The Toll (Arc of a Scythe) - Neal Shusterman Page 0,83

didn’t already know.

“On behalf of the RossShelf region, I would like to present you with a gift. It is our hope that it will help formalize our relationship with you.”

Then he nodded to the BladeGuards, who placed the crates on the conference table and opened them. As expected, the crates were full of scythe diamonds.

“These represent RossShelf’s share of the diamonds raised from the ruins of Endura,” Shirase said.

“Impressive,” said Goddard. “Are these all of them?”

“All of them, yes.”

Goddard looked over the sparkling contents, then turned to Shirase. “I accept your gift with humility, and honor, in the spirit of friendship with which they were given. And whenever you need gems for the bejeweling of future scythes, they will be available to you.” Then he gestured to the door. “Please follow Underscythe Franklin – she will escort you to my dining room, where I’ve prepared a brunch for us,” Goddard said. “Traditional Antarctic fare, as well as regional specialties of MidMerica. A feast to consummate our friendship. I’ll be along momentarily, and we’ll discuss issues of concern to both our regions.”

Franklin escorted them out just as Nietzsche entered.

“Give me good news, Freddy,” Goddard said.

“Well, we’ve been tracking Anastasia south,” he said. “There’s only so far south she can go before being cornered in Tierra del Fuego.”

Goddard sighed. “The Land of Fire will not cooperate. Let’s up our efforts to catch her before she gets there.”

“We’re doing all we can,” Nietzsche said.

“Do more,” Goddard told him.

He turned to see Scythe Rand running her hand through the diamonds in one of the crates. “Are we going to count them, or do you trust Shirase?”

“It’s not the number that matters, Ayn, but the gesture. The trove we are creating is simply a means to an end. A symbol of something far more valuable than diamonds.”

Even so, Goddard knew he would hurl them all into the sea in exchange for having Scythe Anastasia in his hands.

25

Sunlight and Shadow

Though helping Anastasia escape Amazonia was fraught with strife, that strife had receded to the horizon behind the Spence – which was now, Jerico mused, no longer a salvage ship, but a rescue vessel.

The seas were easy as Amazonia faded behind them, and the sun rose before them. By nine o’clock all signs of land were gone, and the bright morning sky was dotted with occasional puffs of meandering clouds. Jeri would have much preferred a low cloud cover today – or even better, a soup-thick fog – for if those North Merican scythes figured out that Anastasia was traveling by sea, the Spence could be targeted and sunk.

“Rest assured they won’t come after you,” Possuelo had told Jeri. “I made sure they intercepted a ‘secret’ communiqué I sent, and they took the bait. As far as the North Mericans know, Anastasia is weaving a circuitous route south by train all the way to the Land of Fire, where the region’s High Blade is supposed to have offered her sanctuary. And to make the story stick, we’re leaving glaring traces of her DNA for them to find along the way. It will be days before they realize it’s a wild-goose chase!”

It was clever enough. Northern scythes saw Amazonians as too simple to concoct such a ploy, and the Land of Fire, Jeri knew, would be suitably uncooperative with the North Mericans. The scythes down there were obstreperous to an extreme.

At full speed, they would reach safe harbor in just under three days.

From the bridge, Jeri could see the turquoise figure of Scythe Anastasia at the starboard rail, looking out over the sea. She was not supposed to be alone – Possuelo had made that clear – and perhaps his paranoia was justified, considering that he had been betrayed by one of his own. Jeri trusted the crew of the Spence implicitly; they had grown fiercely loyal to their captain. Even so, it was always wise to take precautions.

The only reason Anastasia would be alone would be if she ordered the officer assigned to her out of her presence. The command of a scythe overruled the orders of a captain. Sure enough, Jeri saw the officer one deck up, keeping a tight eye on her from a distance. It seemed that the only way to effectively guard the willful scythe was to do it personally.

“She’s going to be a handful,” Chief Wharton said.

“To be sure,” said Jeri. “But a handful of what, we don’t know.”

“Misery?” suggested the chief.

“Perhaps, perhaps not.” Then Jeri left the bridge to join her