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Indie throws first. “She’d heard about a rebellion on an island off the coast. She wanted to find it and come back for the family. ”
“I’ve heard of a rebellion, too,” I say, unable to control my excitement. “The one I’ve heard of is called the Rising. ”
“That’s the same one,” Indie says, sounding eager. “It’s everywhere, someone told her. This Carving is exactly the kind of place it might be. ”
“I think that too,” I say. In my mind, I see a piece of translucent paper laid over one of the Society’s maps, its markings showing places the Society doesn’t know about or doesn’t want us to see.
“Do you believe in a leader called the Pilot?” I ask.
“Yes,” Indie says, excited. And then, to my surprise, she recites something in a gentle voice very unlike her usual brusque tone:“Every day the sun rolls by
Across the sky and through night’s door
Every night the stars light high
Above the earth and shine once more
Any day her boat might fly
Across the waves and to the shore. ”
“Did you write that?” I ask, a sudden flash of jealousy cutting into me. “I know it’s not one of the Hundred Poems. ”
“I didn’t write it. And it’s not a poem,” Indie says with certainty.
“It sounds like one,” I say.
“No. ”
“Then what is it?” I ask. I’m learning quickly that it’s useless to argue with Indie.
“Something my mother used to say every night before I went to sleep,” Indie tells me. “When I was old enough to ask about it, she told me that the Pilot is the one who will lead the Rising. My mother thought it would be a woman who comes across the water. ”
“Oh,” I say, surprised. I always thought of the Pilot as someone from the sky. But Indie might be right. I remember again the sound of the Tennyson poem. There was water in it.
Indie’s thinking the same thing. “That poem you said when we were running,” she begins. “I hadn’t heard it before, but it proves that the Pilot could come from the water. A bar is a ridge of sand in a shallow place in the water. And a Pilot is someone who steers the ships safely in and out of the harbor. ”
“I don’t know much about the Pilot,” I say, which is true, but I do have my own hopes about the leader of the rebellion and they don’t quite align with Indie’s version. Still, the idea is the same, and the story the Archivist gave me says that the Pilot changes over and over. Indie and I could both be right. “But I don’t think it matters. It could be either a man or a woman, coming from the sky or the water. Don’t you think?”
“Yes,” Indie says, sounding triumphant. “I knew it. You aren’t only looking for a boy. You’re looking for something else, too. ”
I look up into the narrow river of sky above with its clear sharp stars. Is that true? I’ve come a long way from the Borough, I think, with a sudden feel of elation and surprise, and it’s not far enough yet.
“We could climb out,” Indie says softly. “Go across the top. We could try going down into another canyon. Maybe we’ll find him there, or the Rising. ” She flicks on her flashlight and shines it up the side of the canyon. “I know how to climb. You learn it in Sonoma. My Province. We can find a good place tomorrow, somewhere the walls aren’t so high and sheer. ”
“I haven’t climbed like that before,” I say. “Do you think I could do it?”
“If you’re careful and don’t look down,” Indie says.
The silence stretches on as I look up and realize that even this limited bit of sky holds more stars than I was ever able to catch sight of in the Borough. For some reason, this gives me hope that there is much else I don’t see. I hope for my parents and Bram, for Xander, for Ky. “Let’s try,” I say.
“We’ll find a place early,” Indie says. “Before it’s very light. I don’t want to cross in broad daylight. ”
“I don’t either,” I say, and in the sand I write a beginning line and for the first time, a second line too:
I climb into the dark for you
Are you waiting in the stars for me?
Chapter 13
KY
The sides of the canyon are black and orange. Like a fire caught burning and turned to rock. “It’s so deep,” Eli says, looking up in wonder. In this spot the walls rise higher than any building I’ve ever seen, higher than the Hill. “It’s like someone huge made cuts in the earth and dropped us inside. ”
“I know,” I say. In the Carving, you see rivers and caves and stones that you’d never see from above. It’s as though suddenly you are down close looking at the workings of your own body, watching your own blood run and listening to the sound of your heart beating it through.
“It’s nothing like this in Central,” Eli says.
“You’re from Central?” Vick and I ask at the same time.
“I grew up there,” Eli tells us. “I’ve never lived anywhere else. ”
