"She's called Priscilla," Gaia said.

Masister Khol looked at her curiously. "Thank you. That's good to know," she said.

"You're going to have a busy time ahead," the tall soldier said. "And what, you're only seventeen, isn't that right?"

"Sixteen," Gaia said.

She felt suddenly, inexplicably ill, like she might throw up. She gave a quick smile, switched her satchel to her other shoulder, and turned.

"Good-bye," Masister Khol said. "I'll send your compensation to your mother's place in Western Sector Three, shall I?"

"Yes," Gaia called. She was already walking down the hill again, her legs not quite steady. She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them and touched her fingers against the dim building beside her for balance.

The moon's light seemed less powerful now than it had be' fore she stepped into the glow of the lantern, and blink as she might, she could not instantly make her eyes adjust to the dark' ness. She had to stand, waiting, just around the corner from the gate with its gleaming lantern. In the stillness, she could hear crying from somewhere near, a soft, lonely crying. Her heart stopped. For a moment she was certain that Priscilla's mother was close by in the shadows, ready to plead with her again, or accuse her. But no one appeared, and in another moment, when the crying subsided, Gaia was able to continue down the hill, away from the wall, toward home.

Chapter 2 A Small, Brown Parcel

GAIA TURNED THE CORNER of Sally Row and was relieved to see the glow of candlelight in the window of her home. Gaia was striding forward when she heard her name whispered urgently from the deeper darkness between two buildings.

Gaia paused. "Who is it?"

A stooped form came forward from the alley just enough to beckon to Gaia, and then withdrew again into the darkness. With the one glimpse, she recognized the distinctive profile of Old Meg, her mothers faithful friend and assistant. Gaia moved into the shadow, taking a last look up the row of worn houses toward the light in her window.

"Your parents have been taken by the Enclave," Old Meg said. "Both of them. The soldiers came an hour ago, and there's one that stayed behind for you, too."

"To arrest me?"

"I don 't know. But he's there now."

Gaia felt her hands grow cold, and she slowly lowered her satchel to the ground. "Are you sure? Why would they take my parents?"

"Since when do they need a reason?" Old Meg retorted.

"Meg!" Gaia gasped. Even in the dark, secluded as they were, Gaia was afraid someone might hear the old woman.

Old Meg grabbed her arm, pinching just above Gaia's elbow.

"Listen. We got back from the other birthing and your mom was just leaving to find you when the soldiers came for her and your dad," Old Meg said. "I was heading out the back, and they didn't see me. I hid on the porch. It's time you wised up, Gaia. Your mothers an important resource. She's too knowledgeable about the babies, and Enclave higher-ups are starting to want more information."

Gaia shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself. What Old Meg was saying made little sense.

"What are you talking about? My mom doesn't know anything that everybody else doesn't already know."

Old Meg brought her face closer to Gaia and drew her farther back into the darkness. "The Enclave thinks your mother can track the advanced babies to their birth parents."

Gaia laughed, incredulous.

"Stupid girl," Old Meg said, gripping her arm with her clawlike fingers. "I heard what they were saying, what the guards were asking them, and they're not just going to let your parents go. This is important!"

"Ouch! Let go," Gaia said.

Old Meg stepped back farther, looking around furtively. "I'm leaving Wharfton," she said. "They'll be after me next. I just waited to see if you want to come with me."

"I can't leave," Gaia objected. "This is my home. My parents will be back." She waited for Old Meg to agree, but when the silence stretched into doubt, Gaia's fear resurfaced. "How could they keep my mother? Who else will take care of the babies?"

An ugly laugh came from the darkness. "They have you now, don't they?" Old Meg muttered.

"But I can't take my mothers place," she whispered up gently. "I don 't know enough. I got lucky tonight. Would you believe the woman lied to me? She said it was her fourth, but it was actually-- "

Old Meg slapped her sharply, and Gaia fell back, clasping a hand to her sore cheek.

"Think," Old Meg whispered harshly. "What would your parents want you to do? If you stay here, you 11 be the new midwife for Western Sector Three. You 11 check on the women your mother was tending and deliver the babies she would have delivered. You 11 advance her monthly quota. In short, you 11 do just what you re told, like your mother did. And just like your mother, it might not be enough to keep you safe. If you leave with me, we'll take our chances in the Dead Forest. I know people there who will help us, if I can find them."

"I can 't leave," Gaia said. The possibility terrified her. She couldn't leave her home and everything she knew. What if her parents were released and she was gone? Besides, she wasn't going to run away with a paranoid shrew who slapped her and bossed her around like a naughty child. Gaia's distrust and resentment flared. This was supposed to be a night of celebrating her first birthing.

A cloud cleared across the face of the moon, and Gaia thought she saw a glimmer in the black, fierce eyes of the old woman. Then Old Meg slipped her a small, brown parcel, smooth and light as a dead mouse. Gaia almost dropped it, repulsed.

"Idiot," Old Meg said, grasping Gaia's hand firmly over the parcel. "It was your mother's. Keep it safe. On your life."

"But what is it?"

"Put it along your leg, under your skirt. It has ties."

There was a clatter in the street and they both jumped. Gaia and Old Meg fell back against the wall, huddled and silent, until the slam of a door came from the distance and all grew quiet again.

Old Meg moved her head near so that Gaia could feel the old woman's tepid breath against her cheek. "Ask for Danni Orion if you ever make it to the Dead Forest," she said. "She'll help you if she can. Remember it. Like the constellation."

"My grandmother?" Gaia asked, confused. Her grandmother had died years earlier, when Gaia was a baby.

Old Meg gave her a quick jab. "Will you remember, or won't you?" she demanded.

"I wouldn't forget my grandmother's name," Gaia said.

"Your parents were fools," Old Meg said. "Trusting, cowardly pacifists. And now they'll pay."

Gaia was horrified. "Don't say that," she said. "They've been loyal to the Enclave forever. They advanced two sons. They've served for years."

"And don't you think they've regretted their sacrifices?" Old Meg said. "You think they don't feel the costs, every time they look at you?"

Gaia was confused. "What do you mean?"

"Your scar," Old Meg insisted.

Gaia had the impression she was supposed to understand something, but there was no mystery about her scar. It was impolite, even cruel of Old Meg to refer to it now.

Old Meg gave a humph of disgust. "I'm wasting precious time," she said. "Are you coming with me?"

"I can't," Gaia repeated. "And you should stay. If they catch you running away, you'll go to prison."

Old Meg gave a brief laugh and turned away.

"Wait," Gaia said. "Why didn't she give this thing to me herself?"

"She didn't want to give it to you at all. She hoped she wouldn't have to. But a few weeks ago she started to worry, and then she gave it to me."

"Worry, why?"

"I'd say, in light of what happened tonight, she had her reasons," Old Meg said dryly.

"But why don 't you keep it?"

"It's for you," Old Meg said. "She said, if anything happened to her, to give it to you. And now I've kept my promise."

Gaia saw now that the old woman had a small, droopy pack leaning beside the wall, and when she put it on, it sagged around her torso as if she'd just added another decade to her age. She took up her walking stick, and for the last time she brought her withered face near to Gaia's.

"Once I'm gone, be careful who you trust. Use your wits, Gaia," the woman said. "Remember we're all vulnerable. Especially if we love someone."

"You've got that wrong," Gaia said, thinking of her parents. "It's love that makes us strong."

Gaia felt the old woman's gaze upon her, and she looked back defiantly, suddenly feeling stronger. This old woman was a bitter shell of a person who had pushed people away from her all her life, and now she couldn't even say good-bye with any charity. She promised herself she would never become like Old Meg, withered, unloved, cowardly. Maybe Old Meg, with her unsteady hands, was jealous that the midwife job should come to Gaia, and not her.

She felt a brief thrill of promise again. Her parents would come back, like all of the others who had been briefly detained. They would resume their life as before, only now there would be two midwives in the family, with twice the compensations coming in. Gaia might be scarred and ugly, but unlike Old Meg, she had promise and people who cared for her.

Old Meg shook her head and turned away. Gaia watched as she wound her way down the narrow alley toward the far end and disappeared. Then she glanced down at the little package in her hand. By the faint moonlight, she saw there was a cloth tie connected to it. She hitched up the hem of her skirt, feeling the cool night air against her legs, and quickly tied the parcel around her right thigh, arranging it to lie flat along her leg. Then she dropped her skirt and took a few experimental steps. The parcel was slightly cool against her skin, but she could tell that soon it would be unnoticeable, even when she moved.

When she stepped back out on Sally Row, the candlelight still gleamed from the downstairs window of her home, and she kept her eye on the growing trapezoid of yellow as she walked quietly forward. Around her, the neighboring houses were quiet, their curtains drawn over their windows. She considered going to the Rupps' home instead, but if a guard truly was waiting for her, he would find her eventually any way. It was best to face him now and find out what she could about her parents.

The front porch step squeaked as she stepped upon it, and Gaia could practically feel the expectant house responding to her. In three more steps, she reached the door and opened it softly inward.

"Mom?" she said. "Dad?"

She looked automatically toward the table, where a candle was burning upright in a shallow clay dish, but the chair beside it was empty.

The last wisp of hope that her mother would be there to greet her evaporated. Instead, a man straightened from beside the fireplace, and she instantly took in the black of his uniform and the rifle along his back. Candlelight illuminated the undersides of his jaw and the wide, flat brim of his hat, leaving his eyes in shadow.

"Gaia Stone?" he asked. "I'm Sergeant Grey and I'd like to ask you a few questions."

The candlelight flickered in the draft. Gaia swallowed nervously and closed the door, her mind 'working frantically. Was he going to arrest her? "Where are my parents?" she asked.

"They've been taken to the Enclave for questioning," he said. "It's just a formality." His voice was cultured, low, patient, and Gaia looked at him more closely. He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't remember seeing him before at the gate or the wall. Many of the guards were strong, simple people from Wharfton who had been selected for military training and who were proud to earn their living serving the Enclave, but she knew others were from inside the wall, educated men with ambition or a natural bent for strategy who chose to serve. Gaia guessed this man was from the latter category.