It is not the same as being there, I interrupt, conscious again of the rudeness. A memory is not the thing remembered.

He pauses again, but the warmth remains. Perhaps not, he finally shows.

What is it that you want? I show, a bit too loud, feeling shamed by his kindness.

He places a hand on my shoulder and we look out to the Land stretched beneath us down the road, on the right to the very tip of the hill that looks out over the Clearing, on the left back as far as can be seen, past a bend in the river and farther beyond that, I know.

The Land rests, shows the Sky. The Land waits. Waits for the Return.

I show nothing.

You are one of the Land, he shows. However separate you feel now. But that is not all the Land waits for this day.

I look over to him. Is there a change? Will we be attacking?

Not yet, he shows, but there are a number of ways to fight a war.

And then he opens his voice and shows me what is seen in the eyes of others in the Land–

Of others in the light of the newly rising sun as it reaches the deeper valley–

And I see.

I see what is to come.

And I feel my own small flicker of warmth.

{VIOLA}

“Can you think of a safer place, my girl?” Mistress Coyle says.

After Simone’s call, Acorn and I rode fast straight back to the hilltop.

Where the Answer now makes camp.

The cold sun is rising on an open area filled with carts and people and the first makings of campfires. They’ve already organized a mess tent where Mistress Nadari and Mistress Lawson are busy coordinating supplies and rationing food, blue As still written across the front of their clothes and on a few scattered faces throughout the crowd. Magnus and other people I recognize are starting to set up tents, and I wave over at Wilf, who’s taking charge of the Answer’s animals. His wife Jane is with him, and she waves back so vigorously it looks like she might hurt herself.

“Your friends may not want to get involved in a war,” Mistress Coyle says, eating her breakfast on the back of the cart where she’s made her bed, parked near the bay doors of the scout ship. “But if the Mayor or the Spackle decide to attack, I’d imagine they’d be willing to protect themselves.”

“You’ve got some nerve,” I say angrily, still up on Acorn.

“Yes, I do have some nerve,” she says, taking another bite of porridge, “because some nerve is exactly what’s going to keep my people alive.”

“Until you decide to sacrifice them again.”

Her eyes flare at that. “You think you know me. You call me bad and evil and a tyrant and yes, I’ve made tough decisions, but they were decisions with only one aim, Viola. Getting rid of that man and returning to the Haven we had before. Not slaughter for its own sake. Not the sacrifice of good people for no reason. But, as it turns out, the same goal as you, my girl. Peace.”

“You’ve got a pretty warlike way of going about it.”

“I’ve got an adult way of going about it,” she says. “A way that isn’t nice or pretty, but that gets the job done.” She looks at someone behind me. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Simone says, coming down the ramp from the scout ship.

“How is he?” I ask her.

“Talking to the convoy,” she says, “seeing if they have any medical advice.” She crosses her arms. “None so far.”

“I don’t have any cure left,” Mistress Coyle says, “but there are natural remedies that can help take the edge off.”

“You stay away from him,” I say.

“I am a healer, Viola,” she says, “whether you like it or not. I’d even like to heal you, as I can see from a glance that you’re feverish.”

Simone looks at me, concerned. “She’s right, Viola. You don’t look well.”

“This woman is never going to touch me,” I say. “Ever again.”

Mistress Coyle sighs heavily. “Not even to let me make amends, my girl? Not even as a first peaceful gesture between us?”

I look at her, wondering about her, remembering how well she healed, how hard she fought for Corinne’s life, how she managed through sheer willpower to turn a band of healers and stragglers into an army that might have toppled the Mayor, just like she said, had the Spackle not come.

But I remember the bombs, too.

I remember the last bomb.

“You tried to kill me.”

“I tried to kill him,” she says. “There is a difference.”

“Got room for more up here?” says a voice behind us.

We all turn. It’s a dust-covered man with a ragged uniform and a sly look in his eyes. A look I recognize.

“Ivan?” I say.

“I woke up at the cathedral and there was a war a-going on,” he says.

I see other men behind him, heading for the food tent, the men who tried to help me and Todd overthrow the Mayor, the ones knocked unconscious in the Mayor’s Noise attack, Ivan the last to fall.

I’m not actually sure I’m pleased to see him.

“Todd always said you went where the power was,” I say.

His eyes flash. “It’s what’s kept me alive.”

“You’re very welcome here,” Mistress Coyle says, like she’s in charge. Ivan nods and heads off to feed himself. I look back at her, and I can see her smiling at what I’d said about power.

Because he came to her, didn’t he?

[TODD]

“It’s the smart thing to do,” the Mayor says. “It’s what I would do in her place. Try to get our new residents on her side.”

Viola called me first thing and told me all about the Answer showing up on the hilltop. I found myself seeing if I could hide it from the Mayor, trying to keep my Noise light, trying to do it without any effort at all.

He still heard me.

“There ain’t no sides,” I say. “There can’t be no more. It’s all of us against the Spackle now.”

The Mayor just makes an mmm sound with his throat.

“Mr President?” It’s Mr O’Hare with another report. The Mayor reads it, his gaze hungry.

Cuz nothing’s happened yet. I think he expected a new battle at first light but the cold sun rose and nothing happened and now it’s closer to midday and still nothing. Like all that fighting yesterday never happened.

(except it did–)

(except it’s still happening in my head–)

(I am the Circle and the Circle is me, I think, light as I can–)

“Not particularly illuminating,” the Mayor says to Mr O’Hare.

“There’s reports of possible movement to the south–”

The Mayor shoves the papers back at Mr O’Hare, cutting him off. “Do you know, Todd, if they chose to come at us with full numbers, there’d be nothing we could do? Our weapons would eventually run out of ammunition, our men would eventually die, and there would still be more than enough of them left to wipe us out.” He clicks his teeth together in thought. “So why aren’t they coming?” He turns to Mr O’Hare. “Tell the men to go in closer.”

Mr O’Hare looks surprised. “But, sir–”

“We need to know,” the Mayor says.

Mr O’Hare stares at him for a second, then says, “Yes, sir,” before leaving, but you can tell he’s unhappy about it.

“Maybe the Spackle don’t think the way you do,” I say. “Maybe their goal ain’t just war.”

He laughs. “Forgive me, Todd, but you do not know our enemy.”

“Maybe you don’t neither. Not as much as you think.”

He stops laughing. “I beat them before,” he says. “I will beat them again, even if they’re better, even if they’re smarter.” He brushes some dust off his general’s trousers. “They will attack, mark my words, and when they do, I will beat them.”

“And then we’ll make peace,” I say firmly.

“Yes, Todd,” he says. “Whatever you say.”

“Sir?” It’s Mr Tate this time.

“What is it?” the Mayor says, turning to him.