Page 15 of The Dawn Chorus

She spoke in the clipped tone she used whenever we discussed the imminent rebellion. It was hard for her to fight the instinct to keep her head down.

‘Liss,’ I said, ‘does Duckett sell you the fuel for your stove?’

‘Yes. Why?’

‘On the night of the Bicentenary, we need to burn down the Residence of Balliol. It’s where they stay in touch with the Archon. If we don’t cut that line of communication, Scion will be waiting for us on the other side.’

Liss looked back at the hand-carved box.

‘The other side,’ she echoed. ‘Yes.’ She cleared her throat. ‘We’ll need a lot of fuel.’

‘Any idea where Duckett gets it?’

‘While he was alone here, he stripped the colony of everything valuable and hid it all before the next lot of prisoners – my lot – arrived. We think his stores are buried in the woods somewhere.’

‘Maybe I should have a word with him.’

‘Paige, you mustn’t.’ Liss grasped my arm, eyes hard. ‘If you start asking for a lot of fuel, he’ll suspect.’

‘It’s not just fuel I want from him. He could have things we need to keep the red-jackets from interfering,’ I said quietly. ‘As for squealing to Nashira – does he have white aster?’

Understanding sharpened her gaze. ‘Maybe.’ She let go. ‘I’ll find out. Until then, promise you’ll not say a word to him.’

‘I promise.’ I squeezed her shoulder. ‘How are you getting on with the new cards?’

At this, Liss softened. ‘They work.’ She sat back and laid a hand on the box. ‘I never asked you, Paige. What did you have to do to get the Warden to take that sort of risk for a harlie?’

‘I said I’d stay. To start a war.’

Her lips twitched. ‘You agreed to start a war … to get me a new set of cards.’

‘Well, to keep you alive. Why, do you never start wars for your friends?’

Liss smiled enough for the skin around her eyes to pucker. When she smiled, I remembered how much longer she had been in this place. How much time had been stolen from her.

‘You really are nothing like the other syndies,’ she said. ‘I have to wonder how you fell in with them.’

‘Long story. I’ll tell it to you someday.’

That strange, closed look returned to her face. She plastered it over with another smile.

‘Let’s have a cup of tea before you go.’ She reached for her cast-iron kettle. ‘Is the Warden still kind to you?’

‘He’s notunkind. He’s just … Warden.’ I tightened the blanket around my shoulders when a cold draught penetrated the shack. ‘He organised the theft of the medicine.’

‘I guessed.’ Liss went straight for the source of the draught – a small crack – and wadded a rag into it. ‘Does he still expect you to talk to him for an hour every night?’

‘No.’

Because we talked as a matter of course now. During training, before I left, and the moment I returned.

‘I want to understand him. Why he wants to help us. If he gets caught this time, Nashira will do worse than scar him.’ As I spoke, I turned to her collection of herbs, unhooked the bag of silverweed, and passed it to her. ‘He likes music. Our music. He has a gramophone up there that plays blacklisted songs. Plays the organ in Magdalen, too.’

‘I’ve never heard of a Reph doing such a thing,’ Liss said, wary. Flames licked at the base of the kettle. ‘Did it seem … real, the music?’

‘Yes. It was beautiful.’

Liss seemed to contemplate this for a while. The kettle began to steam, then to whistle.

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