“400?” Maddy says, sounding surprised, but seeing the look on Mistress Coyle’s face, all she says is, “Yes, Mistress.” She gives my hand a last squeeze and leaves the room.
They both watch me for a long moment, then the Mayor says, “That’ll be all, Mistress.”
Mistress Coyle gives me a silent look as she leaves, maybe to reassure me, maybe to ask me something or tell me something, but I’m too frightened to figure it out before she backs out of the room, closing the door behind her.
And then I’m alone with him.
He lets the silence build until it’s clear I’m meant to say something. I’m gripping the sheet to my chest with a fist, still feeling the lightning pain fire up my side if I move.
“You’re Mayor Prentiss,” I say. My voice shakes when I say it but I say it.
“President Prentiss,” he says, “but you would know me as Mayor, of course.”
“Where’s Todd?” I look into his eyes. I do not blink. “What have you done with him?”
He smiles again. “Smart in your first sentence, courageous in your second. We may be friends yet.”
“Is he hurt?” I swallow away the burn rising in my chest. “Is he alive?”
For a second, it looks like he’s not going to tell me, not even going to acknowledge that I asked, but then he says, “Todd is well. Todd is alive and well and asking about you every chance he gets.”
I realize I’ve held my breath for his answer. “Is that true?”
“Of course it’s true.”
“I want to see him.”
“And he wants to see you,” says Mayor Prentiss. “But all things in their proper order.”
He keeps his smile. It’s almost friendly.
Here is the man we spent all those weeks running from, here he is, standing in my very own room, where I can barely move from the pain.
And he’s smiling.
And it’s almost friendly.
If he’s hurt Todd, if he’s laid a finger on him–
“Mayor Prentiss–”
“President Prentiss,” he says again, then his voice brightens. “But you may call me David.”
I don’t say anything, just press down harder onto my bandage against the pain.
There’s something about him. Something I can’t quite place–
“That is,” he says, “if I may call you Viola.”
There’s a knock on the door. Maddy opens it, a phial in her hand. “Jeffers,” she says, keeping her eyes firmly on the floor. “For her pain.”
“Yes, of course,” the Mayor says, moving away from my bed, hands behind his back. “Proceed.”
Maddy pours me a glass of water and watches me swallow four yellow gel caps, two more than I’ve taken before. She takes the glass from me and, with her back to the Mayor, gives me a firm look, a solid one, no smile but all kinds of bravery, and it makes me feel a little bit good, a little bit stronger.
“She’ll grow tired very quickly,” Maddy says to the Mayor, still not looking at him.
“I understand,” the Mayor says. Maddy leaves, closing the door behind her. My stomach immediately starts to grow warm but it’ll take a minute just yet to make the pain start to go or take away the quivering running all through me.
“So,” the Mayor says. “May I?”
“May you what?”
“Call you Viola?”
“I can’t stop you,” I say. “If you want.”
“Good,” he says, not sitting, not moving, the smile still fixed. “When you are feeling better, Viola, I would very much like to have a talk with you.”
“About what?”
“Why, your ships, of course,” he says. “Coming closer by the moment.”
I swallow. “What ships?”
“Oh, no, no, no.” He shakes his head but still smiles. “You started out with intelligence and with courage. You are frightened but that has not stopped you from addressing me with calmness and clarity. All most admirable.” He bends his head down. “But to that we must add honesty. We must start out honestly with each other, Viola, or how may we proceed at all?”
Proceed to where? I think.
“I have told you that Todd is alive and well,” he says, “and what I tell you is true.” He places a hand on the rail at the end of the bed. “And he will stay safe.” He pauses. “And you will give me your honesty.”
And I understand without having to be told that one depends on the other.
The warmth is starting to spread up from my stomach, making everything seem slower, softer. The lightning in my side is fading, but it’s taking wakefulness along with it. Why two doses when that would put me to sleep so fast? So fast I won’t even be able to talk to–
Oh.
Oh.
“I need to see him to believe you,” I say.
“Soon,” he says. “There is much to be done in New Prentisstown first. Much to be undone.”
“Whether anyone wants it or not.” My eyelids are getting heavy. I force them up. Only then do I realize I said it out loud.
He smiles again. “I find myself saying this with great frequency, Viola. The war is over. I am not your enemy.”
I lift my groggy eyes to him in surprise.
I’m afraid of him. I am.
But–
“You were the enemy of the women of Prentisstown,” I say. “You were the enemy of everyone in Farbranch.”
He stiffens a little, though he tries not to let me see it. “A body was found in the river this morning,” he says. “A body with a knife in its throat.”
I try to keep my eyes from widening, even under the Jeffers. He’s looking at me close now. “Perhaps the man’s death was justified,” he says. “Perhaps the man had enemies.”
I see myself doing it–
I see myself plunging the knife–
I close my eyes.
“As for me,” the Mayor says, “the war is over. My days of soldiering are at an end. Now come the days of leadership, of bringing people together.”
By separating them, I think, but my breathing is slowing. The whiteness of the room is growing brighter but only in a soft way that makes me want to fall down into it and sleep and sleep and sleep. I press further into the pillow.
“I’ll leave you now,” he says. “We will meet again.”
I begin to breathe through my mouth. Sleep is becoming impossible to avoid.
He sees me starting to drift off.