The Girl Who Drank the Moon(70)

Here is the baby with his new brothers and sisters. They love him. They love him so much. And he shines in their presence.

Here is the baby taking her first step. Look at how pleased she is! Look at how she glows!

Here is the baby climbing a tree.

Here is the baby jumping off a high rock into a deep pool in the company of cheering friends.

Here is the baby learning to read.

Here is the baby building a house.

Here is the baby holding the hand of her beloved and saying yes, I love you, too.

They were so real, these visions. So clear. They felt as though they could smell the warm scent of the children’s scalps, and touch those scabbed knees and hear those far-off voices. They found themselves crying out the names of their children, feeling the loss as keenly as though it had only just happened, even those to whom it had happened decades ago.

But as the clouds broke and the sky began to clear, they found themselves feeling something else, too. Something they had never felt before.

Here is the baby holding her own sweet baby. My grandchild. Here is her knowing that no one will ever take that child away.

Hope. They felt hope.

Here is the baby in his circle of friends. He is laughing. He loves his life.

Joy. They felt joy.

Here is the baby holding hands with her husband and family and staring up at the stars. She has no idea I am her mother. She never, ever knew me.

The mothers stopped what they were doing. They ran outside. They fell to their knees and turned their faces to the sky. The visions were just images, they told themselves. They were just dreams. They weren’t real.

And yet.

They were so, so real.

Once upon a time, the families had submitted to the Robes and said yes to the Council and given up their babies to the Witch. They did this to save the people of the Protectorate. They did this knowing that their babies would die. Their babies were dead.

But what if they were not?

And the more they asked, the more they wondered. And the more they wondered, the more they hoped. And the more they hoped, the more the clouds of sorrow lifted, drifted, and burned away in the heat of a brightening sky.



I don’t mean to be rude, Grand Elder Gherland,” wheezed Elder Raspin. He was so old. Gherland was amazed that the geezer could still stand. “But facts are facts. This is all your fault.”

The gathering in front of the Tower started with just a few citizens holding signs, but quickly swelled to a crowd with banners, songs, speeches, and other atrocities. The Elders, seeing this, had retreated into the Grand Elder’s great house and sealed the windows and the doors.

Now the Grand Elder sat in his favorite chair and glowered at his compatriots. “My fault?” His voice was quiet. The maids, cooks, assistant cooks, and pastry chef had all made themselves scarce, which meant there was no food to be had, and Gherland’s gullet was quite empty. “My fault?” He let that sit for a moment. “Pray. Explain why.”

Raspin began to cough and looked as though he may expire right there. Elder Guinnot attempted to continue.

“This rabble-rouser is part of your family. And there she is. Out there. Rousing the rabble.”

“The rabble had already been roused before she got there,” Gherland sputtered. “I paid her a visit myself, her and that doomed baby of hers. Once that baby is left in the forest, she will mourn and recover, and things will return to normal.”

“Have you looked outside lately?” Elder Leibshig said. “All that . . . sunlight. It assaults the eye, is what. And it seems to be inflaming the populace.”

“And the signs. Who on earth could be making them?” grumbled Elder Oerick. “Not my employees, I’ll tell you what. They wouldn’t dare. And anyway, I had the foresight to hide the ink. At least one of us is thinking.”

“Where is Sister Ignatia?” moaned Elder Dorrit. “Of all the times for her to disappear! And why aren’t the Sisters nipping this in the bud?!”

“It’s that boy. He was trouble on his first Sacrifice day. We should have dispatched him then,” Elder Raspin said.

“I beg your pardon!” the Grand Elder said.

“We all knew that the boy would be a problem sooner or later. And look. There he goes. Being a problem.”

The Grand Elder sputtered. “Listen to yourselves. A bunch of grown men! And you are whining like babies. There is nothing at all to worry about. The rabble is roused, but it is temporary. The Head Sister is gone, but it is temporary. My nephew has proved himself to be a thorn in our collective sides, but that is temporary, too. The Road is the only safe passage. He is in danger. And he will die.” The Grand Elder paused, closed his eyes, and tried to swallow his sadness deep in his chest. Hide it away. He opened his eyes and gave the Elders a steely gaze. Resolute. “And, my dear Brothers, when that happens, our life as we knew it will return, just as we left it. That is as sure as the ground under our feet.”

At that, the ground beneath their feet began to shake. The Elders threw open the south windows and looked outside. Smoke curled from the highest peak on the mountain. The volcano was burning.





39.


In Which Glerk Tells Fyrian the Truth





“Come on,” Luna said. The moon had not risen yet, but Luna could feel it approaching. This was nothing new. She had always felt a strange kinship with the moon, but she had never felt it as powerfully as she did right now. The moon would be full tonight. It would light up the world.