The girl cowered at having attention drawn to her, and Mae felt the earlier anger she’d tried to push down return. It wasn’t directed at her niece but rather at the people and system who’d made her niece this way, docile and fearful, waiting to be told what to do.
“Ada,” said one of the other girls, the one who’d wanted to know if Mae was selling them. “Her name is Ada.”
It was a pretty enough name but not one Mae was familiar with, meaning it almost certainly wasn’t part of the RUNA’s Greek or Latin registry. “Not anymore. You’ll have a new name in the place we’re going to. Ava.” It was the first Gemman name that came to mind that resembled Ada, and even though Mae knew it was a harsh thing to tell a little girl who had no concept of what was happening around her, something in Mae couldn’t help it. She was still angry at the forces that had dropped her niece here, and breaking free of even their naming system seemed like a first step at freedom, even if the poor girl didn’t realize it yet.
Mae had no more time to talk and took the driver’s seat. She slipped the keys into the car’s ignition but nothing happened. She pulled them out and tried again, only to get the same effect. “No,” she groaned. Not this, not now.
“You have to turn them.” The girl who’d told Mae her niece’s name had quietly slipped into the passenger seat. “Haven’t you seen a car driven before?”
Mae had both seen and driven one before—at least, she’d driven Gemman cars before. Most populated areas used automated cars, but military personnel were trained to drive manually since battlefield situations often required a human touch. Those vehicles—leagues more sophisticated than this one—started much more simply, with buttons or a key that sparked ignition the instant it was inserted. Heeding the girl’s advice now, Mae fumbled with the key, finally managing to turn it in a way that brought the archaic sounding engine to life. It was loud but steady, and she hoped it was in good shape.
The rest of the controls bore enough similarity to what Mae knew that she was finally able to get the van to drive with a little more trial and error. The girl beside her looked suitably impressed in the glow of the dashboard’s controls, probably because she’d never seen a woman drive before. Mae managed to get them onto the main highway without pursuit and grew more accustomed to the van’s operation, creating a less jerky ride that the scared and silent girls didn’t seem to appreciate.
“What will my name be?” asked the girl beside her.
“Hmm?” asked Mae, attempting to adjust the rearview mirror. “In the new land we’re going to. Don’t we all get new names?” Mae hadn’t really thought that far ahead. It would be a matter for those in the Citizens Ministry who maintained the national registry. “It depends,” she said. “What’s your name now?”
“Cecilia.”
“That’s Latin. You won’t need a new one.”
The girl looked so disappointed that Mae immediately felt bad. “I mean, you could go by Cecily, I guess. Or Cecile. There’s probably a few other acceptable variations from that root in the registry.”
“Cecile,” said the girl decisively, her face brightening. “I like Cecile.”
It occurred to Mae that cultivating the one girl who didn’t seem terrified of this journey she was taking them on might not be a bad thing. It was foolish to hope her niece—Ava—would immediately latch onto Mae, but that didn’t mean she shouldn’t seek allies in the others. She might need them to get out of here, them and the goddess who so far hadn’t had to do much except show her a few visions.
“Okay, Cecile. Do you know if any others were coming by the salon tonight? Any other men?”
“I don’t think so,” said the girl. “I think we were getting ready to leave when . . . you came. We’d just finished supper, and Mr. Pittsfield told us to go upstairs and get the rest of our things. Then we heard that big boom. Did you do that?”
“I did,” said Mae. “I needed to—oh no.”
Alternating which hand stayed on the wheel, she’d been rummaging through her coat pockets in search of the map. It was gone. It must have fallen out during the scuffle with Pittsfield.
“I don’t suppose you know the roads around here?” Seeing Cecile’s astonished face, Mae almost smiled. “Never mind. We’ll figure it out.” She’d gotten a good look at the map and had enough of a sense of direction based on the sun to know her cardinal directions. It would have to be enough to get her to the northern border until something better came along.
“You should sleep if you can,” she called back to the others. “We aren’t going to be stopping for a while. And I’ll need someone to be in charge of those water bottles. Everyone can have a drink every . . .” How long until the border? Mae couldn’t have said for sure with the map, let alone with out. “. . . every hour.”
“I’ll do it,” said one of the older girls who’d helped carry out the unconscious servant. “But what will my name be?”
Some of them were starting to think this was a game, and Mae couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing. It made some of them more agreeable, but at the same time, she kind of wanted them to take this seriously. Nonetheless, after a little discussion, her water volunteer was dubbed Monica. The girl took to the task happily, and she was also the one who calmed down the marked servant when she groggily woke. “It’s okay, Dawn,” Monica told her. “We’re just on our way to the new place. You had an accident. Rest.”
Mae hoped there’d be no screaming when Dawn learned the truth of the situation, and fortunately, darkness and tension eliminated most conversation in the van. They traveled north for about an hour when Mae came to a junction and signs indicating multiple destinations. East would take them toward downtown Divinia, where she most definitely didn’t want to go. West was the route she wanted, both from the lack of cities indicated on the sign and because that was where her mental map told her to go anyway until she could turn north. What gave her pause was another small northerly route, marked as leading to Holy Lake.
Holy Lake. The Grand Disciple’s words came back to her, how he’d bragged to Justin about having a private lodge and property there . . . and Justin’s speculation that was where the staff might be hidden. Mae knew the smart thing now was to turn west and put as much difference between her and Divinia as possible. Time wasn’t a commodity she could spare just then. At the same time, she was also fully aware of the complete stroke of luck that had brought her to this point. If she’d still had her map, she likely would’ve turned west already on one of the many smaller side roads they’d passed. She’d been uncertain until reaching this point but now had clear direction. Taking it was the logical choice.
And yet, Holy Lake had been Hansen’s best guess for the staff, the staff Mae knew little about, save that it troubled Justin and might hold a threat for the RUNA. It was impossible to imagine anything posing a greater threat than the hacking conspiracy that Justin was already working on . . . but who was she to say for sure just how much damage the supernatural forces swirling around them could cause? She’d certainly witnessed enough to know the potential was there, and there was a very real possibility the knife’s master had sent her down this path with the purpose of finding Holy Lake.
If you have faith, I will guide you home and help you thwart your enemies, the goddess had said. Mae had assumed at the time those enemies were the salon workers. Now, it seemed very possible the knife’s master was offering her the opportunity to thwart her country’s enemies as well.
Mae was hardly in a position to cut herself and find out, but she was, according to the sign, less than ten miles from the lake. A quick check of the area would take no time at all. And so, knowing it might very well make an already dangerous situation worse, Mae merged on to the small road that led to the lake.