For Darkness Shows the Stars.

DIANA PETERFREUND.

PART I.

The Unbroken Engine.

There could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison, no countenances so beloved. Now they were as strangers; nay, worse than strangers, for they could never become acquainted. It was a perpetual estrangement.

-JANE AUSTEN, PERSUASION.

TWELVE YEARS AGO.

Dear Kai, My name is Elliot, and I am six years old and live in the big house. Everyone says your smarter than me but I know I am the smartest. I bet you can't even read this letter.

Your friend, Elliot North.

Dear Elliot, I can so read and write. I red your letter and your not so smart. Your just ritch rich. You get tutors in the big house. My da teaches me to read after we work for your da all day long. So I can read and I can fix a tractor too. I bet you can't.

Your friend, Kai.

Dear Kai, You are very nice. Thank you for teaching me how to change the tractor tire today. It was realy fun, but my mother got mad about the mud on my dress. Don't wory I didn't tell her. I hope you like this book. It is one of my favorites.

Your friend (now I feel like I really mean it!), Elliot.

Dear Elliot, Thank you for the book. Your right, it's really good. My favorite part was the story about Jason and his adentures adventures on the ship. I would like to be an Argonaut. Or even Jason. Do you know they used to build ships like that right here?

Your friend, Kai.

P.S. If you want to come back to the barn, I will show you more about the tractor.

Dear Kai, Yes, I know about the ships. That was my granfather who did that, when he was younger. They call him the Boatwright, but his name is Elliot too, just like me, and my mother says he was the smartest man on the whole island. But he's been sick for a long time.

I have bad news. My sister Tatiana told on me about the tractor, and now my father says you can't come to the big house. So from now on, if you want to rite write me a letter then fold it up and put it in the knot in the board write next to the barn door. I'll come by and get it.

Your friend, Elliot.

Dear Elliot, That is nice about your grandfather. I don't know mine. My da says he was Reduced. He says both his ma and da were Reduced, and that they died a long time ago.

I hope you like this letter. If you fold it up exactly like I had it, it will fly on its own. It's an air glider. I can teach you how to do it if you ever come see me again. I know your da said I can't come to the big house, but he didn't say you can't come to the barn.

Your friend, Kai.

Dear Kai, I am sorry I couldn't come to see you. I hope you like my glider. It's like yours but I think it flies even farther.

I am also sorry to hear about your grandparents. Is it strange to think you come from people who are Reduced?

I would like to come back to the barn. My father goes to Channel City every month and I think it's best if I come when he's gone. He usualy takes Tatiana too, so she can't tell on me.

Your friend, Elliot.

One.

ELLIOT NORTH RACED ACROSS the pasture, leaving a scar of green in the silver, dew-encrusted gra.s.s. Jef followed, tripping a bit as his feet slid inside his too-big shoes.

"You're sure your ma said the southwest field?" she called back to him.

"Yes, Miss," he huffed.

She picked up her pace, hoping there was still time to save some of the crop. But she could tell it was too late even before she saw the stricken look on her foreman Dee's face. "It's all gone," she said, meeting Elliot on the road. "I'm so sorry."

Elliot crumpled to the ground and rough road gravel scoured her palms. She sc.r.a.ped her fingernails against the dirt. All her work had come to nothing.

Jef came running up behind them and grabbed the edge of his mother's gray skirt. The woman swayed a bit, off-balance due to her rounded belly. At the end of the road, Elliot could just make out the figures of her father and Tatiana standing at the edge of the field and watching the Reduced at work.

"He moved fifty laborers over first thing this morning," Dee was saying above her.

Of course he had. Ten or twenty would not have gotten the job done before Elliot had heard of it. If only she hadn't locked herself in the barn loft at first light. If only she'd attended the family breakfast. She might have been able to talk him out of this.

Elliot took a deep breath and straightened, unclenching her fists at her sides. She couldn't betray the extent of the damage to her family, but she needed answers.

Tatiana turned as Elliot approached, alerted by the sound of boots on gravel. Elliot's sister was in slippers, of course, and a day dress, and above her head she twirled a sh.e.l.l-pink parasol with deeper pink fringe, despite the fact that there wasn't even a hint of sunshine this morning. In all of Elliot's eighteen years, she'd never seen her older sister in work clothes. The closest Tatiana ever got was a riding habit.

"h.e.l.lo, Elliot!" she warbled, though her expression remained sly. "Have you come to see the new racetrack?"

Elliot ignored her and faced their father. "What's going on here?"

Only now did her father turn, but his placid countenance betrayed nothing. "Ah, Elliot. Good to see you. You should have a talk with that COR foreman." He gestured vaguely toward Dee. "She was a full ten minutes moving over the laborers this morning. Is she too far along in her pregnancy to be of any use to us?"

Elliot watched as the last of the green-gold sheaves were trampled beneath the feet of the Reduced and their plows. Most of the workers were now raking up the remains of the carnage, and the field was returned to a dull, useless brown. The culmination of two years' work, destroyed.

"Father," Elliot said, fighting to keep her voice from shaking. She couldn't let him know. She had to treat it as if it was any other field. "What have you done? This field was almost ready for harvest."

"Really?" He arched a brow. "The stalks seemed terribly short. Of course, I don't have your way with wheat." He chuckled, as if the very concept were preposterous. "And besides, this field was the best choice for the racetrack. We're going to build the pavilion right over there, near the creek."

Elliot opened her mouth to respond, then shut it. What was the purpose? The crop was destroyed, and no amount of pointing out the folly of the move would induce her father to consider his actions before repeating them. She could tell him the percentage of his harvest he'd lost, and what that would mean in terms of money at market or Reduced that would go hungry this winter unless he imported some of his neighbors' grain. She could tell him how very near they were to going hungry given his lack of consideration to the farm. She could even tell him the truth; that the wheat he'd just plowed under was worth more grain than most in fields of this size. It was her special wheat.

It was important wheat.

Of course, that confession would come with even worse consequences.

So as always, she swallowed the scream building in her throat and kept her tone light. Helpful. Dutiful. "Are there any other of the planted fields you think you'll have need of before the harvest?"

"And if there are?" Tatiana sniffed.

"I'd like to make sure you don't suffer any more delays," said Elliot, mildly. "I can arrange for the laborers very quickly."

"So can Father, and so can I," said Tatiana. "Or do you think you have some special pull with the Reduced?"

Only because they would recognize her on sight, and not Tatiana. But Elliot would never say that. It would only serve to dig her hole deeper. "I'd like to make it more convenient for-"

"Fine," said Baron North. "This field will be sufficient for my needs. It was the only one I found"-he kicked at a stray stalk-"problematic."

He turned then to his eldest daughter and began pointing with his walking stick to ill.u.s.trate the boundaries of his proposed racetrack. As he wandered off, Elliot did a quick calculation of how many laborers and how much money he'd no doubt require for that project. They'd have no extra grain to sell this fall, and hardly enough money to buy what they needed to make it through the winter. But her father wouldn't see it that way. He deserved a racetrack more than his Reduced laborers deserved bread.

Elliot slid between the crossbars of the split-rail fence and into the field. Moist, freshly turned earth crumbled beneath the heels of her boots, and here and there in the deadened dust she could see flecks of gold.

"I'm so sorry, Elliot," Dee said, joining her. "They were growing real nice, too."

"There was nothing you could have done." Elliot's voice was flat, but she spoke the truth. Any delay on the foreman's part would only have incited her father's anger-and his need for retribution.

"What did your da- What did Baron North say about me?" Dee's eyes were filled with concern. "I know he-"

"He's not going to send you to the birthing house." He'd probably already forgotten the Post's existence. Dee was nothing more to him than a tool, one he could use to direct the Reduced laborers . . . or punish Elliot.

"Because there'll be no one to care for Jef if-"

"Don't spend another moment worrying about it." Elliot cast a glance at the older woman's stomach. "You have more things on your mind."

"I only have to deal with two mouths to feed this winter," Dee replied. "I can see on your face that you're worried about a hundred."

"Not 'worried.' Disappointed that my project won't be tested for another year, but-" Her brittle smile cracked. Another year! Another year of rations, another year with no harvest festival, with watching the Reduced children grow thin and sickly when the weather got cold, with enduring the pointed stares of the few remaining Posts on the property as Elliot struggled to fairly allocate every sack of grain. This field could have saved them.

"Are things really so bad?" Dee's voice filled the s.p.a.ce Elliot had abandoned to silence.

"And what would you do if they were?" She knew what she'd do in the woman's place. Pack up Jef and depart for whatever points unknown Dee's common-law, Thom, had gone to two years previously, during the bad time when so many of the Posts had left the North estate.

Legally, the Post-Reductionists still held the lowly status of their Reduced forefathers. They were bound to the estate on which they were born. But lately, even that system had been breaking down. There was no way to police the movement of Posts who wished to leave the estates they were born to, and no incentive to try if you were a wealthy Luddite who attracted skilled Posts to your estate at the expense of your neighbors. Year after year, Elliot watched helplessly as the North estate emptied of its skilled labor force. But how could she begrudge them their chance to look for opportunities elsewhere, for possibilities her father would never allow? There were even whole communities where-Elliot had heard-Posts lived free. But up here in the north, the only free Posts Elliot had ever seen were beggars desperate for work or food.

She worried that was what had happened to Thom. She worried that was what had happened to . . . everyone who'd left.

"I would find a way to help you," Dee said. "Like you've always helped everyone here."

"Yes. I've been so good at helping them," Elliot said ruefully. She knew Dee must see Thom occasionally. Her pregnancy confirmed it. But the older woman had never told her where he spent most of his time. Dee didn't even trust her enough for that, though Elliot had long ago shared with Dee the shape of her own heartbreak.

Elliot couldn't afford any more Posts leaving the estate. She was already too much alone here.

Dee gestured to the field. "I know you wouldn't have done this if things weren't desperate, Elliot."

That went without saying. She was, after all, a Luddite, and while what she'd done was not strictly against the protocols, it was at the very least in the gray area. She looked out over the savaged field. Perhaps this was a divine warning-maybe her whole experiment was a mistake. After all, if her father suspected the truth, she was lucky that all he'd done was plow the wheat under.

It was always hard to tell with Zachariah North. What some men might do as an act of deliberate cruelty, her father was just as likely to do out of laziness and caprice. His comments had been just ambiguous enough to scare her-another talent at which the baron excelled.

"You'll figure it out," Dee said. "Don't be brought low by a setback. Not when your goal is so . . . high."

The Post's hesitation said it all. Elliot's goal was high indeed. It belonged to a realm that the Luddites had long ago abandoned. What she sought was nothing short of a miracle.

ELEVEN YEARS AGO.

Dear Elliot, Thank you for coming over yesterday, and for bringing the new books. I hope you liked lerning about the thresher. It was a good idea to come in those old close clothes, even though I almost didn't recognize you!

I talked to my da about the words we were fighting over. He says that your people call people like us CORs because it means Children of the Reduction. There is another word, but my da says we would be in trouble for using it in front of you. It's called Post-Reductionist. My da and his friends call themselfs Posts. Except you are my only friend. There are no other Posts CORs on the North estate who are my age-or even anywhere near seven years old, and none of the Reduced children can read.

I hope I don't get in trouble for telling you that word. Da says the Luddites don't like it because it means the Reduction is behind us.

Your friend, Kai.

Dear Kai, Your new glider is the best ever! It even does loops!

If your da's friends call him a Post, then I will call you that too. Because I want to be your friend. I have herd the word before, from the CORs that work in the big house, but they would never tell me what it ment. Now I know why. But it makes more sense to me than calling you a COR. After all, you are not a child of someone Reduced. Don't worry, I won't use it in front of my family.

I was worried maybe you were mad at me for asking all those questions about the Reduced. It is just that you are the only COR Post who will talk to me. Did you know that you and I were born on the same day? That's how I knew who you were, because the CORs in the big house were always talking about us both. There is also a Reduced girl born on our birthday. Do you know who she is?

Your friend, Elliot.

Two.

RO LIVED ALONE IN a cottage at the far side of the Reduced block. She'd once shared it with two other Reduced girls, but they'd borne children and removed to barracks nearer the nursery. Ro appreciated the extra s.p.a.ce, and filled the cottage with her precious pots. Elliot had given her even more on their eighteenth birthday a few months back. Her presents had grown a bit more indulgent in these past four years, since it was just the two of them celebrating now.

Ro had been on dairy duty that morning, and hadn't been one of the laborers to help destroy the wheat crop, so Elliot had come to Ro's for comfort. Tatiana and her father might prefer the darkness of the star-cavern sanctuary, but there were only two places on the North estate that Elliot considered a refuge, and the barn loft was too crowded with notes about her wheat to be a comfort today. Yet here, for a few precious minutes, she could be silent and fill her hands with soil and pretend that there were no worries that awaited her beyond the confines of this sun-drenched hut. It was pointless to dwell, anyway. What good would it do?