Strolling the short way down the winding cobblestone streets of the Far Bank, I passed several memorials to those who had been killed in the massacre at the exposition. Stopping before each, I read the names written in careful script. Nothing would bring them back, but I hoped we would honor them with our work.
I refused to admit it, but I also needed the moments of rest. Even with a cane, I walked with an unsteady gait, and the muscles in my thigh seized up and protested. Ezra massaged my leg with herbal oil every night, but he was honest with me—I’d never regain full strength or range of motion.
I was out of breath by the time I made it up to Gertrude’s room. The girls flailed behind Gertrude when she opened the door. They called out my name and peppered me with questions, but she shooed them off and stepped into the hall.
“You look well,” Gertrude said carefully, eyeing the cane. “We all thought you were dying.”
“So I’m told,” I said, uncomfortable with how upset people looked when they said that.
Silence stretched between us for so long that I wondered if I’d been mistaken in thinking Gertrude might be willing to help. I cleared my throat, considering what to say, but before I could speak, she threw her arms around me.
We were both crying by the time she finally let go.
“The Generators,” I began. “Stars, I’ve got to figure out what else to call them. We’re making progress reversing what the House did tothem. But they’re like children. They need caregiving, teaching. We’ve been giving them names.” My voice coarsened with emotion. “They can’t remember what they were called, before …”
Gertrude scrubbed her eyes with the base of her palm and collected herself. “None of us knew it was that bad.”
“I’m not telling you this to shame you,” I said hurriedly. “I’m telling you because I need your help. I saw the way you were with the little ones. You’re far more patient with children than you are with—”
“You?” she interrupted, smirking faintly.
I grinned. We were both sniffling. What a sight we must make. “Exactly,” I said.
“I’ll help,” Gertrude said. “On one condition.”
It was far more inconvenient to ask Professor Dunn for help. Not because I didn’t know where she was, but because she’d already gotten herself so embedded in the newly formed Ministry of Progress that I had to book anappointmentto talk to her. Ezra accompanied me there, driving me in Nikola’s snappy little two-wheel chaise. Surprising no one, Nikola’s horse preferred him to anyone else. I had no doubt he’d been sneaking it treats.
I was not yet accustomed to being recognized around Sterling City. Even when I covered my bright red hair with a bonnet, people stared at me. The papers had identified me as the resistor who had killed Master Hayes in self-defense. Being called a folk hero made me feel like a fraud. I’d lost control. That didn’t make me a hero. Julian and Nikola were the ones who had forged a path for electricity to replace radiance and free the world from the wasting’s merciless grip.
Ezra nudged me, as he often did when he caught me in a morose mood. “Why don’t we drive to the river after your appointment?” he asked. “Almond was just telling me she wants to have a picnic.”
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t bite back a smile. “Almond said no such thing.”
“I’ll take that as a yes. Perhaps we can swing by and get Julian.”
“Will he fit?” I asked hopefully, eyeing the bench made for two. As much as Julian thrived while engrossed with his work, I knew he needed time away. Time with us. And I missed him.
“He’ll fit if you sit in my lap,” Ezra said with a wink that made me slap his knee, flustered. The slap startled Almond, and the chaise lunged ahead, making both of us laugh.
For a few minutes, my mind had been at ease. But when we pulled up in front of the House of Order, with its sprawling front steps that reminded me of the House of Industry, I sobered. “I won’t be long,” I told Ezra. “Try not togrowanything while I’m inside.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, batting his lashes obnoxiously.
The receptionist in the lobby directed me to a cramped basement office withREPRESENTATIVE OLIVE DUNNemblazoned on the door. It had never occurred to me that she had a first name.
“Josephine,” she exclaimed when I entered, rising from her desk and hurrying to clear books off a chair for me. “I was so worried about you.”
“I know, I know,” I said, grateful for the opportunity to rest my leg. “Everyone thought I died.”
“You must be hearing that often,” she said, sitting on the edge of her desk and looking at me as if my red hair had turned blue. I was glad I’d slept through whatever gruesome activities it had taken to keep me from bleeding out. “I’m told Julian Gray has made a full recovery.”
I was hesitant to characterize his ongoing trauma as a full recovery, but I nodded. “That’s what I’m here about, Professor. Gertrude Faircove, you remember her?”
“Of course. Clever girl. We’re prosecuting her former Senior. And please, call me Olive.”
That took me aback for a moment. Despite the Elders’ ongoing trials, I was still getting accustomed to justice that didn’t come from my own hands. “Oh,” I said, blinking. “Yes. Good. Gertrude is going to help the reawakened Generators recover, and she’s asked for your assistance in teaching them how to use their radiance.”
Professor Dunn—Olive—took several slow breaths, seeming to absorb what I’d said. “I would be honored,” she said. “But, Josephine, what areyoudoing?”
