She took the jewel and found that it was warm. Probably from Tear’s chest, but Katie couldn’t escape the odd idea that the stone was alive somehow, almost breathing.
“I want you to make me a promise, Katie. And be warned, it’s quite a serious promise, not to be made lightly. The jewel you’re holding has a way of making people regret their lies.”
Katie clenched the sapphire in her fist and felt her hand heat around it, everything in her veins moving faster now. She looked up and saw something terrible: a drop of water trickling down Tear’s cheek, incongruous with the world that Katie had always known.
“Promise me, Katie. Promise to do what’s best for this town, always.”
Katie’s shoulders sagged in relief, because that wasn’t such a hard promise to make. But Tear was so clearly upset that she forced herself to speak slowly and solemnly, as though thinking through every word.
“I promise to do what’s best for the Town.” She paused and, because those words didn’t seem like enough, continued, “If anyone ever tried to hurt the Town, I’d stop them. I would . . . I’d kill them.”
Tear’s eyebrows rose. “A fierce animal. Your mother said so. But no more talk of killing, all right?” He held out his hand, and Katie dropped the sapphire back into it. “I’m hoping it will never come to violence. This wasn’t supposed to be a killing place.”
“Sir, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
Katie screwed up her courage. “You have visions sometimes. Everyone says so.”
“Yes.”
“If the Town is in danger, then from who? Don’t you know?”
Tear shook his head. “My visions are often little better than shadows, Katie. It may even be nothing at all.”
“But you don’t think so.”
“No. Even when I only see shadows, they’re usually true shadows.” He held up the sapphire, letting the last of the dying sun gleam through it. “This jewel is a powerful thing, but it has its limitations. It doesn’t function on command. I can use it, but can’t control it.”
“Where did you get it? From the old world?”
“Yes and no.”
She stared at him, confused.
“Someday, perhaps, I will tell you the story, Katie. But for now, just know that you’ve made a promise. A serious promise. We’ll start next week, but until then, I’ll ask you not to discuss this with anyone, not even your friends. We haven’t spoken to everyone yet.”
“Can I talk about it with Mum?”
“Of course. But no one else.”
She hesitated, wanting to ask about Row, why he wasn’t included. Row was surely the smartest teenager in town, except perhaps for Jonathan Tear . . . but Aunt Maddy had mentioned Jonathan too, Katie recalled now. He was only a year older than Katie, but three years ahead of her in school, and far more distant than his age would suggest. Jonathan never accompanied his parents when they came over for dinner, and though he lived next door, Katie hardly ever saw him. He was fearsomely intelligent; Katie had heard that even after advancing him several grades, they’d been forced to create a special math class for Jonathan, some kind of calculus that no one else was ready to learn. But he didn’t have any friends, and the word around school pegged him as some sort of misfit. No one bullied him, because he was William Tear’s son, but the fact remained that he was different, apart. Surely Row would be no more strange a choice.
“Katie?”
She turned and found Tear smiling at her, a bit sympathetically, as though he had read her confusion. The jewel and its little pouch had already disappeared back under his sweater, but Katie barely marked these things. Rather, she was struck by Tear’s eyes, which were not grey or even light grey, but bright and translucent, almost silver in the fading sun.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me anymore,” Tear told her. “All right?”
Katie nodded, unable to stop herself from smiling back at him. She thought of all of her own sniping thoughts about Tear and Tear’s sycophants, and felt suddenly ashamed. He was a good man, innately good; for a moment, Katie felt that goodness so powerfully that it almost seemed there was a rope binding them to each other, and she suddenly understood why Mum had followed this man across the ocean.
He only wants the best for everyone, she thought. Beneath all of the whispering and idol-worship, that’s the truth. I wish I could tell Row.
“Thank you,” Tear said, and for the rest of her life, Katie would never forget that moment: the tall man smiling at her, the hillside and river stretched out behind, and the bloodred sliver of sun hanging over them. She did not smile back this time, understanding somehow that it would undermine the gravity of the moment, in her own memories if not in fact.
“We’ll go in now.”