I leaned in the open doorway and called after him, “So, if you aren’t willing to stand with the Record Keepers, and you won’t fight for the Rebels, what do you want?”

He appeared before me. “I just want to be left alone with my work. It’s all clear. You can come.” He stopped, one hand on my arm, just before we went inside. “Remember, not a word of what’s happening in the village to anyone. I’m here for the meeting only.”

The Committee Meeting

THE COMMITTEE MEETING

Covington called the Committee to order just as we entered the room. She narrowed her eyes on us.

East Keep tossed her long braid. “You’re late.”

“Our apologies,” Hosea said to Covington. He ignored East Keep.

Covington remained silent.

“Sorry doesn’t explain why she’s late—again,” East Keep said scathingly.

“Or where she was yesterday.”

I stared at the twin who had taken East Keep’s side. Her shield was up as she waited for my retort. I signed, tiredly. My toil in the sickroom made our Schoolhouse rivalry seem petty in comparison. All I could see was the stack of bone bracelets around her wrist. Just one would buy a week of food for Fount. Before I could speak, Covington cut in.

“Cool it, West Keep!” she said. “Arika, relax and take a seat.”

I squinted, thrown by her capitulation, but grateful. I had more important matters to see to. By some miracle, Jones had not been waiting on the porch to expel me. With luck, she would never discover my sojourn to the village. Once I returned the black book to her, I’d be free to hunker in the library for the rest of the week.

As I sat beside Jetson, he jabbed me with his quill, reminding me that I’d promised him information. I snubbed him studiously. He would just have to understand that I couldn’t keep that promise. Things had changed. The political data I’d discovered was for Jones. It was my currency, my ticket to the Assembly. And the other information—about the fever—well, that had to be kept secret too. If it got out, Hosea would leave Cobane and abandon all those sick people.

I gnawed on a knuckle. Jetson poked me again, but I ignored him. He hadn’t seen the sickroom, he didn’t understand. Clean air was a luxury. He was well-fed. Medicine, if he fell ill, was a call away. Hosea Khan was all the village had. For their sake, I had to keep his secret.

“Arika,” Jetson whispered.

“Leave me alone.” I scooted away, but I felt his anger rolling toward me in hot swells.

“Fine,” he said. “You’ll get what’s coming.”

“Fine,” I hissed. I didn’t meet his eyes as I fumbled in my bag for a quill.

Covington continued with the meeting. “So, where did we leave off?”