I glanced at Fayden, but his jaw was set and his fists curled behind his back.
“Why won’t you go?” I’d always thought Father was as devoted to Janan as anyone else, what with him wanting to send me on Janan’s quest. If I’d gone, I’d be one of those warriors no one cared about—as long as the Community found Janan.
Father’s tone grew savage and raw. “What care do I have for the Community? My wife is gone because someone let her die. My only son abandoned me when I needed him. He abandoned me for a murderer, a boy who’d just as soon let everyone around him die, as long as it meant he could stay safe.”
“I didn’t—”
Fayden jerked my arm, making me stumble backward just as Father’s fist flew through the air where my head had been a moment before.
“You did let her die!” Father’s rage crescendoed, drawing looks from neighbors and passersby. “You did nothing when you could have saved her. Her death is your fault, you stupid, selfish, useless boy. I wish it had been you who died.”
I staggered back as my brother stepped in front of me. “Don’t talk that way, Father,” Fayden said. “He’s still your son.”
“Neither of you are my sons.” The door slammed shut, and rattled in its frame.
I clenched my jaw so hard that my eyes watered.
“Come on,” said Fayden. “If he wants to stay, we can’t force him.”
“But he’s our father,” I whispered.
My brother shook his head. “We don’t have a father anymore. We have each other.”
9
WHEN STEF FOUND out what Father had said to Fayden and me, he’d wanted to march right over and—
But of course we all knew that none of us could change Father or his decision. It was enough to know that Stef was my friend, and Fayden was on my side. As long as I had the two of them, I wasn’t alone.
Fayden and I spent the remainder of the month with Stef, and Whit and Orrin—his aunts—next door, the five of us packing our wagon with everything we might need. Whit and Orrin loaded their side with book after book, most taken from libraries in the old city, while Stef struggled to find room for his gadgets-in-progress, and Fayden and I wondered where we would put the food.
There was a strange, uncomfortable, yet hopeful undercurrent that last day. Disgust that we were leaving so many behind, but excitement at the prospect of an adventure. Or, perhaps, fear of what would happen if they didn’t go.
“The exodus begins tomorrow,” said Whit, or Orrin, over dinner with the five of us. Stef’s aunts were twins, and I hadn’t yet learned how to tell them apart. “The scouts Meuric sent out after the meeting in the Center have returned. Sounds like it was dangerous, too. Rumor has it there were fewer who came back than left.” She shook her head.
The other aunt—Orrin, I guessed—looked over the three of us. “Glad you boys weren’t part of Janan’s or Meuric’s groups. You’d think the Council didn’t value life at all, the way they keep throwing people into the wilderness.”
“Keep throwing?” I asked. “Have there been others, besides Janan’s warriors and the scouts?”
Orrin nodded. “At least two other groups that haven’t come back yet.”
When everyone finished dinner, Fayden brought an old plastic box from the other room, and placed it in front of me. It was an instrument case, with two rusty metal clasps, and a handle that hung at an unfortunate angle.
“What is this?” But I knew what it was. I knew all the instruments kept in the concert hall.
“I know it’s not the piano, but we can’t fit a piano in the wagon. This was the smallest instrument we could find.” He flipped open the lid, revealing a disassembled flute, and nodded at Stef. “He cleaned it up and fixed the cracked pads on the keys. This way you can entertain us on the long journey.”
“With a flute?” I couldn’t stop my smile. “You know I barely know how to play this, right?”
“Better get practicing.”
“I—” I wanted to thank him, but he thwapped the back of my head and grinned.
“It’s not a big deal, so don’t start gushing. Just make it worth all the trouble we went through to find it and clean it. We need some kind of entertainment on this journey, right?”
I spent the rest of the night trapped in a sort of awe. My brother knew how hard it was for me to leave behind music, so he’d found a way for music to come with me.
Dawn broke over the valley, illuminating the immense road paved centuries ago, now cracked with age and weather and the forest reclaiming what land was stolen from it. The road was a black river, flowing north to lands unknown.