When they reached the dining area, they found Swoop and Gamble there talking in low voices. Wren didn’t catch what they were saying, but he noticed they were quick to end the conversation and change the subject when he came in the room.
“Morning, Governor,” Gamble said. “How’re you feeling?”
“Sleepy.”
“Sleepy?” she said with a smile. “You slept almost twelve hours!”
“Didn’t feel like that much.”
She winked. “I know what you mean.”
“I’m gonna check on Wick and Finn,” Swoop said. Gamble gave him a little nod, and he bent forward in a partial bow. “Governor. Lady.”
Wren slid into a seat at the table and rested his head in his hands while Cass found some food and water. To eat, there was some kind of dark-colored bar that was tough to chew and slightly gritty, that supposedly was going to give him lots of energy for the day. It didn’t taste very good. But Mister Sun had snuck one of his pastries in too, and they’d saved it for him.
“Do you want to split it with me?” Wren asked his mama. She was just sitting there watching him eat.
“Thanks, sweetheart, but no, it’s for you.”
“I don’t mind.”
“No, baby, you go ahead.”
He ate part of it, and Cass kept sitting there, watching him with a little smile on her face.
“Are you sure? It’s tasty.”
“Oh, OK,” she said. “Just a bite.”
Wren held it up for her, and she took a bite off the corner of it.
“Save anything ffff-for me?” Painter said from the hall.
“Oh, hey Painter,” Cass said. “No, sorry. We ate all our rations first thing this morning.”
He stood in the hall staring with a slightly puzzled look on his face. Painter still had the circles under his eyes, Wren noticed.
“I’m joking,” Cass added. “Are you OK?”
“Oh,” Painter said. “Yeah. Just tuh, tuh, just tired.”
“Here, have a seat,” she said. She got up from the table and went to get him some food. Painter eased himself onto one of the other chairs, almost like it hurt him to do it.
“Sore?” Wren asked.
Painter nodded, but he kept his eyes on the table in front of him. Wren got an uneasy feeling. Painter seemed different somehow. Or he felt different. Wren couldn’t figure out what it was, though. It’d been a tough few days for all of them, but maybe Painter most of all. Maybe that’s all there was to it. Or maybe it was nothing more than Wren’s own frazzled nerves, making him worry about things that weren’t there.
“I think you’re really going to like Chapel’s place,” Wren said. “It’s different from anywhere else. And the people are really nice.”
Painter nodded again. After that, Wren stopped trying to make any conversation. Cass reappeared with food and water for Painter, and then left them on their own while she helped the others prepare to leave. It wasn’t unusual for Painter to keep to himself, but as they sat together in silence, Wren couldn’t escape the feeling that Painter was purposely shutting him out.
It was only a few minutes after Painter had finished eating that Gamble popped her head in and told them to get ready to move again. The boys went back to their stalls and gathered their things. Within ten minutes, they were all heading back down the stairs together and back out into the open.
A heavy fog waited for them when they stepped outside. It was cool, not cold, but the mist seemed to go right through Wren’s coat and straight to his bones. He pulled his hood up and drew it down around his face. Everything was shrouded in a gentle rolling grey and as they pushed out into it, Wren felt almost like they were intruding on some sacred ground. As if the broken city had finally found rest in the misted silence, and every one of their magnified footsteps threatened to disturb its peace.
The others seemed to sense it too. They hardly ever talked, and when they did it was in near whispers. Wick led them on, occasionally disappearing briefly from view in the swirling mist.
By midday much of the fog had melted away, but the sky remained grey and heavily overcast, in the all-day sort of way where it might rain any moment, or not at all. Mama wasn’t wearing her veil, and Painter didn’t even need his goggles. They stopped for lunch and a brief rest. Gamble had them up and moving again well before Wren was ready.
It was hard to keep track of time on the colorless march. But Wren guessed it was midafternoon when he found himself recognizing parts of their surroundings, without being able to remember ever having noticed them in the first place. A buckled overpass, a series of cracked and crumbling concrete pillars, a sunken building. Landmarks from some forgotten corner of his mind.