Nonetheless, for an hour or more we laid low and watched the sentry post on the western road. The soldiers wore red Council uniforms, but we could see the black armband that distinguished The Ringmaster’s men. Even then, we held back; only stepping out of cover after we’d watched a passing patrol of Omega troops, in their blue tunics, conferring with The Ringmaster’s soldiers.
When we rode up to the watch post, we were greeted calmly enough, though they didn’t conceal their stares as they took in Paloma. The Omega troops saluted Piper, while the Alphas gave grudging nods. Their matter-of-fact greeting felt strange. To them, we were just returning, as expected, after a few weeks, albeit with a pale stranger. They could not possibly know all that we had seen and learned in that time: the Ark. The blast. Elsewhere. They could not know that the whole world had changed in those weeks.
Word of our return had straight away been sent to The Ringmaster, and when the western gate was dragged open he was there to meet us, arms crossed over his chest, curly hair pulled back from his face. It had only been a month since we’d left this place, but he’d grown thinner, and older, in that time.
He was staring at Paloma. We waited what felt like a long time for him to speak. Then he turned away, dragging his eyes from Paloma to me.
‘Looks like you have a lot to tell me,’ he said.
Debriefing would be intense, I knew. The Ringmaster had set up his command in the former Tithe Collector’s office, and that was where he took us, straight into the main hall. Simon, Piper’s long-standing adviser, was waiting for us there, and Sally too – as soon as we entered, she hobbled to Piper and Zoe and embraced each of them fiercely. Even I received a smile, though her eyes seized quickly on Paloma. Xander was there too, though he didn’t move, or even look at us when we entered. I moved closer to him, looking for some sign of recognition.
‘Don’t waste your time,’ said The Ringmaster, shutting the door and jerking his head towards the corner where Xander sat. ‘He’s quiet, these days, at least. He’s settled down a lot.’ The Ringmaster looked back at me, and added meaningfully, ‘Since you’ve been gone.’ He gestured to the seats around the big table. ‘Sit. Leave the boy where he is.’
For hours we were cloistered in that room, describing all that had happened since we’d left. Xander remained silent, never even glancing at Paloma. But The Ringmaster, Simon and Sally looked hard at Paloma and interrupted all of us, including Paloma, at every stage of our story, hurling questions, prodding and prompting for more and more details. Paloma was tired, and I could see her bristling at The Ringmaster’s repeated questions about the doctors and the untwinning. I was exhausted too, and longing to get to the holding house and see Elsa, but we answered their questions until I felt wrung out of words.
At first, I thought The Ringmaster had been right about Xander. I watched the younger seer in the corner: he sat unmoving where he was placed, mouth slightly open, a thread of drool dangling from his lip. No more muttering and yelling, rocking back and forth, moving his hands endlessly. But several times, during the hours that we were around that table, his whole body jerked, like somebody waking suddenly from a dream of falling. I was sure that he was still having visions, though he never cried out. He didn’t make a noise. Even Sally could raise no response from him, other than persuading him to open his mouth when she raised a mug of water to it.
I’d hoped that our news – about the Ark, and The Rosalind’s return, might reassure Xander. That he might feel bolstered by the knowledge that he’d been right about both, and that he’d been listened to. Paloma was here to prove it. But he grew ever more distant, even as we spoke directly to him, or tried to. He sat slumped, eyes closed most of the time. When he opened his eyes, they stared, but not at us.
And I understood that our news, confirming the truth of his visions, was the worst thing we could have brought him.
I looked again at Xander. His head lolled awkwardly, as if he hadn’t even the energy to hold up his own neck. How long could he have been expected to stand in the face of the blast, its certain approach, and not disintegrate?
*
When the questions finally subsided and we were readying to leave, I hung back for a second, watching The Ringmaster’s guards lay out his meal on the table while Piper and the others were talking in the doorway. It was a grey afternoon, and The Ringmaster lit a lamp, changing the colour of the room to a sickly orange. I was gratified to see that despite the silver plate, the food laid out for him was no better than what the soldiers would be eating: a piece of flatbread no bigger than my hand, a handful of nuts, and some jerky.
He turned, the lamp still in his hand, and saw me watching him.
‘I wanted to ask you something,’ I said.
‘Surely you should know the answers to most questions?’ he said.
I shook my head, irritated. ‘You know better than that. You know that’s not how it works.’
‘Go ahead then,’ he said. He picked up his fork, poked ruefully at his half-bare plate.
I took a deep breath. ‘You told me, when we first met, that you had your twin locked up. I want to know where she is.’
His face hardened. ‘She has nothing to do with any of this.’
‘Where is she?’ I repeated.
‘I told you all that you need to know, when we first met. She’s not tanked,’ he said. ‘I’ve never broken the taboo. I’m not a hypocrite.’
‘Aren’t you?’ I said. ‘You’re here, fighting alongside us, talking with us while we talk of freedom for Omegas. Where is she?’
‘She’s safe,’ he said. ‘Nowhere near here. You forget that I have my own garrisons, my own guards.’
I tried to form words, but I could almost feel the walls of the Keeping Rooms sealing around me again. Those days and days and years and years of darkness, when Zach had kept me in that cell. Wherever she was, The Ringmaster’s twin must be feeling the same airless despair. The same panic that crept in when time became stripped of meaning, and days and months were no longer anything but a burden.
‘How can you fight alongside us, and against the Council, when you think it’s fair to keep her locked up?’
He looked at me coolly. ‘I never said I think it’s fair,’ he said. ‘I think it’s necessary. If Zach or The General got their hands on my twin, I’d be dead. If she’s not secure, I’m not secure. Nor is New Hobart. Do you think, for a minute, that my troops would stay here to protect this town if I weren’t here?’
‘I don’t understand you,’ I said.
‘You don’t need to understand me,’ he said. His voice was a door shutting. ‘We want the same thing: an end to the tanks.’
‘Is that all you want?’ I said. ‘Is that really it? What are you doing here?’
My question sat between us for a long time, before he spoke.
‘I don’t know,’ he replied. His voice sounded exhausted. I thought that for the first time he was telling me the truth.
*
It had been many years since I’d felt that I had a home, if ever. My parents’ house, before they sent me away, was too full of scrutiny and suspicion to be a home. After my exile I’d found a kind of stability at the settlement, but my neighbours had kept their distance, and whispered about my visions. Then there had been the hell of the Keeping Rooms, and the