The Toll (Arc of a Scythe) - Neal Shusterman Page 0,100
some immunity.” Many followed the directive; some could not bring themselves to and sat only with other scythes.
Rowan, under heavy guard, was taken directly to a large staging area with access directly onto the field. The woodpile they had prepared for him was a three-story pyramid that appeared to be made of gathered branches, like a random collection of stacked driftwood – but closer inspection proved everything to be part of an intricately engineered design. The branches weren’t just stacked, but nailed in place, and the whole thing was on a huge rolling platform, like a parade float. The very center was hollowed out, and in the hollow was a stone pillar to which Rowan was tightly secured by fire-resistant bindings. The pillar was on a lift that would raise Rowan to the top of the pyramid, revealing him to the crowd at the right moment. Then Goddard himself would light it.
“This baby is not your ordinary pyre!” explained the tech in charge as he wanded off Rowan’s pain nanites. “I was part of the team that designed this beauty! There are actually four kinds of wood here. Ash wood for an even burn, Osage orange for heat, rowan wood for – well – obvious reasons, and a few pockets of knotty pine for a nice crackle!”
The tech checked the tweaker’s readout, confirming that Rowan’s pain nanites had been shut down, then got back to explaining the wonders of the death float, like a kid at the science fair.
“Oh, and you’re gonna love this!” he said. “The branches on the outer rim have been treated with potassium salts, so they’ll burn violet – then farther up, it’s calcium chloride, so they’ll burn blue, and so on and so forth, through all the colors of the spectrum!” Then he pointed at the black robe that the guards had forcibly put Rowan in. “And that robe has been infused with strontium chloride so it burns deep red. You’ll be better than New Year’s Eve fireworks!”
“Gee, thanks,” Rowan said flatly. “Too bad I won’t get to see it.”
“Oh, you will,” the tech said cheerily. “There’s an exhaust fan built into the base that will suck all the smoke away, so everyone will get a good view – even you!” Then he took out a piece of brown cloth. “This is a guncotton gag,” the tech told him. “It’s quick burning, and’ll incinerate right off the moment it’s exposed to heat.” Then he stopped himself, finally realizing that Rowan didn’t need or want to know these things. A quick-burning gag that allowed people to hear him scream was not the kind of accessory he could get enthused about. Now Rowan was glad they hadn’t offered him a last meal, because he was way too nauseated to have held it down.
Behind the tech, Scythe Rand entered the snarl of branches. Even the prospect of her was better than a blow-by-blow description of his dazzling incineration.
“You’re not here to talk to him,” Rand snapped.
Immediately the tech caved like a scolded pup. “Yes, Your Honor. I’m sorry, Your Honor.”
“Give me the gag and get lost.”
“Yes, Scythe Rand. Sorry again. Anyway, he’s good to go.” He gave her a thumbs-up, she grabbed the gag, and he retreated with his shoulders hunched.
“How much longer?” Rowan asked Rand.
“It’s about to start,” she told him. “A few speeches and you’re on.”
Rowan found he had no heart left to banter with her. He could not be cavalier about this anymore. “Will you watch,” he asked, “or look away?” He didn’t know why he cared, but he did.
Rand didn’t answer him. Instead she said, “I’m not sorry to see you die, Rowan. But I’m annoyed by how it’s going down. Frankly, I just want it to be over.”
“So do I,” he told her. “I’m trying to figure out if it’s worse knowing what’s going to happen, or if it would have been better not to know.” He took a moment, then asked, “Did Tyger know?”
She took a step back from him. “I’m not letting you play your little head games on me anymore, Rowan.”
“No games,” he said honestly. “I just want to know. Did you tell him what was happening to him before you took his body? Did he have at least a few moments to make peace with it?”
“No,” she told him. “He never knew. He thought he was about to be ordained as a scythe. Then we put him under, and that was that.”