Tian sloshes a bit of water into another wooden bowl for my neck, saying, “Might as well use warm. The river’s close by, but this won’t leave you shivering.”
I take the bowl with a hesitant smile and sit with my back to the fire. Howl crouches next to me, watching as I scrub away at my face and neck with the water.
Howl brushes a wisp of hair behind my ear and leans toward me with a painted-on smile.
Lips warm against my ear, he murmurs, “They aren’t going to let us leave. I have two Mantis pills in my pocket for an emergency. If I give them to you, can you take them without anyone noticing?”
I nod slightly and slip a hand inside his jacket. The pills are in a little paper packet, like the ones Sister Shang brought to me the day I broke into the library. When they are safely hidden under my shirt, I whisper back without moving my lips, “Sure you don’t want to just spike the food?”
Howl chuckles like I told him a joke, twirling my stray lock of dark hair around his finger. “There’s no way it would be enough. It should keep you with me until we have a chance to get away, though. If they find our packs, they might just take them. Or they might kill us.”
“I would never have guessed that.” I keep my expression blank. “The gun didn’t tip me off or anything. Why didn’t you just tell them we are brother and sister so we don’t have to act like this?”
“Not plausible. You’re a Fourth. Besides, this way I can watch you jump every time I come anywhere near you.” The edges of a real smile flit across his face, but it disappears as Liming walks over to break up our chat.
Setting two bowls of food on a rock beside us, he sinks down next to us with a sigh. His eyes are sharp and expectant, pinning each of us in turn. I’m not sure what to say or what he wants, but I can’t help but break the loaded silence with a desperately empty “Hi.”
He doesn’t answer, looking over at the bowls and back to us. When we don’t move, he points to them, back at us, then to his mouth. I nod and reach for a bowl, which steams in the cold air. The brownish-yellow liquid smells sharply of rotten cabbage and dirty laundry, the aroma of tubers hiding somewhere underneath. Liming’s eyes follow as I bring the bowl to my lips, sipping to allow the arctic chill lodged in my throat to melt. Definitely spoiled cabbage.
The open smile branded across Liming’s face feels genuine, but lopsided. Missing something.
Howl takes his bowl and drinks, swallowing with a choke disguised as a cough. “Thank you so much for sharing.” The words rush out of his mouth like he’s afraid if something isn’t steadily coming out, more stew will have to go in. “What is in this? It’s delicious.”
Liming nods briskly and returns to his place by the fire without answering.
I sidle up close to Howl and try to whisper out of the side of my mouth, “What was that?”
“He can’t speak.” Howl sloshes his soup around, watching closely as if something alive might crawl out of it. “He doesn’t have a tongue.”
Not even a mention of green eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I mean he doesn’t have a tongue. Cut out, probably. You can tell by the way he moves his mouth.” The soup swirls around and around, and he lifts it again to take an exploratory sip. “I don’t think they put anything toxic in the soup, so you can go ahead and eat it.”
I glance over at Parhat, who is now absorbed in stabbing the ring of ashes around the fire with a stick, a terrible thought burrowing deeper every second. If we don’t find the mountain people Howl seems to think are out here, those scars could be my future. That blank stare with nothing but infection looking out . . . I can’t quite keep the shudder back as it ripples up my spine and down my shoulders and arms. “I’ll pass on lunch. How do we get out of this?”
“We’ll leave tonight after they all go to sleep. Circle back, get our packs, and run for it.”
“The only reason we are still alive is because they think we have Mantis or food or something valuable, right? They need us to take them back to our packs.”
“Right. Better hope Parhat doesn’t have any violent compulsions.”
I think of the wine cellar, the inescapable grip of compulsion, and shiver. Tian walks over, smile plastered across her face.
She pulls us both out of the cold, toward the fire. Where we cannot talk.
CHAPTER 11
SHADOWS JUMP AND TWIST ON the tent wall, the flickers of a dying fire dancing across the fabric. They insisted we take the tent tonight. Even the little girl—June—is sleeping outside. We caught a glimpse of the scarf tied tight around her head before Tian dragged her out of the clearing to gather more wood for the fire. Cas has been planted nearby ever since.
The dirty sweat smell is stifling trapped inside the tent walls, fogging all the way up to where the ceiling is tagged UNIT 314 in bold characters. It makes my mind sink down deep, wondering what happened to the Outside patrollers who must have been the original owners of this tent.
There’s barely enough space for Howl and me, canvas wall inches from my nose as I try to make enough room for the two of us to lie down without touching.
Howl spreads out in front of the doorway, palming my knife against his leg, Tai-ge’s name peeking out through his fingers. When I asked why they didn’t confiscate it, or at least search us for other weapons, Howl shrugged. “I don’t think they’re worried about us taking them by surprise.”
The shadow moves outside, circling around to the other side of the fire.
“What if he just stays there?” I whisper.
Howl glances back at me, shifting a little to allow us to talk, “He’s going to. And I think Liming and Parhat are probably watching the other side so we can’t cut out the back.”
We have to get out tonight. That or face the morning with no Mantis for me. “Are you going to try to sleep?”
“No.” His voice is flat.
“Staying up won’t help if . . .”
“I won’t let anyone come in here, Sev. You’re safe with me, I promise.” His eyes are black pools in the dark, but I know he is looking at me. “Sleep. One of us should.”
Sleep? With Cas’s shadow outlined against the tent wall? But some part of me—the part that is tired and hurting from running—says that there is no point in trying to stay awake. If we are going to die, there isn’t anything Howl can do. Promises of safety don’t mean anything when SS waits outside in the dark, only feet away. And my eyes are so tired, drooping as fatigue twists tighter and tighter around my brain. . . .
That is, until a knife slits through the tent wall a foot above my head.
I roll away from the weapon slashing down toward me, crashing into Howl’s back and knocking him onto his stomach. A hand slips in through the gash and folds the flap back, Liming’s head appearing through the gap.
He puts a finger to his lips and gestures for us to follow.
Howl and I look at each other. He slithers over me to the rip in the tent, his eyes locked on my face and then skittering away as he touches the rent canvas. “Stay close to me,” he whispers, lightly touching my arm. “And be ready to run.”
Liming stops us just outside the tent and breaks a quicklight, bathing us in the dim yellow light. He hands me a leaf, folded in two.
Unfolding the leaf, I accidentally tear the green waxy surface, a syrupy substance bleeding out all over my hands. In the center, dark charcoal spells out one word. REBELS?
Howl looks from the leaf to Liming, thinking hard. Then nods once.
What does that mean? Rebels?
Liming pulls us farther along so we are away from the fire, away from Cas’s ears. He gestures for us to stay, then walks around a tree, leaving us in darkness.
“What is he doing?” I don’t realize that I’ve spoken out loud until Howl puts a hand on my shoulder. Reassuring, I think. Or maybe just trying to make me be quiet.