Watershed (22 page)

‘A friend,' he said. ‘Alex's friend, really. Marin. Her partner was killed trying to protect her, and the Guards butchered her son. Just because they could.' He rubbed tired eyes. ‘All of them gone, Jem, in a single senseless act. I know you think leaving her to struggle on was cruel, but we loved her. Killing her wasn't an option. For any of us.'

I waited for some kind of acknowledgement, my irritation growing when he said nothing. ‘You're welcome,' I reminded him, but he leapt up and began prowling the room, wearing off his nervous energy.

While he did, I took the time to look around, taking in the furnishings, the maps pinned to the walls, the two narrow shelves behind his desk filled with books. I counted them. Nineteen. More books than I knew existed, and I wondered where he'd found them, why he had them. I'd only ever seen two before, when I was small,
both of them kid's books. Since then, nothing. Everyone said the Tower had plenty of books, but I'd never met anyone who'd seen them. Tearing my gaze away, I saw he was watching me.

‘Something interest you?' he asked.

I shrugged. ‘Not really.'

He nodded to the shelves. ‘Not much to show for a lifetime, is it? None of them are particularly useful. They can't teach me how to reattach a severed hand, or generate power. But they're still a comfort. They remind me of what we could be. And everything we could do.'

‘Just more dreams then,' I said.

He scowled and paced some more. ‘What was the first thing you noticed that night in the Tower?' At my silence, he urged, ‘Come on. After you climbed that staircase, what was it that struck you?'

‘It was cold,' I replied, remembering the deep, aching chill.

‘Yes. Cold. Stone walls thick enough to keep out the dirt and the heat. Cold enough to preserve everything. And more than just books, Jem. Our whole past. The key to our future.'

‘Let me guess. Hindsight?'

‘Hindsight. And without it we can't progress. We're stuck because this is all we know, all we have to look forward to – the next sip of water, the next mouthful of food, the next rape, the next kill. Hindsight is knowledge. Knowledge is hope. And hope raises us from the dust.'

‘Hopes are easily crushed, Ballard.'

‘Better to lose them than never to have them,' he replied. ‘All that knowledge contained in the Tower, but only the worst of it's used. They've learned how to tag people, instead of learning how to save them.'

‘So how's destroying it gunna help?'

He stopped and turned, genuinely surprised. ‘I don't want to destroy the Tower, Jem. I want to open it up. I want those books and that knowledge. So we can start again.'

‘Then why don't they? Use it, I mean. Why keep it hidden?'

He sighed. ‘Because knowledge is also power. And power isn't easily shared.'

‘Well, something tells me you're gunna have a fight on your hands.'

‘After what you saw today, I think it's fair to say we already have that,' Ballard said.

‘So that's why Alex was bringing in medical supplies,' I said. Though a cartload wouldn't have been enough to heal all the hurts I'd seen in that room.

He resumed his pacing. ‘Yes. We have others too, everyone carrying what they can, but as you can see it's barely enough.'

I couldn't help the next question. It was something I'd wanted to know for a while. ‘Is Alex really a Guard?'

He paused for a moment, caught out by the change in topic. ‘No. That was just a ruse to get both of you here. But don't underestimate her, Jem. She doesn't carry that knife for nothing.'

As I recalled, she was pretty fucking handy with rocks too. ‘Her name's kind of unusual, isn't it?'

Ballard's eyes narrowed. I sensed he didn't like the direction the conversation was heading. ‘I suppose, though it used to be common enough. But her real name is Alexandria. After the great library.'

My grandparents had told me about libraries, not like the Tower but the old ones, the real ones, some so big a person could grow old and die before getting around to reading all that was there. They'd always sounded a little sad when they talked about them, as though, of all the things that'd sunk beneath the Sea, libraries and everything they'd contained were the greatest loss. And it seemed Ballard agreed. It didn't surprise me that Alex had been named for a bunch of books no one had read; not if he'd had anything to do with it. Then again, who was I to judge? I'd been named for a song no one remembered.

‘How often do the attacks happen?' I asked, getting back to Marin and the others I'd seen. Even I'd been shocked by the number of casualties in that room, and I was guessing those were just the ones who made it there. Last time I'd been to the Hills, the brutality of the Guard had seemed no worse than at any other settlement. There'd been skirmishes and beatings, some punishments and even a few killings, but that was nothing out of the ordinary.

‘Too often,' replied Ballard, clearly relieved we'd moved on from his sister. ‘And the further away from the Citadel, the worse they are. As far as the Tower's concerned what's a life, more or less? Or two, or ten? They don't care. It leaves them fewer to worry about.'

‘When I was last here –'

‘Three years ago,' he cut in. ‘I remember, Jem. I was here too, watching you. You impressed me, even then. Even after you took out some of my best men.'

I looked at him in surprise. ‘Then why –?'

‘You already know why. And I can't afford to hold grudges. You were following your orders, and we weren't ready for you then. Now we are. And it's time to redeem yourself.'

I scowled, and gestured to his uniform. ‘Why d'you still wear that? Seems to me it's the last thing any of those people in the infirmary would want to see.'

He looked down at himself and almost sighed. ‘Because this is
my
penance, Jem. And nothing to do with you.'

Real noble of you, I thought. But what about Marin? What had been her penance?

‘When was Marin attacked?' I asked, meaning how long had he let her suffer.

‘Two nights ago,' he said. ‘We never thought she'd even make it here alive, let alone last as long as she did. She always was strong.'

Two nights. Three days. In and out of consciousness, with those mangled breasts and that gaping hole between her legs,
her insides speared by whatever had been thrust into her. I tensed with rage, at the Guards who'd done it and at Ballard for not putting her out of her misery sooner. What the fuck was wrong with these people?

‘Have they been dealt with?' I asked, and he stopped his pacing, alerted by my tone.

‘The men who did it? No, Jem, they haven't. Not yet. But they will be, when the time's right.'

‘You know who they are then? And the Guard who chopped that boy's hands – that Connor kid? D'you know his name too?'

‘Why the interest? Fancy some extra work?' When I didn't reply, he returned to his chair, leaned back and studied me, taking his time. ‘So, after what you've seen today – everything we've discussed – are you any closer to making your decision?'

‘Is that why I was there? I thought you'd just brought me along to do what you couldn't.'

I got a kick out of seeing his anger, watching him struggle to get it under control. But it was a mistake.

‘You read, don't you?' he asked. ‘Course you do. That's one of the reasons you're in the Watch, isn't it? Who taught you, I wonder?'

This time it was my turn to fight down my anger, but I said nothing and waited.

‘C'mon, Jem. A boy doesn't teach himself. Who was it? Your grandfather? Your grandmother? Both?'

‘You know all about me, Ballard. You figure it out.'

‘Do you know what irony is?' he asked.

I shrugged. ‘Why do I have a sinking feeling you're gunna tell me?'

Leaning forwards, he said, ‘Irony is your grandparents teaching you a skill that –'

‘Shut up!' I pushed out of my chair, but he had the knife ready, poised to sink it in, and I froze.

‘Still sensitive about that, are we?' he asked, and then his voice hardened. ‘Don't fuck with me, Jem. You'll lose every time. I might not have been able to bring myself to kill someone I loved, but I'll have no problem getting rid of you. Sit down.'

I sank back, watching until he lowered the knife, and we glared at each other. But he was the first to break the silence.

‘You have a way to go, my friend. But don't take too long or else I'll be forced to make your decision for you.'

And suddenly I was sick of his games. ‘Ballard, you seem to have a real problem grasping the obvious, so let me spell it out for you. By my reckoning, I've been gone close to a month and word would've already gone out that I haven't arrived at the settlement and I'm not doing my job. The Tower and the Watch have spies everywhere, and they're paid very well to spread bad news. Meanwhile, we spend what's left of my days talking all kinds of crap, I'm tied to my bed every night, I have no clothes, no weapons, and no hope of getting back to the Citadel, let alone surviving Garrick if I do. What part of this are you just not fucking getting?'

‘So that's what you're worried about?' he said, and smiled. ‘You're the one who doesn't get it, Jem. But you will. Meanwhile, you'll just have to trust me.'

Trust no one. That's what Taggart had told me, and I'd known him far longer than Ballard.

I shook my head. ‘Why the fuck should I trust you? I barely even know you. And from everything I've learned so far, I'm in no hurry to change that any time soon.'

He drummed his fingers on the desk. ‘What if I told you that for the past two weeks, the Tower's been getting regular reports of your progress? As far as they know, Jeremiah the Watchman is hard at work hunting Dissidents and uprooting evil. In fact, so far, you've already killed five of the rebels and you're right on track to return to the Citadel in the time allowed.'

I stared. ‘I'd say you're full of shit.'

He rose, placed his hands wide on the desk and leaned over it. Maybe it made him feel bigger, more in control, or maybe he was just fed up with my apparent stupidity. ‘The same spies who inform for the Tower also inform for us. It's a game, Jem. We give them a little; they give us a little. The trick is to stay ahead, and so far that's what we're managing to do. Your captivity, your disappearance, is a well-guarded secret. And we're very,
very
good at keeping secrets.'

‘How're you –?'

‘No. When you make your decision it has to be because you genuinely want to help us, not because I've given you an out. That's all I can tell you. Think very hard about everything, but understand you won't be told any more unless you side with us. Are we clear?'

‘Yeah,' I said, sourly. ‘It's a matter of trust.' On my part though, not his.

‘Exactly.' His smile made me yearn to flatten him. ‘Now, I'll walk you back to your quarters.'

But just outside the door, I stopped dead as a thought occurred to me, so obvious I wished I'd thought of it sooner. ‘Ballard, all those books and you being such a prick and all, how is it you managed to stay out of the Watch?'

He nudged me forwards. ‘Who said I did, Jem? You're not the only one who needs to redeem himself.'

I was just finishing my evening meal when Alex came to see me. I looked up, surprised, not that she was there, but that she was there without Tate and with me not strapped down to the bed. But perhaps Tate didn't know and, for just a moment, I imagined the look on his face when he walked in to find Alex dead and me gone. But, even then, I knew it wasn't going to play out that way.

Wiping my greasy hands on the cloak, I rose slowly and watched her close the door. Another first. And then she was in front of me, calm and sad and vulnerable. It would have been so easy to hurt her but I just stared and pulled the cloak around me.

It's a matter of trust.

‘What d'you want?' I asked her. I wasn't happy she was there, and even less happy not to be taking advantage of it.

‘I want to thank you,' she said.

I shrugged. ‘Someone had to do it.' There wasn't much else to say; as far as I was concerned Marin was gone and forgotten.

‘Yes. But – show me your hands.' It wasn't an order exactly, but it sounded like one and I frowned. ‘Please?' she added, and I held out my shackled wrists, bunching my hands into fists.

She turned them over and prised my fingers open, uncurling them. I pulled back a little, but her grip was strong and insistent, so I let her have her way. This was something she had to do, and I could only wait to see what would happen.

‘Tate said you broke her neck,' she said. ‘That you were gentle, and it was quick. He said she wouldn't have felt it. Is that true?'