Magisterium

“Ow!”

“Oh! Sorry!” Glenn eased him down and leaned over him. There was a hot rush in her chest. Her throat ached.

“It’s okay, Morgan,” he said. “I’m okay.”

Kevin’s hand rested on her back with a reassuring weight. Their faces were mere inches from each other. His eyes, warm and gleaming, settled on her.

“You must be hungry,” Glenn said, pulling the tray between them.

“It looks like there’s tea. I could — ”

“Thanks,” Kevin said. He grunted as he sat up, bracing himself against the wall. The blanket fell away and exposed his thin chest.

Glenn handed him a sandwich and then busied herself with the tea things on the tray.

“How does it feel?” she asked. “Your …”

“Gunshot wound?” Kevin asked brightly. He dropped his

sandwich and pulled down the blanket to inspect the train track of stitches that curled upward from his waist to his rib cage. “It’s okay, I guess. That old guy — what’s his name? Decker? He came this morning and wiped some of that smelly crap off me. Guess that’s what made me all not dead and stuff.”

Glenn handed him a mug of tea and he took a deep drink.

“Thanks. So where are we, anyway?”

“Other side of the border,” she said. “A town called Haymarket.

It’s part of something they call the Magisterium.”

Kevin craned his neck around to survey the inside of the house.

In the light of morning it seemed warm and friendly, all pale wood and stone. He turned back to Glenn with a grin. “Well, Morgan, this certainly is one nicely appointed wasteland.”

Glenn ignored him. “Kevin, look, I’m really — ”

“Forget it.”

“Forget it? You were shot!”

“Exactly. And how many sixteen-year-olds can say they’ve been shot while fleeing Authority agents? In some ways this is the most awesome thing that’s ever happened to me. I should be thanking you for this experience!”

“Well, the experience is over.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re going back. Today.”

“Wait. What? I’m going back? What are you gonna do?”

“Aamon and I are going to take the bracelet and destroy it.”

“Destroy it? We’re destroying it? Why?”

Glenn couldn’t imagine where to begin. “It’s dangerous,” she said. “We have to make sure Sturges doesn’t get his hands on it.”

“Okay, fine. But I’m going with you.”

“No. Absolutely not. You’re in no condition — ”

“Look,” Kevin said. “If I go back now, what’s going to happen?

Authority is going to be after me just like they’d be after you. And you know me, I’m a wimp. I’ll crack under questioning in a second. I won’t be able to help myself.” Kevin tore the blankets off and reached to the floor for his shirt. “Ah! That hurts!”

He winced in pain and went pale. He started to tip forward, but Glenn’s palm found his bare chest and steadied him. His skin was hot.

She could feel his heart fluttering deep inside him. Kevin stayed still for a moment, took a deep breath, then opened his eyes.

“I’m not — I won’t leave you alone with this,” he said, laying his hand over hers. “There’s no way. No. Freaking. Way.”

Glenn drew her hand away and stepped back. It was useless to fight him. If she wanted Kevin to go home, she would have to knock him out, drag him there, and tie him to the nearest tree. Kevin grinned at her silence, but he kept it small, like he didn’t want to rub her nose in his victory too much.

Kevin turned with a grunt toward the window next to him. Glenn could dimly see people moving around outside and trees swaying over the tops of the walls and guardhouses. Kevin studied it all for a moment, then looked to her with a devilish cock of his eyebrow.

“Okay, then!” he said. “Who’s ready to do a little exploring?”

Kevin moved through the village’s dirt roads with a wincing gait, his hand clamped over his wounded side. Glenn followed close behind, ready to catch him, sure he was going to collapse at any moment.

As they walked through the village, what struck Glenn the most was the smell of the place. Each shack along the road had a small chimney that billowed gray smoke and filled the air with the warm and woodsy scent of burning wood and leaves. All of it was mixed in with the heavy stink coming from pens that held chickens and pigs and a few runty-looking horses.

The shacks were framed in the town wall. Soldiers stalked the wall’s length, glowering down at the villagers as they moved through the streets gathering up metal scythes, hoes, and long wooden forks before heading out toward the main gate. The soldiers were in gray wool with pieces of dirty armor over their chests, arms, and legs. The villagers wore plain wool in grays and browns that looked barely thick enough to keep the cold out. Their shoulders were broad, but their stomachs were flat, sunken even. Glenn saw hollow eyes and jutting cheekbones and she wondered if any of them got enough to eat.

Whenever she or Kevin passed by, they immediately lowered

their eyes and hurried away. Conversations broke off the instant they approached but people followed Glenn’s and Kevin’s movements out of the corner of their eyes. Are they afraid of us? Glenn wondered. The thought was so absurd she almost laughed.

“So,” Kevin said when she caught up to him again, keeping his voice admirably low. For him, anyway. “Wanna tell me about our pointy-eared friend?”

“You saw him?”

“He’s kind of hard to miss, Morgan,” Kevin said. “And by the way, cat demon guy? Ideally he’s something I would have liked to have been introduced to a bit more gradually. Anyway, we chatted a bit before you woke up this morning.”

“You chatted? About what?”

“The usual. The weather. Stock prices.” Glenn cut him a look and he grinned. “He asked if I was okay. When I regained the power of speech, I said I was. He said he had to go take care of something and then he’d be back. Oh! He also said we shouldn’t leave the house under any circumstance.” He turned to Glenn and shrugged. “Oops. Hey, look, chickens!”

Kevin veered toward a small area fenced in with a circle of closely set sticks. A trio of kids stood at the edge, giggling and throwing corn to a flock of chickens. They shrieked and ran when the birds approached, flaring their wings and squawking.

Kevin hung his arms over the fence and watched the kids running around in the bright early sunlight. The show was short-lived, though.

An old woman emerged from a shack, and as soon as she saw Glenn and Kevin, she looked up toward the guardhouse soldiers and then rushed the kids inside. Her door fell shut with a bang. Nailed to the center of it was one of the black and silver feathers.

“Nice,” Kevin said and turned to Glenn. “So, what’s going on here, Morgan? I know I act all cool and devil- may-care and stuff, but I’m more than a little freaked.”

Another group of villagers emerged from a shack and were

coming their way. Glenn pushed away from the fence and set off down a different road, with Kevin trailing behind.

“The … person who saved us is Aamon Marta.”

“Why’d he help us?”