True Son (22 page)

Taemon would miss the mountains and the woods and the rivers of Deliverance, but it was a fair price for the lives of thousands of people, and he had paid it.

It was four o’clock in the afternoon, and Amma walked briskly to Drigg’s workshop. When she opened the door, Drigg looked up from the saw he was sharpening. He started to say something, but Amma put her finger to her mouth.

Drigg gave her a wry smile, pointed to the opposite end of the workshop, then turned back to his saw.

Amma tiptoed around large gears and half-assembled engines, a stack of tires and a byrider helmet.

There he was, lying on the floor next to an old byrider. She watched him for a moment, his face tensed with deep concentration, the tip of his tongue pressed against his upper lip. He looked thoroughly happy, he and his new byrider. New
old
byrider.

“What is it with you and engines?” Amma said.

He dropped his wrench, which made her laugh.

She brushed some grit from the cement floor and sat down next to him. “First you take them apart, then you put them together, then you take them apart again.”

Taemon shrugged. “I guess I just like to see how things fit together. I like to see if I can make them work better.”

His words struck her as profound. That was exactly what he’d done to Deliverance — he’d taken it apart and put it back together.

Taemon picked up his wrench again, and Amma watched him work for a few minutes. He certainly had seen how all the parts of Deliverance had fit together. He’d known there was something wrong before anyone else did. And he fixed it. Things were finally getting better in Deliverance. Better than Amma could ever have imagined. People were learning new trades and building new houses. Commerce had begun, with goods being traded back and forth between Deliverance and the Republik.

And Taemon had changed Kanjai, too. It was no longer a military outpost, but a community dedicated to industry.

She watched him fiddle with some little whatzie-thingy on the byrider. He struggled with it for a minute, but he never used psi. He still had it, but she hadn’t seen him use it since the day he’d pulled the mountains down.

“Do you ever think about using psi?” Amma asked. “Does it bother you that you still have it?”

Taemon paused for a moment. He had a charming little smudge of grease just next to his nose. “No, it doesn’t bother me.”

“Do you think you’ll ever use it again?”

He shrugged. “Not unless there’s a really good reason to.”

“But it doesn’t bother you like it used to.”

Taemon gave the wrench a couple of firm twists. “I guess I’m not afraid anymore. For a long time, I was terrified I’d do something awful with psi. But now I feel like I’ve finally proved to the Heart of the Earth I won’t do anything terrible with psi.”

“And proved it to yourself,” Amma said.

“That, too.” Taemon reached over and grabbed a rag to wipe the grease off his wrench. “I’m just about done here. Then I’ll get cleaned up.”

“Perfect,” Amma said. “I want to show you something.”

A few minutes later, Amma led Taemon to a vacant lot near the edge of the colony. She spread her arms in a grand gesture. “Look! Isn’t it beautiful?”

Taemon rubbed his chin. “Cha, sure. Um, what is it?”

“It’s a library!” Amma couldn’t stop herself from spinning in a little circle. She’d dreamed about this for so long.

“Really?” Taemon said.

“Yes.” She took his hand and led him forward a few more steps. “Da and Abson and Rhody are going to pour the foundation next week. See those stakes? That’s one corner of the building.” She pulled him in the opposite direction. He ran to keep up with her.

“And here’s the other corner. And this . . .” Amma changed directions again. “This is where the front door will be.”

Taemon pantomimed opening the front door. He held it open, bowed deeply, and held out his arm. “After you, Miss Parvel.”

Amma laughed and pretended to step inside the invisible library. He followed her, making a point to shut the door. Taking him by the shoulders, she positioned him just so. “We’re in the foyer now. And right there, hung on the wall in a prominent place, can you see it?”

“Um. Almost. It’s . . . uh . . . it’s a picture?” Taemon guessed.

Amma smiled. “Wrong. It’s in a frame, but it’s not a picture. It’s your treaty, silly.”

Taemon sighed, his shoulder sagging. “Oh, no. Don’t call it that. It’s not my treaty.”

“Of course it is,” Amma said. “They named it after you.”

“I wish they hadn’t.” Taemon frowned and looked at his shoes. “A lot of people worked on that, not just me.”

“Hoy, Taemon. Give yourself a little credit. You did some pretty amazing things.”

“Plenty of people are doing amazing things. Da is leading the church now. You’re building a library. Yens is putting together a new sports league. Even Gevri is contributing. He was here just last week working with Solovar and Hannova on the trade agreements.”

“But we wouldn’t be doing these things if it hadn’t been for you,” Amma said. “Now, Mr. Houser, shall we continue our official tour of the library?” She hooked her arm in his elbow and walked him through the grass. “On your left, you will see the historical collection of books once assembled by the prophet Nathan himself. These books were cared for meticulously by the Parvels, a prestigious family in the colony. Legend has it that they were stolen by none other than Yens Houser, taken to the fabled Temple of Deliverance, then stolen a second time and taken to Kanjai. Now they have been returned and assembled once again in the special collection you see before you.”

“Wow,” Taemon whispered. “Won’t that be something? I can’t wait to see it.”

She took hold of his arms and turned him around. “And on this side is a large room where classes are taught by Amma Parvel, the famous educator known for her intellect and wisdom.”

Taemon grinned. “And humility.”

“And humility,” she repeated.

“And beauty.”

“And . . .” Amma couldn’t quite bring herself to repeat that. After all this time, after everything they’d been through, there had always been an understanding between them. They never talked about it, but Amma had always felt that their friendship would become something more. In the three years they had known each other, there had always been some crisis, some huge problem that had to be solved. Amma had always hoped that maybe, when things calmed down, or when they were older, she and Taemon would be more than friends.

Maybe that time was now.

She looked away from Taemon and turned her gaze toward the vast plains, now covered with new grass. She tried to pick the spot where the peak of Mount Deliverance used to be. Maybe just . . . there.

She felt Taemon’s arm around her shoulders. “I hope you’re going to put windows on this side of the library.”

“That’s a good idea,” she said. “People can come here and look out over the Plains of Deliverance.” She sighed contentedly. “So, Mr. Knife, any regrets?” she asked.

Taemon was quiet for a moment. “I’ll always miss the mountain,” he said. “But I think we’ve gained much more than we lost.” His eyes held hers. “I know
I
have.”

She smiled and slipped her arm around his waist. “Me, too,” she said. “Me, too.”

So many wonderful people have helped me tell Taemon’s story: My fabulous agent, Molly Jaffa, connected with Taemon right away and never doubted; the marvelous Kaylan Adair not only knew how to get the manuscript in shape, but also knew how to nurture me as a writer. Thank you to all the young readers who told me how much they loved
Freakling
and
Archon
and urged me to write another book as quickly as I could. I will always treasure the authorial kinship of the people from Richmond Children’s Writers: Hazel Buys, Deb Dudley, Dan Elasky, Troy Howell, Marianne McKee, Stephanie McPherson, Brian Rock, and Chris Sorensen. Thanks to everyone at James River Writers: Bill and Sheri Blume, Katharine Herndon, Kristi Tuck-Austin, Leila Gaskin, David Kazzie, Erica Orloff, Gigi Amateau, Meg Medina, Anne Westrick, Julie Geen, Mike and Shawna Christos, Kris Spisak, Jon Sealy, Josh Cane, Vernon Wildy, Joanna Lee, Robin Farmer, Charles Genera, and so many others who make it possible for writers to learn from writers. I am grateful to the wonderful staff at bbgb bookstore, who work to get great books in the hands of kids, and to the many amazing librarians who use their passion for books to nurture a new generation of readers. Most of all, thanks to my family: Kip, Callie, Ben, Julie, Tim, Savanna, and Magnus — because everything is better with them in my life.

Hardcover ISBN 978-0-7636-5937-0

Paperback ISBN 978-0-7636-6938-6

Also available as an e-book and in audio

Hardcover ISBN 978-0-7636-6402-2

Paperback ISBN 978-0-7636-7659-9

Also available as an e-book and in audio

www.candlewick.com