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‘Loricel?’ I ask, scanning through the files.
‘She’s the only person around here who says no to Cormac.’
I set the digifile down and pay closer attention. ‘Who is she?’
‘She’s the Creweler.’
‘Like you?’ I ask, recalling Enora’s various duties.
‘No, I’m nothing like her,’ she admits. ‘I merely assist her on certain projects.’
‘But there’s more than one, right?’
‘Not really,’ she says, lounging back on a floor cushion. ‘True Crewelers are very rare. Loricel is the only Creweler in Arras.’
‘The only one?’ I stop pacing and sit down next to her.
‘Crewel work is an act of pure creation. Crewelers do more than weave the fabric of Arras. They can capture the materials to create the weave. Only they can see the weave of the raw materials.’ She looks at me pointedly. ‘It is only through Loricel that Arras survives. The Spinsters wouldn’t have any matter to weave if it weren’t for her special gift.’
‘How old is she?’ I ask, my stomach dropping. All the years of hiding and lying about my ability to touch the weave without a loom, even here at Enora’s request, make sense now.
‘It’s hard to say, with renewal patches and medication,’ Enora says lightly. ‘But she’s been in service for over sixty years.’
She must be ancient. ‘What happens when she dies?’
‘They’ll find a new Creweler.’ Enora’s gaze is steady on mine. ‘But so far there haven’t been any real contenders.’
‘And if we can’t find one?’ I whisper.
‘Arras will fade away.’
I search her face for a sign of sadness or fear but it’s not there. If the possibility of Loricel’s death frightens her, she doesn’t show it. But the image of Amie laughing with her friend floats to my mind, followed by how Jost’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. Without a Creweler, they’ll fade away too. It’s a possibility I can’t even consider.
‘Cormac showed me Amie, you know,’ I say in a quiet voice.
‘Your sister?’ Enora confirms, and I nod my head.
I haven’t spoken of her often since I’ve been here. My life feels split in two: before and after. Everything that preceded my retrieval is a secret. A past life that has no place here, and although Amie is alive, for me she exists only in that time. I keep her there in my private thoughts, but something about the memories parading through my head as they prep me for travel longs to break free and be acknowledged.
‘She was happy,’ I say, and I hear how my voice almost echoes from the pain. I don’t tell Enora that Amie’s different now or what’s been done to her. Or that my thoughts have turned from memories to plans, and that the real reason I’m going along with this tour is to get out from behind the Coventry walls to the world of before, where Amie still exists, even if she’s changed.
‘I think rebounding will be much more comfortable for you this time,’ she says, pushing the digifile into my hands and forcing my mind back to the present moment.
The shackles from my first trip flash through my thoughts and set my hands trembling. ‘I won’t be—’
‘No,’ she says in a rush, reading my thoughts. ‘You will be travelling in first-class rebounding chambers. Ambassador Patton wants you kept happy.’
‘I’m still not sure what I did to deserve this,’ I admit.
Enora smiles sadly. We’re not stupid enough to believe the top-notch privileges I’ve been receiving have anything to do with me deserving them. ‘I guess we’ll have to wait and see.’
In the morning, I ride by motocarriage to my rebounding appointment. Erik and Jost come with me, but the rest of my crew follows behind. Erik keeps up a steady stream of chatter, but Jost sits quietly to the side. I laugh with Erik, but I feel the thickness of the air in the back of the carriage – Jost isn’t happy about being sent all over Arras. And he doesn’t seem thrilled about me chattering away with Erik either.
My scruffy friend has been cleaned up for the event. Jost’s face is closely shaved, and his hair is combed and tucked behind his ears. It brushes the collar of his grey wool jacket.
‘How do you two know each other?’ I ask Erik, pointing at Jost.
Jost startles out of his malaise and stares at me.
