Blood Red Road

says. There’s the King, there’s DeMalo an there’s the Tonton who’re like his … his personal army. That’s who you gotta be afraid of.
    What else? I says. I need to know everythin.
    The King ain’t right in the head. None of ’em are. They believe strange things. Mad things. My father believed ’em too.
    Yer father, I says. John Trask.
    Yes. He was one of ’em. A Tonton, a spy fer the King. He’s dead now, but he was definitely the one at Silverlake that day. I was only little but I remember him comin back to Freedom Fields an how excited they all got when he said he’d found the one, he’d found the boy.
    Found what boy? I says.
    She’s silent.
    Helen! I says.
    I don’t wanna tell you, she whispers.
    You’ve got to, I says. Please, Helen. Go on.
    He said he’d found the boy, she says. The boy born to be killed at midsummer. Killed so the King will live.

    My stummick twists. My breath tightens. I … I don’t … unnerstand, I says. What d’you mean … kill him so the King will live? What’re you talkin about?
    She starts to talk fast. Low, so’s we don’t disturb nobody. It’s all about chaal, Saba. You seen this place. Everyone here’s chewin it or smokin it. Mad Dog, the cellblock guards, everybody who comes to see us fight. An one person controls the chaal. He grows it, harvests it, an supplies it.
    The King, I says.
    That’s because there’s only one place with the right conditions to grow it. You need the right kinda earth, the right light, the right amount of rain.
    Freedom Fields, I says. In the Black Mountains.
    The Tonton round people up, take ’em to Freedom Fields as slaves an force ’em to work in the fields.
    An they control ’em with chaal, I says.
    Now yer gittin the idea, she says.
    So the man who controls the chaal, controls everythin an everybody. He’s all powerful, I says.
    That’s the King, she says.
    But … I still don’t unnerstand, I says. What’s all this gotta do with Lugh?
    Every six years, on midsummer’s eve, they sacrifice a boy. They kill him. An that boy cain’t jest be any boy. He’s gotta be eighteen year old an born at midwinter.
    The little hairs stand up on the back of my neck. Lugh, I says.
    The King believes that when the boy dies, that boy’s spirit, his strength moves into him, it moves into the King. An his power’s renewed fer another six years.
    But that’s … crazy, I says.
    I told you, she says, the King’s wrong in the head. But he believes it. An because he believes it, the rest of ’em do. It’s the chaal, Saba. Jest enough of it makes people dull-witted an slow an easy to control. Too much of it an they’re outta control, like the crowds in the Colosseum when a fighter runs the gauntlet. Like Mad Dog. Once they start on it, they cain’t stop. They don’t wanna stop.
    But sacrifice, I says. I don’t believe it.
    I know how it sounds, but it’s true. I seen it myself. This midsummer’s eve it’s six years since the last sacrifice. Yer brother’s eighteen. He was born at midwinter. It’s his turn.
    An they knew about Lugh because of yer father, I says.
    Yes. Like I said, he told ’em about Lugh. After that, they kept watch on him over the years to make sure he didn’t come to no harm.
    Our neighbor, I says. Procter John. That’s what he meant when he said, I bin keepin a eye on him all this time.
    Don’t blame him, Saba, they would of forced him to do it.
    But why didn’t they take Lugh when he was born? I says. Or later on? Why wait till now?
    Because they need the boy to have a strong spirit. An lettin him live with his family, livin in freedom, keeps his spirit strong.
    Lugh’s strong as they come, I whisper.
    The stronger he is when he dies, the stronger the King will be. Listen Saba, she says, it’s less’n a month to midsummer’s eve. If you wanna save yer brother, you gotta find a way of gittin outta here soon. You gotta—
    The cellblock door flies open an Mad Dog, the watch captain, comes in. He’s twirlin a long thick stick in his hands. He’s outta his head on chaal, all jittery an bright-eyed, laughin to hisself. The guards light his way with torches.
    How’s my girls tonight? says Mad Dog.
    The fighters in the main cell wake up right away. They’re on their feet, scuttlin into the shadows so’s he cain’t see ’em to pick on. I was back on my cot the moment the door flew open.
    He runs the stick along the cell bars.
    Wake up, he says. Daddy wants to play.
    Helen, I says,