Old Green World (21 page)

After the first month, Alice drew him and other Administrators together. “We’re going on a trip,” Alice said. “The first troops are heading to Terra Baixa. I want you to see them off with me.”

They went to the Abyss. Thomas had heard stories of it since he was tiny, but he had never thought it actually existed. They rode two days, along the river. When they got there, they saw the holes—the dark, ancient holes to hell.

“They’re just an old structure from before the apocalypse. There is no hell,” Sister Alice said.

“And . . . you’re sure of this? Conclusively?” Thomas asked. Sister Alice stared at him, and he shut up.

There were hundreds of soldiers there. Thomas was sure Albert was, too. He tried to gaze into the crowd to see him, but there were too many soldiers. They stretched out for leagues, a wave of heads and arms and movement.

Then they all started screaming, a scream of anger and fear. Thomas started in shock. Every cell in him wanted to run. He closed his eyes and found his breath, scanned his body, found his stillness. It was difficult. Albert had always been better at this. He tried to listen to his breath, but all he could hear was the screaming.

“That was awful,” he said to Alice later. “Why did they do that?”

“They are leaving here, to go to a land they have never seen before, a land that is hostile. They are going there to confront the unknown and kill people. Wouldn’t that idea make you want to scream as well?”

“Are we doing the right thing? Is this really the best way to advance civilization, to take an army into an unknown land and kill?”

“Warfare is the advancement of nobler ends through organized violence,” Alice said. “That’s the point of all this.” She was gone the next day.

Thomas got to know another Administrator named Matthew. Matthew was a few years older than Thomas and lived in the Old City. He helped the Adepts with development and plans. Many nobles lived in the Old City, preparing to take and administer land in Terra Baixa. Matthew couldn’t wait to go to Baixa. “It’s going to be amazing—wild and full of life. An opportunity to make a mark in a place that hasn’t seen civilization for thousands of years.”

Matthew showed Thomas all around the Old City, which was built along both sides of a river. Most people took boats to get across. The river was filled with them going back and forth as well as the boats that traveled between the city and the coast. Thomas stayed on the north bank, where the Adept schools and banks and government were established. The south end was full of taverns, and entertainment, and common people.

On Midsummer’s Night, Matthew found them a boat to the south side. They took in a play, and went to a tavern after that. Thomas had too much to drink and passed out next to Matthew in his quarters. He was mortified next morning, but Matthew just laughed. The next week, Matthew left for Terra Baixa. “Wish me luck. I’ll try to find Albert and send him your regards.” Thomas never heard from Matthew again.

Thomas lost track of the days. The summer whiled away with work and reading and the sights of the city. Each evening, he would walk down to the bank and watch the oranges and reds and purples of the setting sun. One evening, when he returned from his walk, an Adept was waiting outside his door.

“There is a message for you,” the Adept said.

“Thank you. What is it?”

“Open the door,” the Adept said. “Give me a sheet of parchment and a stylus.”

Thomas did, and showed the Adept to a desk. The Adept closed his eyes and started to write. When he was finished, he had a letter. It was in Albert’s handwriting.

“That’s lovely,” Thomas said. “It’s from Albert. Albert is a school chum,” he said to the Adept.

“This came to me from Richard, of the Old People,” the Adept said. That seemed like a happy thing to Thomas, but the Adept didn’t seem happy.

Thomas read the letter. “He’s a bit homesick, I think. Poor thing. I hope he doesn’t have to stay too long. I’ve heard a range of estimates on the military presence, but I choose to remain optimistic.” He smiled to the Adept.

The Adept snorted at him. It was a very uncommon thing for an Adept to do. Thomas opened his mouth, then shut it. “Are you all right? Shall I fetch you a glass of water?” he asked. The Adept simply stood and left, without another word.

Thomas stayed in the Old City until the equinox, when the training was concluded. He went home the old way, on a horse, up the coast to the north.

When he arrived home, Lady Newton told him it was time. The Kelvins and their Adepts took the trip to Eden-town. Thomas and Cynthia married in Lady Newton’s study, a quiet and official ceremony. They had a nice supper in their house; Mister Ewan made a pudding. Then the Kelvins all left, except for Cynthia.

+ + +

“We . . . usually noble couples have a child within the first year or so. We might . . . want to start trying,” she said. She had been in Eden-town over a month.

“I’m just so nervous. I don’t even know what to do,” he said.

That night, Cynthia ordered a light supper brought to their quarters, some cured pork and cheese with a salad. Mister Ewan also brought a bottle each of wine and gin. Thomas knew the clear liquid on sight, though he’d never drunk more than a sip himself. Lady Newton always had a small glass at the end of the night.

“Thank you, Ewan,” Cynthia said.

“We’re having gin? With supper?”

“It calms the nerves. You said you were nervous.”

“I guess you want to start trying.”

“Whatever it takes.”

They both had their fair share, Thomas a little more than Cynthia. The drink made him dizzy, dizzier than wine, and it made him feel warm. He opened the window, loosened his robe to the waist. He and Cynthia told funny stories, and then Cynthia told a bawdy story. Thomas told one as well, but it was one about Albert and him. With the gin, he was halfway through before he realized that it was a bad idea. “I guess you didn’t want to hear that,” he said.

Cynthia laughed. “It’s fine, I don’t care anymore. Look, you can fuck Albert as much as you want, as long as you fuck me, too, and we have babies.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she widened her eyes, covered her mouth, and gasped in horror. Then she began laughing hysterically, and Thomas did, too. They fell over each other and lost their breath.

That night was blurry and clumsy, but Thomas would remember it fondly. It was different, and kind of curious, but wonderful, too. With Albert it had been intense and rushed, with a desperation that exceeded both of them. With Cynthia, it was slower, rife with smiling and giggling pauses, softer, more a hike than a race. Neither of them needed it to be more than exactly what it was.

The next morning, Mister Ewan brought them breakfast. They spent a little time in bed, nursing hangovers and telling each other jokes. They took supper in their quarters for the next month. A month after that, Cynthia announced she was expecting.

+ + +

Sister Alice checked in once a week during the pregnancy. She would focus on Cynthia, observe the rhythms of her body and the baby, the balance of her body’s chemicals and energies.

“Everything is going wonderfully. The baby is healthy.”

“Do you know if it is a boy or a girl?” Thomas asked.

Sister Alice paused. “I do. But you know that it is terrible fortune and poor form to tell you. Focus on your child’s happiness and not its gender.”

Thomas shrugged. “Fine,” he said, annoyed.

Cynthia would sing and hum warm, old songs as she moved around the house. Thomas would sing, as well. They would read together by the fire. Thomas thought he might be falling in love with Cynthia. Even Lady Newton was in a good mood. They all took more meals together, and Thomas and Lady Newton had whole conversations without disagreement. Thomas had begun to take on more of the mayoral duties in his mother’s stead.

“I’m proud of you,” she said. “You’re becoming a leader and starting a legacy. Eden-town is in good hands. Thank you.”

“Of course, you’re welcome,” he said, not saying what he truly felt. He had decided this was all for Albert. If Albert could leave his home, just after losing his parents, and venture across the sea to face homesickness and war, just to make himself worthy of Thomas, the least Thomas could do for him was keep a place, an Eden-town, that was ready to welcome him back. Surely Albert regretted his words the last time they spoke, the madness about the woods. There was no reason they couldn’t make it work here. He and Cynthia and Albert could make it work together.

Early in the spring, Sister Alice came to the house accompanied by a short, thin woman wearing the simplest of wool clothing, gray and naked of embroidery. She had enormous eyes that never made contact with Thomas’s. “This is Anya,” Sister Alice said to Cynthia and Thomas. “She’ll begin work as your nurse. I’ve discussed this with Lady Newton.”

Anya nodded at them, shyly.

“I’ve been working with her on our language. She knows enough to do the work.”

“She’s not from the Islands?”

“She’s from Terra Baixa. She was displaced by the war.”

“Displaced?” Cynthia asked.

“She can speak—ask her,” Sister Alice said.

Cynthia did. “How did you come to be here with us, Anya?”

Anya paused and then spoke hesitatingly. “My family, we lived in the woods with our tribe. A green sickness came over us, and we left our village. We fought the Islanders. I’m sorry to fight you. It was sickness. Then we were prisoners in your camp. And now I am here.”

Thomas, taken aback, stayed silent. He had heard some discussions of the war and its effects, and had worried about Albert, but it had all been abstract and far away. The war was here, in the room.

Cynthia met eyes with Anya and smiled sadly. “I’m sorry for your misfortune. Did you have children in Terra Baixa?”

“My children fell to the sickness. I nursed them. I can be a nurse for you.”

Cynthia took Anya’s hand, her eyes welling. “Thank you. We will try to make a good home for you.” Anya looked back at her blankly.

+ + +

Summer came, and Cynthia was big with child. “I hope it doesn’t get warm too soon,” she said. That morning she had an appointment with Sister Alice.
 

“Let’s ask her today if she knows how soon the baby will come,” Thomas said.

The hour came, but there was no knock on the door from Sister Alice.

“What’s happened? You should go and see if she’s all right,” Cynthia said.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Thomas said. “She’s just running a bit late.”

“Is she?” Cynthia asked. “Has she ever run late, ever? Have you ever known an Adept to run late?”

Thomas started to open his mouth to respond, but knew that Cynthia was right. He got up, put on his jacket, and crossed the square to the school and Alice’s quarters.

It was early in the morning: Sister Alice made her rounds before and after school. Her modest apartment was just behind the school. Thomas approached the door and gave it a brief knock. “Sister Alice? So sorry to trouble you, it’s Thomas Newton.” No answer. He waited for several moments, shuffling his feet, whistling, hands in pockets. He knocked again, with a little more force, but still well within the boundaries of deference and politeness.

It was silent still. Thomas began to suspect she was away on another visit and had gotten held up.
Adepts are never late, and never forget
, he thought,
but if they are helping someone and the time gets away from them, surely they would tend to the matter at hand. That’s all that’s happened.
It was early, though, the beginning of the day. And Thomas felt something, something on the edges of his perception. He had a feeling Sister Alice was there.

He knocked once again, with strength but without impatience. It was a knock that communicated a brisk and forceful concern, a good knock. “Sister Alice, this is Thomas still. I’m worried something might be wrong. I’m going to open your door and come in. I hope that’s all right. Please speak up if you’re there and would rather I stay outside.” He knew what Sister Alice had the power to do, and preferred to act deliberately and with great transparency. He waited another couple of moments. “Trying the doorknob, Sister Alice!” he said with nervous cheer.

The doorknob turned; the door was unlocked. Thomas paused for another moment before moving forward. He had never entered or really seen the interior of an Adept’s quarters before. He worried that it was sacrosanct, or full of dangers. “Sister Alice?” he called, tentatively.

There was a small and simple kitchen with a table. There was a book on the table, some clean paper for writing, and what looked to be a stack of student assignments. There was a hearth at the wall next to the kitchen, with a modest pile of wood. The hearth was cold. Beyond that was a doorway. Thomas saw a cat peer from the doorway, then disappear once it was detected. A low moan came from the doorway.

“Sister Alice, are you unwell?” There was no response. He walked to the doorway.

She lay sprawled on the bed. Her hair, usually tied back and up, fell loose around her, across her face and nightgown and across the bed. Thomas was struck by how long her hair actually was. She had an arm over her face, and her jaw was slack. She groaned again.

“Oh, you are ill. Sister Alice, is there anything I can get you?”

Sister Alice moaned again, an angry, desperate moan.

Thomas wasn’t sure what to do. She was breathing and seemed to be reacting to things, but this didn’t seem like just a headache. If this were anyone else, he would call Sister Alice to tend to them.

“I’ll bring Muriel over.” Muriel was an elder who retained some of the healing practices of the old ways. “I know it’s not the same, but maybe she will be able to help a little. And then we can call the Brother over from Over-town right away.”

“
No
,” Sister Alice shouted.

Thomas, stunned at that, blurted, “Sister Alice, what do you want me to do?”

“No Adepts! I don’t want an Adept to see me like this.” She then began to sob. “I don’t think there are any more Adepts.”

Thomas didn’t know what that meant. “Look, I’ll bring Muriel over, and we’ll figure out what to do after that. Having Muriel over can’t hurt.”