“What do you think you have brought to the stories?” I am so curious to know.

She thinks for a while. “When I first began as storyteller I thought I was living in a golden age. There was so much passion and faith and a renewed love for obedience to the teachings of our ancestors.”

“You don’t feel that way now?” I push for Mel to say more.

She sighs. “Now … now, I see our people more afraid than ever before – and yet at the same time, more sure of their own righteousness. Perhaps it was always this way. Perhaps I was naïve, or too full of hope to see the cracks.”

I stare down at the book in front of her. “Why now?” I ask. “Why are you looking at these old books now?”

Mel stares down too.

“I keep wondering if I’ve missed something. Something crucial.” A furrow appears between her eyebrows. “Throughout our history, when something new or unusual happened, the storytellers have been able to look back at the skin books and see that it was predicted or that it was hidden in the stories all along. All of the major events in our history – the blank resettlement, for instance – have been predicted in some way. Just not…” She taps the table absently. “Just not this.”

My heart thumps. “And by this, you mean Mayor Longsight’s reincarnation?” I ask softly.

She looks perplexed, and my heart goes out to her, briefly. Mel has always believed so strongly in her faith. “There must be a precedent for this – his death and resurrection. It must be here somewhere, in these teachings.”

“But you can’t find it.” It’s a relief to hear someone else say it too, to have them voice their bewilderment about the mayor’s apparent miracle.

Her troubled eyes meet mine. “Not one story talks about a leader who could defy death in this way.”

“But the story of the lovers?” I ask. “His queen calls him back from the dead with her love.”

Mel smiles a tiny smile. “You always were a good student, Leora,” she concedes. “But no, his was a different resurrection – one that changed him. Remember that although the king was the sun, the story ends with him ruling the underworld – the land of the dead – and their son was the living ruler in his parents’ place.” She turns a page. “There is no precedent for what our mayor claims.” She shakes her head. “Our people will look to me to explain. They need me now, more than ever.” She lifts her eyes to mine once more, and where once I saw certainty, now I see only fear. “My training should have prepared me, but my hands are empty.”

Chapter Five

There are some things that once shattered can never be put back together again.

Given an egg, do you break it and make something new with the golden innards, or do you simply admire its smooth and perfect shell?