Words on Fire - Page 27

Ben began hitching up the horses while I started loading books back into the wagon as quickly as possible.

“No.” Ben held up an arm, but it was the tension in his voice that stopped me in my tracks. “They know a wagon brought the books into the town. They’ll watch for wagons to be leaving the town. We must go other ways.”

“I have a cart with me,” the man said. “If you and your carriers will take the extra books and leave town, I’ll take all the books that were meant to be distributed here and get them delivered by morning.”

By then, Lukas and the priest had joined us. The priest helped load books into the man’s cart while Ben gathered me and Lukas around him.

“How many can you carry?” he asked Lukas.

Lukas looked over the pile. “A dozen, I think.”

Ben nodded at him, then turned to me. “How many?”

“A dozen.” Ben started to object, but I added, “If Lukas can, then I can.” I began pulling the fabric scraps from my sack to make room for the books. Ben counted out twelve books and handed them to me, though I noticed they were thinner than what he handed to Lukas. I stuffed them deep within my sack, pushing the fabric scraps around the edges so that my sack would look rounded rather than square.

“Fabric scraps won’t do.” The priest held a finger to his temple. “Wait a bit.” He hurried back toward the church, returning a few minutes later with some maroon tube-shaped flowers that somehow smelled like raw meat. I cocked my head away from them as he stuffed them into the top of my sack. “What is that?”

He smiled. “Birthwort. If you don’t like the smell, then neither will the occupiers. Tell them it was your mother’s favorite and you’re going to lay them at her grave.”

I stiffened. “My mother is still alive.”

The priest drew back. “Oh, yes, of course! But that is a good excuse for why you might be carrying them.”

“If I’m stopped, I won’t use that excuse.”

“Tell them anything you want,” Lukas said, stuffing a canvas sack with his own books. “Better yet, don’t get stopped.”

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“We’re leaving together.” I looked from him over to Ben. “Aren’t we?”

Ben shook his head. “Three of us together will draw too much attention. We should take separate routes toward Šiluva. Have you heard of that place?”

Of course I had. That was the closest town to where I’d lived my entire life. But I barely knew where I was now, so I had no idea how to get back there. I desperately wanted to return to Šiluva, though, just to see what was left of my home … if anything was left of it.

“I don’t dare to draw you a map,” Ben said. “If you’re caught, it will lead them to all of us.”

“Do you have any paper?” I asked the priest. “And a little milk?”

The priest’s brows knitted together, but he nodded and excused himself, returning a minute later with both items I’d requested, which he gave to me.

I passed them to Ben and said, “Dip your finger in the milk and draw me a map on the paper.”

“With milk? No one will be able to see it.”

“Exactly!”

“Not even you, Audra. What good—”

“Please, Ben, just trust me!”

I doubted Ben had the capacity to trust me, but hopefully he’d decide it was easier to do as I asked so that we could all get on our way. Whatever his reasons, he drew the map and passed it back to me with a huff. I waited for the paper to dry, then carefully folded it and put it in an inside pocket of my apron. If I was caught, all they would see was a blank paper. It occurred to me that maybe we should print all our books this way.

When I’d finished, Ben said, “You’ve had a little practice at smuggling, and you’ve done well, but this will be more difficult, for we’re headed into a city where there are more watchful eyes. Our people will not trouble you—if anything they will greet and protect you as a hero—but there are Russian civilians in the cities. Speak Russian to everyone you meet, for they will expect that, and keep these books hidden until I find you in Šiluva.”

“Where should I go there?”

Ben smiled. “If your invisible map works, then you’ll end up at a secret school hidden in a barn near the church. It has a large Russian flag painted on the east side. Go inside there and wait for me.”

Tags: Jennifer A. Nielsen Historical
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