Ashes of the Earth (49 page)

"Killing
Jonah was your big mistake."

"You
know damned well I was with you when he died."

"You
arranged it when you went to the fair that day. As soon as he knew
Hastings had been murdered Jonah might have started connecting the
evidence. Buchanan hadn't forgotten about that little valley where
Hastings's father had died. He was going to secretly send him there.
Except he shared the secret with you and told you Hastings had
probably told Jonah. You couldn't risk Jonah's knowing that Micah
Hastings had been murdered before he even left. It would raise too
many questions about that little valley he was going to. You ordered
an earlier schedule for the patrols by the library that night. Then
Shenker went in through the rear door. But the second man, I never
understood who the second man was."

Kenton
knew Hadrian presented no threat to him. He was happy to gloat.
"Sauger needed someone who came from Carthage, knew his way
around the streets, knew what I meant when I explained I was sending
the police patrol early, and to wait until they passed that Norger
cafe. They say he wound up with a fork in his brain."

Hadrian
sighed. "Wheeler. I was afraid he died because of me."

"He
did. The sap told Scanlon he knew you, that you had been his
schoolteacher. He was homesick. They thought he would talk to you."

The
lieutenant stretched his arms and rose, stepping closer, aiming his
pistol at various parts of Hadrian's anatomy and counting. "One,
two." Hadrian's knees. "Three four." His elbows.
"Five, six." His shoulders. Then over the edge you go.
There's a nest of tree jackals near here. They'll find you sometime
in the night."

"I
don't think so. You're not quite that stupid."

Kenton's
eyes lit with amusement. "You're going to stop me?"

"Sergeant
Waller knows about you. If I don't come back she will come for you."

"That
bitch? Nothing but a schoolgirl with an attitude."

"But
such an attitude. Before she comes she will tell Buchanan and the
Council. You'll be in prison the rest of your life if they don't hang
you. No. You'll leave me and run to St. Gabriel. That's your only
chance. Regroup with Sauger."

"She
hasn't told anyone or I would know it."

"She's
waiting to see if I get back. Leave now, Kenton. We'll give you until
daybreak."

Kenton
spat a curse at Hadrian. He absently scratched his temple with the
barrel of his gun and seemed about to concede when the door against
the embankment creaked.

The
lieutenant moved surprisingly fast, lowering the pistol to cover
Hadrian as he leapt toward the door. As he slammed the door with his
shoulder someone on the other side groaned in pain. He reached into
the darkness and dragged out Jori Waller. He swung her out by the
front of her coat, and when she struggled he slammed her violently
against the heavy oak door. She collapsed. Kenton pulled away her
pistol and dragged her to Hadrian's feet.

"I
forgot about that deer trail," he said. "Imagine. The only
two people in the world who can do me harm. Bad news, Boone, you only
get three of my bullets now. A knee, an elbow, and an eye."

Jori
stirred. Kenton kicked her. She held her belly and gasped. He
considered his two prisoners before extracting one of the brown
shotgun shells. "A week's worth of fairy dust. With half of this
in each of you I can tell you to fly like a bird and you'll leap into
the ravine. No need to explain messy bullet wounds. I'll write the
report myself. Another tragic accident by overdose. You will pour it
into her, Boone, then I—" Kenton paused, cocking his head
toward the road.

The
figure coming through the shadows made no effort to conceal his
approach. The snow crunched loudly under his feet. He paused at the
entrance to clean it from inside his shoes. Buchanan wore a suit and
black overcoat as if arriving from a state function.

"Good
job, Lieutenant," the governor announced. He seemed unaware that
the trail behind him clearly showed he had come from behind the door,
where he must have been listening with Jori.

Kenton
shot him.

Buchanan
dropped to the ground as blood began seeping through his shirt and up
over his collar.

"Idiot!"
Kenton snapped, then looked back at Hadrian. "He's the damned
fool who caused all the problems. Bringing you in to investigate the
dead scout, then Jonah's murder. He couldn't stay bought. He thought
the money that came to him from Fletcher was just to keep quiet about
the smugglers."

Buchanan
stirred, rolled onto his side, one hand in his coat, the other
gesturing Kenton closer.

"Lieutenant,"
the governor gasped, "Come closer, where I can see you.
Everything is so dark." He spoke with a wheeze, seeming to
struggle for breath.

Kenton,
strangely obedient, crouched over the bleeding figure.

Hadrian
should have known the governor would have kept the best of the
pistols for himself. It was a small, powerful semiautomatic he fired
through his coat, four quick shots aimed at Kenton's heart. Buchanan
was suddenly up, flinging off his coat, leaning over the dying
policeman. His wound, though bloody, was in his shoulder. The
governor grabbed the drug shell in Kenton's hand.

"You
dared to put this in my Sarah!" he screeched as he straddled
Kenton. He broke the shell open and began pouring its contents into
Kenton's gaping mouth. The lieutenant tried to roll, tried to pound
Buchanan with his fists but he had no strength left. Buchanan emptied
the shell and pummeled Kenton's face until Hadrian finally rose and
pulled him away.

Kenton
was dying quickly of the gunshots but it was the drug that choked
away his last breath. He gave a deep cough that sent out a spray of
blood, then he moved no more. His eyes were fixed on Hadrian as they
lost their light. His face was ghostly white with powder.

The
first caravan
from
Carthage to New Jerusalem took several days to organize. Not only did
wagons to carry grain back have to be located but Nelly and Emily
made sure they were loaded with blankets, barrels of pickled fish,
and building supplies. They had stopped taking volunteers for the
construction crews when the rolls swelled to two hundred.

At
the big table in the hospital's kitchen Hadrian stirred at the sound
of grates being opened on the big cast iron stove. He had fallen
asleep over a glass of milk.

"You
look like a wreck," Emily muttered as she dropped a log into the
firebox. "When's the last time you slept in a bed?"

Hadrian
rose and extended his arms over the stove. "I spent the
afternoon upstairs. A quarter of your nurses have left for New
Jerusalem and there are three dozen addicts in residence."

"Some
will be ready for home in another week. Lucas had Sarah out on the
veranda today." Jonah's antidote worked slowly, taking several
days to reverse symptoms, but it was working nonetheless.

When
Hadrian looked up, Jori was at the door, dressed for travel on the
ice. Emily retreated from the room as the sergeant laid a heavy
backpack on the table.

"They're
going to open a new police station in New Jerusalem," Jori
declared. "They've asked me to head it. An iceboat is being held
for me."

"Rather
sudden."

"I'm
supposed to start recruiting in the camps tomorrow."

Hadrian
slowly turned, finding it strangely difficult to find words. "There
is a lot of work to be done."

She
took a hesitant step toward him, then another. "They're starting
regular mail service in a week or two. I can write you if I know
where you'll be."

Hadrian
shrugged. "I'm going to try to decipher some of Jonah's project
plans. The library workshop. Try me there."

Suddenly
her arms were around him, her head buried in his shoulder.

"Jori...
I can't...
I'm
too..."

When
she looked up at him a tear was rolling down her cheek. She brought
up a hand and covered his mouth. "Shut up."

"I
don't know how it would have been without you," she offered
after a moment. "I mean I never would have ..."

"Shut
up," he said, and put his arms around her.

There
were no more words spoken. From the chair where he had been sitting
he lifted the woolen scarf Mette had given him and wrapped it around
Jori's neck. He remembered a pack of tea he'd bought that day and
darted into the adjoining room to bring it to her. When he returned
she was gone.

Hadrian
ran into the frigid night without bothering to find his coat. He was
panting for breath by the time he reached the knoll overlooking the
moonlit harbor. The iceboat was being hauled out onto the lake. He
watched as the big sail filled and the boat leaned, gathering speed.
He stood in the chill air, not moving until she was out of sight.

He
was at
the
library by dawn, working on the detailed drawings for the new bridge,
then sorting through Jonah's stack of plans. After several hours he
stepped out onto the balcony to watch the town below. When he
returned to the desk he pushed the files aside and pulled out several
sheets of paper, setting Jonah's inkpots and pens in front of him.

He
did not know when he drifted off to sleep, was just suddenly aware of
someone draping a blanket over his shoulders. As he straightened in
his chair Dax pointed to the pages he had been working on.

"Chronicle
of the Unified Colony, Year One," the boy read from the top
page, then straightened the blanket. "It's cold in here. You
need to take better care of yourself."

"What
I need," Hadrian replied, "is a walk to clear my head."

Outside
they bought some roasted walnuts from a street vendor and strolled to
one of the little parks overlooking the waterfront. Wagons were on
the ice road now, their horses and oxen newly shod with cleats,
beginning their long trip to New Jerusalem. Children were skating
along the nearest dock. A cloud plump with snow was settling over the
town.

"You
should be in school," Hadrian said to the boy as they sat on a
bench.

"I
tried school," Dax said. "I get confused about what we're
not supposed to know and what we really have to know."

"I
think that will change," Hadrian offered.

"I'm
just tired of it," Dax said in his old-man voice. "I wish
there was a place I could go that has no time, not of this world, not
of the last one, where I could just lie by a fire with books for the
winter."

Snow
began falling on the cobbled streets below. Hadrian absently
scratched his cheek as he watched the skaters. "You know, Dax, I
might know such a place. I could take you there, stay with you for a
day or two. You'd be welcome to spend the whole winter reading books
in front of a fireplace." He realized that for the first time in
months a contented smile was spreading across his face. "But
tell me something first. Are you frightened of bears?"

Author's
Note

Endings
of worlds
have
occurred throughout human history. Some have been abrupt, like the
annihilation of the original, ancient Carthage by the Romans. Some
have been gradual, like the destruction of the Tibetan world over the
past fifty years by the Chinese. But none have encompassed all of
humankind. Only in recent years have we developed the capability for
annihilation on a planetary scale. While there may be many reasons to
believe that such a nightmare will never occur, the moment that
capability became real, global apocalypse entered the realm of the
possible.

This
novel is certainly not meant to be a prophecy, but implicit in its
backdrop are predictions about the state of technology and science
after such universal destruction. Even with highly trained scientists
among its inhabitants, it seems likely that a society of survivors
with no electricity and no internal combustion engines would turn to
early industrial age technologies. Locating the Carthage colony on
the Great Lakes endowed its inhabitants with an environment rich in
minerals, timber, water, and wildlife, meaning that simple
technologies like those for making matches, paper, cloth, glass, and
lumber would be readily available. Once foundries and forges were
developed, steam engines and other simple machines would not be far
behind. The setting on the inland sea also means the colonists are
able to travel long distances by water—and in a region of long
winters with few roads, incentives would be great to advance the
iceboat technology of an earlier century.