“People cannot be owned,” Saph snarls. “This is where our people and yours have always disagreed.”
“She has something that belongs to us,” Reed amends. “The General wants it back.”
“Then the General should request an audience with the Prime, not bring an army to our door.” A pause. “Does he request an audience?”
“He’s not with us,” Reed answers.
“Of course he’s not. He never leaves his stone fortress.”
On the other side of the wall, there’s a muffled discussion. Reed arguing with another of the General’s Four, perhaps, whoever owns the second falcon we saw. Then, silence. The world goes deathly still as Saph cautiously raises her hands. They must have their weapons on her now.
Someone races past Asher and me and ascends the ladder to the watchtower opposite Saph with catlike speed. As fast as she’s moving, she’s seemingly silent, and when she reaches the landing, the rifle that was slung across her shoulders moves soundlessly into her hands. She aims at the army. “If you fire that weapon, your arrangement with Powder Town will be null and void, I can guarantee it. I can’t imagine that’s a risk the General would want you to take.”
“Says you, or the Prime?”
“Says I, though I know the Prime will agree. We bring you shipments once a moon, and you don’t meddle in our affairs. That includes not demanding that we hand over townsfolk.”
“And you are . . .”
“Luce the Reaper. One of the Trinity.”
“Oh.” Another pause. “I will see if the General would like to request an audience.”
“Good choice.”
And then, miraculously, Reed gives an order to move out. The hooves retreat. Overhead, the falcons lift back into the sky, screeching as they soar east.
The woman who called herself Luce the Reaper swings a rust-colored braid over her shoulder and gives a nod to Saph, who quickly descends the watchtower ladder. “Your declarations have earned you entry,” she says to me and Asher, “but to stay, you’ll have to plead your case to the Prime.”
I nod, dumbfounded. Who the hell are these people, and how do they have the power to turn away the General’s army with only a few words?
* * *
When Asher helps haul me to my feet, I find that a crowd has gathered in the clearing behind us. The group is made up of mostly women but there are men, also, and children. They peer from behind the legs of their parents, wide-eyed and curious.
Like Saph, their clothes are threadbare and mismatched, but something in these people’s eyes feels lighter, younger. Hope, I realize. These people haven’t lost hope. After Dead River, the wastes, the ilked-up state of the General’s workers, it’s a beautiful sight.
Behind the crowd, huts and shanties huddle together, separated only by crooked dirt paths that cut between them. It’s so quiet, I can hear the distant bleating of a goat and a gurgle that can only be the Serpent River Asher mentioned.
“High alert over,” the Reaper announces from her perch. “Everyone can return to their normal duties.”
The crowd disperses at that, chattering among themselves.
One girl lingers, blocking Saph’s way. She looks about five years old, and she wears a basket attached to her back with shoulder straps.
“Are you a god?” she asks me. “Is that why the devil’s men were chasing you?”
“No,” I say. “Of course not.”
“Him?” She glances at Asher.
“No.”
“You must be gods touched, then.”
“I’m nobody. I’m just trying to get by.”
The girl frowns. “Armies don’t chase nobodies.”
Saph clears her throat.
“Sorry. I’ll go now.” The girl runs after a woman who wears a similar basket on her back.
“This way,” Saph says, and leads us through a patchwork of shanty homes. She seems taller now that she’s on the ground with us—Asher’s height, maybe even a knuckle or two more. With her goggles pushed onto her forehead, her short hair sticks out at odd angles beneath the pull of the strap.
Though the crowd has broken up, I spot faces peering at us from behind the curtained doorways of several shanties.
“Is this normal?” I whisper to Asher.
“Pleading a case to the Prime, yes. Having the entire town watch your arrival, no.”
“What about pleading a case twice?”
He keeps his eyes locked on Saph.
“Asher, why didn’t she want to let you in?”
He shakes his head, as if this alone is an acceptable answer. There’s little color in his cheeks. Something in the story he told me isn’t true, but rather than being angry with him, I find myself terrified at the prospect that he might get turned away. That we both might. That can’t happen. Powder Town is where I’m going to find answers, and I don’t have the supplies to make it anywhere else if we’re thrown back into the wastes.
We reach a bridge that extends across the murky brown water of the Serpent. To the south, I can make out a dam. The stones look relatively new, clean of moss or growth, which explains why our water supply at Dead River started fading so enthusiastically.
On the opposite side of the bridge is the largest building I’ve seen since entering Powder Town. Unlike most of the shanties, this one has numerous open windows, a mud-tiled roof, and four stone slabs that serve as steps to the entrance.
“Prime Hall,” Asher whispers to me.
There’s a flag hanging idly from the corner of the building. Without a breeze, the emblem stitched in the cloth is clear: two picks, their shafts overlapping.
I freeze. I’ve seen this flag before, flying from the wagon patrol that came to Bedrock while I worked in the fields. I glance over my shoulder. The same flag flies along the perimeter wall. I’d been too concerned with the Loyalist army to notice it earlier.
The sound of Saph knocking pulls me back to the present. I turn around in time to see Prime Hall’s door swinging open.
A dark-skinned woman emerges from the shadows. Her head is shaved. A patch obscures her right eye.
It’s the woman from Bedrock, the caravan leader.
She’s Kara the Prime.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“You?” I mutter.
Asher stomps on my foot and gives me a glare so fierce it could kill. But the Prime only smiles.
“Me.” Her eye flicks up and down my frame. “I’ve never heard a plea from a ghost before. But there are firsts for everything. Tell me your name.”
“Delta. Of Dead River.”
“I’m glad my advice served you well, Delta of Dead River. And you.” Her voice cools as she turns to Asher. “I granted you refuge once, and you ran. I do not open my doors to just anyone, Asher of Alkali Lake. To come here—to agree to be a part of Powder Town—means working to make it stronger. Not weakening it by leaving.”
I seek refuge from Kara the Prime. I invoke the right to work for the Trinity.
What have I promised—what has Asher made me promise—without me even knowing it? I can’t stay here and work for the Trinity, whatever that is. I need to decode the map and return to Bedrock, or my pack is dead.