As the crowd starts to quieten again, I turn and see that it was Deckard who got them back under control. He smiles at me, but we both know he was just demonstrating his power once again. Without him, I’d have lost control long ago.
“We’re letting him go,” I continue, raising my voice so I can be heard over the constant murmur of disapproval all around me, trying not to let them realize that I’m worried, “but this time there’s a difference. This time, I’m giving an order that if he’s ever seen here again, there’s no need for him to be brought to me.” I look around at the angry eyes staring at me from the crowd. I know full well that I’m taking a huge risk here. “From now on, anyone who catches Harry Shaw stealing from the camp is authorized to execute him.”
“You should just do it yourself!” a woman sneers.
“Not in cold blood,” I tell her. “Not like this. If you don’t agree with my decision, I’m sorry, but it’s final. Steadfall will not be the kind of place where a frail old man is knifed in front of a baying crowd. I refuse to let that happen.”
I wait, but to my surprise I find that although plenty of people are muttering their disapproval, no-one seems willing to outright challenge me. I still have some authority left.
“Don’t let me down,” I say firmly, turning to Harry. “I’m taking a risk for you.”
“I’ll leave,” he sobs, “I swear!”
“Now let him go,” I tell the men who are holding Harry down. “I’m sick of the sight of him.”
As soon as he can get free, Harry stumbles to his feet and then staggers away. Several more rocks are thrown at him, and some hit his back as he runs toward the treeline and finally disappears into the forest. I look down at the knife in my hand and try to imagine how I’d feel if I’d executed him, and deep down I know that it would have been the wrong choice. Still, as the crowd starts to disperse, I can hear more muttered comments of disapproval, and I feel as if one day this moment will be used again me. Plus, I have no doubt that sooner or later, Harry will be back to steal from the town again, and someone will kill him.
“An interesting decision,” Deckard says as he comes over to me. “For a moment there, I thought you were actually going to execute the old man.”
“That’s not how we do things here,” I reply.
“It’s not?” He smiles. “Well, maybe for now. You should know that a lot of people here are unhappy with your recent decisions. You could’ve won a few of them around if you’d showed strength and killed that miserable old thief.”
“I know,” I reply, turning to him before glancing at the hand-carved Steadfall sign that I put up five years ago, “but then I’d have had to take that sign down, because this wouldn’t be Steadfall anymore.”
“Unless—”
“Can you send a group to look for the new arrivals?” I ask, interrupting him. “Usual procedure. If anyone wants to come and join us here, they’re welcome. The canopy rules apply, though.”
“I’ve already sent some men,” he replies.
“We need more wood, too,” I tell him. “I was thinking—”
“I’ve sent a group to cut down trees by the ridge,” he continues, interrupting me. “They left at dawn, should be back tomorrow.”
“Okay, good,” I reply, even though I feel as if he’s trying to take control. “Meet me in my hut at sundown and we’ll go over some things, as usual.”
“As you wish,” he says with a smile. “You’re the boss.”
He turns and walks away, and immediately a couple of men hurry to join him, keeping their voices down as they talk. After a moment one of them glances back at me with fearful, distrustful eyes, and I have no doubt they’re telling Deckard how much they hate my decision, and how they’re sure it’s a sign of weakness. He’s probably lapping it up, too, and enjoying the idea that slowly but surely the entire town is turning away from me. It’s just a question now of when, not if, he makes his move.
The worst part is, I think they might be right. I’m not cut out for this, I never was. People always say that I’m strong, but I don’t know what that means. I just wish Iris was still around. Running this town was much easier before she lost her mind and took off on her crazy journey to the south.
Chapter Two
Stopping in the tall grass at the edge of the forest, I crouch down for a moment and pull a thick, yolk-filled sac from a bush and hold it up high. After tilting my head back, I squeeze the sac until it bursts and then I let the sweet, seed-filled mixture run down my throat. Once that’s done, I tear the empty sac apart with my hands and then swallow the lining. They might not taste so hot, but these things provide enough energy for a good day’s activity. They’ve kept me going, although they leave my hands feeling impossibly sticky.
They’re also one of the easier things to eat when you no longer have a tongue.
“Hungry?” a voice whispers nearby.
Turning, I see my sister Della watching from a few feet away. I know it’s not really her, of course. Back in my old life, before I came to the island, I thought I was looking after Della, keeping her safe. Eventually I discovered that she’d been dead for years, and that I’d been imagining her. Lately, however, I’ve started to imagine her again, and I actually enjoy these imaginary conversations. Talking to myself is better than talking to no-one, and at least with Della I can pretend I still have my voice. I don’t care whether that makes me mad or not. I just care about keeping my head straight.
“You’re getting weaker,” she continues, telling me what I already know. “You need proper food.”
“I’ll find some,” I imagine myself telling her. “I’m okay, I promise.”
“You can’t keep doing this forever.”
“I don’t plan to. I’m just looking for—”
“You’ll never find it,” she replies, as I imagine her interrupting me. The voices in my head can be argumentative sometimes. “Even Asher didn’t believe you’d find it when you told her you were leaving. Remember how she begged you to stay and help out at Steadfall?”
“I’m going back soon. I just need to keep searching for this place first.”
“You’ll die out here if you don’t turn back right now,” she tells me. “It’s a miracle you’ve made it this far.”
“I don’t believe in miracles.”
“Where are you, anyway?”
“Near the southern tip.”
“Are you sure?”
Turning, I look around for a moment. Blinking furiously, I realize that I might have lost my bearings a little. I thought I was close to the very farthest end of the island, but now I’m starting to think that I inadvertently doubled back, that I might be heading toward Steadfall again. I’ll have to wait until tonight to be sure, and then I can check the stars.
They’ll tell me which way to go.
Getting to my feet, I take a moment to look around and then I set off again. It’s been six months since I left Steadfall and set out on this journey, and I’ve considered turning back several times. I know Asher thinks I’m a fool, that I’m placing too much faith in whispered half-truths and stories cooked up by dreamers. She might be right, but deep down in my gut I have this feeling that there really is something out here at the island’s southern tip. Either way, I have to know for sure, and it’s not as if I was able to help much back at the town. Asher’s strong, she’s got everything covered, whereas I still find it hard to be around people. Five years after Vargas cut my tongue out, I’m still plagued by nightmares, and I still find it difficult to turn my back on people. Plus, the more I imagine myself talking to my dead sister, the more I feel as if I’m considered an outcast, a freak.