The August 5 (22 page)

Tommy poked at the base of the candle, leaving fingerprints in the soft wax pooling in the tin holder. A shadow fell across the table and he jerked his hand away, expecting to see the server. But it was Emilie. Her long red hair was loose around her shoulders tonight. She seemed happier and more relaxed than she had at the Estoria. She set a covered crockery dish in front of him. Steam wafted out from under the lid, and Tommy realized how hungry he was.

“Don't look so guilty,” she said. “It's only candle wax.”

“Hey,” he said. “It's a Saturday night, so … here I am.”

“I didn't think you would come,” she said.

“Is it all right that I'm here?” he asked.

“Why
did
you come?” she asked, sliding into the booth across from him.

“The entertainment is better here,” Tommy said, nodding toward the band, which had just finished a set. They were stowing their instruments back in their cases, and the dancers were heading off the floor for a break. The noise in the pub settled down to a dull roar.

“Better than the Estoria?” She laughed. “Well, at least we agree on something.”

“How did you know I was here?” Tommy wondered.

Emilie nodded toward the bar. “Jeanie said you were asking about me.”

There was an awkward silence while Tommy took a bite of the pie, which was delicious.

“Wow, this reminds me of my childhood,” Tommy said appreciatively.

“Your childhood on Aeren,” she repeated thoughtfully.

“Yes. I miss Mrs. Trueblood. She's our—”

“Mrs. Trueblood is my relation,” Emilie interrupted. “I've actually heard her talk about you before. She said you were the sweet one.”

“I don't think anyone in the world would ever call my brother sweet,” Tommy said.

“She said you liked to read, and you used to share your books with her,” Emilie said.

Tommy shrugged. “She was welcome to any of the books. She liked archaeology as much as me.”

“You helped her in the kitchen,” Emilie said.

“Sure. That was the best room in the house.” Tommy was a little surprised at how much Emilie knew about him. He knew nothing at all about her. “What about you—”

“She said your father was a monster to you,” she interrupted again, ignoring his question.

“Well, monster is probably too strong—”

“She said he made you stand in the corner with weights tied to your ears for hours for interrupting him when he was speaking to you.”

“Oh, well, maybe that's why they stick out so much.” Tommy tried to make a joke. “The good thing was that he wasn't there much. Mrs. Trueblood was.”

The girl started at him intently. She had a slight furrow between her eyebrows, and Tommy squirmed under her intense scrutiny. This felt like an interrogation and he didn't really like it.

“Have you heard anything about Mrs. Trueblood?” Tommy asked.

“She has a first name,” the girl said, with a trace of annoyance. “Do you know what it is?”

“Greta,” Tommy said.

“Why don't you call her that?” she asked.

“Do you call your mother by her first name?” Tommy asked.

“She's not your mother,” the girl said.

“I guess not,” Tommy said. “But when I was child, it felt like she was. It's not that I don't know her name. I call her Mrs. Trueblood out of respect.”

The girl picked at the candle wax. “That makes sense. Sorry, I didn't mean that the way it sounded.”

“Do you miss Aeren?” Tommy asked her.

“Every day,” she said.

“Did you ever climb to the top of Giant's Ridge?”

“Sure, we live along Miller's Road. My sister and I would go up there on Sundays after chores were done.”

“It's amazing that we never ran into you because Bern and I used to go up there on Sundays, too,” Tommy said. “We practically grew up next door, and I never saw you.”

“Well, not really next door. We went to school on the other side of the ridge, down in the valley.”

“All the way down in the valley?” Tommy asked. “How long did that take?”

“An hour each way,” the girl said. “And we did see you sometimes on Miller's Road, Tommy. We made sure you never saw us.”

“Why?” Tommy asked.

“Your brother treated us like imbeciles,” she said. “Even though Mrs. Trueblood said you were different, I didn't believe her.”

“It's hard to believe she doesn't work at Shore Manor anymore,” Tommy said. “When I go back home, she won't be there.”

“Well, she's not dead,” Emilie said. “She's safe and sound.”

“I didn't think she was dead,” Tommy said.

Emilie said nothing for a long moment. “Why did you help me that day in the woods?”

“It was raining and there was a rover driving up and down Miller's Road,” Tommy said.

“But you must have known I was a cottager,” the girl said.

“If they had found you, they would have arrested you,” Tommy said. “It wouldn't have mattered what you were doing, you would have been in trouble.”

“Did you think about what happened in Port Kenney?” Emilie asked.

“Not at the time,” Tommy said. “If I shouldn't have come here, I can go. I was humiliated in front of my classmates and teachers, and I wanted to be somewhere that the Zunft weren't.”

“I want to show you something,” the girl said. “Will you come with me?”

“What is it?” Tommy asked, taking another bite of his pie.

“Will you come?” she asked again.

“It's not like I'm in a hurry to get back to Seminary,” he said. “The lads are probably trashing my room as we speak.”

“Why? Did you tell someone that you were coming? Your brother?”

“No. And my brother is the last one I'd tell.”

“Can you give me a few minutes?” Emilie said. “I need to finish something up in the kitchen. You finish your pie, and I'll be back in five.”

“Where are we going?” Tommy asked.

“To see Mrs. Trueblood,” Emilie said. “She doesn't want the Zunft to know she's in Sevenna, but she'd make an exception for you.”

“She's here in the city?” Tommy exclaimed. “Why didn't you say so? Of course I'll wait! Take your time.”

Emilie gave him a bright smile and disappeared into the kitchen while Tommy settled back and happily finished his pie.

 

 

In the kitchen, Tamsin searched for the sharpest knife she could find. After digging through a drawer of dull table knives, she found a long, narrow carving knife that was the perfect size to slide inside her boot. She was holding it up to check the sharpness when the kitchen door opened and Gavin stepped inside. She didn't even try to hide the knife, and from his face, she could tell he knew exactly what she was planning to do.

“Is that him out there in the booth?” Gavin asked. “That slender kid with black hair? Try to think of life from his perspective, Tamsin. I'm sure it isn't easy being the son of someone like Colston Shore.”

“Shut it,” Tamsin snapped. “I know what I'm doing.”

“What's the plan?” Gavin asked. She could tell by his voice that he was angry, but his face was a mask of calm. “Are you going to drag him into a back alley and cut his throat?”

“No!” Tamsin said. “I'm going to…”

“What?” Gavin pressed when she paused. “Overpower him? Lock him in a basement? Make demands for his release? Isn't that how these things go? I notice it's worked so well for Hywel's kidnappers. Maybe you should go into business with them.”

“I don't know how this works, but it's something!” Tamsin said. “Papa's trial has started. He's got a week at most before they find him guilty and shoot him and the others.”

“That's right,” Gavin said. “He knew the risk of what he was doing.”

“He knew the risk?” Tamsin repeated. “Is that all you can say?”

“I want you to stop and
think
about the consequences,” Gavin said. “Who else are you dragging into this?”

“Think about the consequences if I do nothing!” Tamsin insisted.

“Remember what you told me that night in the
JFA
office?” Gavin asked. “You had been told to do something, and you didn't question it. That's what you said, remember?”

“Yes, but—” Tamsin began.

“You thought I didn't know what you meant, but I did,” Gavin said. “Your father involved you in Port Kenney. I think he involved you in the uprising knowing full well that you might die.”

“You don't know what you're talking about,” Tamsin said.

“People lost their lives that day, and you're partly responsible,” Gavin said. “You have to bear that burden, but your father's burden is much worse. He should do everything in his power to
keep
you safe, and instead he put you in harm's way.”

“But it was for the greater good!” Tamsin insisted.

“Tamsin, I know your father better than you do,” Gavin said. “He is an amazing man, no doubt, but he wanted glory. He wanted the August Rising so he would be elevated above the common man, to be a leader worthy of legend. It was more about him than the greater good.”

“You don't know that!” Tamsin protested.
Leader … worthy of legends.
Her father had said something similar during her visit to the compound.

“Please stop this madness and leave with me,” Gavin said.

“We
need
a leader worthy of legend,” Tamsin insisted. She leaned down and slipped the knife into her boot, but for the first time since the plan took shape in her mind, the path suddenly wasn't as clear.

“Why people do things is as important as what they do,” Gavin said.

“Get out of my way,” Tamsin said, trying to sound tough.

“Your father told me that he was willing to sacrifice you,” Gavin said. “Bury you young in the green fields of Aeren. He wanted them to sing songs about it. It was all about him, Tamsin.”

Tamsin hesitated. She thought about Eliza and her other sisters. How she would feel if it had been them in the warehouse in Port Kenney. Little Iris tucked behind the workbench, holding the match, waiting to be consumed by fire. The image infuriated her. Why hadn't her father felt that same revulsion at the thought of her death? But then she remembered Michael Henry with his hands chained to a rough-hewn table. She imagined him blindfolded in front of a wall as an executioner readied his gun. Her father was powerless, but she was not.

Gavin was watching her carefully, and she could see hope in his eyes. He thought she'd changed her mind. But she pushed past him and went to retrieve Tommy Shore.

21

WHEN EMILIE GOT BACK
to the table, she seemed angry. She kept glancing at the kitchen door while Tommy put on his coat. Over her protests, he laid enough coin on the table to pay for two meals.

“Do you still want to go?” he asked. He really wanted to see Mrs. Trueblood, but Emilie was a strange girl. When they were talking earlier, it was more like an interview than a conversation. And now she seemed jumpy and ready to bolt.

“Yes,” she said. “Definitely.”

The pub was less crowded now, and as they headed to the door, Tommy could feel the eyes of the other patrons watching them. Maybe everyone here knew everyone else, so he stood out as a stranger. Whatever the reason, he'd had enough of being stared at for one night. He was happy when they left the pub and headed out into the darkened streets.

“See how the lights flicker?” Emilie asked, pointing to the gaslight at the end of the street. “It always happens at this hour. The lanterns are about to run out of fuel.”

“It's creepy,” Tommy said, watching the light dance along the sides of the buildings and wooden fences. It looked like the shadows of monsters skulking down the muddy road.

“Better than that horrific glare from the autolights in your section of the city,” Emilie said. “How do you sleep with that harsh light coming through your window at night?”

“Curtains,” he said. He didn't agree with Tamsin that the oppressive darkness of the nighttime was better. He was sure he was going to twist an ankle in a pothole as they navigated the rutted street.

“Where does Mrs. Trueblood live?” Tommy asked.

“A few blocks south,” Emilie said. “I should warn you, Tommy, it's not in a nice area. And that's part of my motivation for bringing you to see her, even though it's so late.”

“What do you mean?”

“She's not doing very well. She's having a hard time making ends meet. I thought maybe you could help her.”

“I can if she'll let me,” Tommy said.

“Let's not give her a chance to ask,” Emilie said. “We'll show up at her door and surprise her.”

“Will she mind us coming this late?” Tommy wondered.

“She's going to be so happy to see you,” Emilie said. “I promise you—she won't mind.”

“If she's in Sevenna, I guess she hasn't received my letters,” Tommy said. “I've been sending them to Black Rock. Do you know why she came here? She always hated the city.”

“She came for work, like the rest of us,” Emilie said.

“Mrs. Trueblood was really close to my mother.” Tommy continued talking, mainly to fill the silence. “She went to work for the Shores when my mother married into the family. She was with my mother when I was born and she was holding my mother's hand when she died.”

“How did your mother die?” Emilie asked.

Tommy was surprised by her blunt question. Among the Zunft, it would have been considered rude to question someone about something that personal. Tommy wasn't sure what to say. He really didn't want to tell Emilie what had happened to his mother.

“It's a horrible story,” Tommy said. “I shouldn't have brought it up.”