Guardians (19 page)

“I thank you,” she said. “But . . .”

“Don't say no right off. You ought to think about what I said. Still, there ain't much time.”

“I can't. I'm needed here.”

There was a pause. Then he nodded. “Well,” he said, “I better be gone, then. Before I'm found.”

Esther said nothing. She could feel him pulling away from her, concealing himself again behind his hard exterior as he got to his feet.

Before he did, he turned back, surprising her. His sudden movement snuffed out the candle. In the dark, Trey pulled Esther to him. He kissed her, and his mouth was soft and warm; she had not been kissed like this since Aras left. Then he let his lips trail to her neck, where he buried his face, taking in the scent of her.

Slowly, he let go.

“Maybe I'll see you again,” he said. “It can be a small world sometimes.”

He took the stairs now, vanished into the black. As his white form drifted from view, Esther heard him say:

“Take care of that little boy.”

Then even his footsteps faded away.

When she returned to her room, Esther was able to sleep, at least for a little while. Then she heard the door open as someone came in and sat on the edge of her bed.

In the moonlight, she could make out Skar's profile. “Michal told me about the doll,” her friend whispered.

Esther let out her breath. Ever since the two girls had made up after their fight on the roof, they had been closer than ever.

“Did you know?” Esther asked at last, as she sat up. “About Saith?”

Skar was silent for a moment. “I knew something was wrong from the beginning. But I thought she was just a silly little girl. Now I realize that was a mistake.”

“It was my mistake, too.” Esther bit her lip. In whispers, she told about Saith's visit and the threat she had made against Sarah.

Gideon,
she was certain,
was behind it all
.

“How can I stop it?”

Even as she spoke the words out loud, Esther realized she was asking the question of herself. For it had finally become clear to her that ignoring what was going on downstairs and tending to her own business had been a mistake. Running away with Trey would not have helped; in fact, it would have made things even worse. Her willingness to turn a blind eye had allowed something terrible to grow and flourish, something that now threatened to end everything she had worked for.

She only hoped it was not too late to act.

Skar was deep in thought. “There is one thing you have that she doesn't,” she said at last. “It may not seem like much, but it might turn out to be greater than all of this little one's lies and badness.”

“I know.” The sudden realization struck Esther. “I know what it is.” In the moonlight, she saw her friend turn to her with a questioning smile.

“The truth,” Esther said simply.

Joseph glanced over Uri's shoulder, squinting to make sense of what the younger boy was reading. Then, as he had so many times, he gave up.

The two now spent most mornings alone in the library, for as the days passed, fewer and fewer students came to the tenth floor. Joseph understood in a vague sort of way that it had something to do with what was going on on the lower levels. He was saddened by the change, for he found he enjoyed teaching. Still, the unexpected freedom gave both him and Uri endless time for their beloved books.

Uri in particular had been keenly focused on his reading. For the past few weeks, he had been working his way through a stack of yellowed and crumbling magazines and journals, often referring to thick books, including a dictionary, that were piled up next to him. The titles of the articles were incomprehensible to Joseph: He couldn't even pronounce most of the words, strange things like “immunology,” “resistance,” and “waterborne pathogens.” Yet Uri had been staying up late each night,
even falling asleep over his books. Joseph brought him food and water several times a day and had to remind him to eat.

Although Joseph was much older and had been reading far longer, it had been clear from the start that Uri had the better mind of the two. While Joseph loved to read, it was purely for pleasure; he had little understanding of topics like math or science. The more time he spent with Uri, the more this had started to make him feel self-conscious; his maps and clocks and childish stories were no substitute, he sensed, for what Uri read. It was the kind of knowledge that really mattered.

Still, Uri seemed oblivious to any difference between them and was always happy to share what he learned. And knowing that he had been the one to teach him brought Joseph a genuine sense of pride. Joseph was the oldest of them all, thanks to the spring of uncontaminated water beneath his home in Prin; yet this was the first time the older boy had ever understood what being a parent must have felt like. He had been a mentor to Esther, but this was new. Uri was not merely following in his footsteps but surpassing him.

Now if only he could understand what the boy was talking about!

Uri was reading as he usually did, his head propped up on both fists as he gazed down on a thick book with tiny black print. Scattered across the table in front of him were various articles that he had carefully clipped from magazines. He didn't even seem to notice when Stumpy lay down on the pile, scattering some with her tail. Stroking her in an absentminded way, the young boy finally looked up.

“You ever hear of smallpox?”

Abashed, Joseph shook his head. Lately, many if not most conversations with the boy began this way: with a word or question that left him completely baffled.

“It was a disease that killed lots of people. But there was another disease like it, only not as bad. You got sick . . . but then you got better again. They called it cowpox.”

Joseph perked up. He knew that cows were a kind of deer, and he always enjoyed hearing stories about animals. “Really? What was the cow's name?”

Uri blinked at Joseph as if perplexed by the question. “I don't know.” Then he continued. “Anyway . . . if you got cowpox, you didn't get smallpox. That's called immunity.”

Joseph was doing his best to follow, but was starting to become confused. “Cowpox,” “smallpox”
—
the strange words felt like they were getting tangled in his ears. He stared at the floor and concentrated as Uri continued. “But not all diseases work that way. The killing disease . . . the one that comes from water? It's different.”

Although he didn't understand, Joseph felt he had to say something. “It's not like smallpox?”

Uri shook his head, staring off into space. “No . . . it doesn't have a related disease. See, there was so little time . . . the sickness hit so fast and everybody died so quick. But some people started doing experiments on immunity, since nothing else seemed to work.” He tapped the faded journal that lay in front of him. “One of them thought immunity was simple. That maybe it came from contact with open lesions.” He looked up
at Joseph and gave a rare smile. “Repeated contact.”

Joseph nodded. He was glad that Uri was excited by the information, but he wasn't sure why. Even his cat looked confused. Stumpy was curled next to the book, one paw draped on the exposed page, her yellow eyes half-shut.

“I think we should tell Esther,” Uri said.

“You do? Why?”

“Because. She might want to know.” When he turned to Joseph, the older boy was surprised to see that Uri's face seemed to glow. “It will be a gift. To say thank you for everything she's done. For—”

He was interrupted by a noise. Silas stood at the door, breathless.

“Ain't you heard?” he said. “Everybody got to go to the market. Now.”

Even as Silas spoke, Joseph could hear faraway doors and the murmur of voices in the stairwell. “What for?” Joseph asked.

Silas shrugged. “It's Esther. She got something to say and she want folks to hear. Everyone.”

Joseph wondered what it could be about. By the time he struggled to get Stumpy into her carrier and he and Uri entered the stairwell, he could hear others picking their way downstairs in the dark ahead of him. Joseph could make out the voices of Silas, Michal, and a few of his students. Others were unfamiliar to him, and he assumed they were sick people also making the effort.

When Joseph emerged on the top floor of the mall with Uri
trailing behind, he was regretting that he came. The main level of the District was teeming with even more crowds than usual; the sound was deafening. Across the floor, he saw Silas, Skar, and Michal with Kai, huddled together by the railing. Uneasy, he scurried over to join them, Uri following on his heels.

Looking out over the mall made Joseph dizzy. There were far too many people to count, perhaps even more than two hundred, crowding the steps and the lower landings. Behind them all, he thought he could see Gideon, although he wasn't sure.

All of a sudden, the noise quieted.

Joseph looked around. Then he saw that everyone was staring at Esther, who stood alone on the other side of the fourth floor on a wide central stairway. Even from where he stood, he could see that his old friend was nervous.

“Excuse me.” It took the entire hall to grow silent for people to hear her. She cleared her throat and began again.

“Some of you know me,” she began. “Some don't, although I think you've heard talk about me. I'm Esther. And I live with my friends up on the top floor. We work the garden. I help people who are sick. And my friend Joseph and me—we teach people to read.”

From where he stood, at the mention of his name, Joseph felt as if he was going to faint. Yet no one was paying him any attention. A faint murmur rippled through the hall. Esther waited until it subsided before she spoke again.

“Anyone who wants to learn can come. It doesn't cost anything. And there's something else.”

Esther rubbed her face with a sleeve, as if brushing away sweat. “Maybe some of you heard I had a baby, only it died. Well, that's not true.” She bent over and, for a moment, disappeared from view. When she reemerged, she was holding something in her arms. “I want you to meet her. Her name's Sarah.”

The murmurings grew even louder as Esther lifted the bundle so that everyone could see. Then she undid the blanket, revealing the baby's face.

“In case you didn't know, she's a variant. She's my little girl and I love her.”

There was a collective gasp, followed by a moment of silence. Then all at once, people began talking. Esther had spoken in a clear and deliberate voice, yet it seemed that not everyone had heard her; now her words were being relayed person to person as swiftly as fire through a field of dead grass. Joseph could not perceive what was being said, but he sensed agitation, even hysteria, in the raised voices. With mounting panic, he saw people begin pushing and shoving to get closer.

The noise became deafening as the crowd surged around Esther, and she vanished from Joseph's sight.

C
ARRYING HER BABY,
E
STHER PICKED HER WAY DOWN THE STAIRS TO THE
main level. Within moments, she was mobbed by both acquaintances and strangers. The noise and jostling soon awoke Sarah; as she blinked open her lavender eyes, people exclaimed and murmured among themselves. When she yawned, revealing tiny pink and toothless gums, a ripple of harsh laughter spread through the group.

There was a hostile and reckless feel to the crowd as they pushed and shoved to get closer. Esther recoiled from the jeering faces.

Had she made a terrible mistake?

Even though she was terrified, Esther knew that any show of fear or uncertainty would be a signal to the others to attack. And so she kept her head high and greeted those who approached her, answering all of their questions, no matter how hurtful or ignorant.

Everyone continued to whisper and laugh, and more than a few made cruel jokes that were loud enough to be heard by everyone. Yet more and more, it seemed the crowd had begun responding to Esther's straightforward and unashamed approach. If the prevailing emotion on people's faces had at first been revulsion, it was soon curiosity. There were few enough infants around and so many seemed moved just by the sight of a baby. Some of the older females even wiped their eyes.

Within half an hour, most had wandered away, eager to get back to the business of working, buying, and selling. Soon Esther and Sarah were alone and making their way to the far staircase, to go back to their home on the top floor with the rest of their friends.

No one had seen Saith there except Gideon.

The little girl stayed until the last of the curious were gone. Then, moving quickly, she slipped away. She was not, Gideon noticed, heading to her room in the back of the fourth floor. Nor was she joining the others who now thronged the market. Instead, she went straight to the twin staircases that led downstairs to the secret rooms.

The little girl in white strode past the boys with the fearsome weapons guarding the entry without even acknowledging
them. Bowing and touching their heads in respect, they let her pass. Then, gathering her robes, Saith pattered down the metal steps without a sound.

Gideon followed.

Saith did not head for either the drinking room or the small closet where Nur supervised the girls. Instead, she moved past them, into the dark and abandoned section of the food court, her white clothing gleaming in the murky air.

Gideon saw her turn down a narrow hallway. She stopped halfway down and fumbled inside her robes; he could hear the sound of keys. Then she unlocked the door and pushed it open, disappearing inside the parking garage.

Curious, the boy continued.

Gideon stepped inside the cavernous space with distaste, for although this was where Joseph had discovered the glass, he had no sentimental feelings about the foul and rat-infested room. Still, he wanted to see what business Saith might have in here. He lifted his arm to block his nose from the dreadful smells that arose from the mountains of waste tied in black plastic bags; he could hear nothing but the scurrying and squeaking of vermin. Taking out a firestarter and clicking its tiny wheel, Gideon lifted it high so he could look around. And across the echoing space, he finally saw Saith.

She stood with her back to him, apparently not having seen him enter. As he approached, Gideon was surprised to discover that she was shaking, her shoulders heaving. He was unused to such behavior, and it took him a moment to understand what was happening.

Saith was crying.

Just then, it seemed she finally noticed the flame's glow, for she whirled around. The firestarter had grown hot in Gideon's hand and he let it drop, plunging them both into darkness. Yet in the second that Saith was illuminated, the boy had been stunned by the look of rage that contorted her face, carving deep lines across her forehead and around her eyes.

She looked ancient.

“I sorry.” Gideon was startled enough to give an automatic apology. But it became apparent that Saith's anger was not meant for him.

“You see how she do?” Saith seemed barely able to control herself. In the dark, he heard her take in deep shuddering breaths and stammer as she struggled to form sentences. For the first time since he had met her, the little girl seemed at a loss for words. When she spoke, it was in whimpers, making her sound more like a wounded animal than a human. “How she bring that little mutant and show it off? And because she do, everybody think she good. Everybody love her more.” Saith choked with hatred, and a fresh sob erupted from her. “She know what I planning. But then she turn it around. Now she laughing at me. She laughing at
me
.”

Gideon did not know how to reply. He too had been infuriated by Esther's cunning. Although it seemed impossible, she had somehow deflected what could have been a dangerous, even deadly situation and used it to serve her own ends. But he had never been one to express extreme emotions; to him, revealing your anger made you all the more vulnerable to
others. He realized that perhaps this was why Saith had sought out a place where she could vent her feelings in private. He was beginning to be in awe of the girl's unbridled fury and, for a fleeting moment, was glad she was not his enemy.

“Nobody,” she said, “laugh at me. Nobody.”

Gideon had relit the firestarter. Saith's nose was pink and her face shone with tears; the boy noted that she displayed no shame about it. Instead, she held her chin up high and kept her tiny fists clenched by her side; her black eyes glittered like coals.

“So what do we do?”

“I know,” she said at last.

“What?”

“You see.” Saith smiled and in an instant, she was transformed once more back to the little girl she was. To Gideon, the sight was even more unnerving than her rage. “Then she sorry.”

The first new law went into effect the following morning. It was insignificant, Gideon noted, a simple extension of what had already been in place. As a result, few commented on the new regulation even as word of it spread throughout the mall.

Before, only the guards had bowed to Saith when she passed. Now everyone was required to do so, and not only when they approached her at her altar or thanked her for her prophecies. Whenever anyone saw the young seer in the District, he or she was to shield his eyes by touching his forehead with the fingers of both hands, lower his gaze, and duck his head.

In short, no one was to look at Saith directly.

In addition, Saith had started walking around accompanied by armed guards. Although the two boys did nothing, their silent presence reminded others of the new law and helped ensure that it was obeyed.

And that was only the beginning. Several days later, Saith disappeared.

She was neither in her quarters nor at her special altar, nor could she be found anywhere within the District. That morning, the sky darkened and the air grew heavy; it seemed to heighten the fearful mood inside. As anxiety began to grow and spread throughout the mall, people began searching for the girl in every conceivable place: in abandoned stores, hallways, and storage spaces. By late afternoon, the heavens broke open in great blasts of lightning that lit up the skylight as thunder shook the District to its foundations. For two days, heavy rain poured down, lashing at the windows and keeping everyone indoors.

Gideon had no idea where she was. As the days passed, he grew more curious about when she would return, fascinated to learn her reasons for vanishing.

Then a week later, from inside his tiled office, Gideon heard the excited calls throughout the District.

“She back!”

“It Saith!”

“Saith is here!”

When he emerged, he saw people heading toward Saith's altar on the fourth floor. He joined the growing mob that
thronged outside the small room, jostling to get in. On all sides, boys and girls pressed their fingers against their temples, gazing downward as they bowed again and again. Gideon had to work his way through the crowd before he managed to catch a glimpse of Saith.

What he saw took his breath away.

The young girl was almost unrecognizable. She sat cross-legged on the floor, a guard on either side. She had cut off nearly all of her hair; what remained was a fuzz that lay close to her bony skull. And she had lost significant weight off an already tiny frame. Now she looked skeletal, her gauntness accentuating her enormous dark eyes. Her skin was so pale it seemed translucent, as if lit from within.

Before, Saith was just another little girl. Now she looked ethereal, otherworldly . . . like something not quite human.

And that,
Gideon realized,
was the whole point
.

He took stock of everything else she had done in order to heighten the effect. She had discarded all of her finery; there were no more gold and silver chains draped around her neck or heavy wristwatches on her arms. She no longer emitted the scent of roses and jasmine. And instead of the voluminous white robes and metallic sandals she used to wear, she now had on a simple black T-shirt, so huge it fit her like a dress, loose and baggy. Her exposed legs and arms, paper white and as thin as twigs, stood out in shocking contrast.

When everyone had gathered, the majority spilling out into the hallways because there was no room inside, Saith crooked a single finger. At the gesture, one of her two guards clapped
his hands once, compelling the crowd to order.

And then she began to speak.

Her voice was higher and fainter, lighter and more singsong than it had been only a week before; Gideon had to strain to make out what she was saying. One by one, everyone around him grew silent as well, mesmerized by the tale she told. It was pure nonsense, the boy knew, a story he assumed she was making up on the spot. Yet after a few moments, even he had to admit that he felt caught up in its spell.

A week ago, Saith had been praying to the Beings, who, she explained, had created the world. But late that night, she was surprised that the voices did not respond. When they still did not answer her prayers in the morning, she left the District to seek them out and discover why they were no longer speaking to her. That day, a great storm came that drove her to seek hasty shelter in an abandoned store. She felt her way through the dark building and soon fell asleep in a corner. Yet when she awoke, there was enough light for her to realize that the roof was partially missing. To her horror, she discovered that while she was sleeping, she had become drenched in rainwater
.

At this, many gasped, their eyes still averted. Saith waited until they stopped before she continued.

Within two days, Saith became seriously ill. She developed a fever so bad she thought she would die from the heat alone. When the sores came and spread over her body, she knew that the end was near. And yet she continued to pray to the Beings, asking them for help
.

On her deathbed, they finally spoke
.

They told her that the sickness was their punishment of all who behaved in a sinful way. It was intended to destroy those who chose not to believe. For only the pure and the righteous could hope to live, to bear healthy children, and to
survive past their youth
.

After the Beings spoke, the fever went away. Within hours, Saith found that her sores had healed and for the first time in days, she had an appetite. Yet she had learned her lesson: to renounce all vanity. To turn her back on pleasure, on self-indulgence. And to worship the Beings with every breath she had within her
.

That was the way to survive the disease
.

Saith gladly put aside the trappings of immodesty, for she now understood they were dangerous: her rich clothing, her jewels, even her hair. The Beings had saved her, but for a reason: She was to spread the word of salvation
.

When she finished speaking, there was silence. Most in the crowd had their heads still bowed. But Gideon noticed that more than a few were peering up, a look of doubt upon their faces. Two boys whispered to each other, and another laughed. Without glancing at them, Saith raised her voice.

“Some don't believe.” She lifted her arms and displayed them, palms upward, and those closest to her let out a gasp. That prompted the others to peek through their fingers. Even from far away, anyone could see that the inside of her white limbs were dotted with faint yet distinct purple blotches: scars left by the deadly lesions of the killing disease.

Gideon wondered what the blemishes really were: daubs of mud? Or perhaps Saith had squeezed one of the tubes of dried color that some females used to darken their lips.
It was even likely,
he thought,
that the girl had deliberately cut or burned herself to create the necessary marks
. But he was alone in his speculations. Around him, everyone else had broken out in murmurs and exclamations of shock and excitement.

It was impossible,
he could hear people saying;
no one had ever survived the killing disease. Yet Saith stood there in front of them, alive
.

“Follow me,” she said. She was smiling. “And you ain't gonna die.”

Overnight, all forms of ornamentation were outlawed. That meant no jewelry, wristwatches, belts, scarves, or even sunglasses. The robes and headdresses that people wore over their jeans had to be either white or black; a ban on any sort of pattern, color, or embellishment was enforced. With Gideon's permission, Saith expanded her personal guards to a small army of a dozen of the strongest Insurgents. She took pains to pay them well, and they returned her generosity with unquestioning loyalty. They roamed through the mall, using force to collect items, which they would later destroy in immense bonfires in the main hall. The air would be filled with the stink of melting plastic and burning leather as giant flakes of soot wafted high.

Yet to the people of the mall, losing their personal goods was just one of the painful requirements to come.