Outpost (Razorland 2)

But they just kept talking louder. I blocked them, shooting on, until the charge dropped. Freak bodies lay strewn all over the grass outside the walls, and the stink grew in proportion to each death. In the distance, I heard them growling and wailing, screeching of grief in their terrible, inhuman tongue.

Finally, I wheeled to inflict some verbal hurt on whoever was yelling at the base of the wall. I froze. Caroline Bigwater stood with a group of citizens, some women, some men, all bearing the same look—judgment. She had a book in her hands, the age of which I would compare with The Day Boy and the Night Girl; it looked about that old.

“You see.” Her voice rang in a shrill mix of fear, anger, and loathing. “Just look at her, arrayed as a man. This is what comes of breaking covenant with heaven. In all our years, Salvation hasn’t seen such misfortune since the pride plagues. Something has to be done, or we’ll all pay the price.”

A rumble rose up in agreement. I slid a sidelong look at Harry, wondering if he agreed. He put a gentle hand on my arm and whispered, “Stay here. I won’t let them take you.”

Take me? Where?

Caroline Bigwater opened her ancient book and read from it. “‘Women must adorn themselves in modest apparel with shamefacedness and sobriety. Let the woman labor in silence and with all subjection. At all times must the females be wise in mind, clean in heart, kind; working in their houses, living under the authority of their husbands; so that no evil may befall us.’”

The woman glanced up, gauging their reaction to her words. More angry cries erupted, and their eyes gleamed as they stared up at me. I recognized that look from down below; it meant I dreaded the outcome of this confrontation. For me, it could not end well.

“Caroline’s right,” a woman shouted. “The troubles started right after she came!”

Mrs. Bigwater agreed, “So they did. And this is why: ‘Woman shall not don the weapons and armor of a warrior, neither shall a warrior put on a woman’s raiment: for all that do so are abomination unto heaven. Plague shall descend upon your houses, so long as you suffer this atrocity to live.’”

They stared up at me in my man’s clothing, a rifle in one hand, and the mood turned darker still. Suggestions spilled from one to the other as to how to atone and make Salvation clean again. I was afraid to move; I didn’t recognize these people. Fear and loss had twisted and broken them.

“How can we make it right?” a man asked.

Caroline Bigwater smiled up at me, all saintly sweetness. “You don’t want us all to die, do you, dear? You know what you must do.”

Inevitable

“What on earth is going on here?” Elder Bigwater boomed. He didn’t always employ his big voice but today he did to good effect.

The crowd started, guilty looks on most of their faces, but they didn’t disperse. The woman faced her husband, serene in the backing of her fellow believers. They needed somebody to blame; I understood that. It didn’t change how scared I was.

Mrs. Bigwater tried to explain, but he silenced her with a single sentence. “Your husband wants you to go home. Are you being womanly by disobeying?”

I didn’t agree with the notion that women should follow orders given by men, but it showcased the discrepancy between her attack on me, and her own behavior. With an angry grumble, she took the core of her coterie when she stormed off. I didn’t fool myself that this was over; only the immediate danger had passed.

“Come here, Deuce.” The elder wore a kind expression, one I’d learned often masked bad intentions. But I couldn’t stay on the wall forever, so I scrambled down the ladder with a nod at Harry.

Bigwater set a hand on my shoulder, guiding me away. I didn’t like it, but I thought he meant to show support, making anyone think twice about messing with me. So I let the familiarity stand without elbowing him in the gut.

“I think I can solve this problem in a way that would satisfy both of us.”

“How’s that?” I asked, wary.

Like the guards, he looked weary in the waning afternoon light. His thin face had new lines, and his eyes sank even deeper in his head. “You already know how dire things are. We can’t last.”

He’d already made that clear enough, earlier in the day. “I’m aware.”

“I need someone to go for help,” Bigwater said quietly. “There are other settlements on the trade route—”

“I have Longshot’s maps.”

“Good. I believe he had this solution in mind when he left you the bequest, Deuce. Now that he’s gone, you have the best chance at completing this mission. Nobody else has much experience in the wilderness, certainly not like you.”

I turned the idea over in my mind, seeing eerie parallels to the suicide run the blind brat had undertaken from Nassau. There was no guarantee my experience would let me survive, but if I stayed, I’d die. That was a given. Either one of the zealots would find a way to sacrifice me, or the Freaks would break in, eventually. I didn’t see a way out. At least by accepting this assignment I could choose my death as Longshot had done. Maybe he wouldn’t want me to go; maybe Elder Bigwater only said that to make me fall in with his plans.

But it was working. I liked the idea of making Longshot proud. He’d saved me twice, so it was my turn to do something for him, even if he was past caring.

“All right,” I said slowly. “Give me a chance to say my good-byes and explain things to my foster parents. Momma Oaks will take it hard.”

Real sorrow touched his sunken eyes. “Because of Daniel.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll prepare supplies for the journey and have them waiting.” He paused. “You’re a brave girl and a credit to the town, no matter what my wife says.”

“Thank you.” It shouldn’t matter what he thought, but it did. His approval meant I hadn’t wasted my time here; I’d made a difference. But there was one problem, as I saw it. “How will I get out?”

“Few know about this, Deuce, but when the town was founded, they dug an emergency exit. The tunnel runs from the cellar in my house out past the back wall. I have no idea what state it’s in, since nobody has used it in fifty years. So you’ll need to be careful as you go.”

I offered a fleeting smile. “It’s best if I leave tonight. Darkness will make it easier to avoid the Freaks.”

“Then I will see you shortly.”

He pressed my shoulder in parting, and I went home to Momma Oaks for what might be the last time.

“I heard about the scene with that awful Caroline Bigwater. I’m so sorry, child. Not all women are like that, I promise.” She took a closer look at me, studying my stillness, and her face paled. “What’s the matter?”

Quietly, I told her that I’d be leaving—and why. I could see she wanted to protest, Why must it be you? and I loved her for it. Momma Oaks would miss me. She’d remember me if I didn’t come back. Bravely, she blinked away tears as she pulled me to her chest. I stood quiet because I feared how I might react—and how hard it would be to leave—if I broke down.

Pulling back, she said, “I suppose you need to pack.”

“I do.” I headed for the stairs.

“I was saving this as a surprise, but you need them now. While you were gone, I sewed you some new patrol outfits. They should do nicely for the road.”

That did it. I threw myself at her and hugged her around neck. I wept a little against her shoulder. In that moment, I was only a girl, not a Huntress, and I did not want to leave my mother. The steel would return, I had no doubt, but not just yet.

She didn’t try to hush me. Momma whispered nonsense against my hair and told me it would be all right. This kind of lie, where both of us knew the truth, choked me up, and I loved her for that too. At last, I stepped away, brushed at my eyes, and went up the stairs.

Packing didn’t take long. She helped me, folding my new clothes into small, neat squares that would likely be rumpled before I left the house. We both knew the point was for her to do something, so she didn’t cry. Thank you, I thought, for not making this impossible. I tucked Longshot’s leather folder into my things, for I would need maps for the journey.

“Edmund will be home for dinner soon. Will you stay that long?”

“Of course.” It wasn’t fully dark anyway.

To my surprise, Rex showed up with his wife, whose name I hadn’t learned when I stopped to chastise him. Ruth was a gentle person, nervous around Edmund and Momma Oaks, but I was happy to see her making an effort. My foster parents would need their son more than ever after I left. Maybe I had done the right thing with my meddling.

The meal was quiet, and Edmund’s mouth drooped at the corners as he ate. Momma Oaks tried to keep up a conversation, and Ruth carried more than her share. Now and again, Rex volunteered a comment, but he seemed aware it was a sad occasion, even if he hadn’t heard the news.

Then he proved he had. “I want to thank you,” he said quietly. “I had forgotten what’s important … and it’s not my pride.”

“I was rude,” I murmured.

Rex shrugged. “I had it coming.”

I ate the rest of my meal with determined cheer. Afterward, I was in the kitchen, washing up with Ruth, when I asked, “What was the matter, anyway?”

She stared at the plate in her hands. “A combination of things … normally, I wouldn’t tell you, as you’re a stranger, but you’re family too.”

“Thank you.” I was touched.

Ruth went on, “I was … with child when Rex married me. His folks thought that meant I wasn’t a good girl, and then we lost the baby. A few people said it was punishment from heaven.”

Those people needed a boot in the face. “I’m sorry.”

“Then he argued with them because he loves me. He refused to work with his father anymore, and it just got worse over time, until they weren’t talking at all.”

Until I came along and demanded they make up.

Once we finished clearing up the dinner dishes, Rex and his wife bade me farewell. It was almost time for me to go, and Momma Oaks got misty again. Just before my departure, Edmund cautioned me to take care of my boots, and then hugged me awkwardly around the shoulders. His tired eyes said other things, like, I’ll miss you, and come back safely, and don’t break your mother’s heart. For one glorious moment, I marveled at the fact that I had a family.

And then I left them.

Only three farewells remained. Nobody else mattered enough to me; Elder Bigwater could make an announcement if he so chose.

I went to Stalker first because he’d remained steadfast, no matter what, and so he deserved to hear the news before anyone else. Despite the hour, he was still working in the smithy, pouring molten metal into the molds. Those would become ammunition when the process was complete. His face shone with sweat, glossing his scars, but he seemed glad to see me—until he noticed the bag on my shoulder and the rifle in my hand.

“Going somewhere?” he asked.

So few words to sum up the situation, but I managed, and his eyes snapped with cold fury. “You came to tell me good-bye?”