We had never seen a man cry before. Not a man with experience and power, like Mr. Jameson. He was the one who handled things, who fixed things. And to see him like this made me feel a kind of helpless I’d never felt before.
Then Lucy began to cough. She coughed and wheezed, clasping her handkerchief to her mouth. She swayed on her feet, a rattle sounding in her throat; when she finally caught her breath, her lips were flecked with blood and black mud. My heart sped painfully. Not Lucy… not now…
At that moment, Olivia walked through the doorway, stopped and regarded the scene unfolding before her.
“Sal,” she started. “What did I miss?”
“I’m going to the church,” Mr. Jameson said, rising with a steely look in his eye. “I have business to discuss with Mother Morevna.” He turned to us and said, “You girls coming?”
“Of course,” I said. “Lead the way.”
Mr. Jameson burst through the sanctuary door, and we followed him.
“Marike!” he said, boots thudding as he strode across the empty sanctuary to the bottom of the stairs that led to her room.
“What is it, Jameson?” Mother Morevna said, coming down the stairs, stooped and frail, in her nightgown and shawl. “What’s all this ruckus?”
“How could you, Marike?” Mr. Jameson said, his body tense as a coiled spring, his voice harder than I’d ever heard it. “After all we did to build this town and protect these people. How could you?”
“What are you talking about, Jameson?”
“We know, Mother Morevna,” I said, my voice hard and sharp as flint. “We know that you’ve been causing the Dust Sickness. We know that you killed my mother, and Lucy’s aunt, and everybody who’s ever died of Dust Sickness.”
Mother Morevna blinked. A shadow seemed to pass over her face.
“Everything I’ve done has been to save us,” she said. “Even now, I am trying to satisfy the Goddesses.”
“This is sick, Marike,” Mr. Jameson said. “All the suffering, all the pain within these walls… you’ve caused it. And I’m done helping you.”
There was a crackle of power around her, of anger. But she remained calm.
“And what will you do, Lloyd?” she said, her voice soft as the hiss of a snake. “Expose me? Cast me out of Elysium when everything is unstable as it is? When I am the only thread holding the people together in this sea of uncertainty?”
Mr. Jameson hesitated. It was true. The thought of it felt slimy and disgusting in my mind, but it was true. Casting Mother Morevna out right now, or exposing her role in the Dust Sickness epidemic would only throw the people into a panic. And we couldn’t afford that. Not when we needed to build their trust, rally them against fate itself.
“No,” said Olivia, coming forward, her eyes on Mother Morevna’s. “You’re dying, right? Well, pretend to be ill. Stay here in your church and gather supplies for the Sacrifice or something. But give up your authority.” Olivia paused, stepped forward. “Give it to us. It’s about time this city had women who deserved to lead it.”
Everyone was quiet. Never did I expect Olivia to show mercy, or to make such a demand.
“Lift the spell,” I said, my voice shaking. “Lift the spell so the people with Dust Sickness can get better.” I glanced at Lucy.
“I cannot do that,” Mother Morevna said calmly. “The Master Stone that I used to cast the spell is lost, placed out in the desert long ago and buried under an ocean of dust.”
Mr. Jameson seemed to stiffen beside me. “That stone…” he said. “The one you had me take out into the desert and toss… that was…?”
Mother Morevna nodded. “So you see, I simply must let the spell run its course. We only have six days left.”
I thought of the desert, how new chunks of it turned to nothingness every day, taking anything buried in the dust with them, never to be seen or felt or exist again. Beside me, Lucy held in a cough. I took her hand and clasped it tightly in my own as though to say, I’m sorry, Lucy. I tried. And I felt her squeeze back. I know. But it isn’t over yet.
The magic crackled around Mother Morevna, power, nearly visible. But we stood tall before her, telling her with our stances, our eyes, our magic, that we refused to back down. Then, slowly, her magic receded, pulled back.
“I will agree to your terms,” Mother Morevna said, her