Monsters of Men
“Clear the immediate area,” he says into the comm and I can hear it booming around the hilltop outside. “The scout ship is taking off.”
[TODD]
“That bitch,” I hear the Mayor say, reading the soldiers around him. The square’s in chaos. No one knows what’s happened. I keep trying to call Viola but the signal ain’t getting thru.
“Usually when a man calls a woman a bitch,” a voice calls over from a cart pulling up near us at the edge of camp, “it’s because she’s doing something right.”
Mistress Coyle smiles back at us, looking like the dog who found the slop bucket.
“We’ve already sent a message of peace,” the Mayor thunders at her. “How dare you–?”
“Don’t you talk to me about daring,” she thunders right back. “All I’ve done is show the Spackle that those of us without Noise can attack any time, even in their own backyard.”
The Mayor breathes heavy for a second, then his voice becomes scarily silky. “Are you riding into town all alone, Mistress?”
“Not alone, no,” she says, pointing at the probe that hovers above the camp. “I have friends in high places.”
Then we hear a familiar distant booming on the far hilltop to the east. The scout ship’s rising slowly into the air and Mistress Coyle’s a beat too late hiding the surprise on her face.
“Were all of your friends in on your little plan, Mistress?” the Mayor says, sounding happy again.
My comm beeps and this time Viola’s face pops up. “Viola–”
“Hold on,” she says. “We’re on our way.”
She clicks off and I hear a sudden new uproar from the army around us. Mr O’Hare is coming into the square from the main road, pushing Mistress Braithwaite before him in a way she ain’t taking kindly to at all. At the same time, Mr Tate’s coming back round the foodstore with Mistresses Nadari and Lawson and he’s holding a rucksack out at arm’s length.
“You tell your men to get their hands off those women,” Mistress Coyle orders. “Immediately.”
“They’re just swept up in the spirit of things, I assure you,” the Mayor says. “We’re all allies here, after all.”
“Caught her right at the bottom of the hill,” Mr O’Hare’s shouting as he gets closer. “Red-handed.”
“And these two were hiding explosives in their quarters,” Mr Tate says, handing the bag to the Mayor as he reaches us.
“Explosives we used to help you, idiot,” Mistress Coyle spits at him.
“It’s coming in for landing,” I say, putting a hand up to my eyes to shelter ’em from the wind as the scout ship starts its descent. The only place it’s got to land is on the square and that’s full of soldiers, already scrambling to get outta the way. There don’t seem to be too much heat or nothing coming off it but it’s still ruddy huge. I turn round to get my face away from the rush of air as it makes contact with the ground–
And when I do, I glance back up to the zigzag hill.
Where there are lights gathering–
The door of the scout ship drops open before it’s even fully landed and Viola’s there immediately, using the opening to hold herself up, and she looks sick, sicker than ever, sicker than I even feared, weak and thin and barely standing and not even using the arm that has the band on it and I shouldn’t have left her, I shouldn’t have left her up there alone, it’s been too long, and I’m running past the Mayor, who’s reaching out to stop me but I dodge him–
And I’m reaching Viola–
And her eyes are meeting mine–
And she’s saying–
Saying as I get to her–
“They’re coming, Todd. They’re coming down the hill.”
The Voiceless
(THE RETURN)
This is not what it seems, shows the Sky, as we watch the strangely feeble projectile rise slowly in the air, heading towards the north edge of the valley, where the Land is already easily getting out of the way of where it might fall.
Be watchful, the Sky shows to the Land. All eyes be watchful.
The Clearing began to show strength. On the very morning we started attacking them again, they suddenly knew where we were coming from. We all watched that first attack through the eyes of the Land performing it, watched to see how the Clearing had regrouped itself in its new unity, to see where its strengths lay.
And those voices were cut off in a flash of fire and splinters.
There can only be one explanation, the Sky showed in the hours that followed.
The Clearing without voices, I showed.
And the Sky and I returned to the Pathways’ End.
The Pathways’ End binds the voices of those who enter it.
The knowledge of who the Source was, that he was the Knife’s father in all but fact, that he was the one the Knife missed in his voice when he thought no one was listening, that this man had been within my reach the entire time, a way to strike back at the heart of the Knife–
These feelings blazed in me, so bright and forward it would have been impossible to hide them from the Land. But the Sky ordered the Pathways’ End to speak as one, encircling our voices, ensuring that what we thought on this subject remained along this Pathway only. It would leave our voices like any other, but it would never enter the voice of the Land. It would come straight back here to Pathways’ End.
We understood the voiceless were oppressed of late, showed the Sky as we stood on either side of the Source on the night of the Clearing’s first fightback, but now they have joined the battle.
They are dangerous, I showed, thinking of my old master, who would wait behind us in silence and beat us without warning. The voiced Clearing mistrusted them, even while living among them.
The Sky held out a flat hand over the chest of the Source. And so now we must know.
His voice reached out, surrounding the Source’s voice.
And the Source, in his endless sleep, began to speak.
We were silent as we left Pathways’ End that night, silent as we climbed back down the hill and into the camp on the hilltop overlooking the Clearing.
That was not what I expected, the Sky finally showed.
No? I showed. He said they were dangerous fighters, that they helped bring the Land to its knees in the last big war.
He also said they were peace-makers, the Sky showed, stroking his chin. That they were betrayed by the voiced Clearing into their own deaths. He looked at me. I do not know what to make of it.