‘Yes you were.’
Shurq stared at the girl for a long moment. ‘I was?’
‘Yes. And you wanted to know my story. Everyone else runs from me, just like they run from you now. Except that man on the roof. Is he another one not like everyone else?’
‘I don’t know, Kettle. But I am working for him now.’
‘I am glad. Grown-ups should work. It helps fill their minds. Empty minds are bad. Dangerous. They fill themselves up. With bad things. Nobody’s happy.’
Shurq cocked her head. ‘Who’s not happy?’
Kettle waved one grubby hand at the rumpled yard. ‘Restless. All of them. I don’t know why. The tower sweats all the time now.’
‘I will bring you some salt water,’ Shurq said, ‘for your eyes. You need to wash them out.’
‘I can see easily enough. With more than my eyes now. My skin sees. And tastes. And dreams of light.’
‘What do you mean?’
Kettle pushed bloody strands of hair from her heart-shaped face. ‘Five of them are trying to get out. I don’t like those five – I don’t like most of them, but especially those five. The roots are dying. I don’t know what to do. They whisper how they’ll tear me to pieces. Soon. I don’t want to be torn to pieces. What should I do?’
Shurq was silent. Then she asked, ‘How much do you sense of the Buried Ones, Kettle?’
‘Most don’t talk to me. They have lost their minds. Others hate me for not helping them. Some beg and plead. They talk through the roots.’
‘Are there any who ask nothing of you?’
‘Some are ever silent.’
‘Talk to them. Find someone else to speak to, Kettle. Someone who might be able to help you.’ Someone else to be your mother… or father . ‘Ask for opinions, on any and all matters. If one remains then who does not seek to please you, who does not attempt to twist your desires so that you free it, and who holds no loyalty to the others, then you will tell me of that one. All that you know. And I will advise you as best I can – not as a mother, but as a comrade.’
‘All right.’
‘Good. Now, I came here for another reason, Kettle. I want to know, how did you kill that spy?’
‘I bit through his throat. It’s the quickest, and I like the blood.’