Текст книги "Monsters of Men"

Автор книги: Patrick Ness

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 33 страниц)

[TODD]

“Sir!” Mr O’Hare says, face all puffy like he just woke up. “Lights have been spotted south of town! The Spackle are marching on us!”

“Are they?” the Mayor says, fake-surprised. “Then you’d better send some troops to meet our enemy, hadn’t you, Captain?”

“I’ve already ordered squadrons to prepare to march, sir,” Mr O’Hare says, looking pleased and directing a sneer right at me.

“Excellent,” the Mayor says. “I eagerly await your report.”

“Yes, sir!” Mr O’Hare salutes and trots away to meet his squadrons, ready to lead ’em into battle.

I frown. Something ain’t right.

Viola’s voice comes over my comm. “Todd! Simone says there are lights on the road to the south! The Spackle are coming!”

“Yeah,” I say, still looking at the Mayor. “The Mayor’s sending men out to fight ’em. You all right?”

“None of the Spackle are bothering us, but we haven’t seen their leader for a bit.” She lowers her voice. “Simone’s readying the ship to get back up in the air and prepping the weapons, too.” I hear disappointment creep into her voice. “Looks like it won’t be peace after all.”

I’m about to say something back when I hear the Mayor say, “Now, Captain,” to Mr Tate, who’s been waiting patiently.

Mr Tate picks up a burning torch from the campfire.

“Now what?” I say.

Mr Tate raises the torch high above his head.

“Now what?”

And the world splits itself in two.

{VIOLA}

An explosion rings across the valley, echoing back on itself again and again, rumbling like thunder. Bradley helps me to my feet, and we look out. The moons are thin slivers in the night sky and it’s hard to see anything but the campfires of the city.

“What happened?” Bradley’s demanding. “What was that?”

I hear a surge of Noise and I look behind us. The half-circle of Spackle is wide awake now, getting to their feet, coming closer to us, pressing towards the edge of the hill as they look into the valley, too–

Where we all see smoke rising.

“But–” Bradley starts to say–

The Sky bursts through the line of Spackle behind us. We hear him before we see him, his Noise a rush of sound and images and–

And surprise–

He’s surprised–

He storms past us to the edge of the hill, looking into the city below–

“Viola?” I hear Simone say on the comm.

“Was that you?” I say.

“No, we weren’t ready yet–”

“Who fired then?” Mistress Coyle cuts in.

“And where?” Bradley says.

Because the smoke isn’t coming from the south, where even now we can see lights in the trees and another set of lights heading out from the city to meet them.

The smoke and the explosion came from north of the river, up on the hillside in the abandoned orchards.

And then there’s another.

[TODD]

The second is as loud as the first and it lights up the night just north and west of town and the soldiers are getting outta their tents at the sound of it and staring as the smoke starts to rise.

“I think one more should do it, Captain,” says the Mayor.

Mr Tate nods and raises the torch again. There’s another man up in the rickety cathedral bell tower I can see now, who lit his torch when Mr Tate raised his for the first time, passing the message on to men down the riverbank–

Men at the controls of the artillery the Mayor still commands–

The artillery taken outta use when we suddenly had a scout ship to protect us with bigger and better weapons–

But artillery that still works just fine, thank you very much–

I lift my comm again, which is squawking all over the place with voices, including Viola’s, trying to figure out what’s happened–

“It’s the Mayor,” I say into it.

“Where’s he firing?” she says. “That’s not where the lights were coming from–”

And then the comm is nicked right outta my hand by the Mayor, triumph all over his face, just glowing in the firelight–

“Yes, but that’s where the Spackle actually are, dear girl,” he says, spinning to keep me from taking the comm back. “Just ask your friend the Sky, why don’t you? He’ll tell you.”

And I do get it back from him but the smile on his face is so unnerving I can barely look at it.

It’s a smile like he’s won something. Like he’s won the biggest thing of all.

{VIOLA}

“What does he mean?” Mistress Coyle says over the comm in a panic. “Viola, what does he mean?!”

The Sky is turning to us now, his Noise swirling so fast with images and feelings it’s impossible to read anything.

But he doesn’t look happy.

“I’ve got the probes where the President fired,” Simone’s voice says. “Oh, my God.”

“Here,” Bradley says, taking the comm from me. He presses a few things and suddenly the comm is flashing up a smaller three-dimensional picture like the larger remote projectors we have down below and there, hovering in the night air, lit up by my small little comm–

Bodies.

Spackle bodies. Carrying all the weapons Bradley saw in the glimpse of Noise. Dozens of them, enough to wreak all kinds of havoc on the town–

Enough to take Todd and the Mayor, kill them both if they couldn’t be taken–

And no lights to be seen anywhere.

“If those bodies are in the northern hills,” I ask, “what are the lights to the south?”

[TODD]

“Nothing!” Mr O’Hare shouts, running back into camp. “There’s nothing there! A few torches left burning in the ground but nothing!”

“Yes, Captain,” says the Mayor. “I know.”

Mr O’Hare pulls up short. “You knew?”

“Of course I did.” The Mayor turns to me. “May I please use the comm again, Todd?”

He holds out his hand. I don’t give it to him.

“I promised to save Viola, didn’t I?” he says. “What do you think would have happened to her if the Spackle had been allowed to win their little victory tonight? What do you think would have happened to us?”

“How did you know they’d attack?” I ask. “How did you know it was a trick?”

“How did I save us all, you mean?” He’s still holding out his hand. “I’ll ask you one more time, Todd. Do you trust me?”

I look at his face, his completely untrustworthy, unredeemable face.

(and I hear the hum, just a little bit–)

(and okay, I know–)

(I know he’s in my head–)

(I ain’t no fool–)

(but he did save us–)

(and he gave me my ma’s words–)

I hand him the comm.

{VIOLA}

The Sky’s Noise whirls like a storm. We’ve all seen what’s happened in the projection. We can all hear the cheering of the soldiers down in the town. We can all feel the distant rumble of the scout ship as it rises and recrosses the valley.

I wonder what’s going to happen to me and Bradley. I wonder if it’ll be quick.

Bradley’s still arguing, though. “You attacked us,” he says. “We came here in good faith and you–”

The comm beeps, much louder than usual.

“I think it’s time my voice was heard, Bradley.”

It’s the Mayor again, and somehow his face, too, big and gloating and smiling in the hovering picture projected from it. He’s even turned as if he’s facing the Sky.

As if he’s looking him right in the eye.

“You thought you’d learned something, didn’t you?” he asks. “You thought your captured soldier had looked into me and saw that I could read Noise as deeply as you, isn’t that right? So you thought to yourself, here’s something I can use.”

“How’s he doing this?” we hear Mistress Coyle on a voice-only line. “He’s broadcasting out to the hilltop–”

“So you sent him back to us as a peace envoy,” the Mayor goes on, like he didn’t hear her, “and had him show me just enough to make me think I discovered your plan to attack us from the south. But there was another plan below, wasn’t there? Buried far too deep for any . . .” he pauses for effect “. . . Clearing to read.

The Sky’s Noise flares.

“Get that comm away from him!” Mistress Coyle’s voice shouts. “Cut him off!”

“But you didn’t count on my abilities,” the Mayor says. “You didn’t count that I can read deeper perhaps than even any Spackle, deep enough to see the real plan.”

The Sky’s face is expressionless but his Noise is loud and open and stirring with anger.

Stirring with the knowledge that the Mayor’s words are all true.

“I looked into the eyes of your peace envoy,” the Mayor says, “into your eyes and I read everything. I heard the voice speak and I saw you coming.” He brings the comm forward so his face looms larger in the projection. “So know this, and know it well,” he says. “If it comes to battle between us, the victory will be mine.”

Then he’s gone. His face and the image blink out so that the Sky is only staring back at us. We hear the scout ship’s engines, but they’re still half the valley away. The Spackle here are heavily armed, but that hardly matters because the Sky himself could take out me and Bradley on his own if he needed to.

But the Sky remains still, his Noise spinning and swirling darkly, again as if every eye of the Spackle is in him, watching us and considering what’s happened–

And deciding his next move.

And then he takes a step forward.

I step back without meaning to, bumping into Bradley, who puts a hand on my shoulder.

So be it,the Sky says.

And then he says, Peace.

[TODD]

Peace, we hear, from the leader of the Spackle’s own Noise, boomed across the square, just like the Mayor’s voice did, his face filling the projeckshun–

And the cheering around us is as loud as the world.

“How did you do that?” I say, looking down at my comm.

“You do have to sleep sometimes, Todd,” he says. “Can you blame me if I’m curious about new technologies?”

“Congratulations, sir,” Mr Tate says, shaking the Mayor’s hand. “That showed ’em.”

“Thank you, Captain,” the Mayor says. He turns to Mr O’Hare, who’s looking way more grudging about being sent running for nothing.

“You did fine work,” the Mayor says. “We had to look convincing. That’s why I couldn’t tell you.”

“Of course, sir,” says Mr O’Hare, not sounding like it’s very fine at all.

And then the soldiers crowd in, each wanting to shake the Mayor’s hand, too, each one telling him how he outsmarted the Spackle, each one saying that the Mayor’s the one who won the peace, that he did it without the help of the scout ship, that he really showed ’em, didn’t he?

And the Mayor just takes it all in, accepting every word of it.

Every word of praise for his victory.

And for a second, just for a second–

I feel a little bit proud.

I Raise My Knife

(THE RETURN)

I raise my knife, the one I stole from the cooking huts on my way here, a knife used for the butchery of game, long and heavy, sharp and brutal.

I raise it over the Source.

I could have made peace impossible, I could have made this war unending, I could have torn the life and heart out of the Knife–

But I did not.

I saw her band.

Saw the pain obvious even in one of the voiceless Clearing.

She had been marked, too, just as they marked the Burden, with what seemed to be the same effect.

And I remembered the pain of the banding, the pain not only in my arm but in the way the band encircled my self as well, took what was me and made it smaller, so that all the Clearing ever saw was the band on my arm, not me, not my face, not my voice which was also taken–

Taken to make us like the Clearing’s own voiceless ones.

And I could not kill her.

She was like me. She was banded like me.

And then the beast reared up its hind legs and kicked me across the ground, probably breaking more than one bone in my chest, bones that ache even now, which did not stop the Sky from grabbing me up and flinging me into the arms of the Land, showing, If you do not speak with the Land, then it is because you have chosen it.

And I understood. I was being properly exiled. The Return would not return.

The Land took me from the peace grounds and deep into the camp, where they roughly sent me on my way.

But I was not going to leave without the Sky’s final promise.

I stole a knife and came here–

Where I stand ready to kill the Source.

I look up as the news of the Sky’s attempts to secretly attack the Clearing flashes through the Pathways’ End. So that was his plan, one that would show the Clearing just how effective an enemy we are, how we could walk into their stronghold during peace talks, take the specific enemies we wanted and give them the justice they deserve. The peace that would flow from that, if peace it was, would be one that we dictated.

That was why he asked me to trust him.

But he has failed. He has admitted defeat. He has called for peace. And the Land will cower under the Clearing and the peace will not be a peace of strength for the Land, it will be a peace of weakness–

And I stand over the Source with my knife. I stand ready to take the revenge long since denied me.

I stand ready to kill him.

I knew this is where you would go, the Sky shows, entering the Pathways’ End behind me.

Have you not a peace to be making? I show back, not moving from where I stand. Have you not a Land to betray?

Have you not a man to be killing? he shows.

You promised me this, I show. You promised he would be mine to do with as I pleased. And so I will do this thing and then I will go.

And then the Return will be lost to us, the Sky shows. Will be lost to himself.

I look back at him, pointing at the band with my knife. I was lost to myself when they put this on me. I was lost to myself when they killed every other member of the Burden. I was lost when the Sky refused to take revenge for my life.

So take it now, the Sky shows. I will not stop you.

I stare into him, into his voice, into his failure.

And I see, here in the Pathways’ End where secrets live, I see that it is a bigger failure than even that.

You were going to give me the Knife, I marvel. That was your surprise. You would have given me the Knife.

My voice begins to burn at the realization. That I could have had the Knife, I could have had the Knife himself–

But you failed at even that, I show, furious.

And so you will have your revenge on the Source, he shows. Again, I will not stop you.

No, I nearly spit at him. No, you will not.

And I turn back round to the Source–

And I raise my knife–

He lies there, his voice burbling in the way of dreams. It has given up all its secrets here at the Pathways’ End, lying here all these weeks and months, open and useful, returning from the brink of silence, immersed in the voice of the Land.

The Source. The father of the Knife.

How the Knife will weep when he hears. How he will wail and moan and blame himself and hate me, as I take someone beloved from him–

(And I feel the Sky’s voice behind me showing me my own one in particular, but why now–?)

I will have my revenge–

I will make the Knife hurt like I do–

I will–

I will do it now–

And–

And–

And I begin to roar–

Rising up through my voice and out into the world, a roar of my whole self, my whole voice, my every feeling and scar, my every wound and hurt, a roar of my memories and my lostness, a roar for my one in particular–

A roar for myself–

A roar for my weakness–

Because–

I cannot do it–

I cannot do it–

I am as bad as the Knife himself.

I cannot do it.

I collapse to the ground, the roar echoing round the Pathways’ End, echoing in the voice of the Sky, echoing for all I know through the Land outside and back through the emptiness that has opened in me, the emptiness big enough to swallow me whole–

And then I feel the voice of the Sky on me, gently–

I feel him reaching under my arm, raising me to my feet–

I feel warmth around me. I feel understanding.

I feel love.

I shake him off and step away. You knew, I show.

The Sky did not know, he shows back. But the Sky hoped.

You did this to torture me with my own failure.

It is not failure, he shows. It is success.

I look up. Success?

Because now your return is complete, he shows back. Now your name is true at the exact moment it becomes a lie. You have returned to the Land and are no longer the Return.

I look at him, mistrustful. What are you talking about?

It is only the Clearing who kill for hate, who fight wars for personal reasons. If you had done this, you would have become one of them. And you would never have returned to the Land.

You have killed the Clearing, I show. You have killed them in their hundreds.

Never when the lives of the Land were not at stake.

But you agreed to their peace.

I want what is best for the Land, he shows. That is what the Sky must always want. When the Clearing killed us, I fought them, because that was best for the Land. When the Clearing wanted peace, I gave them peace, because that was best for the Land.

You attacked them tonight, I show.

To bring you the Knife and to bring their leader to justice for his crimes against the Burden. These are also in the best interest of the Land.

I look at him, thinking. But the Clearing might still give the leader up. We have seen their disagreements. They might give him to you yet for his crimes.

The Sky wonders what I am asking. Possibly.

But the Knife, I show. They would have fought for him. If you had brought him here–

You would not have killed him. You have just shown this.

But I might have. And then the war would be unending. Why risk so much for me? Why risk everything for me?

Because sparing the Knife would show the Clearing our mercy. It would show we could choose not to kill even when we had reason to do so. It would be a powerful gesture.

I stare at him. But you do not know what I would have done.

The Sky looks over to the Source, still sleeping, still alive. I believed you would not.

Why? I show, pressing. Why is it so important what I do?

Because, he shows, this is knowledge you will need when you are the Sky.

What did you say? I show after a long, heavy moment.

But he is moving now, over to the Source, placing his hands over the Source’s ears and looking down into the Source’s face.

When I am the Sky? I show loudly. What do you mean?

I think the Source has served his function. He looks back to me, a twinkle in his voice. I think the time has come to wake him.

But you are the Sky, I sputter. Where are you going? Are you ill?

No, he shows, looking back to the Source. But I will go one day.

My mouth hangs open. And when you do–

Wake, shows the Sky, sending his voice down into the Source like a stone dropped in water–

Wait! I show–

But already the Source’s eyes begin to blink open as he takes a loud breath. His voice quickens and quickens again, brightening with a thick wakefulness, and he blinks some more, looking at me and the Sky with surprise–

But not fear.

He sits up, falling at first out of weakness, but the Sky helps him rise to his elbows and he looks at us further. He puts a hand to the wound on his chest, his voice singing baffled remembrance and he looks at us again.

I’ve had the strangest dream, he shows.

And though he shows it to us in the language of the Clearing.

He shows it in the perfect, unmistakable voice of the Land.

{VIOLA}

“Listen to them,” Bradley says, as even from this distance, the ROAR from the town is loud enough to make him raise his voice. “Finally cheering something good.”

“Do you think it’ll snow?” I say, looking up from Acorn’s saddle into the clouds that have rolled in, a rare sight in what’s been a clear and cold winter. “I’ve never seen snow.”

Bradley smiles. “Me neither.” And his Noise is smiling, too, at the randomness of my comment.

“Sorry,” I say. “This fever.”

“We’re nearly there,” he says. “We’ll get you warm and snug.”

We’re heading back from the zigzag hill, heading down the road that leads to the square.

Heading back the morning after last night’s artillery attack.

The morning after we secured peace. For real, this time.

We did it. Even if it was the Mayor’s action that clinched it – something Mistress Coyle won’t be at all happy about – we actually did it. In two days’ time, we’ll have the first meeting of a human–Spackle council to set out all the details. So far, the council’s made of me, Bradley, Simone, Todd, and the Mayor and Mistress Coyle, and the six of us are going to have to somehow work together to make this a new world with the Spackle.

Something that might actually make us work together.

I wish I felt better, though. Peace is here, real peace, all that I wanted, but my head throbs so much and my cough is so bad–

“Viola?” Bradley asks, concern in his voice.

And then, down the road, I see Todd running to meet us and my fever is so bad it feels like he’s surfing here on a wave of cheering and the world goes really bright for a second and I have to close my eyes and Todd is next to me, his hands reaching up–

“I can’t hear you,” I say.

And I fall right out of Acorn’s saddle and into his arms–