Read Online Ebony Hill by Anna Mackenzie - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Anna Mackenzie
Ads: Link
that’s the most likely scenario. I wonder what Truso really believes. There’s a shuffling as people adjust their opinions.
“I’ll stand sentry duty,” one of the fieldworkers offers loudly.
“And me,” a female voice echoes.
There’s a sudden rush of volunteers. Truso reaches for paper and begins to draw up a rota.
“Truso,” Manet interrupts his arranging. “If you’ve no further questions for Ness and Ronan, they need medical care and rest.”
He gives us a wintry smile. “You’re right. Volunteers to my office. The rest of you, get some sleep. Nothing’s going to happen tonight.”
As people begin to file from the kitchen, Truso rests a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he says. “You did well to get back here. Esha—” He looks stricken, suddenly, as if the truth of what’s happened has only just hit him. “Esha would have been proud of you, and pleased to see you safe.”
I nod, my throat too tight for words.
“We’ll talk in the morning,” he adds, voice creaky as an old door.
In the stark silence that follows Truso’s departure, Manet plies us with food. Though I’m hungry I have difficulty forcing my stomach to co-operate. I soon abandon the effort. Saice leads me to the med roomwhere she cleans my cuts and frowns over my bruises. She asks few questions, for which I’m grateful. By the time she’s done, exhaustion has spread its weighted tentacles through my limbs till I’m ready to collapse, but Manet puts an arm around my waist and leads me to the bath-house.
Getting into the steaming water makes me weep like a child, but the heat does its work, drawing the ache from worn muscles and bruised flesh. Not from my heart.
As Manet steers me back towards the house we cross paths with Saice leading Ronan. He looks pale, the swelling on his face standing out in stark relief. His shirt hangs open, exposing a jigsaw of swollen, discoloured flesh across his ribs.
“Nothing broken,” Saice says to Manet’s questioning glance.
“You said to think about a hot bath,” I remind him.
He meets my eyes, one side of his mouth lifting in a forlorn smile. Feeling hollow, I return it. It’s the first time I’ve seen Ronan smile.
CHAPTER 7
As I come down the stairs next morning, angry voices drift up to meet me. I pause a moment to listen, not to eavesdrop, but to try to find some way of understanding everything that’s changed since yesterday.
The argument follows the line it began with last night. Some want to send a party up to Summertops, while Truso counsels patience. “Tino will have reached Vidya by now,” he tells them. “The Scouts should be here by evening.”
I picture the news of Esha’s death reaching the city; the shock and grief the handful of words will send spiralling through the community.
“Scouts are equipped to deal with a situation like this,” Truso adds. “We’re not.”
A burst of disagreement springs up. Truso folds his arms and waits. He looks as if he’s not slept, his face haggard, ochre stubble creeping its way across his cheeks.
As I slip past the meeting room doorway, Manet looksup and sees me. “Ness,” she says, hurrying across to take my arm so that everyone turns to stare. “I didn’t expect you to wake so early. Come and eat.”
The kitchen is mercifully empty. “Is Ronan up?” I ask.
“I don’t think so.” She pushes me into a chair. “I’ll make you some porridge.”
I’m hungry but something in me resists the thought of food. “Esha,” I begin, then can’t find words to follow.
Manet squeezes my hand. “We’re all grieving for her, and for our friends at Summertops.”
“She cared for me when I first arrived in Vidya. She was…” I hesitate, fumbling for words. “She was the closest I had here to a family.” Esha’s loss sits hard and sharp-edged in my chest, like a lumpy mouthful, half-chewed, that won’t go down. “I miss her,” I say, and swallow. “It’s not fair.”
The childish plaint
“I’ll stand sentry duty,” one of the fieldworkers offers loudly.
“And me,” a female voice echoes.
There’s a sudden rush of volunteers. Truso reaches for paper and begins to draw up a rota.
“Truso,” Manet interrupts his arranging. “If you’ve no further questions for Ness and Ronan, they need medical care and rest.”
He gives us a wintry smile. “You’re right. Volunteers to my office. The rest of you, get some sleep. Nothing’s going to happen tonight.”
As people begin to file from the kitchen, Truso rests a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he says. “You did well to get back here. Esha—” He looks stricken, suddenly, as if the truth of what’s happened has only just hit him. “Esha would have been proud of you, and pleased to see you safe.”
I nod, my throat too tight for words.
“We’ll talk in the morning,” he adds, voice creaky as an old door.
In the stark silence that follows Truso’s departure, Manet plies us with food. Though I’m hungry I have difficulty forcing my stomach to co-operate. I soon abandon the effort. Saice leads me to the med roomwhere she cleans my cuts and frowns over my bruises. She asks few questions, for which I’m grateful. By the time she’s done, exhaustion has spread its weighted tentacles through my limbs till I’m ready to collapse, but Manet puts an arm around my waist and leads me to the bath-house.
Getting into the steaming water makes me weep like a child, but the heat does its work, drawing the ache from worn muscles and bruised flesh. Not from my heart.
As Manet steers me back towards the house we cross paths with Saice leading Ronan. He looks pale, the swelling on his face standing out in stark relief. His shirt hangs open, exposing a jigsaw of swollen, discoloured flesh across his ribs.
“Nothing broken,” Saice says to Manet’s questioning glance.
“You said to think about a hot bath,” I remind him.
He meets my eyes, one side of his mouth lifting in a forlorn smile. Feeling hollow, I return it. It’s the first time I’ve seen Ronan smile.
CHAPTER 7
As I come down the stairs next morning, angry voices drift up to meet me. I pause a moment to listen, not to eavesdrop, but to try to find some way of understanding everything that’s changed since yesterday.
The argument follows the line it began with last night. Some want to send a party up to Summertops, while Truso counsels patience. “Tino will have reached Vidya by now,” he tells them. “The Scouts should be here by evening.”
I picture the news of Esha’s death reaching the city; the shock and grief the handful of words will send spiralling through the community.
“Scouts are equipped to deal with a situation like this,” Truso adds. “We’re not.”
A burst of disagreement springs up. Truso folds his arms and waits. He looks as if he’s not slept, his face haggard, ochre stubble creeping its way across his cheeks.
As I slip past the meeting room doorway, Manet looksup and sees me. “Ness,” she says, hurrying across to take my arm so that everyone turns to stare. “I didn’t expect you to wake so early. Come and eat.”
The kitchen is mercifully empty. “Is Ronan up?” I ask.
“I don’t think so.” She pushes me into a chair. “I’ll make you some porridge.”
I’m hungry but something in me resists the thought of food. “Esha,” I begin, then can’t find words to follow.
Manet squeezes my hand. “We’re all grieving for her, and for our friends at Summertops.”
“She cared for me when I first arrived in Vidya. She was…” I hesitate, fumbling for words. “She was the closest I had here to a family.” Esha’s loss sits hard and sharp-edged in my chest, like a lumpy mouthful, half-chewed, that won’t go down. “I miss her,” I say, and swallow. “It’s not fair.”
The childish plaint
Similar Books
