And people whisper
des les Perdus
.”

The Lost People. Tom shared it, then. He shared my find with someone. He's starting to spread the truth. I want to laugh and shout with happiness. But fear cuts through my joy. Suppose Council's heard people talking? Wouldn't they
do whatever they could to retain control? Make an example of someone, some show of force to keep people in line—like they did with Jacob? Thank Almighty the weapons are locked up; no one here can do anything rash in their fear. I just pray Isi and Nishwa managed to disarm the Councilmen in the woods.

“Emmeline!” A shout comes from across the courtyard. I scramble to my feet as the Watchers turn. “Emmeline!” It's Kane's voice.

I push through the line of people and find Kane and Matisa hurrying through the courtyard. How did they get inside?

I feel the Watchers around me—tense, shifting. They're murmuring to one another in French. I glance about and see them looking to Frère Andre.

He fingers the key, gaze locked on Matisa. He nods. The Watchers push past me, moving for Kane and Matisa.

“Don't hurt her!” I choke out as I limp after them.
“Ne la blessez-pas!”

Kane pulls Matisa behind him and stands his ground, one hand out—asking them to stay back. The Watchers surge toward them, form a circle around them, but they don't advance on Matisa. I reach the ring of Watchers and push through.

“Le don de Dieu,”
Frère Andre mutters, walking into the circle. Then he crosses himself. The rest of the Watchers do the same, and sink to their knees.

I stumble into the middle and Kane grabs me to him, crushing me against his chest. I press my face into his neck, near crying with relief. He runs a hand down my hair, stroking my plait.

“How did you get in?” I pull back.

“Like you said. Watch changed and the wastewater-ditch gate was unlatched.”

Tom. He must've done it after all, before hearing I was sent to the Crossroads this morning. Watch didn't change, though; they came to see who Andre was letting in the gates. My lie became truth.

“Why are you here?” His face is so perplexed and relieved. I owe him the truth, but I don't have time to explain.

“Tom helped me after all.” I point to Frère Andre. “And Andre.”

The Watchers are on their knees, looking on Matisa like she's the Thaw.

“Emmeline,” Frère Andre says, his eyes fixed on Matisa, “you bring this gift to us. From the woods. It is a sign of good things.” He repeats himself in French and the Watchers murmur in agreement.

I look around the ring of faces—these brave men and women who have guarded our settlement from an unseen enemy night after night—and see that they are not a bit afraid. They're full of hope and purpose.

You will know who to trust.

I thought I was looking for one person, but I was wrong.

I speak so the group can hear. “We need to share our gift.”

The drums
thump
as we push into the ceremonial hall. Brother Stockham's head is bowed at the pulpit as he prepares the Affirmation rites. Brother Jameson stands at his side, holding the cloth. Nearly the entire settlement, dressed
in their ceremony best, is packed into the space, so we have to force our way through the back row of people. Frère Andre goes first, flanked by two Watchers. I follow close behind, my cloak drawn tight around me, hood hiding me from the crowd. The rest of the Watchers follow. Kane and Matisa wait around the side of the hall; they won't come in until we're sure it's safe.

We are our own solemn procession. My gaze stays on the feet shuffling before us. My heart is in my throat, beating loud as the drums. I am a mishmash of nerves and elation.

For an instant I wonder if I've acted too hasty, if surprising Stockham is the way to do this. I wanted the settlement to see the truth on his face, but now I wonder if he won't find a way to twist my words, turn the settlement against me before I have a chance to explain. Then I remember the Watchers' reactions to Matisa. No. People have been kept in fear for a long time, but they won't choose it over hope. They'll choose the promise of something better.

I want to risk a quick look around for Tom and my pa, but I keep my eyes to the wooden floorboards. By the time we get to the front of the crowd, the hall is buzzing with hushed whispers. The drums stop.

Brother Stockham's voice rings out. “Frère Andre,
que fais tu?
What is this?”

Frère Andre and the Watchers part and I step forward, pulling back my hood and raising my head.

There is a low gasp from the crowd. I hear my name whispered. Brother Stockham freezes, the blood draining from his handsome face.

I force my voice out loud and clear. “I brought the settlement a gift.”

He stares at me. Brother Jameson stands at his side, his face the same mask of disbelief.

“I brought the unknown,” I say.

The air goes still. I match Stockham's stare, but I can feel the crowd around me shift in bewilderment, look to him for an answer.

“Did you.” His voice is quiet, but it drops like a stone in the hall.

“I did.”

He waits.

I breathe deep. The presence of the Watchers gives me strength.

Honesty, Bravery, Discovery.

“I've proved Discovery a new way. On my own.” My voice gains volume as I speak. “And you can no longer lead us.” I'm as calm as a windless prairie. No fury in my words, just cold determination.

There are a few gasps. I break Stockham's gaze and look around. A handful of Councilmen stand at the sides of the hall, mouths agape, looking as shocked as the rest. “I found the First Peoples who once lived on this land; I found the Lost People.”

A murmur starts in the crowd. They gesture toward me and whisper behind their hands and shake their heads. I see my pa. He's staring at me like I'm a ghost.

“And I can show you,” I say, meeting his gaze.

Frère Andre repeats my words in French, telling people not to be afraid. I look about, find Tom in the crowd. His eyes
are wide, hands at his side. But for the first time in forever, those prairie-sky eyes aren't full of fear. They're shining with relief.