“Here,” Annis says, handing him a wad of undyed cloth. They’re probably Nathan’s.
“Thanks,” he replies, and the accent I’d almost stopped noticing jumps out, clipped and stark. I don’t have the first idea what to tell Annis. I hurry to Jillian. She’s lying very still, her eyes closed, and I don’t like her breathing. Her pulse is rapid.
“We’ll let you dress,” I say to Beckett. Annis hesitates, like she wants to say something but decides against it, and goes out the door. “Give her half of what you gave her last time,” I whisper. “And go barefoot.”
Beckett nods, but he doesn’t look at me, and I feel the space between us stretch as wide as between the mountains.
In the main room, the two younger boys are hurrying up the ladder to the loft again, Ari, who is nearing ten, and Luc, three years younger. Their faces are solemn. They don’t speak to me, or hug me like they sometimes do. Nathan is openly hostile, arms crossed, leaning against a wall beside Grandpapa. He’s as tall as Grandpapa now, his eyes a warm hazel. Other than that, he looks just like Nita. Except that he needs to shave. When did Nathan start needing to shave? Annis has an arm around him, and they all look a little stunned. I think she must have prepared them to be taken.
Jasmina comes to me, though, holding up her arms, sleepy and oblivious to the atmosphere. I pick her up and sit in the room’s only other chair, facing the group from the other side of the furnace. The light is warm and yellow, the matting a well-worn green, and I can smell the dried herbs. Jasmina settles against my shoulder, murmuring something about jam, while Grandpapa leans forward, throwing another brick of biofuel through the open furnace door. I like listening to Jasmina. When the children of the Knowing get their memories, they lose the childlike softness of their speech.
I ask, “Is it safe for you to have us here, Annis? For the time being?” We both know it’s not safe. The question is the degree of danger.
“Until one of the Knowing hears Nita’s name on that list,” she replies, “one who’s aware her name shouldn’t be on it.”
They have four supervisors who will remember every person, age, occupation, and description, and they will recite those to one of the administrators Underneath. But what will that administrator Know?
“Did you ask a supervisor about her,” I ask Annis, “when she didn’t come back?”
“The second resting, yes. I talked to Himmat, at the gates. He said everyone was accounted for, and to go home and count my children.”
Then he wasn’t admitting, or wasn’t being told, the truth, and that in itself is suspicious, because the Knowing cannot miscount. If someone is hiding the fact that there’s a missing Outsider, then they already Know that Outsider is missing. And probably how. And why. I rock Jasmina side to side in my arms. I don’t think this early counting had anything to do with Nita or her family at all. I think it had everything to do with me, and possibly the two aliens in the resting room. Reddix said they were coming for me.
Annis keeps her eyes on the floor. “Tell us how it happened.”
I go still. Jasmina is nearly asleep, her chest rising and falling against mine. If Annis knew everything, I wonder if she would even let me hold her. And I am struggling again. I can see Nita, tears on her cheeks, her left arm limp, at the same time as these plain, wooden walls. But if I were Annis, I’d want to know, too. I push the pain of my memories toward the high shelf.
“Bitterblack,” I say. “It was supposed to be for me. But we were sharing … ”
“For you?” Nathan scoffs.
“Hush,” Grandpapa says without lifting his head.
I close my eyes. Fighting. Caching.
“But it wasn’t … long?” Annis asks.
“No,” I whisper. “It wasn’t long.”
I open my eyes at the sound of a latch, and Beckett is in the doorway, in a tight, undyed tunic and leggings, barefoot, no glasses, looking very Canaan.
“This is Beckett,” I say.
He lifts a hand, a little uncertain. “Hi.”
And that, I think, was not very Canaan. I need to tell him no one knows what that means. Grandpapa’s head comes up. He doesn’t turn to look at Beckett, but he’s listening.
“You are welcome here,” Annis says, passing over the awkwardness. She swipes away tears with the back of a hand. “Does your friend do well?”
“Better, yes.” He gives me a swift glance.
“Are you hungry?”
I catch Beckett’s eye and give my head a quick shake. He needs to eat whatever he has left until I talk to Annis. Nita’s family is on rations. “No,” he says. “Thanks.”
Grandpapa turns in his chair. “Where did you say you were from?”
“He’s one of … ” I glance at the loft, where the boys are. “He’s like me,” I say quickly. “He’s been … helping me.”
“If you’re here for waking, Nadia,” Annis breaks in, “then we may send a person or two to see you, if that suits.” She means the sick. The Outsiders have their own remedies and medicines, but not like Underneath.
“Of course,” I say. “But after, I have to go back.”
“I’ll find some clothes for you at waking, then. Nathan, I’ll take Jasmina in with Grandpapa. You see to the boys.”
Nathan throws me a hot glare, and it hurts. And it’s probably no more than I deserve. But when Annis comes and takes the sleeping Jasmina, she spares one small brush of her hand for my cheek. And that’s when I Know, truly Know, that Annis has forgiven me. That she holds nothing against me. I Knew Outsiders could forgive, and I Know Annis has loved me when she didn’t have to. But I have not been raised with forgiveness, and now my eyes are stinging, and Nita’s loss aches like a deep bruise.
I stand up to go, before I cry like Annis, and as I pass, Grandpapa catches my hand, gives it one quick squeeze. I squeeze back, then slip inside the resting room, and Beckett shuts the door.
I sit on the edge of Jillian’s bed. She’s peaceful now, deeply asleep, her wheezing stopped and the swelling around her eyes already gone. I’d like to Know what’s inside that technology of Beckett’s. It seems like a good thing to have.
“Why do they call you Nadia?” he asks.
It’s strange to hear his voice indoors, in a room like this. The resting room always was small, but now it feels tiny. I pretend I’m feeling Jillian’s pulse.
“It’s my name Outside. Nita gave it to me. Nathan, Annis, and Grandpapa all know I am one of the Knowing. The younger children, and the rest of the Outsiders, do not.” If they had, I might have died two seasons ago. I feel Beckett come and stand just behind me.
“We need to talk.”
I don’t answer. I’m making a decision, and I have to be certain it’s a decision I’ll be willing to remember forever.
I think I have to. I’m already ruined.
I cross the room and dig inside my pack, find the bundle I want, and pull it out. My book is dirty from the Cursed City and the caves, stained from my jump off the cliffs. But it’s all in one piece, still with the scarf Nita used to bind my hair tied around it like a strap. This book is the truth, and it’s mine.