Gathering Blue - Lois Lowry [45]
Together they went down the dimly lit corridor to the stairs.
Ahead of her, Thomas whispered, "Shhhh."
"I'm sorry," Kira whispered back. "The stick makes a noise. But I can't walk without it."
"Here, wait." They stopped beside one of the wall torches. Thomas ripped a length of cloth from the hem of his loose shirt. Deftly he tied it around the base of Kira's walking stick. The cloth muted the noise of the wooden stick on the tiled floor.
The pair made their way quickly down the flight of stairs and to the door of the room where Jo slept. They paused there and listened. But there were no sounds. Kira's hand, in her pocket, felt no warning from her scrap of cloth. She nodded to Thomas and silently he inserted the big key and turned it to open the door.
Kira held her breath because she feared that a tender might be sharing the room to guard the tyke at night. But the room, illuminated only by pale moonlight through the window, held only one small bed and one small fast-asleep girl.
"I'll stay by the door to watch," Thomas murmured. "She knows you — or your voice, at least. You wake her."
Kira went to the bed and sat on its edge, propping her stick beside her. Gently she touched the small shoulder. "Jo," she said softly.
The little head, long hair tangled, turned restlessly. After a moment, the tyke opened her eyes with a startled, frightened look. "No, don't!" she cried out, pushing Kira's hand away.
"Shhhh," Kira whispered. "It's me. Remember, we talked through the door? Don't be afraid."
"I want me mum," the tyke wailed.
She was very small. Much smaller than Matt. Hardly more than a toddler. Kira remembered the power of the singing voice that she had heard, and marveled that it had come from this tiny, frightened waif of a thing.
Kira picked her up, cradled her, and rocked her back and forth. "Shhhh," she said. "Shhhh. It's all right. I'm your friend. And see over there? His name is Thomas. He's your friend too."
Gradually the tyke was soothed. Her eyes opened wide. Her thumb slid into her mouth and she spoke around it. "I be listening to you at the hole," she said, remembering.
"Yes, the keyhole. We whispered to each other."
"You know me mum? Can you bring her?"
Kira shook her head. "No, I'm afraid I can't. But I'll be here. I live just upstairs. And Thomas does, too."
Thomas came nearer and knelt by the bed. The tyke stared at him suspiciously, and clutched Kira.
Thomas pointed to the ceiling. "I live right above you," he said in a gentle voice, "and I can hear you."
"You hear me singings?"
He smiled. "Yes. Your singing is very beautiful."
The tyke scowled. "They always be making me learn new ones."
"New songs?" Kira asked her.
Jo nodded unhappily. "Over and over. They be making me remember everythings. Me old songs, they just be there natural. But now they be stuffing new things into me and this poor head hurts horrid." The tyke rubbed her tangled hair and sighed, a strangely adult sound that made Kira smile sympathetically.
Thomas was looking around the room, which held many of the same pieces of furniture as the rooms above. A bed. A tall wooden chest of drawers. A table and two chairs.
"Jo," he said suddenly, "are you a good climber?"
She frowned and removed her thumb from her mouth. "I be climbing trees sometimes in the Fen. But me mum, she hits me when I do because she say I be breaking me legs and then they take me to the Field."
Thomas nodded solemnly. "Yes, that's probably true, and your mother didn't want you to get hurt."
"Once draggers take you to the Field, you don't never come back. Beasts take you." The thumb popped back in.
"But look, Jo. If you could climb up there —" Thomas pointed to the top of the chest of drawers.
The wide eyes followed his pointing finger, and the tyke nodded.
"If you stood very tall up there, and if you had some tool, you could hit the ceiling and I would hear you."
The tyke grinned at the thought. "You mustn't do it just for fun," Thomas added quickly. "Only if you really needed us."
"Might I be trying it?" Jo asked eagerly.
Kira lifted