Her eyes filled with tears. "I don't hate you for giving me the Scourge. I hate you for letting them find me. Wardens were already after you. Why did you stop to help?"
It was a good question. Or a better question might've been, why did I stop to help her? "Della?" A man came running into the courtyard, dressed in a long black coat, gold vest, and a gentleman's hat. His face was square with a wide mustache, and he looked kinder than I'd have expected, considering what I knew of his daughter. Della ran to the bars. "Father?"
"They told me what happened." He nodded at me. "Is that the girl who tried to steal our boat?"
"Yes," I said. "A worker friend of mine got the Scourge, and I was afraid I'd get it too. I didn't want to go to the Colony like some common person, so I was using your boat to run away."
Della flashed me a glare, and I smirked back at her. She turned to her father. "You must get me out of here."
"I'll do everything I can," he said. "I'll speak to the governor at once."
When he hurried away, Della seemed to breathe easier, and she returned to her half of the cell.
I walked over to the bars myself, wondering if anyone would come for me, to beg the governor for my release. My father would come, if he knew where I was. But he didn't know, and no warden would be sent to notify him. Even if he did come, none of my people had the kind of power to demand a meeting with Governor Felling. We didn't have enough money to bribe our way in, and if my father fought me out of here, we'd only bring the battle back to the river country.
The only person who could do anything to help me was probably miles from here now, headed upriver to where it was safe.
At least, I hoped that's where Weevil was.
And at the same time, I hoped not.
I wanted him far away. I needed him here.
If someone asked one of the River People for the time, the answer would be something like "daytime." Which in most cases was good enough for us. We estimated the passing of hours by the movement of the sun and figured overcast days were an excuse to ignore time for a while. For the River People, minutes and hours were an afterthought.
This morning, however, my entire life depended on the passing of time. I had watched the changing angle of the sun so much that my eyes were beginning to burn.
It had not been an hour yet when Della cried out behind me, "Ah!" I turned to see her kneeling on the ground, clutching her stomach. "Ani, help me!"
My first thought was whether she truly wanted my help or whether this was another excuse to accuse me of a crime. But her cries were sincere. She was hurting.
I backed away, ashamed of myself for ignoring her cries. "Get to the bed," I said. "Can you do that?" I hoped so, because I couldn't bear to see her on the ground, but I couldn't force myself to get any closer either.
Della grunted and rolled onto the bed, still doubled over.
"Where does it hurt?" I asked.
"My stomach! Oh, Ani, what does this mean? What is this?"
I knew exactly what it meant and so did she. Despite the fact that she and I were as close to enemies as anyone could be in such a short acquaintance, I still felt bad for her. I worried for myself too. Was this same pain about to come to me? I'd taken my drink just seconds after her.
Yet though I searched within myself for any sign of pain, there was nothing. I was hungry--that was certain. But hunger would not leave me shrieking with pain-filled gasps, as she was.
"Sing to me, Ani," she said. "Please."
"Sing?"
"I heard that grubs--that River People--know songs that can take the pain away."
I snorted. "That's one of the old stories. It was never true, and it's especially not true about me. Trust me, my singing will bring you more pain than it takes away."
"You offered before."
Only out of a desire to be mean. But she didn't know that.
"Please, Ani," she added.
I looked around to be sure we were alone, then started humming a tune, softly at first. When Della closed her eyes to listen, I began singing. I chose one of the nursery songs my mother used years ago to get me to sleep. From my mother's lips, the song fell like dew onto grass. My song was closer to falling cow dung.