The Toll (Arc of a Scythe #3) - Neal Shusterman Page 0,40

all knowing. He only knew what the Thunderhead let him know. Still, access to all that knowledge was intimidating—especially when no one else had it.

“Make your request, and the Thunderhead will respond through me.”

“I want direction,” Ezra said. “The direction it once promised it would give me, before we were all marked unsavory. I want it to help me find purpose.”

The Toll listened, considered, and then said, “The Thunderhead says you can find fulfillment by painting unsavory art.”

“Excuse me?”

“Paint murals of the things you’re truly feeling in places that you’re not supposed to paint them.”

“The Thunderhead wants me to break the law?”

“Even when the Thunderhead spoke to people, it was happy to support an unsavory lifestyle for those who chose it. Being an unsavory artist might be the purpose you’re looking for. Spray-paint a publicar in the middle of the night. Paint an angry mural on your local peace officer headquarters. Yes, break the rules.”

Ezra found himself beginning to breathe so quickly he was hyperventilating. No one had ever suggested that he might find fulfillment by breaking the rules. Ever since the Thunderhead went silent, people were falling over one another to follow rules. It was as if a stone had been lifted from his soul.

“Thank you!” Ezra said. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

And he left to begin his new life as an unrepentant artist.

A Testament of the Toll

His seat of mercy rested at the mouth of Lenape, and there he would proclaim the truth of the Tone. Awesome was he in his splendor, such that even the slightest whisper from his lips would peal like thunder. Those who experienced his presence were changed forever and went out into the world with new purpose, and to those who doubted, he offered forgiveness. Forgiveness even for a bringer of death, for whom he did sacrifice his life, in his youth, only to rise again.  All rejoice.

Commentary of Curate Symphonius

There is no question that the Toll had a grand and glorious throne, most likely made of gold, although some have posited that it was made of the gold-plated bones of the vanquished wicked of Lenape, a mythical city. Speaking of which, it is important to note that le nappe, in the French language spoken by some in ancient times, means “the tablecloth,” thus implying that the Toll set a table before his enemies. The mention here of a bringer of death refers to supernatural demons called scythes, who he redeemed from darkness. Like the Tone itself, the Toll could not die, so a life-sacrifice would always lead to the Toll’s resurrection, making him unique among the people of his day.

Coda’s Analysis of Symphonius

The key insight that Symphonius misses here is that the mention of his seat resting “at the mouth of Lenape” clearly means that the Toll waited at the entrance to the city, catching those that the seething metropolis would otherwise devour.  As for the death bringer, there is evidence to suggest that such individuals did exist, supernatural or not, and that they were indeed called scythes. Therefore, it is not far-fetched to think that the Toll might have saved a scythe from his or her evil ways. And in this instance, I do, for once, agree with Symphonius that the Toll was unique in the ability to return from death. For if everyone could return from death, why would we need the Toll at all?

13 The Quality of Being Resonant

If Greyson had anyone to thank—or blame—for becoming the Toll, it was Curate Mendoza. He had been key in shaping Greyson’s new image. Yes, it had been Greyson’s idea to “go public” and let the world know he still had a connection to the Thunderhead—but it was Mendoza who finessed the reveal.

The man was a skilled strategist. Before souring on eternal life and becoming a Tonist curate, he had worked in marketing for a soft drink company.

“I came up with the blue polar bear for AntarctiCool Soda,” he had once told Greyson. “There weren’t even polar bears in Antarctica, much less blue ones, so we engineered some. Now you can’t even think of Antarctica without thinking of their blue bears, can you?”

There were many who thought that the Thunderhead was dead—that what the Tonists called the Great Resonance was the sound of it dying. Mendoza, however, offered an alternate explanation to the Tonists.

“The Thunderhead has been visited by the resonant spirit,” he posited. “The Living Tone has breathed life into what had once been artificial thought.”

It made sense if you

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