The Consequence Girl E-Book

Alastair Chisholm

• Herausgeber: Nosy Crow
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Seitenzahl: 307

Beschreibung

A thrilling, unputdownable adventure, from the highly-acclaimed author of the Waterstones Children's Book Prize-shortlisted Orion Lostand the Blackwell's Children's Book of the Year, Adam-2. The world of Colony is in ruins. No one knows what caused society to begin tearing itself apart - but the secret may lie with Cora, a girl living on the mountainside far away from others. Cora possesses an extraordinary gift: the power to see back in time, from an event back to its causes. Even more incredibly, sometimes she can change events. But the present is looking for Cora, and she is forced on the run - and must decide who she is, what she can do ... and how to fix the future. With incredible twists and turns, and a hugely gripping story, The Consequence Girl is a brilliantly-imagined, ambitious and high-concept adventure from one of the most exciting new voices in children's fantasy and science fiction.

Leseprobe

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Also from

Alastair Chisholm

For Younger Readers:

Dragon Storm: Tomas and Ironskin

Dragon Storm: Cara and Silverthief

Dragon Storm: Ellis and Pathseeker

Dragon Storm: Mira and Flameteller

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iv

For Mum and Dad, who showed me we can always make the world a little better.

A.C.

v

We have it in our power to begin the world over again.

Thomas Paine

1

Prologue

Whorley’s day was going pretty well, until Lilith walked in.

He’d spent the morning in the markets of Sheen, under the vast steel crossbeams of the main chamber. He’d chatted, joked, tasted samples and slapped his large belly cheerfully before moving on. Nothing important, just seeing, and being seen. Whorley was a fixer – someone who could help with whatever you wanted, for a very reasonable price. So he made sure people remembered him, and were pleased to see him. It was easy, really; Whorley liked people, and he liked to help.

For a very reasonable price.

And then later he’d wandered back to the bar he owned, eaten a light lunch and read the report from his agents about a business venture that had taken place that morning. The results were everything he’d hoped. Yes, it 2had been a good day.

But that was Lilith for you. Lilith tended to happen to people who had been, up to that point, having a good day.

She strode in while he was finishing and sat down heavily in a chair across from him. The table rocked, and drops spilled from his glass.

“Whorley, you pig, you get greedier every day,” she said without smiling. “How come you’re not dead?”

Whorley sighed, but only on the inside. On the surface, he smiled as if Lilith was the person he’d hoped to see most in all the world. “Apple schnapps, my dear,” he said amiably. “The apples are healthy.”

He waved towards the bar, and Shaff, the barman – who had been lurking with one hand under the counter – relaxed and brought a bottle across. Whorley poured Lilith a glass.

“And you?” he asked. “Still a crazy troublemaker, are we? Cheers.”

He raised his glass and examined her as he sipped.

Lilith was tall, almost two metres in her thick red-soled boots, with wide powerful shoulders. She wore a maroon leather jacket with plates of blast-proof steel sewn into it, and leather leggings. Whorley couldn’t see it, but he knew she kept a small, vicious crossbow in a holster behind her 3back. An old scar curved down the left side of her head, a gleaming pale line against her dark skin and short brown hair.

“You’re looking well,” he said lightly. (This was a lie. She was sitting stiffly, at an angle, and Whorley suspected her side was injured. And she looked tired.) “What can I do for you?”

Lilith didn’t drink the schnapps. She gazed into the glass.

“Anything going on, Whorley?” she asked quietly.

Whorley spread his hands and grinned. “You know me, always busy. Why, are you looking for work?”

She shook her head. “No. Anything in Base? This morning?”

Whorley frowned. “You know I can’t discuss my … business operations,” he said. “My clients expect discretion.”

Lilith looked out of one of the bar’s small windows. It didn’t point outside, of course – property on the outer shell of Sheen was far too expensive – but showed the inner balcony, and the people bustling past.

“There was a hit this morning,” she said. “An item was taken. I want it back.”

“You think I took it?”

Lilith shrugged. “There were several agents involved. They had equipment. They were careful. It had your 4style.” Her left foot was tapping against the table. Tap-tap-tap, like a nervous tic.

Whorley sighed.

“No,” he said. “My people were in Sheen this morning. On a… Well, a mission. We don’t need the details. But not Base.”

He leaned back. “Whatever you lost, it wasn’t me. Sorry.”

She turned back from the window and stared at him for a long time. Then she nodded.

“I see.”

Whorley frowned. “What was it – something of yours?”

“Something I was guarding.” Her head dropped. She was exhausted, Whorley thought. He wondered how bad the injury to her side was. “For the Reverents.”

“Oh, Lilith!” Whorley snorted. “I’ve told you not to work for religious types; they never pay!” He shook his head. “Come and work for me again. I’ll give you a good rate. You and Anish too. I like him. You two still together?”

Lilith shrugged.

“Really,” said Whorley, relaxing now. “Those people, they make you as crazy as them. Look at you. You get hit – all right, it happens – but then you barge in on me? Like you don’t have enough problems? I’ve got three 5guards watching this place right now. You could have been killed!”

He raised his glass. “Come on. It’s just a job. Drink.”

“Yes,” she said. Her shoulders seemed to unknot, and she picked up the glass. “Yes.”

“To the Lady Nostic and the Glories,” he intoned, and drank.

Lilith was still looking at her glass. “Four,” she said, at last.

“What?”

“You had four guards.”

He didn’t even see her hand move. Didn’t see the thick-bottomed glass as it flew towards him, was only vaguely aware at first when it hit him right between his eyes with a thunk. He spun back over his chair and crashed to the ground, and before he could even cry out she was crouched over him, her small crossbow in one hand, ready to fire.

“You had four guards,” she spat. “One at the entrance. Two on the balcony. One on deck eleven. You had four, now you have none, understand?”

Whorley made a sound like a thin, whistling wail. She knelt on his chest, crushing him.

“I want it back,” she hissed. “No lies, no games, just you and me and this –” she waved the crossbow “– and I 6want it back.”

“Lilith … please,” he gasped. “You’re wrong, I swear. I wouldn’t do that!” He thought one of his ribs had broken. He couldn’t stop blinking. He could smell fermented apples and blood. “I love you guys! You and Anish, you’re my—”

“Anish is dead!” she shouted. “He was killed this morning, in your raid!”

Whorley stared up at her in genuine horror. Oh no, he thought. Oh, she’s really going to kill me.

Lilith glared at Shaff the barman, who was shuffling towards them and holding a club uncertainly.

“Put it down,” she ordered. “Bring the item.” Her tone was expressionless, but Whorley saw a pulse beating hard against her temple, and a thin trickle of blood at the bottom of her jacket. The wound in her side had opened.

Shaff hesitated. Lilith knelt harder, and Whorley felt a new shard of pain against his heart. Yes, one rib definitely broken. He waved feebly. “Go,” he wheezed. “Go.”

The barman hurried through to the back. Whorley closed his eyes. “You’re crazy,” he muttered. “This is crazy.”

Lilith said nothing.

“They said it was a clean job,” he whispered. “I thought it was clean. I didn’t know about Anish—”7

She shifted her knee against him and he groaned.

Shaff returned with a rectangular box half a metre wide and deep and a little longer, carrying it by a handle on the top. He put it down and stepped back. Lilith stood and peered inside.

The box was lined with fur. Inside, wrapped in a blanket, was a sleeping baby, with pale fawn skin and a short crop of straight black hair. One hand was outside the blanket, fingers curled.

Lilith picked up the box.

“What are you going to do with it?” gasped Whorley. She ignored him. “You know what it is? What they say about it? You can’t give it back to the Reverents, Lilith!”

“I’m not giving it to them,” she said.

“To Protection?” He coughed. “That’s who I’m selling it to! You could just leave it with me. I can give you a cut—”

“Not Protection.”

“But… But who, then?”

Lilith put the little crossbow back into its holster and walked towards the entrance with the box.

“Goodbye, Whorley.”

Whorley stared in astonishment. Was she letting him live? What was going on? The pain in his ribs was vicious, but he tried to ignore it a little longer.8

“Lilith, wait! Anish—”

She turned, her face dark with something he didn’t want to know.

“I never meant…” He shrugged helplessly. “I’m sorry.”

For a moment he thought she was going to shoot him right there. But eventually she sighed and checked her watch.

“Seven minutes,” she said.

“Till what?”

“Till the people you thought you were selling to come to kill you.”

“What? They’re not coming to kill me.” Whorley shook his head, more in confusion than denial. “I got it for them. It’s just a deal.”

Lilith shrugged. “That’s not the deal they made.”

She left with the package. He watched her go in a daze, and groaned as he sat up.

“You all right, boss?” asked Shaff.

Whorley found the strength to slap the barman about the head. “Of course not, you cretin.” He closed his eyes. Lilith was wrong. He had a deal – just business, same as every other time. She had to be wrong.

“Boss?”

“Help me stand,” he muttered. Shaff lifted him up, and Whorley tried not to scream as his ribs protested.9

“I think…” he said, when he could speak again, “I think we should go out the back.”

Lilith went down three levels and into a hidden recess. She discarded the box and used the blanket to fasten the baby girl to her back, wincing as she tied it tight. Then she climbed down a long access ladder to a hatch that led her out of Sheen, and on to the ground.

Seven minutes after she left, a team of Protection troops raided Whorley’s bar with orders to retrieve a package and destroy everything and anyone else they found.

A few days later, a figure in a plain brown jacket and jeans limped through the tiny settlement of Recon, before following a faint track up into the mountains. One or two people in Recon watched her as she entered the settlement, but when they saw the expression on her face they turned away until she had passed, and if they noticed the sling on her back, they never mentioned it to anyone.

11

Thirteen Years Later

12

Cora

The light was turning as Cora reached the east side of the mountain, and there was already a hint of dusk. It was a cold light, and it leached the colour from the world, leaving the trees black and the ground white, and pinching her hands and face.

She followed the stream to a point where three faint rabbit tracks met, where she had set a snare the previous day. It lay undisturbed. Blast, she thought, but said nothing. She checked the loop and moved it further into the path of the tracks. Four traps and nothing so far. She’d hoped to stock up, but at this rate they’d be eating into their supplies. She stuffed her hands into her jacket and made her way along a snow-clad ridge to the last two spots.

The world was silent. Birds huddled quietly on their branches, small animals stayed in their burrows, and the cabin where Cora lived was the only one occupied 13for kilometres around. Most people preferred to stay in Recon, far below and on the other side of the hill. It was a hard climb to the ridge, through snow, and when she reached the top Cora stopped to catch her breath and looked down at the settlement.

She could see the Recon Tower, a hexagonal column with large windows, and smaller buildings huddled around its base as if for protection. The tower was built of the same almost indestructible material as everything else the Glories had left behind, and despite being ancient it shone newer and cleaner than its neighbours.

On one side of the tower, the loading bay was stacked high with tree trunks, ready for delivery to the cities of Sheen and Base. She could make out the faint outlines of more buildings, perhaps even a little wood smoke from their chimneys, but she was too far away to see any people. She watched for a while, and then turned and trudged to the next snare.

Here at last was something; a small and rather scrawny rabbit with one leg caught in the loop. It lurched as she arrived, trying to escape, but then collapsed, exhausted. Cora looked around for a rock. Seleen could dispatch them with her bare hands, breaking their necks in one sharp tug, but Cora wasn’t strong enough, and anyway, she found it too upsetting. The rock was brutal but 14quicker. Grimacing, she killed it quickly, unwound the sticky wire from its body, packed it into her bag and reset the trap. There was dinner, at least. She headed down to the last trap, but knew there was something wrong even before she reached it. There was no catch, but the ground was churned up – and the snare was gone.

“Blast!” This time she swore out loud, and two birds above her flapped away, cawing indignantly. Losing a rabbit was bad; losing wire was really bad. Seleen would be furious. The stake was still there, wedged firmly into the ground. What had happened? Was it another predator? A wolf? That would be worst of all.

The sun was slipping past the edge of the ridge now. Cora looked around cautiously. She was alone, of course. Seleen was back at the cabin. Cora hesitated. Then she sat on her haunches and made herself relax, gazing at the stake. The stake was here. The snare was gone. She closed her eyes, let her focus drift … and looked.

She saw the stake in her mind, surrounded by a weak shimmer like a heat haze. As she drifted closer, the shimmer became a faint blue trail, as if the stake was moving while sitting still. She followed the trail backwards in time.

In her mind, the stake trembled. It was a few hours ago, and something was pulling at it. What? The stake 15was being dragged by its snare, which in turn was being pulled by a large rabbit, caught but furiously heaving away. The rabbit tugged and tugged, and suddenly the wire slipped off its stake, and the rabbit ran, dragging the snare behind.

The wire had slipped. The wire had slipped because…

She saw herself setting up the trap. Her hands were cold and sore, and her face was tired. Cora watched this other, earlier version of herself wind the wire into a loop, fasten it, attach it to the stake, wrap it once…

In her mind she heard an owl shriek, and the earlier Cora looked up, then finished wrapping the cable. But she was distracted and keen to get home, and she forgot to thread it through the hole in the stake.

There.

Cora opened her eyes again and waited until her focus came back. There was always a short feeling of disorientation after she looked, and a dull red throb behind her eyes. She groaned.

Not a wolf then, at least. But it was her fault; she hadn’t fastened the snare properly, and now it was lost. Cora examined the stake. She could fix it, perhaps. It had happened less than a day ago. I could fix it…

She sighed. No. Seleen had a way of finding these things out. It wasn’t worth it, not even for a snare. 16

* * *

Cora returned to their cabin. It sat squat under a wide camouflage net that spread across the hillside, woven with creeping ivy and fresh leafy branches. It was almost invisible, even up close, and she approached it from a different direction each time, automatically glancing around before entering.

Seleen was outside, under the net, working on the power unit. Cora always crept the last stretch, but had never been able to sneak up without being spotted. This time she was twelve metres away when Seleen, without lifting her head out of the unit, said, “You’re back early.”

Cora shrugged. “Most of them were empty. One catch.”

Seleen grunted, still under the cover.

Cora said, “And we lost a snare as well.”

Seleen stood up straight and studied her.

Seleen was tall, and looked strong enough to wrestle bears. She ran a hand through her silvered brown locs, revealing an old scar on the side of her head. When Cora was younger, Seleen used to tell her she’d got the scar fighting a giant robot, and Cora had believed her. These days she was sure it wasn’t true, of course. Fairly sure.

“How?” Seleen asked.

“Pulled loose.” 17

Seleen frowned. “By what? A wolf? Did you check for wolf tracks?”

“No, a rabbit. It was just—”

“A rabbit can’t pull one of those snares.” Seleen scanned the hillside, thinking. “If it’s a wolf then it might try to raid.”

“It was just a rabbit, OK?” said Cora irritably. “I didn’t fasten the snare properly.”

Seleen gave her a hard look. “Hmmm. You’re sure?”

Shrug. “Yes.”

“Really sure?”

“Yes!”

There was a pause. Then… “How are you sure, Cora?”

Cora started. Blastblastblast!

“Did you look?” asked Seleen.

Cora didn’t answer, which was answer enough. Seleen slammed the power unit cover down with a clatter.

“What’s the Rule?” she demanded. Cora stared at the ground. “Cora? What’s the Rule?”

Cora muttered, “I Mustn’t Look.”

“You Mustn’t Look. And why not?”

“Because It’s Dangerous.”

“Because it’s dangerous. Because you can do more harm than you think.”

“I don’t see how!” Cora, thin and small, faced up to 18her. “It’s only looking. I didn’t change anything! I could have fixed it so we didn’t lose the snare—”

“No, you couldn’t,” snapped Seleen, “because that would have been really stupid.” She was angry now. “You know how you could have not lost the snare?”

“Yes, by—”

“By fastening it properly! What have I told you? No do-overs in this life, understand? No second chances! When you mess up, there are consequences.”

They squared up against each other, breathing hard and glaring, but Cora blinked first. As she always did.

“Fine,” she muttered. She stomped into the house, slammed the cabin door so hard that the frame creaked, and threw the rabbit corpse on to the table.

That evening they ate in silence. Cora had skinned and cooked the rabbit in a thin stew that was mostly small, hard potatoes and kale, but Seleen didn’t comment. She chewed mechanically and ignored the girl seething at the other end of the table.

Finally she wiped the plate with a piece of bread. “I fixed the power unit,” she said.

Cora grunted.

“So no more heating failures.”

Grunt. 19

“But we’ll need another power cell soon, before the heavy snows set in. And more wire, of course.”

Cora said nothing, and Seleen sighed and stood up, and heated some water in a pan. Cora took the food scraps outside.

It was almost pitch dark, and she was careful to close the inner door before opening the outer one, to stop the light from showing. She felt ice on the wind as she walked to the roost and tipped the scraps into the chickens’ trough, listening to their sleepy clucks. She trudged back in blackness; she knew every stone and slope around the cabin so well she didn’t need to see.

When she re-entered, Seleen was sitting at the table, with two cups in front of her. Steam rose from them, and Cora realised she could smell … chocolate.

Seleen gave a twisted, slightly awkward smile.

“Peace offering,” she said.

Cora glared at the cups, trying to keep a stern face, but their scent wafted over her like a blanket and she shook her head and smiled.

“Hmmph,” she managed, and sat. They sipped at the chocolate. It was delicious, and a luxury; they were nearly out. This might even be the last of it. Seleen read her thoughts and nodded.

“Jeb Harrow will be coming past tomorrow, with 20supplies,” she said.

“We could use some pepper too,” said Cora.

Seleen shrugged. “I’ll see what he has.”

They sat in silence, and then Cora got up and washed the pots and pans, and Seleen went to check the fences.

That evening, Cora lay awake, listening to Seleen snoring softly from the other bunk, and the occasional sound of night birds from outside. She thought of the big rabbit pulling the snare loose. Wire was scarce, but something inside her was glad it had escaped. She imagined it, tugging desperately, apparently hopeless, round and round in circles, and then – freedom!

She slept, and dreamed of its adventures on the snowy hillside, running free with the snare wire trailing behind.

21

Alone

The next morning, Cora was fixing a new coil for the oven when Seleen appeared at the doorway.

“Jeb’s heading across,” she said. Cora nodded. Seleen walked down the hill from the cabin, and Cora stopped her work and watched from the front window. Jeb was standing in the snow-covered meadow below them, where Seleen always met him. He said something – Cora heard his cheery voice in tiny snippets, too faint to make out – and Seleen nodded and replied.

Jeb was ancient; fifty, maybe more, even. He’d lived on the hillside his whole life, and his clothes were worn and reworked like Seleen’s and Cora’s, and patched with wolf pelt. He kept his grey hair in a ponytail, but his beard was short and patchy, and his face was red with sunburn. He smelled pretty ripe; sometimes Cora could recognise his scent all the way from the cabin. 22

She never spoke to him, but stayed inside whenever he came round. And Jeb never looked up towards her. This close, he might have been able to see the cabin through the camouflage, but he always acted as if there was nothing – as if Seleen had appeared out of thin air to trade. The mountain was a place for people who didn’t want to be disturbed, and Jeb understood that. He kept to himself and only went into Recon for supplies. When he did, he usually brought back some to sell to Seleen.

Cora wondered what Recon was like. Seleen called it a dirt town. She said that meant it was small, but Cora knew there must be dozens of people living in all those houses. Perhaps even a hundred. She tried to imagine a hundred people…

Something wasn’t right, she realised. Jeb had handed over some items, but he was shrugging. Eventually he hitched his pack back over his shoulder, waved and headed off, and Seleen returned, looking distracted. She tipped a few supplies on to the table.

“No chocolate,” she said. “There’ll be more in a couple of days.”

Cora groaned. Seleen nodded. “No power cells either.”

This was more serious. The cells provided all their power for the cabin: heat, light, tools. They were Glory technology, old and irreplaceable. “How come?” 23

“Jeb says they’re running low; they’ve started rationing them. I have to go down and get one myself.” Seleen looked out of the window. “It’s no big deal.”

It seemed to Cora like it was a big deal. Seleen was bothered and trying not to show it. It wasn’t the journey to Recon; Seleen went down every few months for things Jeb couldn’t bring up. But she didn’t like change, Cora knew. New things made her twitchy.

“Well,” said Cora. “The important thing is you’ll be able to get some chocolate.”

Seleen snorted. “Yeah.” She squared her shoulders and turned back, smiling.

But Cora could tell she was worried.

“Remember to check the fences.”

Cora sighed. “I always remember.”

“And keep the nets repaired at all times. And don’t let anyone see you come in or out.”

“I won’t.”

Seleen heaved her backpack on.

“Pepper,” said Cora. “And nails; we’re almost out. Salt. And a microwave canister if they have one.”

Seleen nodded, gazing down the valley towards the river that wound eventually to Recon. It was a nice morning and the sky was blue, but low, white clouds had 24gathered on the horizon.

“I’ll be back Friday,” she said, eyeing the clouds. “Maybe Saturday.”

“I know.”

“Power’s good for a couple of weeks yet.”

“I know.”

Seleen nodded again. “Right. See you in a couple of days.” She slipped out from under the camouflage netting and strode down the hill.

For a moment Cora felt an urge to follow her down, to the bottom of the valley at least. But she knew Seleen wouldn’t like that. So she stood at the edge of the netting and watched until the woman disappeared between a tangle of trees. Until Cora was alone. She looked out across the hillside, and the snow-covered trees. Far off in the distance, a bird cawed.

Cora went back inside.

The day passed.

She checked the traps first. Seleen insisted she take a different route each day, so that they didn’t build up trails between the snares. Cora liked to work out the distances in her head. Exactly two hundred metres from here to the cliff-edge trap. Then thirty-two metres to the next, or forty-one if she went by the large boulder… 25

She could often see the best, most efficient route to take, as if it was hanging in the air in front of her. She eliminated recent routes. She couldn’t go from boulder to river today … but she could go from boulder to cliff-edge, then to lee, then river. Fourteen hundred and seven metres. It was only a game, but it stopped her getting bored. And it stopped her thinking about being alone. Of course, she was always on her own when checking the traps, but somehow it felt different when Seleen was back at the cabin.

Three catches today and back for lunch. She made soup and drank it from a mug, sitting outside in the shadowy, forest-like light under the netting, and gazing at the view through a small opening. Seleen had probably reached the river by now. It would be another six hours to Recon.

Cora longed to be there with her. Seleen reckoned Recon was small, but it had the supply store, a magical place Cora had only heard of, full of food and equipment. And people. Other people. What would they be like? Like Jeb? Like Seleen? Like Cora, even?

She shook her head and went back inside to clear up. Then she checked the fences and nets, fed the chickens and collected their eggs, milked Juliet the goat, weeded the vegetable garden, finished repairing the oven, put some fresh bread on to bake, and tried not to think about 26the silence.

In the evening, she walked around the outside of the cabin, carefully closing every shutter. It was dark, just a shimmer of moonlight through cloudy skies. She saw the tiny dot of yellow light from Jeb’s cabin, seven or more kilometres away, and watched it flicker.

After a while she went inside and switched her own lights on. She sat at the wooden table, hesitating. Then she retrieved a sheet of paper from under her bed, and a small charcoal stick, and, after a moment of thinking, drew a face.

It was a woman’s face, with short black hair like Cora’s, and a curving, smiling mouth. Cora frowned; she wasn’t particularly good at drawing, and Seleen didn’t encourage it. She didn’t like it when Cora drew faces. But it was close enough.

She didn’t know who it was. Cora had a good memory, but as far as she knew she had never seen this woman before. But occasionally – once or twice, perhaps – she’d awoken from a dream of a face, with shining eyes, black hair and soft brown skin. She gazed at the image, trying to remember. Nothing she could pin down. Nothing but a sense of warmth and … protection? Cora knew who she thought it was, although she would never say. She stared at the woman’s mouth as if it was about to speak… 27

Then she shook her head, burned the paper to ashes, and went to bed.

Cora woke early and breakfasted on thick slices of new bread, and then she wrapped up and slipped out from under the nets.

Ridge first this time, then boulder, then lee. Not as efficient; fifteen hundred and thirty-one metres. The clouds pressed down against the hillside, subduing everything around her. Birds huddled silently on branches. From the ridge, she stared down the other side of the mountain, at Recon, trying to make out the buildings and any sign of people. Seleen was down there, somewhere.

She looked towards the far hills, where logging had carved a scar out of the landscape. It was too far to make out details, though sometimes she heard the echo of trees falling. Not today. Today was silence. She headed towards the traps on the far side, and then stopped.

Someone was calling.

It was a single call, faint. It could have been from far away, through the clear air, but she didn’t think so. It felt near. Cora stayed absolutely still, keeping her breathing slow and quiet.

Nothing.

No sound, anywhere. A fall of old snow off a branch, 28nothing else. Nothing—

“Help!”

There. Definitely close. Was it Jeb, fallen and hurt? It didn’t sound like him. Cora’s heart pounded. What should she do? She looked around, but nothing was moving. She bit her lip and waited again. Nothing. After a long time, she made her way towards where she thought the call had come from. She stepped carefully, keeping under cover of the trees, where a thick layer of fallen needles muffled the sounds of her boots. She stopped several times and waited, as still as a startled rabbit.

What would Seleen do, she wondered? She reached to her belt for the long, sharp hunting knife, and held it ready.

“Help!”

Closer now, but weaker too. Cora crept forward into a small clearing, and stopped.

At the far end of the clearing was a boy.

He was sitting leaning against a tree, with his eyes closed. He wore a thick coat and boots, and had a small bag next to him. His face was pale and screwed up in pain, and his mouth opened in rasping breaths.

A clump of snow fell from a branch next to Cora with a thud, and he opened his eyes and looked at her.

Cora gasped. He gasped too, and gazed at her as if he 29thought she might be a dream. Then he croaked, “Help.”

She didn’t move.

“My ankle,” he said. “I think it’s broken.” His voice was clotted and thick with pain. After a moment, he lifted one arm. “Hello? Can you hear me?”

His hair was arranged into spikes, half-flattened. On one side, the hair was matted and tangled and thick. Thick with blood, Cora realised.

“Help,” he said. “Help me.”

Cora stood at the edge of the clearing and stared at him until she could move.

Then she fled.

30

The Boy

Cora scrambled through the forest, panicking, her feet tripping against tree roots. Behind her, the boy called out again – “Help me! Don’t go!” – but then started coughing. She fumbled through the camouflage nets, raced to the cabin, slammed and barred the door, and sat on her bed with her back against the wall and her hands around her knees, staring and panting.

He’d seen her!

She’d let him see her. The thing she absolutely couldn’t do. And Seleen wasn’t here; oh, why couldn’t Seleen be here! What was Cora going to do?

Gradually her breathing slowed to normal, her heartbeat calmed and she tried to think. It was a boy. He was hurt, somehow. How? What was he doing here? Why was he here, why was he here now when Seleen wasn’t, why— 31

She stopped. It was a boy, and he was hurt. What would Seleen do? She thought of the woman’s face, grim and suspicious. Stay away, Seleen would say. Keep to ourselves.

Cora bit her lip. Nothing to do with us. Not our problem.

After a long time, she went to feed the animals and check the fence. Her eyes strayed towards the ridge, but she focused them back on her chores. The afternoon turned; thick clouds were forming. No new snow yet, but the air smelled of it. That evening, she lay in her bunk, in dim lamplight, and thought again: Why is he here?

She had to know. She had to.

She let her mind drift … and looked.

She started with the mat of bloodied hair on the boy’s head. What had caused that? She let her attention float and settle on to the blood, then followed it back in time, to its cause … there. A ghostly image of his head scraping a rock to one side of the tree, the rock cutting skin.

What had caused that? She drifted further back. He’d hit the rock because he’d fallen from a tree. Why was he in the tree? Was he looking for someone? But she couldn’t tell. She could only see cause and effect; she couldn’t read minds. And she could see back only a day or so. Whatever had caused him to be on the hillside had happened earlier 32than that. He was there, and that was that.

And he was hurt.

She tried to sleep, but every time her eyes closed she heard him calling – “Help me!” – until at last she fell into a thin half-doze that left her exhausted by dawn.

It was colder, and a bleached wind was slicing up through the trees, whistling and humming. She stared out of the window, down to the valley. Seleen would be days yet, at least. The clouds were thicker. A storm was coming.

Without admitting to herself what she was doing, she pulled on her coat and boots, left the cabin and walked up to the ridge.

The boy had dragged himself into the undergrowth for shelter and was curled up into a ball with his hands tucked into his armpits. He wasn’t moving, and Cora thought for a moment he’d died overnight. She felt a mixture of guilt and relief at the idea, and then shame. But then he shuddered and gave a ragged breath.

She crept forward, hesitated, then tapped his cheek and pulled back. Nothing. He didn’t move, or open his eyes, and his skin felt cold and clammy. She touched his face again, this time for longer. Still nothing.

So. Not dead, but not well. And unconscious. 33

Cora cut down three branches and laid them out into an “A”. She needed rope. She checked the boy’s pack and found spare clothes, some dried sausage, a water bottle. Then a few pieces of paper with drawings of the hillside from different angles, and a red velvet bag, full of strange white cubes.

The last item was a black case. It was made of Glory material, soft but strong, and inside was a device Cora didn’t recognise, a thick black rectangle with two glass circles at each end. She stared at it. Glory technology – incredibly valuable, literally irreplaceable. How could this boy have it?

Cora shook her head and used the boy’s boot laces to tie the branches. She studied him, biting her lip. Then, in one movement, she reached down, burrowed her hands under his body and heaved him on to the frame. He wasn’t heavy, and Cora, though thin, was strong. He didn’t move. She lifted one end and pulled him back down the hill.

It was hard work, and her makeshift sledge caught against trees and roots, but at last she made it under the camouflage nets and into the yard. She dragged him off the platform and inside the cabin, and opened the trapdoor to their cellar, the most secure place she could think of. With a huge effort she lowered him down by 34