The Ask and the Answer by Patrick Ness Page B

we're suffering from an excess of fright here in this town and there's nothing I can do about that." She reaches out a rough hand to touch my arm. "But maybe you can do something to help us."
    I swallow but I don't say anything.
    There's only one person I can trust.
    And he's not here.
    Mistress Coyle leans back in her chair. "We did save your life," she says. "A little knowledge could be a large comfort."
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    I breathe in deep, looking around the room, around at the sunlight streaming in from a window looking out onto trees and a river, the river, the one we followed into what was supposed to be safety. It seems impossible that anything bad could be happening anywhere on a day so bright, that there's any danger on the doorstep, that there's an army coming.
    But there is an army coming.
    There is.
    And it won't be any friend to Mistress Coyle, no matter what's happened to-
    I feel a little pain in my chest.
    But I take a breath.
    And I start to talk.
    "My name," I say, "is Viola Eade."
    "More settlers, huh?" Maddy says with a smile. I'm lying on my side as she unwraps the long bandage around my middle. The underside is covered in blood, my skin dusty and rust colored where it's dried. There's a little hole in my stomach, tied up with fine string.
    "Why doesn't this hurt?" I say.
    "Jeffers root on the bandages," Maddy says. "Natural opiate. You won't feel any pain but you won't be able to go to the toilet for a month either. Plus, you'll be sound asleep in about five minutes."
    I touch the skin around the bullet wound, gently, gently. There's another on my back where the bullet went in. "Why aren't I dead?"
    "Would you rather be dead?" She smiles again, which
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    changes to the smiliest frown I've ever seen. "I shouldn't joke. Mistress Coyle's always saying I lack the proper seriousness to be a healer." She dips a cloth in a basin of hot water and starts washing the wounds. "You aren't dead because Mistress Coyle is the best healer in all of Haven, better than any of those so-called doctors they've got in this town. Even the bad guys know that. Why do you think they brought you here instead of a clinic?"
    She's wearing the same long white coat as Mistress Coyle but she's also got on a short white cap with the blue outstretched hand stitched on it, which she told me is something apprentices wear. She can't be more than a year or two older than me, whatever way they measure age on this planet, but her hands are sure, gentle, and firm all around the wounds.
    "So," she says, her voice deceptively light. "How bad are these bad guys?"
    The door opens. A short girl in another apprentice cap leans in, young as Maddy but with dark brown skin and a storm cloud hanging over her head. "Mistress Coyle says you need to finish up right now."
    Maddy doesn't look up from taping new bandages to my front. "Mistress Coyle knows I've only had time to get halfway done."
    "We've been summoned," says the girl.
    "You say that like we get summoned all the time, Corinne." The bandages are almost as good as the ones i had from my ship, the medicine on them already cooling my torso, already making my eyelids heavy. Maddy finishes on the front and turns to cut another set for my back. "I am in the middle of a healing."
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    "A man came by with a gun," Corinne says. Maddy stops bandaging.
    "Everyone's been called to the town square," Corinne continues. "Which includes you, Maddy Poole, healing or not." She crosses her arms hard. "I'll bet it's the army coming."
    Maddy looks me in the eyes. I look away.
    "We'll finally see what our end looks like," Corinne says.
    Maddy rolls her eyes. "Always so cheerful, you," she says. "Tell Mistress Coyle I'll be out in two ticks."
    Corinne gives her a sour look but leaves. Maddy finishes up the bandages on my back, by which time I can barely stay awake.
    "You sleep now," Maddy says. "It'll be all right, you just watch. Why would they save you if they were going to ..." She doesn't finish the thought, just scrunches her