We’re all too tired to think straight, he thought. But my idea will work. I hope.
The truth was, Jonah really didn’t like Stratego or chess or games like that. There was too much planning, too much strategy, too much trying to figure out your opponent’s plans ten moves ahead.
What was that really complicated game Billy was always trying to get me to play? Jonah tried to remember. The one where you weren’t just competing against one other person, but there could be five or six people, all trying to win?
Jonah remembered the name of the game just as he was slipping off to sleep: Risk.
He woke hours later, to darkness and the sound of screaming.
“Stop! Stop! Halt the battle!”
Jonah sprang to his feet, his heart pounding. He gazed frantically from side to side. The fire was barely even embers now, but the dim glow of the tracers cast a little light into the darkness, onto the arched walls of the hut.
Hut . . . we’re still in the hut . . . I don’t see any battle anywhere. . . .
The man they’d saved from drowning was thrashing about on the floor. He seemed caught in the grip of some unceasing agony.
“These are the wrong savages!” he screamed. “They aren’t the ones who killed George Howe! They’re Manteo’s people! Oh, Lord, forgive us—forgive us this blood on our hands!”
Dare whimpered at the loud shouting. Jonah saw that Andrea and Katherine were awake now too. Andrea sat up and reached over to pat the man’s shoulder.
“Shh,” she said soothingly. “You’re okay. It’s just a dream.”
“Andrea, stop talking to him!” Jonah hissed. He tried to stay back in the shadows, out of sight. “He’ll see you!”
“Don’t worry—he’s talking in his sleep again,” Andrea whispered back. “He doesn’t have his eyes open.”
Jonah thought about rushing forward and pulling Andrea away, just in case. But it seemed as if that would be even more disruptive.
And just then, the man began to sob.
“Oh, Eleanor, we were star-crossed from the start,” he wailed. “What Fernandez did . . . the enmity Lane left behind . . . killing over a communion cup . . . Oh, how can I leave you now? With the wee babe . . . in this wilderness, under constant threat from mine enemies . . .”
Even in the dim light, Jonah could see Andrea stiffen. For a moment she sat completely frozen, a shadowed silhouette. Then she moved her hand. She wrapped her fingers around the man’s hand and held on tight.
“Oh, Father,” she whispered. Her voice broke. Jonah saw her lower her head, gulping for control. After a moment, she raised her head and went on. “You are the only one who can go. You must talk to Sir Raleigh. He’ll listen to you. Only you can save us.”
Sir Raleigh? Jonah thought. What’s Andrea talking about?
The man seemed to know.
“What if Sir Raleigh thinks I abandoned my duty?” the man moaned. “Oh, ‘tis a dreadful choice. To stay, to go . . . I see evil encroaching, either way. If evil befalls you—”
“It won’t be your fault,” Andrea said firmly.
“But ’twas I who brought you here! My child! And I will not be here to protect you!”
The man seemed to be getting more and more upset. Across the hut, the tracer boys were stirring now. One propped himself up on his elbow, to stare over at the man. He spoke.
Of course Jonah could hear nothing, but he thought he could almost get the gist of the boy’s words from his expression, from the clipped way he opened and shut his mouth. His words would be something like, You. Sleep now. No more noise.
“Oh, no,” Katherine moaned.
“What’s wrong with you?” Jonah muttered.
“The tracer boy’s talking to our guy. Which means . . .”
“The man we saved joined with his tracer again,” Andrea finished for her, quite calmly.
Jonah looked back at the tracers again. He’d never been good at waking quickly and instantly thinking clearly. He squinted, counting and recounting the tracers. One. Two. Clear enough. But there should have been three tracers in the hut—even without counting any random tracer bugs or other tiny tracer detritus. Maybe he’d miscounted. One. Two. Two tracer boys.
No tracer man.
“Our guy could have just rolled over in his sleep, and, boom, that was it, he was with his tracer again,” Katherine was speculating.
Like the smoke, like the flames, Jonah thought. I knew tracers worked like that.
“We need to pull him away from his tracer again,” Jonah said, sighing. “Then one of us should sleep between him and his tracer.”
Wearily, Jonah moved toward the man and reached for his arm. But Andrea blocked Jonah’s way.
“Leave him alone!” she commanded.
Jonah blinked, even more confused. He’d just had trouble counting to two—and now he was supposed to figure out Andrea?
“Andrea, remember the experiment we’re doing?” Katherine said softly. “Jonah’s plan?”
Jonah himself was having a hard time remembering.
Oh, yeah—we’re not going to be used. Not going to fall for any tricks or traps. Not going to put the man with his tracer . . . going to do the opposite of what anyone would expect . . .
Andrea laughed, a little wildly.
“Isn’t this weird?” she asked. “You don’t want to be manipulated, so you’re going to manipulate this man? Use him as a pawn, to keep from being pawns yourself?”
Jonah winced at the bitterness in her words.
“That’s not how I meant it,” he muttered. He guessed he should explain everything all over again, but he was so tired. It was the middle of the night. Jonah just wanted to pull the man away from his tracer and go back to sleep.
He started to reach for the man once more, but this time Andrea actually shoved him away.
“I won’t let you,” she said. “I’ll stop you, no matter what.”