Chapter 26
Jane
The villagers lay unmoving in some kind of magical sleep. Saffron had no training. Jane rubbed the back of her neck, where her mark prickled.
She waited a long time, long enough for concern to turn to boredom. She watched beetles crawl through the cracks in the clay. They made a pattern—she’d been taught that everything made a pattern. But this one was just too chaotic to read.
When the villagers sat up as abruptly as they’d laid down, Jane jumped. Saffron stood up more quickly than the others. She looked fit, strong. Until she collapsed again. Anya signalled for help, and they carried Saffron towards the gully gardens. Jane tried to push through the crowd. “Wait!”
They took Saffron to a large wooden platform with a lit torch in each corner and set her down on a pile of blankets. Shanti prodded Jane with her spear again, hard enough that her shirt tore. Blood welled on her spine, sticky and hot. Suddenly, all she could think about were those Directorate videos again, the ones about the dangers of Ferals: human sacrifice, cannibalism.
“It’s a place of honour,” Shanti said.
When both Jane and Saffron were on the platform, two men turned a huge metal crank and it moved up a column until they towered over the gully gardens. The stars seemed closer. Saffron was covered in green leaves.
There were jugs of mead and a basket of breads and tomatoes, a soapstone lamp with oil and matches. Jane had her pack and everything in her pockets but none of it was immediately helpful. The planks creaked when the wind rose up to touch them with curious fingers. Vertigo nibbled at her knees like rats. Saffron lay quietly, looking surprisingly well-rested. The stitches and the slash through her tag were already healing. They’d be healthy prisoners then.
“Saffron, wake up!” She pinched her shoulder but Saffron didn’t stir.
She had no magic to wake her friend, only magic to see that she needed to be awakened.
Now.
The smoke from the fires being put out turned to steam, became a herd of white horses galloping towards them. The torches set at each corner flickered into eyes, arrows, screaming mouths.
And unlike the beetles, she could read these omens perfectly well.
“Wake up, wake up, wake up.”
Nothing.
Jane reached out to snap a leaf off the mask. Saffron woke up swinging. Jane’s head cracked back, pain shooting up her jaw and into her ear. “What the hell---sorry. Ow, my head. Sorry. Am I sorry?”
Jane pressed on her jaw. “Never mind. We have to get out here. I’ve seen the omens.”
Saffron glanced around. “Don’t need omens to know we’re in trouble.”
“What happened to you?” Jane asked.
“Underworld,” she replied shortly. “Fox. Shadows. It was a thing.”
“But you’re all right?”
“I feel great.” She frowned over the edge. “Pissed off, but great.” Already the plants were getting bigger. “I guess they think they caught themselves a Green Jill.”
“There’s no way down,” Jane told her. “There are three guards, there, there and there. The platform is controlled by that crank. And it’s oiled metal so we can’t climb down.”
“You’ve been busy.”
“It’s easy to see stuff when no one’s looking at you.”
“Enclave philosophy?”
Jane gave an indelicate snort. “Not exactly.”
“Good.” Saffron noticed Elisande on the stairs leading down to a patch of cornstalks. She whistled sharply. “Hey, kid! Get us down from here.”
There was an offended pause. “I helped you fetch your soul back,” she finally replied. “I saved you. And now you owe me.”
Saffron ground her teeth. “Nobody asked you to save me, kid. I made no deal.”
“We’ve never had a Green Jill.”
“Not my problem. And to be clear, you still don’t.”
“Maybe we can reach a compromise,” Jane cut in.
“No,” Saffron and Elisande replied in unison.
“Do you want the Directorate at your doorstep?” Jane pressed.
“Is that a threat, outlander?” An arrow slammed into the wooden platform, piercing through the boards from underneath. The metal tip scraped along her ankle.
“An observation,” Jane corrected calmly, though Saffron could see her hands trembling. The smoke-horses trampled through her.
“We don’t need you,” Elisande said. “We need the Green Jill. And anyway, the Directorate doesn’t come here.”
“They will if they’re chasing a Jack,” Jane pointed out. “It’s not worth it.”
“Not worth it?” It was Anya who replied this time. She said something that had Ferals gathering on the crests, thin as twigs. “You’ve never seen a person starve to death, have you?”
Saffron folded her arms. “I come from Elysium City. Of course I have.”
But Jane hadn’t. She came from a place of candied violets and tea biscuits. She winced. Saffron nudged her hard. “Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t go soft on me. They’re doing it on purpose.”
“They’re hungry.”
“They’re not any hungrier than the rest of us,” Saffron pointed out. “And I’m not living the rest of my life up here. However short it will be, before they decide to have one of their own wear the mask.”
“Oh. Good point.” Jane swallowed hard. “Then we should fall back on my philosophy. There’s definitely too many people watching us.”
Saffron made a noise of frustration. “You’re right. God, I hate this.” She stumbled, as if overtaken by a wave of dizziness. She fell to her knees. “I’d move,” she warned, coughing. “Before I’m sick on your heads.”
The Ferals scattered. Elisande and the spear-sisters stepped out of reach but didn’t leave the area. Saffron let herself go boneless, draped over the blankets. Jane knelt beside her, making noises of panic. “What have you done to her?” she called out. There was a hitch in her voice.
“Nice touch,” Saffron smiled faintly, taking care to stay still.
“Shh.”
“She needs rest,” Anya called up. “Not everyone is strong enough to handle the Underworld.”
“Not strong enough, my ass,” Saffron hissed under her breath.
It was another two hours before Saffron rolled over, stretching on her stomach to peer over the edge. Most of their fires had dwindled down to coals. There were the same three guards on duty, but they were playing dice.
“Last chance,” Saffron murmured. “Three days of hospitality come to an end tomorrow at sunset.”