Finding You

  “Nicholas? As in—”

  “Commander Nicholas Carr. The ‘Supreme Governor of the People,’ or whatever his pamphlets are calling him today. He’s always propagated himself as a hero, the voice of the people, rubbish like that. But he’s just greedy, and it’s blinding him to the enemies he’s making. His own people are rebelling, and Alistair Swain is leading us.”

  “Oh,” I breathe.

  Valentina gasps. “When?”

  “It’s already begun. Preparations started over a year ago.” Marion’s eyes shine with pride. She said us.…

  “And you live with the rebels?”

  She’s beaming again. “My father is one of their suppliers. He farms for one of the camps; there are three. It’s two days’ ride from here.”

  “But who’s Alistair Swain, then? If he’s working with Curram—”

  “Swain couldn’t be working with him,” Marion snaps, bristling. “Not if he knows what Curram does. He’s not like city politicians, making deals and compromising. He’s a visionary. If we tell him what’s happening, he’ll make Curram pay, I know he will.”

  Phoebe glares at me. “If Curram wasn’t still alive, that wouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Swain can help us,” Marion insists.

  “First, I have to find someone,” I try to argue, but Phoebe cuts me off, pulling me aside.

  “Can I talk to you?” she whispers, looking displeased.

  “What?”

  “Do you think Curram will just let us go? He’ll be awake soon. He’ll scream bloody murder, take out his anger on the servants, no doubt. Maybe he’ll shoot Robbie, who knows?” Everything she says is calm and pointed, but my heart starts to race. “For all we know, the first thing he’ll do is make another order, for more girls just like us. We haven’t solved anything yet.”

  I swallow. “So I should have killed him,” I say quietly.

  She nods. “You might be the first girl he’s ever lost.” She shrugs. “And you took half of his ‘shipment’ with you. You took his pride, too. I certainly hope you hurt him.” She looks at me long and hard. “Isla, that man is going to hunt us—hunt you—down. None of us are free until he’s no longer a threat.”

  I feel cold, suddenly. It was my choice not to kill Curram, but with that decision, I let him go on killing other girls just like me. If I don’t stop him, am I responsible for them? A nagging voice in the back of my head says yes.

  “What should we do?”

  “We can hardly march back in there on our own, not like this. We should go to Marion’s rebel friends and persuade them to help us. If they’re as noble as she says, they won’t want to be in business with Curram once we expose what he’s doing. We just need to convince them that he’s as corrupt and wicked as the others they’re targeting, and they’ll do the job for us.”

  I crook an eyebrow at Phoebe. “Revenge?”

  But she looks very serious. “Justice, Isla.”

  Maybe defeating Curram will mean finding out more about the people who sold us to him in the first place. Maybe we can stop them as well.

  “Can you bring us to the camp? To meet this Alistair Swain?” I ask after Phoebe and I walk back to Marion and the others.

  “Well, I’m not going back to school,” she guffaws.

  “Phoebe and I are coming,” I say, and Marion grins. “We can take Des, too. He needs a place to recover before we can look for his sister. Val? Jewel? Caddy?” Time is slipping away; every tiny sound could be our captors in pursuit.

  “I’ll come,” says Valentina very quietly.

  The other two converse for a second in whispers and then nod. “For now,” says Jewel, with Caddy’s silent agreement. In the dark she really does look like her friend’s shadow. “Until it’s safer.”

  “The north gate,” says Marion, climbing onto the driver’s bench and motioning for me to join her.

  We ride for a little while through the narrow city streets, with only the occasional yowling of a dog or scuttling of rats in the alleys to draw our attention. Everything else is silent, eerie. It’s hard for me to imagine the city alive and bustling in the middle of the day, but when I try to, the day on the platform comes rushing back to me and it’s hard to breathe.

  When we near the gate, everyone hides again, except for Des, slumped along the side of the cart, and Val, cradling him to cover her suspicious attire. Soon a voice more bored than the last asks our business as a sentry steps into view, eyeing me warily. “It’s late,” he says. “Not a good time for honest people to be about.”

  “My friend is very sick,” I plead, gesturing to Des. “We need to get him back to his family. They live along the merchant road.”

  “The gate will open at dawn.” His tone is not unfriendly, but it is firm.

  “Please,” I beg, wringing my hands. “None of the hospitals will take him; they’re afraid it’ll spread, that the whole city—”

  Instantly, he’s on his guard, taking hasty steps backward and coughing nervously, as if he might already be exposed to whatever malady Des is spreading. “Go ahead,” he says, calling to another sentry to let us through. The other man’s protests are dismissed and the gates are opened. A moment later, the creaking sounds as they close behind us tell us we’re finally free.

  “We’ve really done it now,” Jewel crows triumphantly, eyes gleaming in the darkness.

  Marion climbs up beside me again, offering to show the way since she knows the merchant road well. As the others drift to sleep behind us, my mind teems with questions.

  A few years back, when Nicholas Carr went from having high standing in the Assembly House to suddenly declaring himself its head, very little changed for me or my pa. The details of Carr’s quick rise to power were never broadcast, and our days felt much the same, except that we were instructed to recite, at the start of each school day, a pledge of obedience to Carr and his laws. Tam said he wanted to refuse, for no real reason, but the teachers had been instructed to take down names of anyone who didn’t obey, and Tam wouldn’t endanger his family. He told me that sometimes he said the wrong words on purpose, even though no one could tell. I never told him about my own small rebellion, how I stole the old newspapers from the library’s trash pile, before they could burn everything that had been written about Carr from a negative perspective.

  “Tell me about the rebellion,” I say, watching the gray road pass swiftly beneath us.

  Marion sits up straighter. “It’s been brewing for a long time. Carr makes private deals to provide weapons to uprisings in neighboring countries. Just enough to cost the existing government, so things become unstable. He makes a profit on the deals and then, while the countries are weak, he takes advantage of them; they’ll sell land to him for any price because they need the money to rebuild their governments. He’s smart enough to keep his own name clear; he has men who get their hands dirty for him.” The confiscated newspapers never told me any of this. “But people are catching on. Some of Carr’s own men are skimming off his profits to line their pockets, and selling his secrets to other parties who want to unseat him.”

  “And that’s where the rebellion comes in. How did you join them?”

  “My father’s been there since the start. We’ve been farming land up north all my life, and when everything was starting, he kept the rebels fed.”

  “If your father sides with the rebellion, why did he send you to school in Verity?”

  “Not just any school, the best. The kind of place important men send their daughters. He hoped I’d befriend the girls from influential families, but I was there for only a week, to settle in for the summer when…” Her voice falters, and for the first time since she began talking, she seems nervous. “Well, since I found myself in a dark train car. You know. I thought it was something to do with school at first. Everyone there was wealthy; I thought maybe I’d been kidnapped for ransom money since no one knew my father was a farmer.” Her voice is quiet now, uncertain. “I’ve always been able to take care of myself, yo
u know? In the dark there, I don’t know, I froze up. I could never have left if not for you.”

  “I’m sure you would have found a way out,” I say, but I don’t mean it anymore. Maybe they all would have died without me, or been sold off to the next buyer. Maybe everyone needs saving sometimes.

  There’s silence for a long minute. “The rebellion, are they winning?” I ask.

  Marion looks puzzled by my question. “Well, the fighting hasn’t started,” she says slowly. “But our numbers are growing.”

  “So Carr’s army, you don’t know if many of the men are killed?” Could Tam have already seen battle since I left?

  “I don’t really know about that,” she says like she’s sorry. “Why?”

  “My friend, the one I need to find, he joined the army.” I’m not sure how much I want to tell; it’s as if telling too many people about Tam will cheapen him somehow.

  Marion shrugs. “He may already be there by now.”

  My heart catches. “What do you mean? Be where?”

  “Eisendrath, the camp we’re headed for. Before I left for school, it was filling up with deserters. My father says that the rebellion gives the soldiers their honor back, since Carr is so corrupt. Maybe your friend has joined.” She settles back against the side of the cart, crossing her arms.

  Tam could be there. He’s more impetuous than he is loyal. If he thought a rebellion would offer him a better chance for adventure, he might take it. No, he would take it. I’m sure he would.

  “Just wait until you see it, Isla,” Marion goes on, oblivious. “Everyone’s equal in Eisendrath. Alistair Swain makes sure of that. He’s the leader, of course, but he cares about the people, all of them. He’ll help us.”

  “You said there are three camps?” I ask, still thinking about Tam. What if he joined the rebellion but went to one of the other bases?

  “Eisendrath, Adderly, Kingston. They’re spread out for safety.”

  I nod. That’s fine. If Tam isn’t at one, I’ll make my way to the next. I’ll find him, no matter what, and we’ll go home together.

  Home.

  Pa.

  If I’m not going right home, he at least needs to know that I’m alive.

  I fish around in the satchel for a sheet of paper that’s mostly blank, tearing off the end that’s written on. There’s a charcoal pencil in the mess, so I hold my face close to the paper and write as well as I can in the darkness.

  My dearest Pa,

  First, I am alive, and well. I never meant to leave you, and I’ll come back to you as soon as I can. When I went to say good-bye to Tam that day

  I pause, unsure what comes next.

  I was taken captive by terrible people. I eventually escaped, along with several other girls. Nothing has been done to me. We are still seeking safety and this is the first chance I’ve had to get word to you. But I’ve thought about you every day, and wanted you to know I am safe and that I miss you. I know this all sounds unbelievable, but it is the truth. I will come back to you as soon as I can. I love you with all my heart.

  ~Isla

  I read a book once that showed me the patterns for folding a letter into its own envelope. I’d forgotten about it, but my hands remember the movements. I write the address of our flat clearly on the back and find myself wondering if Pa is eating enough, even with only himself to feed. I wonder if he remembers to straighten his suspenders so they’re not all twisted at the back. I wonder if he has stopped hoping I’ll come home.

  Behind me, the city is no more than a shadowy mass and a couple of pinpricks of light. It’s too late to find a place to post the letter. Maybe we’ll come across a merchant caravan on its way to the city, I think. But I also know that might be dangerous.

  Pa told me it would take four or five days to walk from Industria, where so many of the laborers, schoolteachers, seamstresses, and soldiers live, to Verity. I wonder where the warehouse that we were first taken to before Curram purchased us is located. Somewhere not far from here, judging by our journey. Away from prying eyes, lawmen with consciences, and all human decency.

  I remember Pa telling me that Industria’s walls were even stronger than those that surrounded Verity, that they were built to protect us, to keep out the danger. But the sickness that took my mum started up not three streets from our home. The poverty that pulls my pa to work every day of his life is the pulse of the city. And the hands that took me sought me out within those walls. I can hardly believe there could be worse evils in the wilder land beyond.

  “You should sleep, Isla,” Marion says finally. “I’m awake for now. I’ll stop when I can’t keep my eyes open.”

  I nod, climbing into the back of the cart and sitting across from Valentina and Des, who is asleep with his head in Val’s lap. She stirs when I sit down, opening her eyes slightly. “You did it, Isla,” she whispers, groggy.

  Am I really as strong as they all believe? No. Maybe? I don’t know. A part of me wants to believe that heroism has always been hiding inside of me. The thought settles in the bottom of my stomach, heavy, but not comforting. Was I content to let my strength sleep as long as I had Tam to protect us both? Will I shrink back into my quiet self when I find him again?

  Impossible, I decide. I’m not the same as I used to be. I fiddle with the locket wound around my wrist, and I feel strong. I got away from Curram. Maybe I was the first. I showed him that he can’t do whatever he wants with us. That was me.

  “I did, didn’t I?” Who would have thought I could be the strong one?

  We rock a little with the cart’s movement over the ruts in the road, and my eyelids start to flutter and my thoughts slow. It feels like days ago that I did battle with the man who owned me. Does Curram still own me? I wonder. Did he ever, really? I still have the mark on my hand that claims he does. I’ll have that forever, no matter how far I run. It’s hard to believe I bathed only a matter of hours ago; I feel dirty again, tainted by Curram’s touch. The skin on my hands is taut with the blood that sprayed me from the razor cut. It’s dry now, but not gone. I wish it would fade, and that the memory would as well.

  The stars have doubled in number now that we’ve left the city, ill-lit as it was. Through bleary eyes, I try to pick out the constellations that I know.

  It’s strange to think I looked at the same patterns with Tam only a month ago, when we thought nothing in our lives would change. Most of our troubles sorted themselves out back then; if we skipped supper one day, we usually had it the next.

  I have no more reassurances now.

  I don’t know whether I’ll make it out of Curram’s grasp, really; he could catch us even now. For all we know, Marion is wrong and he might have Eisendrath under his thumb; we could be turned in the moment we reach it. I don’t even know if I’ll find Tam.

  At some point, as I drift in and out of sleep, I’m vaguely aware that Marion pulls the cart off the road, under the cover of trees, though I don’t remember entering a forest.

  “I just need a rest,” she says with a yawn. Her voice sounds like it’s coming from another room. “I think we’re far enough from the city for the moment.” The night air has turned cool, but we have the tarp spread over us for warmth.

  I must sleep immediately, because all I remember is a breeze fluttering on my eyelids and then Tam’s arms wrapped around me and his chin on my shoulder as he murmurs something that I can’t make out. When I open my eyes, a grin still plastered to my face, and I realize slowly and sinkingly that I only dreamed he was with me, it is morning.

  eighteen

  It’s hard to shake off the disappointment, even with a new world to take in around me. The trees are massive; the city’s spindly saplings could not have prepared me for the majesty of these with their trunks as wide as my arms can reach and their long, dark needles blotting out the sky. I climb to the ground and turn around and around until my head swims. Just knowing that I could walk for days and never leave the trees behind is staggering. A part of me finally understands why Tam c
annot be content to stay still.

  Around me, the others knead sleep from their eyes and blink in the morning sunlight.

  We find the road again and Jewel takes a turn driving, with Caddy at her side, both speechless with awe. I sit on the end of the wagon near Valentina, my legs dangling off the back, trying to note any greenery we pass, in case I recognize something edible. But all I see are ferns and pine needles that are brown from the summer heat. My books would say that it’s a good time of year for berries, but I don’t trust myself to tell a harmless plant from a poisonous one.

  The more I look for food, the hungrier I get, until I feel hollow all the way up to my throat. I can’t stop thinking about thick beef stew and warm cider and the sticky date rolls Pa and I bought on holidays. I’ve done this before, I tell myself. When Pa had to pay for the doctor to see Mum and we didn’t eat, or when something broke and fixing it meant skipping a few meals. I won’t starve. It’s only been a day so far.

  Somehow even the cover of the pines does little to hold off the brutal heat. Sweat plasters my hair to my forehead, and my temples throb. Still, we drive on. Des wakes sometimes and asks questions about where we are, but Valentina mostly shushes him and tries to make him sleep, insisting it will help him heal faster. For hours there is no change in the scenery and no sight of anything to eat.

  Eventually, I jump off the wagon and walk along the road, keeping pretty well paced since the horse moves slowly. After a moment, Phoebe joins me.

  “It makes me restless,” she says, shrugging. Her soft blond hair sweeps along her shoulders, and she looks cool, somehow refreshed. The frilly dress she wears is no longer than the ones we were all given, but hers suits her somehow, brushing the tops of her knees and swinging a little as she walks. Even in all the lace she looks tough and compact.

  “At first,” she says quietly, “back in that cell, I didn’t care what happened to the rest of you.” I wait for her to continue, and there’s silence for a long time. When she does speak, she won’t look at me. “I had a twin. Her name was Ever, and I loved her, more than myself if that’s possible. She was so good, more than anyone should be. I wanted to be more like her, but I was always the selfish one. As much as she’d have liked to change that about me, she never could. We’d stand next to each other, though, and you could hardly say who was who.”