every time after that.
Focus. “If we do this, we’re not going to fight directly,” I say. “Now that Austin’s agreed to help us, there’s no reason for the Order to have to face the rebels head-on. Although we have to be careful our alliance with the military doesn’t slip out. That could cause more harm than good.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to make my thoughts keep going. I haven’t slept since Jay—now working out logistics with some of the captains—returned from his meeting with Austin almost twenty hours ago. As soon as he got back, the core Order leaders convened. With the military’s support, I didn’t have much reason to argue against the Order joining the war anymore. We won’t take the full brunt of it. After that, it was a matter of meeting with all the captains and Helpers, and trying to rally as much support as we could with those we knew backed the Order going to war. We have to solidify our bases before we announce this to the rest of the organization.
“We need to mitigate the concerns of those who are currently reluctant to fight,” I say. “Reassure them that this isn’t as dangerous as it sounds—that we’re not going to be sending everyone into battle just to get wiped out.”
“And show that this is the best way to win peace,” Trist adds. “We must fight for real peace. It will not come otherwise.”
“We’ll need to up our fighting instruction,” Fiona says as she sifts through numerous sheets fanned across the table, looking for the one detailing our number of actual fighters and those signed up for the self-defense program. “Johann joining our teachers has helped a lot, but one person alone can only take on so much. We need more trained instructors.”
Syon signs to her and she frowns. “No. I don’t think we should allow anyone younger than fourteen to fight. And even that’s pushing it.”
“I think we should take anyone who’s willing,” Peter says. The words sound dragged out of him. I’m a little surprised he even came. I need to talk to him about Paul soon, but everything’s been so busy and he’s been so standoffish that I haven’t had the chance. Maybe if he stays busy with Order responsibilities, the sheer amount of work will distract him enough from his grief that he can start to move on. “If someone wants to fight, we should let them.”
Fiona glares at him across her scattered array of papers. “I will not allow children to fight in this war.”
“What, and you think we’re adults?” Peter asks with a humorless laugh that sends a chill down my spine. “We’re kids ourselves. And if we’re going to win this, we need all the help we can get.”
“We could consider accepting those who are gifted,” I say quietly. “They’re stronger and would be better able to hold their own.”
Fiona stares at me incredulously. “Do you even hear yourself right now? If we stoop to fighting this war with gifted children, we’re no better than the military or even the rebels. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it with morals. We’re not the same as them. We’ll do this and we’ll do it right.”
No one argues the point, and internally, guilt crawls up my lungs. Do I really think it’s okay to fight with children so long as they’re strong? Is what Jay said about me a lifetime ago true—that I think the end justifies the means? I don’t want to think about to what extent that’s true.
But thinking about Jay reminds me of Al, and another kind of guilt replaces the first. I know she’s reaching her limit with me, but I don’t know what to do. Besides, I’m already stretched thin trying to help the Order without taking on the complicated problem of solving the tension between us. I need to focus right now.
Trist must sense the uneasiness in the air, as he tends to do, because he switches the topic. “We have Sakchai’s Gate to get Outside at least, but we are short on weapons. And the ability to move many people at one time. Some members have bycs, but that will not be enough.”
“And rallying the Order in the meantime?” Peter asks, still in that same lifeless voice. “We have to get everyone to agree on this before we can do anything. A two to one split isn’t gonna cut it.”
Silence meets his words. We all know that,