Book 2 - Page 42 (2/2)

“Sit down, Caroline.”

Pulling me away from the office, Zach guided me out of the house. I went blindly, remembering the woman at the a.s.sembly who tried to rally the town against me. That had been the elder’s wife, I realized. And it heralded bad things.

“I’m sorry about that,” the boy said.

Boy. He was older than me, but he didn’t seem so. He had an innocence that I’d lost, long ago. I felt sure his father hadn’t shared the truth about Salvation’s situation with him. Zach wouldn’t have such clear eyes if he knew.

“Some people have a hard time accepting those who are different.”

“You don’t seem that different to me,” he said.

That was because he judged from the surface; he looked at my hair tied neatly in a ribbon and my clean, well-pressed gray dress. Zachariah Bigwater couldn’t imagine the things I’d seen.

But I saw no benefit in making him feel dumb. “Which way?”

“Over here.”

He led me back through town toward the gates. I wasn’t surprised Longshot lived nearby; it would prove convenient for his trade runs. Who would take on that job now? I’d hoped he would recommend me as his successor, but that was the least of my worries at the moment.

“This is it?” I asked, a few minutes later.

It was a small, plain house, not even as big as the Oakses’, but it seemed snug and cozy. Part of me didn’t want to go in and look at his things, now mine. Because that meant accepting his loss. The other half stepped up on the porch, reluctantly tantalized by the idea of a place of my own.

Zach nodded. “Here’s the key. Would you like me to come in with you?”

This, I felt, was something I ought to do alone, so I shook my head. “I’m sure you have places to be. Thank you.”

The boy lifted his hand in farewell and I went into Longshot’s home for the first time. Inside, it smelled faintly of the herbs he used to keep his clothes fresh. I came into a sitting room at once, filled with wooden furniture that looked rough made, as if he’d built it himself, impatient with the need. Cus.h.i.+ons softened the effect somewhat, and I knew his woman had sewn them. He might have promised his wife he’d do better for her in time, but she died, leaving him with the wish to keep the things they’d used together, or he might lose her entirely. Seeing his home taught me about Longshot—his grief and his loyalty.

The house had a simple design, kitchen to the left, bedroom behind the sitting room. And from the kitchen, a ladder led up. I climbed it. Above, I found a loft, all empty s.p.a.ce with a finished floor and polished rafters. Longshot’s home would be big enough for a man and his wife. The loft could hold a couple of children, but he never had the chance. Tears burned in my eyes. On the day he died, I’d thought, Someday I might let the girl cry for him, but not today.

It was someday.

I sank down onto the bare floor and let the sobs come.

Much later, I dried my face on my sleeve and went downstairs to look around. I found Longshot’s presence concentrated in the bedroom with spare parts for Old Girl, rounds of ammunition, and a few dirty clothes he hadn’t gotten around to laundering before we went out on patrol. I wished I understood why he’d chosen to give his place in the world to me.

Then I found the most significant legacy: his papers. Thumbing through them, I realized they were maps of all the trade routes, names of settlements, facts about how many people lived there, and what they needed to barter. I clutched the doc.u.ments to my chest, heart beating like a wild thing. This was power—it felt like the keys to the whole world to me. With growing awe, I read, lips moving as I shaped the letters into words: Appleton, Rosemere, Otterburn, Lorraine, Soldier’s Pond, Winterville, and more. He meant to leave me this. Freedom. Not a house.

I recalled how we’d stood on the wall and talked about me going with him on his trade runs. Earlier, I’d wondered who would take over, and this was his answer, given as clearly as he could make it. I would be his true heir, and he’d given me all the information necessary to make that dream come true.

With careful hands, I slid the papers into a leather folder for safekeeping. Now that I had it, I didn’t want anyone taking this information away from me. Maybe I would see if Tegan could help me write some copies, just in case. Once, I would’ve asked Fade, but he had made his feelings clear. Much as it pained me, I respected his need for distance. I wouldn’t push him; I understood what Tegan meant by saying there was no magic that could fix him, just because I wanted him back the way he used to be. But he was worth waiting for.

As I glanced around, I realized I could help Fade even more.

Siege

“You were gone awhile,” Momma Oaks said.

Her words const.i.tuted an invitation to share, so I told her what had happened. She listened with an attentive air, nodding in all the right places. Then she hugged me. “He was important to you.”

She referred to Longshot, not either of the Bigwaters I’d spoken with today; though they were both decent men, one old and burdened, the other young and blissfully ignorant. Zach seemed innocent to me, childlike. He had no scars at all. But he was a brave soul, and Salvation needed as many of those as it could muster.

I considered how much the outpost commander had meant to me. “He was, more than I realized. I wish I’d told him so.”

“I suspect he knew or he wouldn’t have left his things to you.”

Small consolation, but better than none. I doubted Longshot would’ve been comfortable with an emotional scene in any case. He had seemed like the sort of man who preferred those attachments going unspoken.

“Where’s Fade?”

“Down at the shop with Edmund.”

“Then I’ll be back directly.”

Her gaze followed me as I went back out the door, leather folder still in my hand. I also had the key tucked in my pocket. As I strode through the center of town, I became conscious of the stares. A few women gazed at me with open dislike, friends of Caroline Bigwater, most likely. Lifting my chin, I ignored them and continued on my quest, pus.h.i.+ng open the door to the building hung with the COBBLER sign, where Edmund worked most days. The scent of leather livened the air, but unlike the tannery, it was a nice smell, once finished, smooth and b.u.t.tery.

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