Coriolanus scanned the area, trying to hide his growing anxiety. Where was Sejanus? Adrenaline fought with the white liquor for control of his brain. He’d been so steeped in music and alcohol that he really didn’t know when Sejanus had disappeared. What if he hadn’t had a change of heart about Lil? Was he out there in the crowd, conspiring with the rebels at this very moment?
He waited for the audience to finish applauding Maude Ivory and Lucy Gray before he rose to his feet. Just as he began to make his way to the door, he saw Sejanus returning in the hazy light.
“Where’ve you been?” Coriolanus asked.
“Outside. That white liquor runs right through me.” Sejanus sat on his crate and turned his attention to the stage.
Coriolanus resumed his seat as well, his eyes on the entertainment, his thoughts anywhere but. White liquor didn’t run through anyone. It was too strong, the amount consumed too small. Another lie. What did that mean? That he couldn’t let Sejanus out of his sight for one second now? Throughout the rest of the show, he kept shooting sideways glances at him to make sure he didn’t sneak off again. He stayed close after Maude Ivory collected money in her beribboned basket, but Sejanus seemed focused on helping Bug steer a drunken Beanpole back to the base. No opportunity presented itself for further discussion. If, in fact, Sejanus had slipped away to plot with the rebels, Coriolanus’s directly confronting him after the Billy Taupe incident had obviously failed. A new strategy was clearly called for.
Sunday dawned too brightly for Coriolanus’s throbbing head. He threw up the white liquor and stood in the shower until his eyes focused properly again. The greasy eggs at the mess hall were unthinkable, so he nibbled on his toast while Sejanus finished both of their helpings, only confirming Coriolanus’s suspicions that he’d consumed next to no alcohol the night before, certainly not enough to have it run through him. Their three bunkmates had not even managed to get up for breakfast. Until he thought of a better approach, he’d have to watch him like a hawk, especially when they left the base. Today, anyway, he’d need a companion to go to the lake.
Although Coriolanus’s own enthusiasm had waned, Sejanus cheerfully accepted the invitation. “Sure, it sounds like a holiday. Let’s take some ice!” While Sejanus talked Cookie out of another plastic bag, Coriolanus went to the clinic for an aspirin. They met up at the guardhouse and then set out.
Not knowing a shortcut to the Seam, they returned to the town square and retraced their steps from the previous week. Coriolanus considered attempting another heart-to-heart with Sejanus, but if the threat of being found guilty of treason didn’t move him, what would? And he didn’t know for sure that he’d been conspiring with the rebels. Maybe he really had just needed to take a piss last night, in which case accusing him would only make him defensive. The only real evidence he had was the hidden money, and maybe Strabo had insisted he take it but Sejanus was determined never to use it. He didn’t value money, and munitions money was probably burdensome to him. It might be a point of honor with him, to make it on his own.
If Lucy Gray was still upset about their tiff, she didn’t show it. She greeted him at the back door with a kiss and a glass of cold water to tide him over until they reached the lake. “It’s two to three hours, depending on the briars, but it’s worth it.”
For once, the Covey left their instruments behind. Barb Azure stayed at home, too, to keep an eye on things. She sent them off with a bucket containing a jug of water, a loaf of bread, and an old blanket.
“She just started seeing a gal down the road,” confided Lucy Gray when they were out of earshot of the house. “Probably glad to have the place to themselves for the day.”
Tam Amber led the rest of them across the Meadow and into the woods. Clerk Carmine, Maude Ivory, and Sejanus formed a line behind him, leaving Lucy Gray and Coriolanus to bring up the rear. There was no path.
They followed single file, stepping over fallen trees, pushing aside branches, trying to skirt the prickly bushes that popped up in the undergrowth. Within ten minutes, nothing remained of District 12 but the acrid smell from the mines. Within twenty, even that had been cloaked by vegetation. The canopy of trees provided shade from the sun but little respite from the heat. The hum of insects, chatter of squirrels, and birdsong filled the air, undisturbed by their presence.
Even with two days of bird duty under his belt, Coriolanus felt increasingly wary the farther away they got from what passed for civilization out here. He wondered what other creatures — larger, more powerful, and fanged — might be lurking in the trees. He had no weapon of any kind. After that realization, he pretended to need a walking stick and stopped a moment to strip a sturdy fallen branch of its excess limbs.
“How does he know the way?” he asked Lucy Gray, nodding ahead to Tam Amber.
“We all know the way,” she said. “It’s our second home.”
As no one else acted concerned, he trooped along for what seemed like an eternity, happy when Tam Amber pulled the group up. But he only said, “About halfway.” They passed around the bag of ice, drinking what had melted and sucking on the remaining cubes.
Maude Ivory complained of a pain in her foot and pulled off her cracked, brown shoe to show a good-sized blister. “These shoes don’t walk right.”
“They’re an old pair of Clerk Carmine’s. We’re trying to make them last the summer,” said Lucy Gray, examining the little foot with a frown.
“They’re too tight,” said Maude Ivory. “I want herring boxes like in the song.”
Sejanus crouched, offering her his back. “How about a ride instead?” Maude Ivory scampered aboard. “Watch out for my head!”
Once the precedent was set, they took turns carrying the little girl. No longer needing to exert herself, she used her lungs for singing.
In a cavern, in a canyon, Excavating for a mine, Dwelt a miner, forty-niner
And his daughter, Clementine. Light she was and like a fairy,
And her shoes were number nine. Herring boxes, without topses, Sandals were for Clementine.
To Coriolanus’s dismay, a mockingjay chorus picked up the melody from high in the branches. He’d not expected them to be out this far — the things were positively infesting the woods. But Maude Ivory was delighted and kept the racket going. Coriolanus carried her the final leg and distracted her by thanking her for the Lucy Gray song the night before.
“What’d you make of it?” she asked.
He dodged the question. “I liked it very much. You were fantastic.” “Thanks, but I meant the song. Do you think people really see Lucy
Gray, or they’re just dreaming her?” she said. “Because I think they really see her. Only now, she flies like a bird.”
“Does she?” Coriolanus felt better that the cryptic song was at least subject to debate, and he wasn’t too dim to grasp the one erudite interpretation.
“Well, how else can she not make footprints?” she said. “I think she flies around and tries not to meet people, because they’d kill her because she’s different.”
“Yeah, she’s different. She’s a ghost, bonehead,” said Clerk Carmine. “Ghosts don’t leave footprints, because they’re like air.”
“Then where’s her body?” asked Coriolanus, feeling that at least Maude Ivory’s version made some sense.
“She fell off the bridge and died, only it’s so far down, no one could see her. Or maybe there was a river and it washed her away,” said Clerk Carmine. “Anyway, she’s dead and she’s haunting the place. How can she fly without wings?”
“She didn’t fall off the bridge! The snow would look different where she was standing!” Maude Ivory insisted. “Lucy Gray, which is it?”
“It’s a mystery, sweetheart. Just like me. That’s why it’s my song,” Lucy Gray answered.
By the time they arrived at the lake, Coriolanus was panting and parched, and his rash burned from his sweat. When the Covey stripped down to their undergarments and plunged into the water, he lost no time in following suit. He waded out, and the cold water embraced him, clearing the cobwebs from his head and soothing his rash. He swam well, having been taught from an
early age in school, but had never tried it anywhere but a pool. The muddy lake floor dropped off quickly, and he had a sense of deep water. He cruised out to the middle of the lake and floated on his back, taking in the scenery. The woods rose up all around, and although there seemed to be no access road, small, broken houses dotted the banks. Most were beyond repair, but a solid-looking concrete structure still had a roof, and a door shut tight against the wild. A family of ducks swam by a few feet away, and he could spot fish down below his toes. Concern over what else might be swimming around him prompted him to head back to shore, where the Covey had already pulled Sejanus into some kind of keep-away game, using a large pinecone for the ball. Coriolanus joined in, glad to be doing something just for fun. The strain of being a full-fledged adult every day had grown tiresome.
After a brief rest, Tam Amber made a couple of fishing poles, trimming down tree branches and attaching thread and homemade hooks. While Clerk Carmine dug for worms, Maude Ivory enlisted Sejanus to pick berries.
“Stay away from that patch near the rocks,” warned Lucy Gray. “Snakes like it there.”
“She always knows where they’ll be,” Maude Ivory told Sejanus as she led him away. “She catches them in her hands, but they scare me.”
That left Coriolanus with Lucy Gray to collect dry wood for a fire. It all excited him a little, the swimming half-naked among wild creatures, the building of the fire in the open air, the unorchestrated time with Lucy Gray. She had a box of matches, but they were dear and she said she had to make do with just one. When the flame caught in a pile of dry leaves, he sat close to her on the ground as they fed it first the twigs, then larger scraps of wood, feeling happier to be alive than he had in weeks.
Lucy Gray leaned into his shoulder. “Listen, I’m sorry if I upset you last night. I wasn’t laying my daddy’s death on you. We were both just kids when that happened.”
“I know. I’m sorry if I overreacted. It’s just, I can’t pretend I’m someone I’m not. I don’t agree with everything the Capitol does, but I am Capitol, and on the whole I think we’re right about needing order,” said Coriolanus.
“The Covey believe you’re put on earth to reduce the misery, not add to it. Do you think the Hunger Games are right?” she asked.
“I’m not even sure why we do them, to be honest. But I do think people are forgetting the war too fast. What we did to each other. What we’re
capable of. Districts and Capitol both. I know the Capitol must seem hardline out here, but we’re just trying to keep things under control. Otherwise, there’d be chaos and people running around killing each other, like in the arena.” This was the first time he’d tried to put these thoughts into words with anyone other than Dr. Gaul. He felt a little unsteady, like a toddler learning to walk, but he felt the independence of getting on his feet as well.
Lucy Gray drew back a bit. “That’s what you think people would do?”
“I do. Unless there’s law, and someone enforcing it, I think we might as well be animals,” he said with more assurance. “Like it or not, the Capitol is the only thing keeping anyone safe.”
“Hm. So they keep me safe. And what do I give up for that?” she asked. Coriolanus poked at the fire with a stick. “Give up? Why, nothing.”
“The Covey did,” she said. “Can’t travel. Can’t perform without their say-so. Can only sing certain types of songs. Fight getting round up, and you get shot dead like my daddy. Try to keep your family together, and you get your head broken like my mama. What if I think that price is too high to pay? Maybe my freedom’s worth the risk.”
“So, your family were rebels after all.” Coriolanus wasn’t really surprised.
“My family were Covey, first and last,” Lucy Gray asserted. “Not district, not Capitol, not rebel, not Peacekeeper, just us. And you’re like us. You want to think for yourself. You push back. I know because of what you did for me in the Games.”
Well, she had him there. If the Hunger Games were thought necessary by the Capitol, and if he had tried to thwart them, had he not refuted the Capitol’s authority? Pushed back, as she said? Not like Sejanus, in outright defiance. But in a quieter, subtler way of his own? “Here’s what I believe. If the Capitol wasn’t in charge, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation, because we’d have destroyed ourselves by now.”
“People have been around a long time without the Capitol. I expect they’ll be here a long time after,” she concluded.
Coriolanus thought of the dead cities he’d passed on the journey to District 12. She claimed the Covey had traveled, so she must have seen them as well. “Not many of them. Panem used to be magnificent. Look at it now.”
Clerk Carmine brought Lucy Gray a plant he’d uprooted from the lake, with pointy leaves and small white flowers. “Hey, you found some katniss.
Good work, CC.” Coriolanus wondered if he meant it to be decorative, like the Grandma’am’s roses, but she immediately examined the roots, from which small tubers hung. “Little too early yet.”
“Yeah,” Clerk Carmine agreed. “For what?” asked Coriolanus.
“For eating. In a few weeks, these will grow into decent-sized potatoes, and we can roast them,” said Lucy Gray. “Some people call them swamp potatoes, but I like katniss better. Has a nice ring to it.”
Tam Amber appeared with several fish that he cleaned, gutted, and cut up into pieces. He wrapped the fish in leaves and sprigs of some kind of herb he’d picked, and Lucy Gray arranged them in the embers of the fire. By the time Maude Ivory and Sejanus arrived with their bucket loaded with blackberries, the fish were cooked through. With the hike and the swimming, Coriolanus’s appetite had returned. He ate every morsel of his share of the fish, bread, and berries. Then Sejanus brought out a surprise — a half dozen of Ma’s sugar cookies he’d saved as his share of the box.
After lunch they spread out the blanket under the trees, half lying on it, half propped against the trunks, and stared up at the fleecy clouds in the brilliant sky.
“I’ve never seen a sky quite that color,” said Sejanus.
“It’s azure,” Maude Ivory told him. “Like Barb Azure. That’s her color.” “Her color?” asked Coriolanus.
“Sure. We each get our first name from a ballad and our second from a color.” She popped up to explain. “Barb is from ‘Barbara Allen’ and azure blue like the sky. Me, I’m ‘Maude Clare’ and ivory like piano keys. And Lucy Gray is special, because her whole name came right from her ballad. Lucy and Gray.”
“That’s right. Gray like a winter day,” Lucy Gray said with a smile.
Coriolanus had not really noticed the connection before; he’d just thought they had odd Covey names. Ivory and amber brought to mind old ornaments in the Grandma’am’s jewelry box. And azure, taupe, and carmine weren’t colors he recognized. As to their ballads, who knew where those had come from? It all seemed a strange way to name your child.
Maude Ivory poked him in the stomach. “Your name sounds Covey.” “How so?” he said with a laugh.
“Because of the snow part. White as snow. Snow white,” giggled Maude Ivory. “Is there a ballad with Coriolanus in it?”
“Not that I know of. Why don’t you write one about me?” he said, poking her back. “‘The Ballad of Coriolanus Snow.’”
Maude Ivory sat down on his stomach. “Lucy Gray’s the writer. Why don’t you ask her?”
“Stop pestering him, you.” Lucy Gray pulled Maude Ivory beside her. “You should probably take a nap before we head home.”
“People will carry me,” said Maude Ivory, wriggling to get free. “And I’ll sing for them!”
Oh, my darling, oh, my darling —
“Oh, pipe down,” said Clerk Carmine. “Come on, try to lie down,” said Lucy Gray.
“Well, I will if you sing to me. Sing me the one from when I had croup.” She flattened out with her head on Lucy Gray’s lap.
“Okay, but only if you hush.” Lucy Gray stroked Maude Ivory’s hair back behind her ear and waited for her to settle down before she began to sing soothingly.
Deep in the meadow, under the willow A bed of grass, a soft green pillow
Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes And when again they open, the sun will rise.
Here it’s safe, here it’s warm
Here the daisies guard you from every harm
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true Here is the place where I love you.
The song quieted Maude Ivory, and Coriolanus felt his anxieties melt away. Full of fresh food, shaded by the trees, Lucy Gray singing softly beside him, he began to appreciate nature. It really was beautiful out here. The crystal clean air. The lush colors. He felt so relaxed and free. What if this was his life: rising whenever, catching his food for the day, and hanging out with Lucy Gray by the lake? Who needed wealth and success and power when they had love? Didn’t it conquer all?
Deep in the meadow, hidden far away
A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray
Forget your woes and let your troubles lay
And when again it’s morning, they’ll wash away.
Here it’s safe, here it’s warm
Here the daisies guard you from every harm
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true Here is the place where I love you.
Coriolanus was on the verge of dozing off when the mockingjays, who’d listened quite respectfully to Lucy Gray’s rendition, began one of their own. He felt his body tense and the pleasant drowsiness drain away. But the Covey were all smiles as the birds ran off with the song.
“Like sandstones to diamonds, that’s what we are to them,” said Tam Amber.
“Well . . . they practice more,” said Clerk Carmine, and the others laughed.
Listening to the birds, Coriolanus noticed the absence of jabberjays. The only explanation he could think of was that the mockingjays had begun to reproduce without them, either with one another or with the local mockingbirds. This elimination of the Capitol birds from the equation deeply disturbed him. Here they were, multiplying like rabbits, completely unchecked. Unauthorized. Co-opting Capitol technology. He didn’t like it one bit.
Maude Ivory finally napped, curling up against Lucy Gray, her bare feet twisted in the blanket. Coriolanus stayed with them while the others headed back into the lake for another dip. After a while, Clerk Carmine brought over a bright blue feather he’d found along the bank and set it on the blanket for Maude Ivory, gruffly saying, “Don’t tell her where it came from.”
“Okay. That’s sweet, CC,” said Lucy Gray. “She’ll love it.” When he’d run back to the water, she shook her head. “I worry about him. He misses Billy Taupe.”
“Do you?” Coriolanus propped himself up on his elbow to watch her face.
She didn’t hesitate. “No. Not since the reaping.”
The reaping. He remembered the ballad she’d sung for the interview. “What did it mean when you said you were the bet he lost in the reaping?”
“He bet he could have us both, me and Mayfair,” she said. “It was a gamble. Mayfair found out about me, I found out about her. She had her pa call my name in the reaping. I don’t know what she told him. Certainly not that Billy Taupe was her flame. Something else. We’re outsiders here, so it’s easy to lie about us.”
“I’m surprised they’re together,” said Coriolanus.
“Well, Billy Taupe’s always going on about how he’s happiest alone, but what he really wants is some girl to take care of him. I guess Mayfair seemed a likely candidate for the job, so he went after her. No one can pour on the charm like Billy Taupe. That girl didn’t stand a chance. Besides, she’s got to be lonely. No brothers or sisters. No friends. Miners hate her family. Driving up in their flashy car to watch the hangings.” Maude Ivory stirred, and Lucy Gray smoothed her hair. “People are suspicious of us, but they despise them.”
He didn’t like the way her rage against Billy Taupe had faded. “Is he trying to get back with you?”
She picked up the feather and twirled it between her thumb and forefinger before she answered. “Oh, sure. Came to my meadow yesterday. Big plans. Wants me to meet him at the hanging tree and run off.”
“The hanging tree?” Coriolanus thought of Arlo swinging while the birds mocked his final words. “Why there?”
“That’s where we used to go. It’s the one place in District Twelve you’re guaranteed some privacy,” she said. “Wants us to go north. He thinks there’s people up there. Free people. Says we’ll find them and then come back for the others. He’s piling up supplies, not sure with what. But what does it matter? I can’t ever trust him again.”
Coriolanus felt jealousy tighten his throat. He thought she’d banished Billy Taupe, and here she was casually telling him about some chance meeting in the Meadow. Only it hadn’t been chance. He’d known where to find her. How long had they been there, with him pouring on the charm, tempting her to run away? Why had she stayed to listen? “Trust is important.”
“I think it’s more important than love. I mean, I love all kinds of things I don’t trust. Thunderstorms . . . white liquor . . . snakes. Sometimes I think I
love them because I can’t trust them, and how mixed up is that?” Lucy Gray took a deep breath. “I trust you, though.”
He sensed this was a difficult admission for her to make, perhaps harder than a declaration of love, but it didn’t erase the image of Billy Taupe wooing her in the Meadow. “Why?”
“Why? Well, I’ll have to give that one some thought.” When she kissed him, he kissed her back, but without much conviction. These new developments upset him. Maybe it was a mistake to be getting so attached to her. And something else bothered him, too. It was the song she’d been playing in the Meadow that first day. About the hanging, he’d thought then, but it had mentioned meeting up at the hanging tree as well. If that was their old place, why was she still singing about it? Maybe she was only using him to get Billy Taupe back. Playing the two of them off each other.
Maude Ivory awoke and admired her feather, which she had Lucy Gray fix in her hair. They readied themselves to go back, collecting the blanket, the jug, and the bucket. Coriolanus volunteered to carry the little girl for the first leg of the trip. When they’d left the lake, he dropped back behind the others to ask her, “So, do you see Billy Taupe these days?”
“Oh, no,” she said. “He’s not one of us anymore.” That pleased him, but it also suggested that Lucy Gray had kept her meeting with him a secret from the Covey, which made him suspicious again. Maude Ivory bent over his ear and whispered, “Don’t let him around Sejanus. He’s sweet, and Billy Taupe feeds on sweet.”
Coriolanus bet he fed on money, too. Just how was he paying for supplies for his escape?
Tam Amber took a slightly different route, detouring to berry patches so they could fill the bucket along the way. When they’d almost reached the town, Clerk Carmine spotted a tree loaded with apples just beginning to ripen. Tam Amber and Sejanus went on, carrying Maude Ivory and the gear between them. Clerk Carmine climbed the tree and threw down apples, and Coriolanus piled them into Lucy Gray’s skirt. It was early evening by the time they reached the house. Coriolanus felt exhausted and ready to return to the base, but Barb Azure sat alone at the kitchen table, picking through berries. “Tam Amber took Maude Ivory to the Hob to see if they could trade some berries for some shoes. I told them to go ahead and get warm ones, it’ll be cold before you know it.”
“And Sejanus?” Coriolanus looked into the backyard.
“He left a few minutes after. Said he’d meet you there, too,” she said.
The Hob. Coriolanus said his good-byes immediately. “I’ve got to go. If they see Sejanus there without another Peacekeeper, he’ll get written up. So will I, for that matter. We have to stay in pairs. He knows that — I don’t know what he’s thinking.” But in truth, he thought he knew exactly what Sejanus was thinking. What a great opportunity to visit the Hob without Coriolanus policing him. He pulled Lucy Gray in for a kiss. “Today was wonderful. Thank you for it. I’ll see you next Saturday at the shed?” He shot out the door before she could reply.
He walked, double time, straight to the Hob, and looked in the open door. A dozen or so people wandered around, turning over merchandise at the stalls. Maude Ivory sat on a barrel while Tam Amber laced up a boot for her. At the far end of the warehouse, Sejanus stood at a counter, engaged in conversation with a woman. As Coriolanus approached, he made note of her wares. Miners’ lamps. Picks. Axes. Knives. Suddenly, he realized what Sejanus could buy with all that Capitol money. Weapons. And not just the ones laid out before him. He could buy guns. As if to confirm shady dealings, the woman broke off talking when he came into earshot. Sejanus joined him directly.
“Shopping?” Coriolanus asked.
“I was thinking of getting a pocketknife,” said Sejanus. “But she’s out at the moment.”
Perfect. A lot of the soldiers carried them. There was even a game they played when they were off duty, where they bet money on who could hit a target. “I was thinking of getting one myself. Once we get paid.”
“Of course, once we get paid,” agreed Sejanus, as if that had been understood.
Suppressing an impulse to strike him, Coriolanus strode out of the Hob without acknowledging Maude Ivory and Tam Amber. He barely spoke on the way back as he revised his strategy. He had to find out what Sejanus was mixed up in. Logic had failed to induce a confidence. Would intimacy work? It wouldn’t hurt to try. A few blocks from the base, he laid a hand on Sejanus’s shoulder, bringing them both to a stop. “You know, Sejanus, I’m your friend. More than a friend. You’re the closest thing I’ll ever have to a brother. And there are special rules for family. If you need help . . . I mean, if you get into something you can’t handle . . . I’m here.”
Tears welled up in Sejanus’s eyes. “Thank you, Coryo. That means a lot.
You may be the only person in the world who I actually trust.” Ah, trust again. The air was full of it.
“Come here.” He pulled Sejanus into an embrace. “Just promise not to do anything stupid, okay?” He felt him nod in assent but knew the likelihood of his keeping that promise was almost nil.
At least their busy schedule kept Sejanus under constant supervision, even when they left the base. Monday afternoon, they retrieved the traps from the trees again. Although they’d been undisturbed for the entire weekend, not one contained a mockingjay. Contrary to expectations, Dr. Kay seemed pleased by the birds. “It seems they’ve inherited more than advanced mimicry. They’ve evolved their survival skills as well. Forget replacing the cages; we have plenty of jabberjays. Tomorrow we’ll try the mist nets.”
By the time the soldiers got out of the trucks on Tuesday afternoon, the scientists had chosen locations with heavy mockingjay traffic. They broke into groups — Coriolanus and Bug were with Dr. Kay again — and helped erect sets of poles. Between each was stretched a finely woven mist net designed to capture the mockingjays. Nearly invisible, the nets began to yield results almost immediately, entangling the birds and dropping them into horizontal rows of pockets in their mesh surfaces. Dr. Kay had given instructions that the nets were never to be left unsupervised and that the birds were to be removed immediately, to keep them from becoming too snarled and to make the experience as trauma-free as possible. She personally removed the first three mockingjays from their nets, carefully freeing the birds while holding them securely in her hand. When given the go-ahead, Bug proved to be a natural, gently untangling his mockingjay and placing it in a waiting cage. Coriolanus’s bird began a tortured screaming the minute he touched it, and when he gave it a squeeze designed to dissuade it, it drove its beak into his palm. He reflexively dropped it, and in moments it had vanished into the foliage. Noxious creature. Dr. Kay cleaned and bandaged his hand, which reminded him of how Tigris had done the same on reaping day when the thorn on the Grandma’am’s rose had punctured him. Not even two months ago. What hopes he’d had that day, and now look at him. Rounding up mutt spawn in the districts. He spent the rest of the afternoon carrying the caged birds to the truck. The
hand didn’t excuse him from bird duty, though, and he resumed cleaning cages back at the hangar.
Coriolanus began to warm up to the jabberjays. They really were impressive pieces of engineering. A few of the remotes lay around the lab, and the scientists allowed him to play with the birds once they’d been cataloged. “It won’t hurt anything,” one said. “In fact, they seem to enjoy the interaction.” Bug wouldn’t participate, but when he grew bored, Coriolanus made them record silly phrases and sing bits of the anthem, seeing how many he could operate with one remote click. Up to four sometimes, if their cages were close together. He always took care to erase them by doing a final quick recording in which he was silent, ensuring his voice would not end up back in the Citadel lab. He stopped with the singing entirely when the mockingjays began to pick it up, even if there was a certain satisfaction in hearing them pipe out praise for the Capitol. He had no way to silence them, and they could string one melody out endlessly.
On the whole, he was beginning to weary of the infusion of music into his life. Invasion might be a better word. It seemed to be everywhere these days: birdsong, Covey song, bird-and-Covey song. Perhaps he did not share his mother’s love of music after all. At least, such a quantity of it. It consumed his attention greedily, demanding to be listened to and making it hard to think.
By midafternoon Wednesday, they’d collected fifty mockingjays in total, enough to satisfy Dr. Kay. Coriolanus and Bug spent the rest of the day attending to the birds and shuttling the new mockingjays over to the lab table to be numbered and tagged. They finished before dinner and returned after to prepare the birds for travel to the Capitol. The scientists showed Coriolanus and Bug how to fasten the cloth covers on the cages, and then they relocated to the hovercraft, trusting the pair to take care of it. Coriolanus volunteered to do the covers while Bug carried the birds to the hovercraft and helped settle them in for their journey.
Coriolanus started with the mockingjays, happy to see them go. He moved the cages one at a time to his work table, snapped on their covers, wrote the letter M and the bird’s number in chalk on the cloth, and handed them off. Bug was just leaving with the fiftieth cage, which contained a madly chirping mockingjay, when Sejanus bounced in the door, sounding a bit hyper. “Good news! Another delivery from my ma!”
Bug, who’d been down about the birds leaving, cheered up a bit. “She’s the best.”
“I’ll tell her you said so.” Sejanus watched Bug move off and turned to Coriolanus, who’d just collected the jabberjay tagged with the number 1. The bird twittered away in its cage, still imitating the last mockingjay. Sejanus’s grin had vanished, and an anguished expression had taken its place. His eyes swept the hangar to ensure they were alone, and he spoke in a hushed voice. “Listen, we’ve only got a few minutes. I know you won’t approve of what I’m going to do, but I need you to at least understand it. After what you said the other day, about us being like brothers, well, I feel I owe you an explanation. Please, just hear me out.”
This was it, then. The confession. Coriolanus’s entreaties for sanity and caution had been weighed and found insufficient. Misguided passion had won the day. Now was the time for the pieces to be explained. The money. The guns. The base map. The moment the whole treasonous rebel plot would be revealed. Once Coriolanus heard it, he’d be as good as a rebel himself. A traitor to the Capitol. He should panic, or run, or at least try to shut Sejanus up. But he did none of these things.
Instead his hands acted on their own. Like the time he’d dropped the handkerchief into the tank of snakes before he’d been aware of deciding to do it. Now his left hand adjusted the cover of the jabberjay cage while his right, concealed from Sejanus’s view by his body, dropped to the counter, where a remote sat. Coriolanus pressed RECORD, and the jabberjay fell silent.
