C. Redwine: Deception

Others voice their agreement and soon conversations erupt across the field.

“Quiet!” Frankie’s voice cracks through the air like a whip, and silence descends. He slaps one large, freckled fist into his other palm in a clear message that he’d be happy to gain their cooperation with or without their consent.

I nod my thanks to him and face the crowd. “There’s a reason every city-state is surrounded by a wall. A reason every gate is guarded.”

“Yes, and all of those reasons are in the Wasteland!” a woman yells.

“For now. But what happens when word gets around that our gate is in ruins? That our city is easily plundered? That we have girls in our camp, but we don’t have enough trained guards to be able to defend them against a mob of highwaymen or worse?” I ask.

“What could be worse than highwaymen?” a girl near the front asks.

I clench my fists and prepare to lay the truth on the table, one miserable piece at a time.

“An army.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then a tall woman with brown skin and graying brown hair says, “What city-state would send an army to attack us? We’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Rowansmark attacked representatives of Baalboden in an unprovoked act of war just before our city burned, and they control the south.”

The words have barely left my mouth when Ian, another boy my age who trains with the sparring group, steps away from the wagon he’d been leaning on. The morning sun carves deep shadows beneath his cheekbones. “Why would Rowansmark do that?”

“Because James Rowan thinks the Commander stole a very important piece of tech. He won’t stop until he gets it back,” I say, and catch myself reaching toward the device strapped to my chest beneath my tunic.

“Why not just make another one? What a waste of manpower,” Adam says.

“And let a theft go unpunished?” Ian shakes his head. “You don’t know much about Rowansmark, do you?”

No, he doesn’t. Most of us don’t. Other than Rachel, I don’t know anyone in our group who’s been to Rowansmark.

“And you do?” I ask Ian.

He shrugs. “I know what I learned in school, just like everyone else.”

Since the Commander wouldn’t allow me to attend school, I have no answer for that.

“It’s a stain on their honor,” Rachel says from beside the food wagon. “Another city-state successfully stole one of their inventions and refuses to return it. Their honor can’t be redeemed until the tech is returned and the thief pays the price for his crime.”

“Plus, they may not want anyone else to be able to copy their design,” Elias, a young man who often helps guard the camp, says.

I make sure my next words are very clear. “Which is another reason why we can’t stay here. The Commander wants to copy their design, and he’s convinced I have the stolen tech. We already know the Commander allows nothing to stand in the way of what he wants. I don’t know where he went or if he’s called in a favor from one of his southeastern allies, but I do know that he won’t let this go.”

I sweep the crowd with my gaze. “The only reason we didn’t leave earlier is because those who were injured in the fire weren’t well enough to travel. And because we needed enough time to find a way for us to escape these ruins without leaving a trail.”

“Where will we go?”

“How on earth can we travel without leaving a trail?”

“Won’t we be killed in the Wasteland?”

The questions fly at me from every corner of the clearing, and I raise my voice. “We’re going north. As for traveling without leaving a trail . . .” I look at Drake, Frankie, and Thom—the burly owner of Thom’s Tankard, who never has much to say but who silently guards my back with a steadfast loyalty I feel sure I haven’t earned—then gaze out at the survivors again. “With the help of a handful of men, I’ve been working on that. We’re digging a tunnel from the compound’s basement as far into the northern Wasteland as we can get before surfacing. By traveling underground for at least a thousand yards, we’ll be impossible to track. It will be like we just vanished off the face of the earth.”

“We can’t travel underground,” a man near Adam shouts. “We’ll be killed by the Cursed One.”

“I can keep us safe.”

More murmuring, more questions, more complaints from the crowd. I grit my teeth and feel an unwelcome stab of understanding for the Commander’s absolute refusal to entertain any discussion on his decisions. Trying to get one hundred fifty-seven opinionated people to agree on a course of action is harder than trying to herd a bunch of fighting tomcats out of an alley.

“Listen to me. Rowansmark is coming for us from the south. The Commander will be coming from the east. A river cuts us off to the west. North is the only logical choice. We’ll travel to Lankenshire. They have no alliances with the Commander or Rowansmark. We’ll try to secure an alliance of our own with them.”

“And if we can’t?” Ian asks, and several heads nod in agreement.

“I think once they see what we bring to the table, they’re going to want us on their side.”

Ian laughs. “A tiny remnant of survivors with barely enough skill to find food and water? Why should they extend us any kind of protection?”

I take a deep breath. “Because we have the tech that was stolen from Rowansmark, and it will be worth a small fortune to another city-state.”

I let the words fill the clearing. Let my voice ring out so no one doubts that we have to leave before our enemies arrive and that I can keep us safe while we travel. Ian stares at me in silence, and I turn to find the rest of the group staring at me as well.

“Shouldn’t we give it back?” someone asks.

Others murmur their agreement, and suddenly I’ve had enough .

I straighten my spine and speak as forcefully as possible. “That piece of tech is going to keep us safe as we cross the Wasteland. And it’s our only leverage for creating a new alliance. Besides, who would we give it to? To the Commander, who has already killed innocent people in his efforts to get his hands on it? He’d abuse the power in this tech just like he abuses everything else he touches. To Rowansmark? That would be giving them unlimited power over every other city-state. No one could stop them.”

“What do you mean?” Adam asks.

“The tech the Commander tried to steal from Rowansmark is a device that can call and control the Cursed One,” Rachel says, her voice cold, her blue eyes sharp. “Who knows how many of those they’ve created? If we give it back, then we voluntarily give Rowansmark the power to obliterate any city whose leader falls out of favor with James Rowan. Or to obliterate us .”

I nod. “But if we keep it, we can protect ourselves from the Cursed One while traveling through the Wasteland, and we can prove to other city-states that Rowansmark is a true threat. And given enough time, I can duplicate it so that our new allies aren’t defenseless.”

“That’s your plan?” Ian asks. “Duplicate stolen technology and turn it against Rowansmark?” There’s a curious intensity to his voice.

“Yes.” I don’t try to justify myself. I don’t have that luxury. I have one hundred fifty-seven people to keep safe, and two power-hungry leaders to thwart. I’ll do what I must.

“Why didn’t you use it?” Adam asks, and the pain in his voice echoes the pain inside of me. “If you have the tech, why didn’t you save Baalboden when the Cursed One tunneled under the Wall?”

“I tried. The device malfunctioned.” Before the murmurs can start up again, I throw a hand into the air, palm out, and say, “I’ve fixed the problem. I can’t turn back time and save our city, but I can keep us safe until we make a new alliance. Our only other choice is to sit here and wait for either the Commander or Rowansmark to destroy us. I’m not willing to do that.”