The Fire Sermon. Francesca Haig

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СКАЧАТЬ why choose to live this way?’ I asked. ‘I’m here because I can’t leave. But you could; you could just walk away.’

      ‘Was this part of your bargain? That we have a little heart-to-heart? Because I didn’t agree to that.’ He turned around again, looking over Wyndham. ‘Anyway, it’s not that straightforward. There are things I need to do.’ In the clear light I could see how prominent the bones had become in his face. He exhaled. ‘I’ve started things here. They’re my projects. I have to finish them. It’s complicated.’

      ‘It doesn’t have to be.’

      ‘You’ve always been such an idealist. Things are simple for you.’ His voice matched the tiredness of his eyes.

      ‘It could be simple for you too. You could just leave – go back to the village, work the land with Mum.’

      Before he’d even turned, I knew I’d said the wrong thing. ‘Work the land?’ he hissed. ‘Do you have any idea who I am, now? What I’ve achieved? And the village is the last place I’d ever go. Even after the split, I was never treated like the other Alphas. I thought it would get better, but it didn’t.’ His pointing finger jabbed towards me. ‘You did that, all those years you dodged the split. I can never go back there.’ He’d stepped away from me, stood halfway between me and the door.

      Both hands on the wall behind me, I pushed upwards as I jumped, springing backwards to sit on the ledge and then scrambling to my feet. The movement was so quick that only by throwing my hands out to the merlons on either side was I able to catch myself from toppling back.

      He lunged towards me, but hesitated as he saw how close I was to the edge. He raised both hands in front of him, helpless as a puppet. ‘That’s crazy. Get down, now. That’s crazy.’ His voice was high and strident.

      I shook my head. ‘One more word and I jump. Shout for a guard, and I jump.’

      He inhaled, put a finger to his lips. I wasn’t sure if he was hushing himself or me. ‘OK,’ he murmured. ‘OK.’ Again, I couldn’t tell who he was trying to reassure. ‘OK. But you wouldn’t do it. You’d never survive it.’

      ‘I know. And don’t pretend it’s me you’re worried about.’

      ‘Fine. Fair enough. But you couldn’t do it to me. You wouldn’t.’

      ‘You called my bluff once already, at the split. I protected you that time. I can’t do it again.’

      He took a step forward; I edged back. Only my toes and the balls of my feet were on the wall now; my heels tremored over the emptiness below.

      ‘I’ll do it. There’s no reason for me to go on living, in that cell.’

      ‘I let you out – you’re out here now, aren’t you?’

      I dared a glance over my shoulder, then turned back quickly, hoping my eyes didn’t reveal too much of my terror.

      ‘Here’s what’s going to happen.’ The stones on each side were warm and rough under my outstretched hands. I wondered if it was the last texture I’d feel. ‘Walk back, all the way to the door.’ He nodded, kept nodding as he walked slowly backwards, hands still raised.

      One arm still on the stone merlon to my right, I lifted my shirt and jumper with my other hand to reveal the makeshift rope I’d wrapped around my waist at dawn. I smiled at the thought of my comment to The Confessor the day before. All day the knotted strips of sheet had been digging into my stomach, but I hadn’t dared to loosen it, already worried that the bulk beneath my clothes might be visible.

      Unwinding the rope was a delicate task. At first I tried to keep one hand on the stone, but it was too difficult, the unwound loops dropping around my legs and threatening to tangle me. Finally I relented and used both hands. I’d edged forwards a little, but my heels were an inch, at most, from the brink. I kept my eyes on Zach. The white rope, slowly unfurling, trailed its way down the outer wall behind me.

      I don’t know whether I saw him tense, or just sensed his intention, but before he’d taken a single rushed step forward I raised a hand.

      ‘Run at me and I jump, or we’ll both end up going over. It amounts to the same thing.’

      He stopped. His breathing was harsh, heavy. ‘You’d seriously do it.’

      It was a statement now, not a question. At least it spared me from giving an answer that I didn’t have. I just looked at him, and he retreated again to the far wall.

      The whole rope was unwound now. The base of the merlon was far too thick for me to pass the rope around, but at the top it narrowed to a single stone’s thickness. To loop the rope around this, I had to turn sideways, my cheek pressed against the stone so that I could keep watching Zach while I reached upwards. To pass the rope from one hand to the other I had to wrap both arms around the merlon’s breadth in an awkward embrace. When it was done, I was reluctant to relinquish the tight hold on the stone.

      ‘You must be insane,’ called Zach. ‘The rope’ll never hold. You’ll fall and kill us both. And even if you do get down there alive, there’re guards all along the outer perimeter. It’s pointless.’

      I looked at the rope. He had a point: to transform my sheet into any kind of length, I’d had to tear it into strips only two fingers thick. The knots looked shoddy, even to me. I knew I was light these days, but the rope was still uninspiring. And what Zach couldn’t see was that the rope hung only part of the way down the face of the fort beneath me; from its frayed end, there was still a drop of at least twenty feet to the stone terrace below.

      ‘Listen carefully,’ I told him. ‘You’re going to go out that same door. You’re going to lock it behind you. If I hear you shout for guards, I jump. If I hear you starting to unlock the door again, I jump. Even if I’m half-way down the rope and I see you peering down at me, I jump. You get behind that door and you count to one hundred before you even think about opening it, or making a sound. Got it?’

      He bobbed his head. ‘You’ve changed,’ he said quietly.

      ‘Four years in a cell will do that.’ I wondered if this was the last time I’d see him. ‘You could change too, you know.’

      ‘No,’ he said.

      ‘It’s your choice,’ I said. ‘Remember that. Now lock that door.’

      Still facing me, his hand groped along the wall behind him and found the door handle. He had to turn to unlock it, but spun back to face me as he pulled it open. He was still staring as he stepped backwards into shadow and pulled the door closed. I heard the key rummaging for the lock, then the heavy tumbler sliding across.

      I counted too, picturing him pressed against the door, making his way through the numbers in unison with me. Forty-nine, fifty. I realised I was crying, but whether from fear or sadness I didn’t know. Seventy-six, seventy-seven. He’ll be rushing, I thought, with his habitual impatience, but then making himself slow down, not wanting to burst out too soon and force my hand. And already, I knew, he’d be planning: where to position the guards, how to seal the city. He’d come after me, like I’d always known he would.

      Ninety-nine. The lock moved slowly, but its age gave it away with a rusted squeal.

      The Confessor would have seen through СКАЧАТЬ