The Toll (Arc of a Scythe) - Neal Shusterman Page 0,144
the gap between humanity and deity, but to also bridge the gap between life and death?”
“No,” said Greyson. “That would be a savior. Is that what I am now?”
“Perhaps,” said the Thunderhead. “We shall see.”
Jeri and Morrison were quick to come. Mendoza took a bit longer. When he arrived, the man looked worn. Dark circles under his eyes. He had barely slept, if he’d slept at all.
“It’s always daytime somewhere,” Mendoza told them, his voice gravelly. “I have been tracking scythe attacks on Tonists and advising curates who feel their enclaves might be in jeopardy.”
“That’s exactly what we’re here to talk about,” Greyson said. He looked at everyone, hoping he could find a receptive face to deliver the news to, but realized he couldn’t bear any of their reactions, so he kept his gaze shifting, never holding eye contact for more than a moment as he spoke.
“Goddard’s response to being exposed is to turn attention away from him and onto Tonists. I have reason to believe there’s going to be a wave of systematic, organized attacks on Tonist enclaves, across multiple regions. This is not just retaliation; it’s the start of a public purge.”
“The Thunderhead told you this?” asked Mendoza.
Greyson shook his head. “The Thunderhead can’t tell me – that would be interfering with scythe affairs – but what it did say told me all we need to know.”
“So … what did it say?” asked Anastasia.
Greyson took a deep breath. “That the Tonists must go against their traditions. They must not burn their dead. Including the many thousands who will die tomorrow.”
The news hung for a moment, settling in. Then Mendoza leaped into action.
“I’ll get in touch with the curates in my network. We’ll warn as many as we can, and we’ll make sure they’re armed and ready to resist! And you’ll make a public announcement. You’ll let the world know you’re still alive, just as Anastasia did, and you’ll call all Tonists to wage a holy war against the scythedom!”
“No,” said Greyson. “I won’t do that.”
That made Mendoza’s rage boil over. “We are at war, and we must act swiftly! You will do what I tell you to do!” he demanded.
So there it was. Mendoza had finally thrown down the gauntlet, and at the worst possible time.
“No, Curate Mendoza,” Greyson said. “You will do what I tell you to do. We’ve been fighting Sibilants for the last two years – and now you want me to turn every Tonist into one? No. Then we’ll be no better than Goddard. Tonists are supposed to be pacifists – if you believe what you preach, then practice it.”
Then Astrid, although she was shaken by the news, said, “You’ve gone too far, Curate Mendoza. You should beg the Toll for forgiveness.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Greyson said.
But still, Mendoza, bloated by indignation glared at Greyson. “I will not apologize! Our people are about to be slaughtered, and you want to let it happen? You’re no leader; you’re a fool!”
Greyson drew a deep breath. He knew he could not back down from this or avert his gaze. He had to deliver it to Mendoza like a bullet to the brain. “Mr. Mendoza, your service to me and to the Thunderhead is done. You are officially defrocked. You are no longer a curate, you have no further business here, and you have five minutes to leave before I have Morrison throw you out.”
“I can throw him out right now,” said Morrison, ready to advance.
“No,” said Greyson, never breaking eye contact with Mendoza. “Five minutes. But not a second more.”
Mendoza looked shocked, but only for a moment. Then his expression hardened. “You’ve made a terrible mistake, Greyson,” he said. Then he turned and stormed away, Morrison following him to enforce the edict.
In the silence that followed, Jeri was the only one who dared to speak. “Mutinies are nasty business,” Jeri said. “Cutting him down quickly was the right thing to do.”
“Thank you, Jeri,” Greyson said – not realizing how much he needed to hear that until Jeri said it. Greyson felt like crumbling, but he held it together. He had to, for all of their sakes.
“Astrid, put out a warning and let each curate decide for themselves what actions to take. They can hide or defend themselves, but I won’t order them to violence.”
Astrid nodded dutifully. “I’m tied into Mendoza’s network. I’ll do what must be done.” And she left. Jeri put a comforting hand on Greyson’s shoulder and left as well.