“Simple tools couldn’t break it,” she said, and then glanced into the fire. “It could be melted down but it would take a fire a thousand times as hot as that.”
“Perhaps …”
“What?”
“Bethany,” Aamon said. “It’s a blacksmithing town past the
mountains. There are forges there that burn like you say.”
“Fine,” Glenn said. “Kevin and I will go back. We’ll get him to a hospital. You can take this.”
She dug her fingers beneath the bracelet and started to pull.
“No!” Aamon’s hand shot out and clamped down on the bracelet before Glenn could strip it off, his claws pressing into her wrist. She felt like her hand had been bound in concrete.
Glenn’s heart pounded as Aamon looked from the bracelet up to her. His expression was strange, frightening in a way she didn’t understand.
“You can’t cross the border here,” he said. “Sturges will be watching. Bethany is farther north. Remote. It will be safer if you cross there. We’ll travel together. Once we arrive, I’ll take you both back across the border, then return with the bracelet and destroy it.”
Aamon let Glenn go and moved away from her, back toward the fire. She drew her wrist to her chest. It was streaked with red and ached from where he held her.
“Glenn,” he said. “I’m sorry I …”
Behind her, Kevin moaned, tossing and turning on his wood
pallet. Glenn took a damp cloth from the clay bowl next to him and wiped the sweat from his face and forehead. She could feel his fever through the thin fabric. His eyes flickered behind his lids.
“Will he be well enough to travel?”
“Kirzal willing.”
Glenn was about to ask what he meant, but then she realized, Of course. They still have gods here.
Glenn lay on her side next to Kevin, her back to Aamon, and drew the blanket over her. She tried to sleep but it was as if a nest of snakes was twisting and turning in her stomach.
Aamon was lying by the fire, eyes closed. She felt his claws on her wrist and remembered as he looked from the bracelet to her face and back again — that strange expression in his eyes that she couldn’t place.
What was it?
As soon as she asked herself the question the answer came to her.
Fear.
12
2 Despite the warmth of the fire, a chill moved through Glenn.
Aamon was afraid of removing the bracelet from her wrist. It seemed ludicrous. What could make someone like Aamon Marta afraid?
Glenn placed her hand on the warm metal. If what her father said was true, it was the only thing that separated her from the reality of the Magisterium. The Magisterium changed Hopkins into Aamon, Glenn thought. Maybe Aamon knows what it would do to me.
Glenn opened her eyes as the first rays of sunlight came in through the window. Aamon was gone. In his place sat a tray filled with a plate of bread and cheese and a pot of tea.
Kevin still slept beneath the pile of blankets. His green Mohawk was flattened against his skull, and his usually brown skin had a waxy gray cast to it. Glenn moved closer and pulled aside the blankets. He was shirtless underneath, and he smelled of old sweat. There was no blood or swelling around his wound and Glenn was surprised to see that the edges of the puncture were already knitting together.
“Knew you wouldn’t be able to resist a peek.”
Startled, Glenn looked up and found Kevin’s puffy eyes half open, a wry smile playing across his lips.
“Kapoor?!”
“In the fle-”
Glenn scooped him up in her arms.
“Ow!”
“Oh! Sorry!” Glenn eased him down and leaned over him. There was a hot rush in her chest. Her throat ached.
“It’s okay, Morgan,” he said. “I’m okay.”
Kevin’s hand rested on her back with a reassuring weight. Their faces were mere inches from each other. His eyes, warm and gleaming, settled on her.
“You must be hungry,” Glenn said, pulling the tray between them.
“It looks like there’s tea. I could — ”
“Thanks,” Kevin said. He grunted as he sat up, bracing himself against the wall. The blanket fell away and exposed his thin chest.
Glenn handed him a sandwich and then busied herself with the tea things on the tray.
“How does it feel?” she asked. “Your …”
“Gunshot wound?” Kevin asked brightly. He dropped his
sandwich and pulled down the blanket to inspect the train track of stitches that curled upward from his waist to his rib cage. “It’s okay, I guess. That old guy — what’s his name? Decker? He came this morning and wiped some of that smelly crap off me. Guess that’s what made me all not dead and stuff.”
Glenn handed him a mug of tea and he took a deep drink.
“Thanks. So where are we, anyway?”
“Other side of the border,” she said. “A town called Haymarket.
It’s part of something they call the Magisterium.”
Kevin craned his neck around to survey the inside of the house.
In the light of morning it seemed warm and friendly, all pale wood and stone. He turned back to Glenn with a grin. “Well, Morgan, this certainly is one nicely appointed wasteland.”
Glenn ignored him. “Kevin, look, I’m really — ”
“Forget it.”
“Forget it? You were shot!”
“Exactly. And how many sixteen-year-olds can say they’ve been shot while fleeing Authority agents? In some ways this is the most awesome thing that’s ever happened to me. I should be thanking you for this experience!”
“Well, the experience is over.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you’re going back. Today.”
“Wait. What? I’m going back? What are you gonna do?”
“Aamon and I are going to take the bracelet and destroy it.”
“Destroy it? We’re destroying it? Why?”
Glenn couldn’t imagine where to begin. “It’s dangerous,” she said. “We have to make sure Sturges doesn’t get his hands on it.”
“Okay, fine. But I’m going with you.”
“No. Absolutely not. You’re in no condition — ”
“Look,” Kevin said. “If I go back now, what’s going to happen?
Authority is going to be after me just like they’d be after you. And you know me, I’m a wimp. I’ll crack under questioning in a second. I won’t be able to help myself.” Kevin tore the blankets off and reached to the floor for his shirt. “Ah! That hurts!”
He winced in pain and went pale. He started to tip forward, but Glenn’s palm found his bare chest and steadied him. His skin was hot.
She could feel his heart fluttering deep inside him. Kevin stayed still for a moment, took a deep breath, then opened his eyes.
“I’m not — I won’t leave you alone with this,” he said, laying his hand over hers. “There’s no way. No. Freaking. Way.”
Glenn drew her hand away and stepped back. It was useless to fight him. If she wanted Kevin to go home, she would have to knock him out, drag him there, and tie him to the nearest tree. Kevin grinned at her silence, but he kept it small, like he didn’t want to rub her nose in his victory too much.
Kevin turned with a grunt toward the window next to him. Glenn could dimly see people moving around outside and trees swaying over the tops of the walls and guardhouses. Kevin studied it all for a moment, then looked to her with a devilish cock of his eyebrow.
“Okay, then!” he said. “Who’s ready to do a little exploring?”
Kevin moved through the village’s dirt roads with a wincing gait, his hand clamped over his wounded side. Glenn followed close behind, ready to catch him, sure he was going to collapse at any moment.
As they walked through the village, what struck Glenn the most was the smell of the place. Each shack along the road had a small chimney that billowed gray smoke and filled the air with the warm and woodsy scent of burning wood and leaves. All of it was mixed in with the heavy stink coming from pens that held chickens and pigs and a few runty-looking horses.