The Keeper's Shadow by Dennis Foon Page B

possible, isn’t it, to know something but not want to believe it? Not until you have no other choice.”
    Asp considers Roan’s question, then nods once, sadly. “Saint had conceived of the Visitations as a purifying wind of fire; it took your arrival for him to realize they were really genocide, performed under the orders of Darius. Saint did see the madness of it, in the end.
    â€œIn fact, all the Brothers were haunted by the destruction of Longlight. Your people sang as they were led to their deaths, Roan. An eerie humming. It was obvious the entire community had come to an agreement. They did not fight. They allowed themselves to be sacrificed. Why? Simply to fulfill a prophecy?”
    All will not be lost. That was what Roan’s father had promised his mother that terrible night.
    Asp stares at Roan, hungry for his answer, but Roan says nothing. The Dirt Eater digs his fingernails into his palms so hard he draws blood. “I’ve had much opportunity to consider this question. Originally, I assumed it would have been better for your parents to seek Dirt Eater protection. But now I realize they could not risk such an alliance. We had been underground too long, alive too long to remember the pain of death, the agony of individual suffering. For us the battle had ceased to be about the needs of ordinary people, the kind of people who trust me to mend their wounds, heal their sicknesses, detoxify their lands. The eldest among us had ceased to think of the earth and how it must be healed. They strove more and more against Darius, and less and less for humanity. They broke every taboo when they placed Ferrell inside your sister. I now understand that Longlight had no choice but to trust in the prophecy.”
    As he drives his fingers even more deeply into his palms, blood drips from Asp’s clenched fists onto the stone floor. “I will never take Dirt again,” he says vehemently. “Your great-grandfather was right to reject it. Dirt has been our ruin. Let Wolf kill me. I’ve seen more than I can bear.”
    Roan gently places his fingers over Asp’s bloody hands. “If you really want to make amends, help us.”
    Asp’s eyes clear. “You would trust me?”
    â€œI want to trust you. I don’t know if I can. But there’s something I think you could help me with.”
    â€œAsk. I will tell you if I am able.”
    Roan hesitates, scrutinizing the former Dirt Eater’s face, listening to his breath, the blood pumping through his veins. Asp is telling the truth.
    â€œI need to map all the territory occupied by the Turned and the Dirt Eaters in the Dreamfield.”
    â€œMy own knowledge is limited. Any map I might draw will be crude at best, certainly not precise enough for your purposes.” Asp frowns, his gaze turning inward. When he looks back at Roan, his eyes flash with enthusiasm. “I have some friends, though, who might be able to help you.”
    â€œDirt Eaters?” Lumpy asks.
    â€œOnce, but no more,” Asp maintains. “Their names are Othard and Imin. They questioned the ban on City technology and were deemed criminal. Rather than recant, they broke with Oasis and became traveling physicians. Soon after, they were overcome with a devouring illness. Fearing for their lives, they asked for my help. I had seen symptoms like these before and recognized that they were going through a withdrawal. It awakened them—and me—to the Dirt’s darker side. From then on, I used Dirt sparingly, anxious for the day I might also sever my ties with Oasis. That day has finally come.”
    â€œSo exactly how might these two physicians help us?”
    â€œHave you ever heard of the Foresight Academy?”
    After an inquiring look at each other, Roan and Lumpy shake their heads.
    â€œIt was the architect Ferrell’s school. The Dirt Eaters’ most valuable records and books were kept there, including maps of the